Hope & ripening

[Guest guest]

> Realization, Gary Schouborg <garyscho@a...> wrote:

>

> ....Well, so far I've tried Il Fornaio and PF Chang's in Walnut Creek.

> Any other suggestions?

 

Montecatini Restaurant

>

> Thanks,

>

> b

>

> ps: I also tried a nice french bistro in Pleasant Hill, where they

> had excellent pomme frites, but wouldn't you just know -- the name

> escapes me just now!

 

Don't know The Left Bank, but Chez Maurice is good.

 

There's a nice Denny's on Willow Pass Road.

 

Gary

>

[Guest guest]

Realization, Gary Schouborg <garyscho@a...> wrote:

 

> Montecatini Restaurant

 

 

....Thanks, I will give it a try!

 

 

> Don't know The Left Bank, but Chez Maurice is good.

 

 

......you might like the Left Bank, but be sure to order the fries.

i will investigate the Chez.

 

 

>

> There's a nice Denny's on Willow Pass Road.

 

.......i avoid this chain, since they have been typified as pseudo-

nondualists in recent restaurant critiques.

 

Bon Apetite!

[Guest guest]

Realization, hrtbeat7 wrote:

> Realization, " Murali " <murali@g...> wrote:

> > Realization, hrtbeat7 wrote:

> > >

> > > what is there to ripen? and whose concepts are " my concepts " ?

> > >

> >

> > Let me ask the same question I asked Judi.

> >

> > Did you have this kind of understanding or intuition ever since

the

> > birth of this body/mind entity? Was there at any stage,

> a " somebody "

> > who had the sense of doership before losing that sense

accidentally

> > or otherwise?

> >

> > Please treat this as an earnest seeker's question however stupid

it

> > may seem from your point of view.

>

>

>

> ......you imagine yourself to be an earnest seeker, and thus

prolong

> the seeking, which is actually the activity of separation itself.

> Sandeep might say this is " appropriate " , but i am not so elegant as

> my esteemed Shoobie Doo.

>

> i am actually a lot more stupid than you, Dear! LOL!!!!

>

> oh well, sharing this:

>

>

> He had recently turned 8, and was returning from his first week

away

> from home, at a Catholic Youth Organization Summer Camp near the

> Russian River, in Northern California. It was 1957, although it

could

> have been any year, or no year. Why even keep track? For the boy,

> such numbers carried no meaning.

>

> As he dismounted the bus and saw his family waiting there for him,

> smiling with love and anticipation, he experienced such an

> overwhelming rapture of bliss that he suddenly staggered and

> collapsed on the pavement. With a great surging roar, a powerful

> energy/awareness had somehow been unleashed within him, which

> immediately shot up his spine and literally expanded out beyond his

> perceived bodily limits – and " it " just kept going, ecstatically

> gathering all of infinity into an ever-widening embrace!

> At a certain point, a kind of fear arose - not of death - but of

not

> being

> able to return. From a timeless ocean of undifferentiated

awareness,

> he now found himself as a pinpoint of consciousness riding the

frothy

> curl of this wave of fear. With a gentle splash he was

unaccountably

> deposited on the shore of vague and dreamy embodiment, and opening

> his eyes he found his family hovering around, worriedly studying

him.

> They had apparently taken him back home, although he had no memory

of

> being moved. In their concern, they had also called the family

> doctor.

> Curiously, they all looked like people he vaguely recognized, and

> somehow he knew they were supposed to be " his family " , and yet he

> could no longer be the " person " he had been. He was the Mystery,

> although he had no such words for This at the time.

> He no longer felt himself to be a body exclusively, and if anything

> he seemed to float behind and above it. It was perplexing, in a

way,

> and it would actually take him weeks to finally inhabit this body

to

> any significant degree.

>

> The doctor arrived and examined him thoroughly, and it was funny,

> because

> as he was leaning over the boy, the boy was simultaneously looking

> down on himself through the eyes of the doctor!

> Suddenly he began to weep. The doctor asked him what he was

feeling.

> The boy replied:

> " These tears are the eyes' way of kissing you. When I look up at

you,

> I see only God looking down at God. It makes me smile, it makes me

> cry. "

> The doctor glanced over to the boy's parents, and they exchanged

> uncomprehending stares.

> " Strange, these beings -- giants convinced they are midgets… " the

boy

> mused.

> The doctor continued with his exam, and finding no physical

> abnormality, prescribed some rest and aspirin. He also suggested

that

> a talk with the parish priest might be advisable.

>

> When Father Antonelli arrived a few evenings later, he found the

boy

> on his back on the lawn behind the house, gazing into the cloudless

> night sky. He came and sat down beside him, and remarked on what a

> beautiful warm summer night it was. The boy made no reply, and in

> fact gave no indication that he was even aware of the priest by his

> side. The older man reached over and took the boy's hand in his and

> asked:

> " Son, what are you doing here? "

> The boy remained still for a long moment, and then spoke softly:

> " We float adrift, hand in hand, on a sea of unimaginable wonder. I

> gently squeeze your perfect hand and, nodding upward, point

silently

> to the starry majesty of our truth ablaze across the infinity of

> space. "

> " Who taught you to say such things, Lad? " the priest exclaimed.

> " The same one. " the boy replied.

> " Which one do you mean? " asked the puzzled cleric.

> " The one who is living us right now, " answered the boy, " the one

who

> shines these stars, who pumps our blood, who breathes us into all

> these forms and draws us back into itself again, and again, and

> again. "

> " Do you mean God the Father? "

> " Father. Mother. Sister. Brother. Sky. Tree. You. Me. "

> The priest fell silent. All of his possible responses bubbled up in

> his mind, but the bubbles burst before he could wrap words around

> them. Finally, he lifted the boy's hand, which was still in his,

and

> kissed it. He stood up, walked back into the house, and without

> saying a word embraced the boy's parents and went on his way.

>

> The boy soon returned to school for the fall semester, but for a

long

> time after that, he really seemed to take no interest in the

> subjects. He was gradually moved to the back of the class, and

placed

> with the hopeless ones who " didn't have a clue. "

> Actually, he really didn't have a clue! He would arrive at his desk

> in the morning with no idea how he had gotten there, and then

> suddenly it was time to go home, as if some time had actually

passed!

> When he got home, he would lie on his back on the soft, green lawn

> behind the house. Opening out into the vast blue sky, the

endlessness

> of blue, and steadily inhaling the earthy aromas, the grassiness,

the

> tree-ness, the shrub and flower-ness, he could feel the whole

planet

> gently rolling in the midst of the universe, and it was his very

own

> body – this globe of color, sound, and dreamy form.

> And then it was time to eat, but he hardly touched the food. When

the

> parents had gone to bed, he would get down on the floor and lose

> himself in Mystery, which he knew in his heart was only this

> unbearable Love pulsing through him into the limitless space.

> He " knew " he was that space, more than he knew he was anything or

> anybody.

>

> Eventually, he began assuming the conventions of his peers --

joining

> in the sports games, laughing at the jokes, collecting baseball

> cards, and listening to the ingenious little portable transistor

> radios that had just come on the market. It was all a kind of a

game,

> like " Let's Pretend " , although they all seemed to take everything

so

> seriously. At any rate, he went along. There was no resistance. It

> was " no big deal. "

> In time, it became second nature –

> just going along,

> pretending.

 

Heartbreak

 

how hard

it must've been

at first

to learn how

to put your love

on hold

for the sake

of pretending

to be

something else

 

- Tykal

[Guest guest]

Realization, " Colette " <rivercrystal@h...> wrote:

 

> Heartbreak

>

> how hard

> it must've been

> at first

> to learn how

> to put your love

> on hold

> for the sake

> of pretending

> to be

> something else

>

> - Tykal

 

 

......Pagan Babies

 

 

At the Catholic school in which he was enrolled in the 1950's, the

usual curriculum routine was occasionally set aside for " Audio-

Visual " presentations. Students were gathered into the auditorium,

lights were dimmed, and the whir of a film projector signaled the

beginning of another movie about precautions to be observed in the

event of a nuclear attack. This one was different, however. The boy

was 7 years old, and as he watched the flickering images of babies,

covered with swarming flies, dying of starvation in some country he

had never heard of, his own young heart was burned. In fact, by the

end of the film he was on the verge of passing out until the lights

came on and an earnest missionary appeared in front of the assembled

students. As the boy listened intently to this Soldier of Christ, the

mission which was soon to dominate his life took form. In a vision of

service not unlike dressing the sacred wounds of Jesus, the task

before him was suddenly and undoubtedly made clear.

The missionary promised that, if each student was able to somehow

contribute $5.00, they would be able to adopt one of these " pagan

babies " . Not only would it be " saved " , but as a side benefit, each

child would get to share the name of the contributor who had donated

the sum.

$5.00 seemed like a lot of money, but no obstacle was going to deter

the boy in his new-found crusade. He immediately threw himself into a

fervor of coin collecting. He started out using all of his milk

money, but found that wasn't nearly enough. Every minute another

child was dying! He began going into his father's pants pocket at

night, after his parents went to sleep. Each time he would take just

a few dimes or nickels to contribute, reasoning that they didn't need

the money as much as the pagan babies. He approached all of his

visiting relatives, as well as his parents' friends, soliciting spare

change for the mission. He would search the street on his way to and

from school, looking for any fallen coins that might go to the cause.

There was a girl next door who walked with crutches from polio, and

the boy offered to help her to school. When her parents inquired into

his generosity, he told them of the suffering of the innocents, and

they were happy to offer him a quarter each week for his help.

Soon he broadened his view to include the neighborhood as potential

recipients of goodwill. He began to take his bagged lunch and parcel

elements of it into people's mailboxes as he walked the girl to

school. He felt that it was better for him to go hungry than to have

anybody else in the world go hungry. By the time he arrived at class,

he had an empty bag, but his heart was a little fuller.

Next he got a job as a paper boy, rising when it was still dark to

travel the streets delivering the news and forwarding his earnings

towards the pagan babies. At sunrise, he would pause for a moment and

pray to God that this new day would bring relief to the children.

He borrowed money from other kids. He traded baseball cards for

coins. He felt that he was doing something, but it was just not

enough. He knelt by his bed on the floor night after night, praying

to Jesus to intercede in His Mercy. Then he went to the Virgin Mary,

Mother of God. Then he went to the saints. Then to the angels. Then

to anybody he might have forgotten. The pagan babies needed all the

help they could get.

 

The nuns were amazed at his fund raising. Somewhere in Africa there

were now, hypothetically, about 20 or 30 people with the boy's name

on some catholic certificate, saved from a life of starvation. The

boy did not feel good about this, however. There were so many more!

So many! It seemed the task was hopeless. How could he save them all?

Meanwhile, his parents started getting calls from the neighbors,

thanking them for the bananas and sandwiches, but asking for the

rationale behind such postal contributions. When his father and

mother confronted him, he told them about the starving children, the

desperate suffering pagan babies. They were not as convinced as he

was that giving his lunch to the neighbors was the best tactic, nor

were they amused when he confessed that he had been taking their

money to fund his campaign to alleviate world hunger.

He sank into a profound dilemma about the whole thing. He wanted to

give everything -- his life even -- to save others from suffering. He

could not bear to see anyone suffer! He felt no peace, knowing that

the pagan babies were crying for milk somewhere. The situation seemed

unresolvable.

 

When he turned 13, he entered a catholic seminary to become a priest,

to dedicate himself completely to a life unselfishly serving all. He

stayed there for 7 years before eventually realizing that particular

strategy was inadequate. All the clergy were getting fat, but world

suffering continued unabated. Wars, famines, and racial strife were

rampant, and the cruelty humanity seemed to be inflicting on itself

was not (with rare exception) really being addressed by the self-

involved and self-perpetuating politics within the Catholic Church.

When he left the seminary, he headed up into the high Sierras to live

for 6 months as a hermit. His intent was to cleanse himself from all

the accumulated muck of that failed religious conditioning and re-

align with his original mission.

While there, he read the Bhagavad Gita – an ancient Hindu text that a

friend had given him for the sojourn, and which had a profound and

lasting impact on him. As he read the verse

" He who does My work, who is devoted to Me and loves Me, who is free

from attachment and from enmity to all beings, goes to Me. "

a resonant epiphany rang in his heart. He went back to San Francisco,

looked up meditation in the phone book, found a Zen Center nearby,

and began studying Buddhist practices geared towards the discovery of

the truth of one's own nature. To really serve others, he now

believed, he needed to " know himself " first, and this seemed like a

good place to start. Many of his friends were now experimenting with

the growing counter-cultural movement sweeping the nation, and so he

moved to the epicenter of all that – the Haight-Ashbury district in

San Francisco. This exposed him to quite a different view, but what

most appealed to him was the focus on universal love woven within the

songs and proclamations of this emerging vision.

 

At the time, the Viet Nam War was in full gear and, having forsaken

his theological deferrment upon leaving the seminary, he soon became

the recipient of the dreaded draft notice, requiring him to report

for a physical in preparation for induction into the army. He did not

want to shoot people, he only wanted to feed them. Consequently, he

applied for Conscientious Objector status, necessitating an

appearance before the Draft Board to argue his case. He explained as

patiently as possible how a number of people " over there " probably

had the same name as his by now, and he did not feel inclined to go

shooting at them after spending so much time and effort to feed them.

Apparently, this was convincing enough to Board, and so he began his

2 years of Alternate Service as a Child Care Counsellor at a

residential treatment center for emotionally scarred pre-adolescents.

He was assigned to a group of 10 very unhappy and bewildered boys,

and he loved them and hugged them and watched over them, and also

made sure that they ate properly. He had the kitchen substitute fresh

fruits and vegetables for the standard white sugar and flour

products, and with his own money he purchased multivitamins for the

children, rather than administer the potent " meds " (thorazine, etc.)

that were prescribed to pharmacologically " manage " their behavior.

Rather than letting them sit around and watch violent cartoons on the

weekends, he would load them into the van and take them to the parks

and beaches of Northern California, and let these inner-city kids get

the feeling for the freedom singing through nature. At bedtime, he

would give them tender backrubs, and tell them little stories about

love.

Soon his unit was distinguished for the remarkable progress they were

making, but when it was discovered that he had discontinued their

prescribed drugss without authorization, he was fired. Poignantly,

his group petitioned the administration to keep him, but to no avail,

of course.

 

During this time, he had continued with his meditation, and when he

was abruptly relieved of his service requirements, he entered a Zen

Monastery high up in the San Gabriel Mountains in Southern California

for the next two years. After a year there, the Zen Master shared an

interesting observation. He told him that he clearly wanted to give

himself to everyone and everything, but that he still did not know

What he Was. As long as this was so, he was in no position to give

anything at all. It was all just dream giving, and of no real value

whatsoever. This shook him down to his toes, and precipitated an

ensuing series of revelatory insights.

In addition, while there, he met and fell in love with the woman who

was to become his wife. She too was drawn to the ideal of service,

and when she indicated her intent to leave the monastery to become a

nurse-midwife, he joined her.

All the while, he still harbored a lingering suspicion that he was

not yet really serving. When his wife was accepted into a training

program on the East Coast, he moved to Boston and helped start a

Natural Foods company that later became the largest whole foods

supermarket chain in the country. Thousands of people were introduced

to a better way of life through this company, but this was still not

enough for him.. Nothing was enough. Nothing would ever be enough.

 

Somewhere along the way there dawned a simple recognition. It was not

like a lightning bolt or anything that dramatic -- just an obvious

realization that his whole life-long quest was based on a false

premise. All along, he had assumed himself to be a separate

individual, trying to bridge a presumed chasm in his own being. He

had superimposed on this simple being all sorts of beliefs and

judgements about himself as the one who is " doing " all of this, and

then projected that dreamy stuff out into " the world " , as if " the

world " was somehow separate from himself.

As layers of self-inflicted dilemma melted away, he realized how

arrogant that stubborn perception had been -- the presumtion that he

could ever be in a position of " saving " anybody. With that, even the

sense of the " other " became less of a fixation, along with the

presumption of " knowing " anything about the mystery of life. As that

house of cards came crumbling down, the whole fictional contraction

loosened:

How could he have ever imagined himself to be separate enough from

What Is to impose his will on It!

 

He finally began to enjoy his meals without feeling guilty.

Everything returned to the kind of ordinary happiness just briefly

interrupted by that fateful movie so many years ago..

He was somehow gracefully relieved of the concern that anything be

other than what it is. What it is -- the perfection of the universe

shining in this endless moment Now. And Now. And Now.

 

The dream we dream of this life is a small shadow, arising in a vast

space of awesome mystery. There is not even one molecule that is not

permeated with the most amazing heartbeat of Life living us, just as

It does. We can go anywhere, already realizing that there is nowhere

to go! We can do anything, already realizing that " we " are doing

nothing! There are no barriers in life, except what we imagine in our

innocent misunderstandings. Even these are perfection and grace.

There is nothing and no one to save, and nobody to save anything.

Thus, all are truly saved. There is no freedom or bondage. Thus, all

are truly free. There is nobody to bless. Thus, all are truly

blessed. Perhaps you too will find this out for yourself, until it

becomes totally obvious that

 

All Is Well.

[Guest guest]

Realization, hrtbeat7 wrote:

 

> .....Pagan Babies

>

>

> At the Catholic school in which he was enrolled in the 1950's, the

> usual curriculum routine was occasionally set aside for " Audio-

> Visual " presentations. Students were gathered into the auditorium,

> lights were dimmed, and the whir of a film projector signaled the

> beginning of another movie about precautions to be observed in the

> event of a nuclear attack. This one was different, however. The boy

> was 7 years old, and as he watched the flickering images of babies,

> covered with swarming flies, dying of starvation in some country he

> had never heard of, his own young heart was burned. In fact, by the

> end of the film he was on the verge of passing out until the lights

> came on and an earnest missionary appeared in front of the

assembled

> students. As the boy listened intently to this Soldier of Christ,

the

> mission which was soon to dominate his life took form. In a vision

of

> service not unlike dressing the sacred wounds of Jesus, the task

> before him was suddenly and undoubtedly made clear.

> The missionary promised that, if each student was able to somehow

> contribute $5.00, they would be able to adopt one of these " pagan

> babies " . Not only would it be " saved " , but as a side benefit, each

> child would get to share the name of the contributor who had

donated

> the sum.

> $5.00 seemed like a lot of money, but no obstacle was going to

deter

> the boy in his new-found crusade. He immediately threw himself into

a

> fervor of coin collecting. He started out using all of his milk

> money, but found that wasn't nearly enough. Every minute another

> child was dying! He began going into his father's pants pocket at

> night, after his parents went to sleep. Each time he would take

just

> a few dimes or nickels to contribute, reasoning that they didn't

need

> the money as much as the pagan babies. He approached all of his

> visiting relatives, as well as his parents' friends, soliciting

spare

> change for the mission. He would search the street on his way to

and

> from school, looking for any fallen coins that might go to the

cause.

> There was a girl next door who walked with crutches from polio, and

> the boy offered to help her to school. When her parents inquired

into

> his generosity, he told them of the suffering of the innocents, and

> they were happy to offer him a quarter each week for his help.

> Soon he broadened his view to include the neighborhood as potential

> recipients of goodwill. He began to take his bagged lunch and

parcel

> elements of it into people's mailboxes as he walked the girl to

> school. He felt that it was better for him to go hungry than to

have

> anybody else in the world go hungry. By the time he arrived at

class,

> he had an empty bag, but his heart was a little fuller.

> Next he got a job as a paper boy, rising when it was still dark to

> travel the streets delivering the news and forwarding his earnings

> towards the pagan babies. At sunrise, he would pause for a moment

and

> pray to God that this new day would bring relief to the children.

> He borrowed money from other kids. He traded baseball cards for

> coins. He felt that he was doing something, but it was just not

> enough. He knelt by his bed on the floor night after night, praying

> to Jesus to intercede in His Mercy. Then he went to the Virgin

Mary,

> Mother of God. Then he went to the saints. Then to the angels. Then

> to anybody he might have forgotten. The pagan babies needed all the

> help they could get.

>

> The nuns were amazed at his fund raising. Somewhere in Africa there

> were now, hypothetically, about 20 or 30 people with the boy's name

> on some catholic certificate, saved from a life of starvation. The

> boy did not feel good about this, however. There were so many more!

> So many! It seemed the task was hopeless. How could he save them

all?

> Meanwhile, his parents started getting calls from the neighbors,

> thanking them for the bananas and sandwiches, but asking for the

> rationale behind such postal contributions. When his father and

> mother confronted him, he told them about the starving children,

the

> desperate suffering pagan babies. They were not as convinced as he

> was that giving his lunch to the neighbors was the best tactic, nor

> were they amused when he confessed that he had been taking their

> money to fund his campaign to alleviate world hunger.

> He sank into a profound dilemma about the whole thing. He wanted to

> give everything -- his life even -- to save others from suffering.

He

> could not bear to see anyone suffer! He felt no peace, knowing that

> the pagan babies were crying for milk somewhere. The situation

seemed

> unresolvable.

>

> When he turned 13, he entered a catholic seminary to become a

priest,

> to dedicate himself completely to a life unselfishly serving all.

He

> stayed there for 7 years before eventually realizing that

particular

> strategy was inadequate. All the clergy were getting fat, but world

> suffering continued unabated. Wars, famines, and racial strife were

> rampant, and the cruelty humanity seemed to be inflicting on itself

> was not (with rare exception) really being addressed by the self-

> involved and self-perpetuating politics within the Catholic

Church.

> When he left the seminary, he headed up into the high Sierras to

live

> for 6 months as a hermit. His intent was to cleanse himself from

all

> the accumulated muck of that failed religious conditioning and re-

> align with his original mission.

> While there, he read the Bhagavad Gita – an ancient Hindu text that

a

> friend had given him for the sojourn, and which had a profound and

> lasting impact on him. As he read the verse

> " He who does My work, who is devoted to Me and loves Me, who is

free

> from attachment and from enmity to all beings, goes to Me. "

> a resonant epiphany rang in his heart. He went back to San

Francisco,

> looked up meditation in the phone book, found a Zen Center nearby,

> and began studying Buddhist practices geared towards the discovery

of

> the truth of one's own nature. To really serve others, he now

> believed, he needed to " know himself " first, and this seemed like a

> good place to start. Many of his friends were now experimenting

with

> the growing counter-cultural movement sweeping the nation, and so

he

> moved to the epicenter of all that – the Haight-Ashbury district in

> San Francisco. This exposed him to quite a different view, but what

> most appealed to him was the focus on universal love woven within

the

> songs and proclamations of this emerging vision.

>

> At the time, the Viet Nam War was in full gear and, having forsaken

> his theological deferrment upon leaving the seminary, he soon

became

> the recipient of the dreaded draft notice, requiring him to report

> for a physical in preparation for induction into the army. He did

not

> want to shoot people, he only wanted to feed them. Consequently, he

> applied for Conscientious Objector status, necessitating an

> appearance before the Draft Board to argue his case. He explained

as

> patiently as possible how a number of people " over there " probably

> had the same name as his by now, and he did not feel inclined to go

> shooting at them after spending so much time and effort to feed

them.

> Apparently, this was convincing enough to Board, and so he began

his

> 2 years of Alternate Service as a Child Care Counsellor at a

> residential treatment center for emotionally scarred pre-

adolescents.

> He was assigned to a group of 10 very unhappy and bewildered boys,

> and he loved them and hugged them and watched over them, and also

> made sure that they ate properly. He had the kitchen substitute

fresh

> fruits and vegetables for the standard white sugar and flour

> products, and with his own money he purchased multivitamins for the

> children, rather than administer the potent " meds " (thorazine,

etc.)

> that were prescribed to pharmacologically " manage " their behavior.

> Rather than letting them sit around and watch violent cartoons on

the

> weekends, he would load them into the van and take them to the

parks

> and beaches of Northern California, and let these inner-city kids

get

> the feeling for the freedom singing through nature. At bedtime, he

> would give them tender backrubs, and tell them little stories about

> love.

> Soon his unit was distinguished for the remarkable progress they

were

> making, but when it was discovered that he had discontinued their

> prescribed drugss without authorization, he was fired. Poignantly,

> his group petitioned the administration to keep him, but to no

avail,

> of course.

>

> During this time, he had continued with his meditation, and when he

> was abruptly relieved of his service requirements, he entered a Zen

> Monastery high up in the San Gabriel Mountains in Southern

California

> for the next two years. After a year there, the Zen Master shared

an

> interesting observation. He told him that he clearly wanted to give

> himself to everyone and everything, but that he still did not know

> What he Was. As long as this was so, he was in no position to give

> anything at all. It was all just dream giving, and of no real value

> whatsoever. This shook him down to his toes, and precipitated an

> ensuing series of revelatory insights.

> In addition, while there, he met and fell in love with the woman

who

> was to become his wife. She too was drawn to the ideal of service,

> and when she indicated her intent to leave the monastery to become

a

> nurse-midwife, he joined her.

> All the while, he still harbored a lingering suspicion that he was

> not yet really serving. When his wife was accepted into a training

> program on the East Coast, he moved to Boston and helped start a

> Natural Foods company that later became the largest whole foods

> supermarket chain in the country. Thousands of people were

introduced

> to a better way of life through this company, but this was still

not

> enough for him.. Nothing was enough. Nothing would ever be enough.

>

> Somewhere along the way there dawned a simple recognition. It was

not

> like a lightning bolt or anything that dramatic -- just an obvious

> realization that his whole life-long quest was based on a false

> premise. All along, he had assumed himself to be a separate

> individual, trying to bridge a presumed chasm in his own being. He

> had superimposed on this simple being all sorts of beliefs and

> judgements about himself as the one who is " doing " all of this, and

> then projected that dreamy stuff out into " the world " , as if " the

> world " was somehow separate from himself.

> As layers of self-inflicted dilemma melted away, he realized how

> arrogant that stubborn perception had been -- the presumtion that

he

> could ever be in a position of " saving " anybody. With that, even

the

> sense of the " other " became less of a fixation, along with the

> presumption of " knowing " anything about the mystery of life. As

that

> house of cards came crumbling down, the whole fictional contraction

> loosened:

> How could he have ever imagined himself to be separate enough from

> What Is to impose his will on It!

>

> He finally began to enjoy his meals without feeling guilty.

> Everything returned to the kind of ordinary happiness just briefly

> interrupted by that fateful movie so many years ago..

> He was somehow gracefully relieved of the concern that anything be

> other than what it is. What it is -- the perfection of the universe

> shining in this endless moment Now. And Now. And Now.

>

> The dream we dream of this life is a small shadow, arising in a

vast

> space of awesome mystery. There is not even one molecule that is

not

> permeated with the most amazing heartbeat of Life living us, just

as

> It does. We can go anywhere, already realizing that there is

nowhere

> to go! We can do anything, already realizing that " we " are doing

> nothing! There are no barriers in life, except what we imagine in

our

> innocent misunderstandings. Even these are perfection and grace.

> There is nothing and no one to save, and nobody to save anything.

> Thus, all are truly saved. There is no freedom or bondage. Thus,

all

> are truly free. There is nobody to bless. Thus, all are truly

> blessed. Perhaps you too will find this out for yourself, until it

> becomes totally obvious that

>

> All Is Well.

 

:-)))