Guest guest Posted December 27, 2005 Report Share Posted December 27, 2005 A poems. Hope you enjoy it. It's for you. Most People Most people will live ordinary lives, Being children, going to school, and growing up. They will fall in love, marry and have children, The grandparents will come and visit, Buying toys for the kids when they are small. The kids will go to school, Learn lots of useless things, Listen to music, dance, make love To one, or a parade of partners. They will hold a job, or many jobs, Work an eight hour day, Come home, watch T.V., Read the newspaper, Have sex with their mates, And maybe a few others, The kids will grow up, And there will be birthday parties, School and everyday problems. And then there is sports, ball games Winning teams, the playoffs, The nationals, my team, your team, And sports on television, Going to the game, Yeah! Hooray for our team, And then there is god, Our god, your god, their god, And church, or the synagogue, or temple or mosque, The prayers, everybody is praying, Help us lord, have mercy, Forgive us of our sins, And go home to television, The newspaper, and then Monday, And back to work, the job. Mostly, this is ordinary life. There are a few, Who say to themselves, What is this? What is this life? What’s going on here? And they try to figure out, The meaning of things, The purpose of things, And don’t accept the common Answers given by religious authorities, School authorities, Newspaper authorities, And see that most people really Do not know, what they are doing, Or why they are doing it. So they begin to look around, And ask, and inquire, and read, And find a literature, an accumulation Of opinion and experiences, Of others who are asking Why? What’s going on here? And they ask, what have we in common, What do we share together with all life, What is happening to us all? And they see birth, growing up, and death For all living things, And try to see what we have in common. And see that all humans think, And feel the fabric of our lives, That we have many opinions and Thoughts about every possible thing. And see the arguments, and the self-righteousness And the proclamations of national leaders And the foolishness of war. What is it about, what is underneath What supports the whole process They ask? And turn within for the answer. And there they see the whole process Of thinking, speculation and analysis, Churning, churning looking for something That is real, and answers their questions. It is the thinking, the words, The inner dialogue that propels the Process, moving it into endless shapes And patterns. And they ask, where is all this coming from. What is the source of all this confusion? And they sit, and focus inward and try To sense the source, the origin of their thoughts. And as they sit and ponder and question, The thinking subsides of itself, And something else is observed and felt, It is the source of the thinking, The inner pool out of which All thought arises. There is no name for it, It is a state, a condition of awareness, The life that supports all of the thinking. And in that moments of recognition, When thinking is still and at rest, The thinker emerges, the base, the pool, The empty reservoir from where The thinking emerges. It has no name, there is no description That can describe it but perhaps calling it Awareness Itself, the Infinite Mind, the Substrate, the Origin, the Wonderful, The Always Full and Always Empty will suffice. Then you realize that every living things has it, Every living thing, Is It, is being what it is, expressing what it is. And you share that in common with all life, This pool of awareness, this sense of intelligence. And that all eyes are looking out from the same place, Seeing and being, just as you are, just as I am. And that we share that in common with all, And that it is one life, one unity, one experience That we are all having. And it is everywhere, everything, and everyone. As this is acknowledged and recognized, Perceived in its fullness, A sense of knowing pervades, A sense of completeness pervades And the wholeness of life Is perceived, And at rest, And everything within, And without, Becomes peaceful. Larry Epston www.epston.com Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted December 28, 2005 Report Share Posted December 28, 2005 Larry, I'm sorry we got off to a bad start. I was in a rotten mood last week and came in here with boxing gloves on. The stress of the holidays and working twelve hour graveyard shifts doing a dangerous job got the better of me. You really are a great guy and I knew that right from the start. So, I aplogize to you. This poem of yours is wonderful and speaks to me. I now see where you're coming from. We're not so different in our views as I thought. Silver Nisargadatta , epston@a... wrote: > > A poems. Hope you enjoy it. > It's for you. > > > > Most People > > Most people will live ordinary lives, > Being children, going to school, and growing up. > They will fall in love, marry and have children, > The grandparents will come and visit, > Buying toys for the kids when they are small. > The kids will go to school, > Learn lots of useless things, > Listen to music, dance, make love > To one, or a parade of partners. > They will hold a job, or many jobs, > Work an eight hour day, > Come home, watch T.V., > Read the newspaper, > Have sex with their mates, > And maybe a few others, > The kids will grow up, > And there will be birthday parties, > School and everyday problems. > And then there is sports, ball games > Winning teams, the playoffs, > The nationals, my team, your team, > And sports on television, > Going to the game, > Yeah! Hooray for our team, > And then there is god, > Our god, your god, their god, > And church, or the synagogue, or temple or mosque, > The prayers, everybody is praying, > Help us lord, have mercy, > Forgive us of our sins, > And go home to television, > The newspaper, and then Monday, > And back to work, the job. > Mostly, this is ordinary life. > > There are a few, > Who say to themselves, > What is this? What is this life? > What’s going on here? > And they try to figure out, > The meaning of things, > The purpose of things, > And don’t accept the common > Answers given by religious authorities, > School authorities, Newspaper authorities, > And see that most people really > Do not know, what they are doing, > Or why they are doing it. > > > So they begin to look around, > And ask, and inquire, and read, > And find a literature, an accumulation > Of opinion and experiences, > Of others who are asking Why? > What’s going on here? > > And they ask, what have we in common, > What do we share together with all life, > What is happening to us all? > And they see birth, growing up, and death > For all living things, > And try to see what we have in common. > > And see that all humans think, > And feel the fabric of our lives, > That we have many opinions and > Thoughts about every possible thing. > And see the arguments, and the self-righteousness > And the proclamations of national leaders > And the foolishness of war. > > What is it about, what is underneath > What supports the whole process > They ask? And turn within for the answer. > And there they see the whole process > Of thinking, speculation and analysis, > Churning, churning looking for something > That is real, and answers their questions. > > It is the thinking, the words, > The inner dialogue that propels the > Process, moving it into endless shapes > And patterns. > > And they ask, where is all this coming from. > What is the source of all this confusion? > And they sit, and focus inward and try > To sense the source, the origin of their thoughts. > And as they sit and ponder and question, > > The thinking subsides of itself, > And something else is observed and felt, > It is the source of the thinking, > The inner pool out of which > All thought arises. > There is no name for it, > It is a state, a condition of awareness, > The life that supports all of the thinking. > > And in that moments of recognition, > When thinking is still and at rest, > The thinker emerges, the base, the pool, > The empty reservoir from where > The thinking emerges. > > It has no name, there is no description > That can describe it but perhaps calling it > Awareness Itself, the Infinite Mind, the Substrate, the Origin, the > Wonderful, The Always Full and > Always Empty will suffice. > > Then you realize that every living things has it, > Every living thing, > Is It, is being what it is, expressing what it is. > And you share that in common with all life, > This pool of awareness, this sense of intelligence. > And that all eyes are looking out from the same place, > Seeing and being, just as you are, just as I am. > And that we share that in common with all, > And that it is one life, one unity, one experience > That we are all having. > And it is everywhere, everything, and everyone. > As this is acknowledged and recognized, > Perceived in its fullness, > A sense of knowing pervades, > A sense of completeness pervades > And the wholeness of life > Is perceived, > And at rest, > And everything within, > And without, > Becomes peaceful. > > Larry Epston > www.epston.com > Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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