Guest guest Posted March 28, 2006 Report Share Posted March 28, 2006 Over the years the children had learned to fashion little stick figures to represent the objects that appeared to them in the dream.......Everything that they saw or could think of....got its own figure. Each new child was given a stick figure that represented their-self and to which it could attach its own accumulation of stick figures. They even came up with a figure to represent 'no-figure'...and to represent " oneness " they would push all their personal figures together. This pile of figures became their God. They would all stand in front of the huge pile of figures and chant: " Ahhhhhhhhbaa.....Ahhhhhhaaaaaabaaaaaaa " To that heap..... they would bow and ask for forgiveness for their sins. Each separate tribe developed their own stick figures...which resulted in confusion and wars. Over the years,......the number of figures increased...and the accumulated weight took its tole. Each child was covered with so many figures that the natural world could no longer be seen and they became isolated and frightened. When they died......they were buried in the ground...and a stone with their personal figure carved in it was placed over their grave. Most of them were never told of the natural beauty that surrounded them in the momentless presence. Most of them were never aware of the vast peaceful plenitude between the poles of their spinning world. toombaru Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted March 28, 2006 Report Share Posted March 28, 2006 Nisargadatta , " toombaru2006 " <lastrain wrote: > > > > Over the years the children had learned to fashion little stick figures to represent the > objects that appeared to them in the dream.......Everything that they saw or could think > of....got its own figure. > > Each new child was given a stick figure that represented their-self and to which it could > attach its own accumulation of stick figures. > > They even came up with a figure to represent 'no-figure'...and to represent " oneness " they > would push all their personal figures together. This pile of figures became their God. > > They would all stand in front of the huge pile of figures and chant: > > " Ahhhhhhhhbaa.....Ahhhhhhaaaaaabaaaaaaa " > > To that heap..... they would bow and ask for forgiveness for their sins. > > Each separate tribe developed their own stick figures...which resulted in confusion and > wars. > > Over the years,......the number of figures increased...and the accumulated weight took its > tole. > > Each child was covered with so many figures that the natural world could no longer be > seen and they became isolated and frightened. > > When they died......they were buried in the ground...and a stone with their personal figure > carved in it was placed over their grave. > > Most of them were never told of the natural beauty that surrounded them in the > momentless presence. > > > Most of them were never aware of the vast peaceful plenitude between the poles of their > spinning world. > > > toombaru > A creative story-vision. A satire, we could say, I suppose... on, for example... oh but why spoil the trance of those enchanted wraiths that weave their webs of mutually-sympathetic-visions chanting, chanting in unison then off-again, and then again as one .... how could they doubt what *THEY ALL UNDERSTAND*? Bill Bill Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted March 28, 2006 Report Share Posted March 28, 2006 Nisargadatta , OConnor Patricia <gdtige wrote: > > > --- billrishel <illusyn a écrit : > > > > Nisargadatta , " toombaru2006 " > <lastrain@> wrote: > > > > > > > > Over the years the children had learned to fashion > little stick > figures to represent the > > objects that appeared to them in the > dream.......Everything that > they saw or could think > > of....got its own figure. > > > > Each new child was given a stick figure that > represented their-self > and to which it could > > attach its own accumulation of stick figures. > > > > They even came up with a figure to represent > 'no-figure'...and to > represent " oneness " they > > would push all their personal figures together. This > pile of figures > became their God. > > > > They would all stand in front of the huge pile of > figures and chant: > > > > " Ahhhhhhhhbaa.....Ahhhhhhaaaaaabaaaaaaa " > > > > To that heap..... they would bow and ask for > forgiveness for their sins. > > > > Each separate tribe developed their own stick > figures...which > resulted in confusion and > > wars. > > > > Over the years,......the number of figures > increased...and the > accumulated weight took its > > tole. > > > > Each child was covered with so many figures that the > natural world > could no longer be > > seen and they became isolated and frightened. > > > > When they died......they were buried in the > ground...and a stone > with their personal figure > > carved in it was placed over their grave. > > > > Most of them were never told of the natural beauty > that surrounded > them in the > > momentless presence. > > > > > > Most of them were never aware of the vast peaceful > plenitude between > the poles of their > > spinning world. > > > > > > toombaru > > > > A creative story-vision. > A satire, we could say, I suppose... > on, for example... > > oh but why spoil the trance of those enchanted wraiths > that weave their webs > of mutually-sympathetic-visions > chanting, chanting > in unison > then off-again, and then again > as one > ... > how could they doubt what *THEY ALL UNDERSTAND*? > > > Bill > > or > ...where have I gone... > buried among a thousand whispers, under so many faces, > > How could I recognize You, my beloved > If I keep doubting the only one I understand. > Patricia > > > > > How about a scone? toombaru Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted March 28, 2006 Report Share Posted March 28, 2006 Nisargadatta , OConnor Patricia <gdtige wrote: > > > --- billrishel <illusyn a écrit : > > > > Nisargadatta , " toombaru2006 " > <lastrain@> wrote: > > > > > > > > Over the years the children had learned to fashion > little stick > figures to represent the > > objects that appeared to them in the > dream.......Everything that > they saw or could think > > of....got its own figure. > > > > Each new child was given a stick figure that > represented their-self > and to which it could > > attach its own accumulation of stick figures. > > > > They even came up with a figure to represent > 'no-figure'...and to > represent " oneness " they > > would push all their personal figures together. This > pile of figures > became their God. > > > > They would all stand in front of the huge pile of > figures and chant: > > > > " Ahhhhhhhhbaa.....Ahhhhhhaaaaaabaaaaaaa " > > > > To that heap..... they would bow and ask for > forgiveness for their sins. > > > > Each separate tribe developed their own stick > figures...which > resulted in confusion and > > wars. > > > > Over the years,......the number of figures > increased...and the > accumulated weight took its > > tole. > > > > Each child was covered with so many figures that the > natural world > could no longer be > > seen and they became isolated and frightened. > > > > When they died......they were buried in the > ground...and a stone > with their personal figure > > carved in it was placed over their grave. > > > > Most of them were never told of the natural beauty > that surrounded > them in the > > momentless presence. > > > > > > Most of them were never aware of the vast peaceful > plenitude between > the poles of their > > spinning world. > > > > > > toombaru > > > > A creative story-vision. > A satire, we could say, I suppose... > on, for example... > > oh but why spoil the trance of those enchanted wraiths > that weave their webs > of mutually-sympathetic-visions > chanting, chanting > in unison > then off-again, and then again > as one > ... > how could they doubt what *THEY ALL UNDERSTAND*? > > > Bill > > or > ...where have I gone... > buried among a thousand whispers, under so many faces, > > How could I recognize You, my beloved > If I keep doubting the only one I understand. > Patricia ~~~~~~~~~ You just said something, I do believe. Something about: " I keep doubting the only one I understand. " And reflecting... yes, Freedom does seem to involve a rejection of what " they all say " ... a turning away from the myriad tongues of direction... a sense of an Inner Course that is sufficient to tide one across the Sea of Change so that one no longer cares, nor wonders as to what, whither, nor which... so that the Longing has fallen away and only the clarity of a Silent Depth carries one so far far beyond those old moorings... so far far Beyond. Bill Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted March 28, 2006 Report Share Posted March 28, 2006 --- toombaru2006 <lastrain a écrit : Nisargadatta , OConnor Patricia <gdtige wrote: > > > --- billrishel <illusyn a écrit : > > > > Nisargadatta , " toombaru2006 " > <lastrain@> wrote: > > > > > > > > Over the years the children had learned to fashion > little stick > figures to represent the > > objects that appeared to them in the > dream.......Everything that > they saw or could think > > of....got its own figure. > > > > Each new child was given a stick figure that > represented their-self > and to which it could > > attach its own accumulation of stick figures. > > > > They even came up with a figure to represent > 'no-figure'...and to > represent " oneness " they > > would push all their personal figures together. This > pile of figures > became their God. > > > > They would all stand in front of the huge pile of > figures and chant: > > > > " Ahhhhhhhhbaa.....Ahhhhhhaaaaaabaaaaaaa " > > > > To that heap..... they would bow and ask for > forgiveness for their sins. > > > > Each separate tribe developed their own stick > figures...which > resulted in confusion and > > wars. > > > > Over the years,......the number of figures > increased...and the > accumulated weight took its > > tole. > > > > Each child was covered with so many figures that the > natural world > could no longer be > > seen and they became isolated and frightened. > > > > When they died......they were buried in the > ground...and a stone > with their personal figure > > carved in it was placed over their grave. > > > > Most of them were never told of the natural beauty > that surrounded > them in the > > momentless presence. > > > > > > Most of them were never aware of the vast peaceful > plenitude between > the poles of their > > spinning world. > > > > > > toombaru > > > > A creative story-vision. > A satire, we could say, I suppose... > on, for example... > > oh but why spoil the trance of those enchanted wraiths > that weave their webs > of mutually-sympathetic-visions > chanting, chanting > in unison > then off-again, and then again > as one > ... > how could they doubt what *THEY ALL UNDERSTAND*? > > > Bill > > or > ...where have I gone... > buried among a thousand whispers, under so many faces, > > How could I recognize You, my beloved > If I keep doubting the only one I understand. > Patricia > > > > > How about a scone? toombaru 12 noon tomorrow? if the rain hsn`t gotten us washed away in the Ocean by then. That would be nice.. Patricia ** If you do not wish to receive individual emails, to change your subscription, sign in with your ID and go to Edit My Groups: /mygroups?edit=1 Under the Message Delivery option, choose " No Email " for the Nisargadatta group and click on Save Changes. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted March 28, 2006 Report Share Posted March 28, 2006 > > > > > > > > Over the years the children had learned to fashion > little stick > figures to represent the > > objects that appeared to them in the > dream.......Everything that > they saw or could think > > of....got its own figure. > > > > Each new child was given a stick figure that > represented their-self > and to which it could > > attach its own accumulation of stick figures. > > > > They even came up with a figure to represent > 'no-figure'...and to > represent " oneness " they > > would push all their personal figures together. This > pile of figures > became their God. > > > > They would all stand in front of the huge pile of > figures and chant: > > > > " Ahhhhhhhhbaa.....Ahhhhhhaaaaaabaaaaaaa " > > > > To that heap..... they would bow and ask for > forgiveness for their sins. > > > > Each separate tribe developed their own stick > figures...which > resulted in confusion and > > wars. > > > > Over the years,......the number of figures > increased...and the > accumulated weight took its > > tole. > > > > Each child was covered with so many figures that the > natural world > could no longer be > > seen and they became isolated and frightened. > > > > When they died......they were buried in the > ground...and a stone > with their personal figure > > carved in it was placed over their grave. > > > > Most of them were never told of the natural beauty > that surrounded > them in the > > momentless presence. > > > > > > Most of them were never aware of the vast peaceful > plenitude between > the poles of their > > spinning world. > > > > > > toombaru > > > > A creative story-vision. > A satire, we could say, I suppose... > on, for example... > > oh but why spoil the trance of those enchanted wraiths > that weave their webs > of mutually-sympathetic-visions > chanting, chanting > in unison > then off-again, and then again > as one > ... > how could they doubt what *THEY ALL UNDERSTAND*? > > > Bill > > or > ...where have I gone... > buried among a thousand whispers, under so many faces, > > How could I recognize You, my beloved > If I keep doubting the only one I understand. > Patricia ~~~~~~~~~ You just said something, I do believe. Something about: " I keep doubting the only one I understand. " And reflecting... yes, Freedom does seem to involve a rejection of what " they all say " ... a turning away from the myriad tongues of direction... a sense of an Inner Course that is sufficient to tide one across the Sea of Change so that one no longer cares, nor wonders as to what, whither, nor which... so that the Longing has fallen away and only the clarity of a Silent Depth carries one so far far beyond those old moorings... so far far Beyond. Bill Yes Bill, very yes, but for now, Longing is the vehicule. Patricia ** If you do not wish to receive individual emails, to change your subscription, sign in with your ID and go to Edit My Groups: /mygroups?edit=1 Under the Message Delivery option, choose " No Email " for the Nisargadatta group and click on Save Changes. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted March 28, 2006 Report Share Posted March 28, 2006 Nisargadatta , OConnor Patricia <gdtige wrote: > > > > > > > > > > > > > > Over the years the children had learned to fashion > > little stick > > figures to represent the > > > objects that appeared to them in the > > dream.......Everything that > > they saw or could think > > > of....got its own figure. > > > > > > Each new child was given a stick figure that > > represented their-self > > and to which it could > > > attach its own accumulation of stick figures. > > > > > > They even came up with a figure to represent > > 'no-figure'...and to > > represent " oneness " they > > > would push all their personal figures together. > This > > pile of figures > > became their God. > > > > > > They would all stand in front of the huge pile of > > figures and chant: > > > > > > " Ahhhhhhhhbaa.....Ahhhhhhaaaaaabaaaaaaa " > > > > > > To that heap..... they would bow and ask for > > forgiveness for their sins. > > > > > > Each separate tribe developed their own stick > > figures...which > > resulted in confusion and > > > wars. > > > > > > Over the years,......the number of figures > > increased...and the > > accumulated weight took its > > > tole. > > > > > > Each child was covered with so many figures that > the > > natural world > > could no longer be > > > seen and they became isolated and frightened. > > > > > > When they died......they were buried in the > > ground...and a stone > > with their personal figure > > > carved in it was placed over their grave. > > > > > > Most of them were never told of the natural beauty > > that surrounded > > them in the > > > momentless presence. > > > > > > > > > Most of them were never aware of the vast peaceful > > plenitude between > > the poles of their > > > spinning world. > > > > > > > > > toombaru > > > > > > > A creative story-vision. > > A satire, we could say, I suppose... > > on, for example... > > > > oh but why spoil the trance of those enchanted > wraiths > > that weave their webs > > of mutually-sympathetic-visions > > chanting, chanting > > in unison > > then off-again, and then again > > as one > > ... > > how could they doubt what *THEY ALL UNDERSTAND*? > > > > > > Bill > > > > or > > ...where have I gone... > > buried among a thousand whispers, under so many > faces, > > > > How could I recognize You, my beloved > > If I keep doubting the only one I understand. > > Patricia > > ~~~~~~~~~ > > You just said something, I do believe. > Something about: > " I keep doubting the only one I understand. " > > And reflecting... yes, Freedom does seem to involve > a rejection of what " they all say " ... > a turning away from the myriad tongues of direction... > > a sense of an Inner Course that is sufficient to > tide one across the Sea of Change > > so that one no longer cares, nor wonders > as to what, whither, nor which... > > so that the Longing has fallen away > > and only the clarity of a Silent Depth > > carries one so far far beyond those old > moorings... > > so far far Beyond. > > > Bill > > Yes Bill, very yes, but for now, > Longing is the vehicule. > Patricia > LOL! Your honesty is wonderful And you know, that is what Nisargadatta stressed, simple honesty: M: Whatever name you give it: will, or steady purpose, or onepointedness of the mind, you come back to earnestness, sincerity, honesty. When you are in dead earnest, you bend every incident, every second of your life to your purpose. You do not waste time and energy on other things. You are totally dedicated, call it will, or love, or plain honesty. We are complex beings, at war within and without. We contradict ourselves all the time, undoing today the work of yesterday. No wonder we are stuck. A little of integrity would make a lot of difference. Bill Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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