Who Is There To Shoo Away?

[Guest guest]

Dear Friends,

 

Lately I've been committing all manner of tomfoolery with words in an

attempt to play nondual ball with myself. (Problem was, nobody would throw

the ball back!) If I sounded any more cornball right now I'd have to hum

myself out to the squirrels. In the process of wandering around late at

night, I also write some really bow-wow, (at least I howl) material. For

instance, this bit was a take on Homer Simpson. In one episode he sees Marge

get cut into about five pieces, with each "piece" falling into a basket

below. When the magician said the magic words, five monkeys hopped out of

the baskets. Homer, scratching his head in bewilderment, said "Soooooo,

Marge was made out of chimps!" Still behaving Homerian:

 

Heart-prints fall over us everyday,

with so many friends just wanting

to touch these heartbeats we bare.

Dressed-up in tophat and tails,

the Advaitist stands aloof on his roof,

thinking he's viewed as a rock-naked rogue,

but really he's spiffed up

in the new neti-nightshirts,

gowns like no other. There is never a second

nondual-nightshirt,

no jam-donut jammies,

no tee siddhi-sheathshirts,

no bear-footed slippers for fun-dual feeties.

The classic, nondual, coolcat, no-nonsense,

nonconformist posture must be assumed.

Assuming you know you're alone. So help me god,

if you were followed...

 

So there you have it, some of the real life rantings from the wordfront.

Talking Bhakti is like opening your eyes in the morning to see the

sunlight's first hint of an appearance. Talking nondual is like

closing your eyes and seeing Seeing. Oh, I'm all for corrections, every

steer I git is jest another campfire away from the dutch oven being fully

seasoned. Grit and sand polish up right nice. As Rumi advises, "Nighttime is

for lovers..." And real lovers don't mind a creekbed, a sandy bar, a gravel

bottom, a briar patch, hot asphalt, shards of heart and bone, they just

surrender to the moment, to Love.

 

Love, Peace,

Mazie

 

 

 

 

 

_______________

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[Guest guest]

Dear Mazie,

 

Instead of a game with balls, a metaphor for the mind-body:

soap bubbles. The space 'inside' being the space 'outside is

the nondual 'discovery' made by many a bubble. Without the

'scriptural stuffing' it is much nicer - like seeing a movie

without knowing the book it was based on.

 

As long as the play and color of bubbles fascinates, that could be

called 'play of love'. Nondual means, no bubble is more important/

beautiful than another.

 

The ultimate 'discovery' is that the bubble itself is space too.

When that is effectuated, a lot changes and as that is very rare,

no reason to elaborate, apart from the obvious, relating to the

unconditionality of bliss and the noticeable effect (decline) on

the activities of a mind-body to which that applies.

 

Camping still is great though, a SUV on this island surely is nice

but with fruit as the main food, no sand in it. There's nothing like a

simple life and nothing simpler than 100% leisure!

 

Peace and bliss,

 

Jan

 

On 2/3/02 at 4:47 PM Mazie Lane wrote:

 

ºDear Friends,

º

ºLately I've been committing all manner of tomfoolery with words in an

ºattempt to play nondual ball with myself. (Problem was, nobody would throw

ºthe ball back!) If I sounded any more cornball right now I'd have to hum

ºmyself out to the squirrels. In the process of wandering around late at

ºnight, I also write some really bow-wow, (at least I howl) material. For

ºinstance, this bit was a take on Homer Simpson. In one episode he sees

ºMarge

ºget cut into about five pieces, with each "piece" falling into a basket

ºbelow. When the magician said the magic words, five monkeys hopped out of

ºthe baskets. Homer, scratching his head in bewilderment, said "Soooooo,

ºMarge was made out of chimps!" Still behaving Homerian:

º

ºHeart-prints fall over us everyday,

ºwith so many friends just wanting

ºto touch these heartbeats we bare.

ºDressed-up in tophat and tails,

ºthe Advaitist stands aloof on his roof,

ºthinking he's viewed as a rock-naked rogue,

ºbut really he's spiffed up

ºin the new neti-nightshirts,

ºgowns like no other. There is never a second

ºnondual-nightshirt,

ºno jam-donut jammies,

ºno tee siddhi-sheathshirts,

ºno bear-footed slippers for fun-dual feeties.

ºThe classic, nondual, coolcat, no-nonsense,

ºnonconformist posture must be assumed.

ºAssuming you know you're alone. So help me god,

ºif you were followed...

º

ºSo there you have it, some of the real life rantings from the wordfront.

ºTalking Bhakti is like opening your eyes in the morning to see the

ºsunlight's first hint of an appearance. Talking nondual is like

ºclosing your eyes and seeing Seeing. Oh, I'm all for corrections, every

ºsteer I git is jest another campfire away from the dutch oven being fully

ºseasoned. Grit and sand polish up right nice. As Rumi advises, "Nighttime

ºis

ºfor lovers..." And real lovers don't mind a creekbed, a sandy bar, a

ºgravel

ºbottom, a briar patch, hot asphalt, shards of heart and bone, they just

ºsurrender to the moment, to Love.

º

ºLove, Peace,

ºMazie

º

º

º

º

º

º_______________

ºSend and receive Hotmail on your mobile device: http://mobile.msn.com

º

º

º

º/join

º

º

º

º

º

ºAll paths go somewhere. No path goes nowhere. Paths, places, sights,

ºperceptions, and indeed all experiences arise from and exist in and

ºsubside back into the Space of Awareness. Like waves rising are not

ºdifferent than the ocean, all things arising from Awareness are of the

ºnature of Awareness. Awareness does not come and go but is always Present.

ºIt is Home. Home is where the Heart Is. Jnanis know the Heart to be the

ºFinality of Eternal Being. A true devotee relishes in the Truth of

ºSelf-Knowledge, spontaneously arising from within into It Self. Welcome

ºall to a.

º

º

º

ºYour use of is subject to