You

Tears accompany joy ,
I am aware of you.

Sons and Grandsons

Who will champion the child.
To be a son, to be loved unconditionally.
Well, unconditionally.
Unconditionality, you understand, does have its limits, let’s be reasonable.
In the real world, there are even limits to “unconditional”.
I can be corrupted when the point of tolerance is exceeded.
Corrupted, that is into putting aside my “unconditionality” of which I am so proud.

To be a Grand son, the arrows of revenge more easily fall short.
The Grandfather at last begins to see the shape of the mountain as a Father he struggled to climb.

Life has an irony of giving when we stop demanding.
Of providing when not needed.

The unseen blooms on that piece of land that embraces the big dog
(at least as far as the worms are concerned).

The words, carved in stone as if to give them weight.
Acknowledgement to a life lived well.

I apologise for my feelings of pain, frustration and anger.
I am made to see that my truth is the wrong shape.

The splash in the pond is not symmetrical.

The feelings I have are wrong, I am wrong. I am told.


No, the feelings I have, like the shape of the splash, are fitting. The objection is against my reaction, the action I take to try to contain my feeling.

I fall short in catching the butterfly of my experience.

The breeze, the moving leaf, how deliciously delicate the insect alights, silently, unnoticed, no fanfare, just a quiet demonstration of what in a lifetime of trying I may not get right.

There are people who watch like referees – keep score – they know the rules.

I dislike myself when I see the shadow of the elevated chair. I sit atop, in the Wimbledon of my world.

The players occasionally shake their impotent fist at me and my call. I am drunk with power I have given myself.

The people who watch like referees I hate that I take seriously the score they give.

There are other games you say all with their rules.

Least of all the convoluted one of how do I rate in the judgment of self.

Death dissolves comparison.

Conclusion folds in on itself.

The maker of images

When you sleep and dream the images you see, seem at the time, to be quite real. Yes?
We have just described the duality of the image and the image watcher.
Both are you.
You are the observer of the dream content, the experience of the dream, and the dream itself.
This is simple, and when you awake you realise that the experience you had whilst dreaming was unreal. Something you created and mistook momentarily for real.

Now close your eyes and experience yourself for say 3 minutes or thereabouts.

Thoughts, images of people and places, fantasies, remembrances and so on.

You perhaps will accept that when you were dreaming the dream was created by you, if you had never seen or had described to you an elephant could you dream about it?

Back to the images you “saw” in the eyes closed experiment.

Those images or thoughts or lights, everything you experienced was in fact you.
That which is observed is that which is doing the observing.

Prior to sleeping, or when there is nothing much to do, practice observing the thoughts and images that move before you, much like watching a river, and see if the mind can embrace the notion that what is been observed by the mind in the form or thought or recognition is in fact the same as what you took to be the watcher.
I am certain that if you do this from time to time you will benefit,

This can be done whilst being with someone, I am also certain that you will, by doing this, greatly improve the quality of your relationships, it encourages a high level of attentiveness it is a state of being present, any action that flow from this state is at least either adequate and effective or at best inspired or enlightened.

Howard Feb 2009

Walk like a pigeon,
Sit like a dog.

If I were foolish enough to give you a system and if you were foolish enough to follow it, you would merely be copying, imitating, conforming, accepting, and when you do that you have set up in yourself the authority of another and hence there is conflict between you and that authority.
You feel you must do such and such a thing because you have been told to do it and yet you are incapable of doing it. You have your own particular inclinations, tendencies and pressures which conflict with the system you think you ought to follow and therefore there is a contradiction.
So you will lead a double life between the ideology of the system and the actuality of your daily existence.
In trying to conform to the ideology, you suppress yourself - whereas what is actually true is not the ideology but what you are. If you try to study yourself according to another you will always remain a secondhand human being.
A man who says, 'I want to change, tell me how to', seems very earnest, very serious, but he is not. He wants an authority whom he hopes will bring about order in himself. But can authority ever bring about inward order?
Order imposed from without must always breed disorder.
You may see the truth of this intellectually but can you actually apply it so that your mind no longer projects any authority, the authority of a book, a teacher, a wife or husband, a parent, a friend or of society?
Because we have always functioned within the pattern of a formula, the formula becomes the ideology and the authority; but the moment you really see that the question, 'How can I change?' sets up a new authority, you have finished with authority for ever.
Let us state it again clearly: I see that I must change completely from the roots of my being; I can no longer depend on any tradition because tradition has brought about this colossal laziness, acceptance and obedience; I cannot possibly look to another to help me to change, not to any teacher, any God, any belief, any system, any outside pressure or influence.
What then takes place? First of all, can you reject all authority? If you can it means that you are no longer afraid.
Then what happens?
When you reject something false which you have been carrying about with you for generations, when you throw off a burden of any kind, what takes place?
You have more energy, haven't you? You have more capacity, more drive, greater intensity and vitality.
If you do not feel this, then you have not thrown off the burden, you have not discarded the dead weight of authority.
But when you have thrown it off and have this energy in which there is no fear at all - no fear of making a mistake, no fear of doing right or wrong - then is not that energy itself the mutation? We need a tremendous amount of energy and we dissipate it through fear but when there is this energy which comes from throwing off every form of fear, that energy itself produces the radical inward revolution.
You do not have to do a thing about it.
So you are left with yourself, and that is the actual state for a man to be who is very serious about all this; and as you are no longer looking to anybody or anything for help, you are already free to discover. And when there is freedom, there is energy; and when there is freedom it can never do anything wrong.
Freedom is entirely different from revolt. There is no such thing as doing right or wrong when there is freedom.
You are free and from that centre you act. And hence there is no fear, and a mind that has no fear is capable of great love.
And when there is love it can do what it will. What we are now going to do, therefore, is to learn about ourselves, not according to me or to some analyst or philosopher - because if we learn about ourselves according to someone else, we learn about them, not ourselves - we are going to learn what we actually are.
Having realized that we can depend on no outside authority in bringing about a total revolution within the structure of our own psyche, there is the immensely greater difficulty of rejecting our own inward authority, the authority of our own particular little experiences and accumulated opinions, knowledge, ideas and ideals. You had an experience yesterday which taught you something and what it taught you becomes a new authority - and that authority of yesterday is as destructive as the authority of a thousand years.
To understand ourselves needs no authority either of yesterday or of a thousand years because we are living things, always moving, flowing, never resting. When we look at ourselves with the dead authority of yesterday, we will fail to understand the living movement and the beauty and quality of that movement.
To be free of all authority, of your own and that of another, is to die to everything of yesterday, so that your mind is always fresh, always young, innocent, full of vigour and passion. It is only in that state that one learns and observes.
And for this a great deal of awareness is required, actual awareness of what is going on inside yourself, without correcting it or telling it what it should or should not be, because the moment you correct it you have established another authority, a censor.
So now we are going to investigate ourselves together - not one person explaining while you read, agreeing or disagreeing with him as you follow the words on the page, but taking a journey together, a journey of discovery into the most secret corners of our minds.
And to take such a journey we must travel light; we cannot be burdened with opinions, prejudices and conclusions - all that old furniture we have collected for the last two thousand years and more.
Forget all you know about yourself; forget all you have ever thought about yourself; we are going to start as if we knew nothing.
It rained last night heavily, and now the skies are beginning to clear; it is a new fresh day. Let us meet that fresh day as if it were the only day. Let us start on our journey together with all the remembrance of yesterday left behind - and begin to understand ourselves for the first time.
K.

Rumi

Longing is the core of mystery.
Longing itself brings the cure.
The only rule is:suffer the pain. your longing must be disciplined and what you want to happen in time, sacrificed.
Rumi

For thousands of years mans inhumanity to man has continued, war after war after war, mans inability, for the most part, to find peace has remained unresolved, attempts that have, and are been made at finding peace have led and lead to bigotry and fuel and continue to fuel wars and the killing and torture of your brothers, sisters, children and our beautiful animals.

The brutality of conviction, dogma and competition we admire and encourage, is the training ground of our fears and paranoid destruction.

Despite technological advancement that has been astonishing, we still send our young men to kill and maim, and be killed and maimed for the sake of peace, freedom, ideology, reform and tribalism.

Is not the means, the end?

Our way of using the mind, of unquestionably seeing thinking, comparison, and measure as utterly important, and having competition and winning as second nature.
Leading us to destroy ourselves and the planet.

A change of mind is not enough……….Mind itself is disorder.
Love is not of the mind.

We look for, and have always looked for, a leader, or someone to tell us.
Someone outside of self, we distrust our inner wisdom of knowing.
We are conditioned and seek to condition a lack of trust in this inner wisdom.

The following are mostly questions, the answers are for you to find within self, this work is hard work, a life’s work, and only you can do it , it is not handed to you on a plate, to cripple your intuition.
You know what is appropriate, the wisdom is within you, struggle with the questions, I wish you well brothers and sisters.


You are aware of your surroundings and your body , can you watch your thinking?
What, or if you prefer, who is it that is watching?
Do you have a sense that is quite different?

For a brief moment might life be living you, rather than the other way around ?
Are you nothing but a bundle of temporally held memories, echoes, residing in an eletro-chemical impermanent mass of tissue you call your brain?

Who were you before you were born, what was your original face ?

Are you afraid of going out of your mind?
Are you afraid of not being ?

Take a break.................................................................................................

Howard

Do you have a discontent that cannot be canalized?

This discontent is essential.

Other discontents are merely ways to satisfaction.


You can teach concentration, but attention cannot be taught, just as you cannot possible teach freedom from fear, and in understanding these causes there is the elimination of fear.

There is no arriving, there is only the movement of learning – and that is the beauty of life...
A mind that listens with complete attention will never look for a result because it is constantly unfolding: like a river, it is always in movement. Such a mind is totally unconscious of its own activity, in the sense that there is no perpetuation of the self, of the ‘me’ which is seeking to achieve an end.


The result of introspection is morbid and painful, whereas awareness is enthusiasm and joy.

K

Thought is measurement.
Is it possible to live a life without comparison?

Is comparison the major source of disorder?

If I don’t compare – I don’t know. Then I begin from there.

Mind itself is disorder.

Can the mind observe itself without the observer?

K. in conversation with Professor Anderson 1975

Mind itself is disorder.

Some one describes you; is that description you?
Can you even describe yourself? I think not.
You think of something, anything; the words you use are not the thing.
Thoughts are like photographs or yesterdays news. They are at best an out of date fragment of what was momentary real.
Thinking is always old and can never grasp the unfolding present, I describe my feelings and the description changes the feeling.
We are conditioned to compare to be competitive, most of us would like to see an end to conflict and disorder and cannot see the how unattainable, and hopeless this is, unless there is a complete revolution. A revolution when we see that thought for the most part leads us into disorder.
Thought is measurement.
Is it possible to live a life without comparison?

Is comparison the major source of disorder?
If I don’t compare - I don’t know, then I begin from there.

Mind itself is disorder.

Can the mind observe itself without the observer?

Howard with acknowledgement to K

Pic. by Adrian Wilson www.mcfade.com

Belief, idea, prejudice, is a definite hindrance to understanding.
We prefer our beliefs, our dogmas: they warm us, they promise they encourage.
If we understood the way of our beliefs, and why we cling to them, one of our major causes of antagonism would disappear.

Thought can, and does often cunningly, build a marvellous structure and call that reality.
Is the observer different from that which is observed?
To see that, is to see the root of the power of image.

Pleasure and pain are the same coin, both are images.

Any form of image prevents the beauty of relationship.
Consciousness is filled with interrelated images; in fact images make up our consciousness.No image, no memory, would mean no consciousness.
Can one empty that consciousness of images, be free of the self that is the maker of images.

Asking or being told how to empty the consciousness is another image so don’t do that.
Can one see simply, the truth of this, that we are constantly making images and images prevent seeing what actually is?
You can see that washing your hands after wiping your bum is right action. If one is concerned about not getting sick. You can see the cost to you of not washing, this is intelligent action, more than a belief.

In the same way can you see the result of image making? If you can, then intelligent action is included, perhaps only briefly, but one is alert, present, attentive.
Can you see the underlying fear of that propels us to make images- erroneously subscribing to the notion that making or having images helps you to understand?
Surely we can only see the truth of a situation or a person if one is free of preconception, pre judgement prejudice, thus avoiding having concluded, made up ones mind .Is it not the case that we do this to try to get ahead of the game. To be prepared, to avoid pain or optimise pleasure, to avoid or to take advantage.
How terrified we feel to live with out images, to live in innocence, how vulnerable to risk being ripped off to risk being taken for a ride .To be inexperienced, a lamb to the slaughter. We feel compelled to know the lie of the land.
Image making is fear driven, lazy and denies the beauty of relationship, and is the way of the world and feeds the destruction of man by man.
To be attentive, alert, awake, intuitive, requires tremendous energy.
An air traffic controller is aware of "what is", ugly relationships are thus avoided...
An air traffic controller is well advised to be well rested, fit, clear headed, sharp and have energy to spare.
If you earnestly seek peace contentment and a life that is harmonious,
see that a complete revolution in our approach to living will need to take place.
Love your soul with intensity, look after your physical form and be aware of not being attentive, in that state one is attentive and present, masterfully responding with intelligence.

Pic. by Adrian Wilson www.mcfade.com

Some thing you should know about me.

I am entitled to choose who I spend time with (as it happens those people seem to be getting less.)
I am entitled to not have to have an explanation for what I think, do, or say.
(The more I know about myself the more I find unexplainable)
Thus my behaviour cannot always be explained even to myself.

It’s possible that not only do I feel ambivalent about some things; I may feel ambivalent about a lot of things. For instance because I am not talking it doesn’t mean I don’t want to.

A lot of the times I don’t trust that by acting, that includes talking, I will not make things worse. I often choose the “still frame” mode because I am afraid to proceed.

Knowing that the greatest risk is in not taking the risk doesn’t help most of the time. Taking the risk most of the time is out of my reach.
That’s why it is known as a risk.

The time I spend worrying about what is going to happen plus the time I spend worrying about what a waste that it is to spend my time doing that , added to the time I spend being disappointed in myself for the above , added to just “being “ like a tree, all this makes up my existence.
Well it is true there are lightening flashes of joy and occasions for thundering laughter, which incidentally can startle even me.

It seems like everything I do contains some element of distaste for everyone.
The difficulty of pleasing even some of the people some of the time seems to weigh more heavily than I do. I visit feeling crushed by that all too often.
Others wanting to have a hand in designing my life feels like an epidemic.

I am sure these feelings are shared by us all; I hope my voice speaks for those who are better at pretending than even I. I may as well take the blame for this unwelcomed message. One thing I will not do is apologise.

Howard

Presence is the only place that you do not generate suffering for your self or others.
Tolle.

Click on the X below

Melting snow

When we meet without wanting anything, as we often do.
When we embrace without desire ,
without thought,
without time ,

I know its the same as on the high unseen mountain top,
that which invites the sun to embrace and melt the snow.

I know that thinking on these things brings fear, thinking and time collude to create the jealousies the longings the desires the wanting and regrets, the fears and hurts.

When together without thought there is a quality,
above the mundane,
there is the mountain top, the blue sky the pristine white clouds the uninhabitable high wind, high altitude, not an easy place for life and yet there is beauty that would take your breathe away, for the most part unseen, not needing evaluation.
There is the melting of snow on a mountain, the elements of the cold and the warm without judgement.
The mist burnt off by the suns rays, transmuted, a symphonic dance.

When we meet there's a beauty that is free of desire.
Two people held together in embrace.
Brought together by happy chance,
The crystal clear stream bubbles and chatters like laughing children ,
over the black rocks.
We join in the laughter,
not needing,
not knowing,
not caring,
not needing to understand the joke.

TB

Araluen.
Western Australia

He was in awe, not thinking.
It was as if he was in the works of a giant clock,
Like the caretaker of Big Ben.
The cogs turned confidently.
No this was more than that; it was as he could hear the whirling of life itself.
The industry of the tree growing noiselessly.
The ant dragging something ten times it own weight, the sound of it’s mammoth task drowned out by the noise of colour.
The pounding of his heartbeat. The vibration of the crystal.
The gliding of the moon on it journey around the earth.
The peoples lips moving, smiling, looks of apprehension, looks of puzzlement and relief.
Silence, like swimming below the surface of the water, or those moment , used in movies , when the hero is deafened by a loud explosion , only the noise of heart beat , pumping of blood, people mouthing the words , pumping of blood and silence.
The sound of his life.
The sperm and tadpoles thrashing tails
The natural easy industry of the great architect.
The sound of thought itself.
The body strangely glowing.
Each molecule knowing
An eternity of emptiness.
The sound of silence in the oak tree seed. The serated edge of leaf design, drafted with perfection within, waiting for its turn, which may never come, with innocent patience.

This architect that was around him, in him, and reached forever, reached him from only she knew where, was always, and will always be.

His tiny little life held in the palm of melting ice, of rising sun, of eagle’s flight, of fighting cats while children sleep.
The voice, the question was becoming clearer now, the reverie receding……….
“would you like a cup of tea?”…….”sorry, did I interrupt you.” “No, no, I was……. only dreaming,,,,,,.yes thank you, tea would be nice.”
The tear of love or joy in his eye, not noticed, not minding, and easily wiped away.

Yes, …now, what was that important task that demands my attention?

Howard

Owl (inspired by krishnamurti's words) " all rivers are sacred "

One day the child asked the wise old owl
“I’m told all rivers are sacred is this so.?” “Is this true?
It seemed like 360 degrees the owl did turn his head.
And blinking twice he said.
“You know you are mostly water, surely, you did know that at least “?
“If you say so” the child did venture.

Well it so, touch the water in the river and connected you will be to all the rivers the oceans too.
Next question please, I am after all here for you.


Howard June 2007

Oh Yes there are worse things than being alone but it often takes decades to realize this and most often when you do it's too late and there's nothing worse than too late.
Charles Bukowski

The figure spoke clearly to me and this is what I heard.

If you are looking for self worth (as is, every one else ) you will never find the final step (the final piece of the jigsaw) from others, including me.

Again like the rest of humanity including all your therapist's........... You seek from people that which you felt you never got from your mother and your father. ............ and at the same time work hard, creatively, with great cunning, to get from those people that which you felt you did not get from your parents. ..........So as to live through the familiar antique of your early experience, over and over again, that's what you call the struggle.

If and when you do get, or it is offered to you, that which you deeply craved and still crave. You will probably pick it to pieces and intellectualize it into non existence, so as not to feel the fear of unfamiliar territory. This is not at all unusual almost everybody does it including me.

What you deeply seek from others is also that which you want to prove is fraudulent.
What we are convinced we want, is more often than not , that which we cunningly arrange to never have.
What we often get, is a far better indicator of what we truly wanted.
That's why I love the notion of pragmatic effect.

We get what we want and what we deserve despite all our work and trying and praying and affirmations and struggle, what we end up with was decided a long time ago. (More than likely before our birth)
There is not a lot of point to struggle really, probably no point at all actually.

You are doing fine, why are you so serious? Why do you have to do anything any way.
You are scurrying about like an anxious squirrel looking for nuts when they are in the tree’s you live in.

These thoughts are politically incorrect , you should ignore them. They are the ravings of an idiot, talk to any one about this and they will tell you it's non sensical..........anyone.

Anyway, I wasn’t talking to you I was talking to your spirit.

Howard

WARNING
WARNING
WARNING
Do not follow this advice , this advice if followed must be taken without reservation at the readers own risk.
The writer takes no responsibility for this advice as the result can lead at worst to one being crucified.
At best it will not work.

Further , this advice in fact cannot be followed, the effect is only noticed after the event.
The advice cannot be practiced ................There however is a small window that may give you what you say you want but you are in fact utterly terrified to allow.
It is as follows.......... in the noticing of ones inattention, this, may result in the setting up of an environment for the event to be noticed after it has past, at which point one will be inattentive and benefit once more from the noticing of that inattention .
In other words there is no becoming all is.
If you understand this then there is nothing you can do except to notice when you are not attentive. There is no method except the awareness of that which you use to protect your self from unconditional freedom.


Sex is not love it is pleasure............lust and love are two completely different things , wanting and desire are not love. Sex can be a high expression of love and love can be a high expression of sex , love is of being and is the same as beauty (the intelligence of a high frequency). Whenever you have the opportunity to give love away, then give it , if you feel a good feeling about someone tell them. However when you do this you may not be being loving, more likely you are being violent. Practice it anyway you may get lucky and mean it some of the time.
When you are giving love, most of the time you are wanting, which is not love. Love is made more by giving it . love is not a finite commodity. , when you give more it as if you make room in your heart for more it is an act of faith. it flows to you only when you let it go, but if you give to get then you are violent, and then love will avoid you and resentment will flower.
When you no longer desire to be loved you are in heaven and all blessing come to you.
This can only occur instantly and in this moment , most of the you lack the courage to accept love. every moment however it is there for you, go on i dare you.(there is a small risk, you may sob)

Howard

He was having a most extraordinary feeling,
Imagery is perhaps the best way it could be described. A flower that gives off a perfume.
A child that comes out with the most innocent remark that has great significent to others much older. Out of the mouths of babes.
He had considered the notion of being aware of ones inattention
And the awareness of inner tension …what do the two different meaning have in common.
When one is aware of inattention, (I used to call it impartial self observation) the quality of consciousness changes radically.
This is listening to god or listening to being.
Spaciousness as Tolle calls it.
Such ness as referred to by Buddhist literature.
The Tao as the Chinese would have it.
The holy spirit for the Christians.

A flower, a tree is in a state of attention the tree attending with great energy to being a tree, to doing tree stuff. A flower is not indecisive or measured about petals that should be opening or not opening. Being is directly observable, such ness is directly observable, there is no tree to interfere with the tree or flower to interfere with the flower , thus being a tree can do it tree'ness and being a flower can do its flower'ness.. Or no fragmentation to use Krishnamurti’s vernacular. If being express’s itself through me without my interference , if I get out of my own way, out of my mind , attend to, notice whenever I am inattentive, attend to my inner tension . ……..go on try it …… , are you feeling lucky ………shit happens ………or …..magic happens there is no particular reason …heads or tails……go toss the coin. .let go let being.
If you panic you can always take over like a teacher in a duel steering wheel learner’s car. Perhaps you got lucky and the student is divine, you can enjoy the ride.
The question is are you game to take your hands of the wheel, to wittness.

Howard

From the book, "The Quiet Mind," by John E. Coleman 1971
A "Sort of" Philosopher
In India I began searching for various religious leaders, gurus, yogis and socalled
enlightened ones. I visited Tibetan monks in Sikkin, Hindu teachers and
yogis in Calcutta, Benares, Delhi, Rishikesh, Madras and Bombay, and
Buddhist monks in Bodtagaya. I saw and spoke to teachers in many parts of
India, discussed with them their various systems of mind and body control and
entered into an assortment of strange practices, some of which I will describe,
but none of which I found produced anything more than a temporary, trancelike
state through repetition of words, chanting or concentration upon neutral
objects. Many of the experiments brought on in me a certain calm but I was
still totally unable to transcend the activities of a mischievous and probing
mind. I felt I knew the reason for my failure, as I have explained before, but
how could I search for light without dedicating my mental faculties wholly to the
search? How could I perceive the truth without consciously and devotedly
looking for it? It was like playing hide-and-seek with my own shadow.
While waiting for my plane to take off at Benares for New Delhi I noticed an
Indian taking his leave of a group of friends. He was a striking figure, getting
on in years-perhaps in his late sixties-tall, with a full head of graying hair. He
was dressed in the familiar simple lightweight suit of white linen. His departure
was evidently the cause of some sorrow to his friends, who were earnestly
wishing him a safe journey and urging him to return soon. I concluded he was
same kind of celebrity or honored guest. We went up the steps of the plane
together and I was soon in my seat and deep in a book I had purchased at the
airport bookstall, unconscious of my surroundings except for the fact that a
good-looking young American woman settled down in the seat next to me. I
paid no further attention to the man in the white suit and indeed forgot about
him for the rest of that leg of the journey. I noticed an odd thing, however.
Perhaps it was of no significance but the man carried no luggage with him.
The plane made a stop at Lucknow. The passengers alighted and we all went
into the airport lounge to be served with lunch. I noticed that the Europeans
gravitated to a table together and my first inclination was to join them. I
changed my mind, however, when I saw the elderly man whom I had seen
earlier go towards a smaller table at which the only other occupant was an
Indian Army officer. I was in India, after all, to meet Indians and this would be a
good chance to acquire a taste of local color. We exchanged the usual
cordialities and I sat down. I introduced myself and he told me his name was
Krishnamurti. 'I am a sort of philosopher,' he said. Had I known at that moment
what I was to learn later about Krishnamurti I might have been awed with the
significance of the occasion. For this was my first encounter with a man who
for over forty years has held thousands all over the world spellbound with his
wisdom, a teacher revered not only in his native India but in Europe and the
United States too; a man who in his youth was groomed for stardom by wellmeaning
people as the Messiah reborn, no less.
I knew nothing of this: he was a fellow passenger on the plane and we had met
by chance over the lunch table. At first our conversation was general. We
talked about the weather, war and all the usual topics. He asked if I'd pass the
salt. We were offered a choice of meat or vegetarian dishes and he chose the
vegetarian diet. As a matter of interest and to make conversation I asked him
why he had opted for the salad and he replied that he simply preferred the
food, there was no particular moral principle involved. Like many Indians he
had been brought up on vegetarian foods and the preference had stayed with
him. Knowing that Krishna was an Indian word meaning 'God' I ventured to ask
him what was the meaning of his name, Krishnamurti. It is customary in
Southern India for the eighth child, if a boy, to be named after Krishna and his
name, he told me with no trace of self-consciousness, meant 'in the likeness of
God'. From this point our conversation began to veer away from the
commonplace chitchat of fellow airplane passengers and I felt, if not actually
encouraged, not actively discouraged, to go a stage further. As we both had
some time on our hands I could see no harm in developing the conversation
and there was, in any case, something about the man, an indefinable quality,
an aura, which seemed to invite questions and in some strange way guarantee
that his answers would be worth hearing. I would chance it, anyway.
'You say you are a "sort of philosopher" yet, knowing the meaning of your
name, I should say you are a religious man also,' I suggested.
'If by that you mean do I follow a religion the answer would be no, sir,' he said.
'Nor do I follow any particular philosophy. I believe all philosophies and
religions are wrong. The spoken or written word is not the truth. Truth can only
be experienced directly at the moment it happens. Any thought or intellectual
projection of the truth is a step away from the truth, sir.'
I paused for a moment to try and take in what he had said. He spoke quickly
and directly in an impeccable Oxford accent; and I could not help being
amused, if a little embarrassed, by the way he addressed me formally as 'sir'
although I was a mere twenty-eight to his sixty-five or more. I could see the
Indian Army officer at our table was more than a little surprised at the turn our
conversation was taking but, rather rudely maybe, I paid no attention to him
and he went on with his meal in silence.
'Since you don't follow any of the established religions,' I asked, 'which of the
great religious leaders came closest to teaching and realizing the ultimate
truth?'
'Oh, the Buddha,' replied Krishnamurti without hesitation and somewhat to my
astonishment. I had expected him to mention one of the Indian gods or even
Christ. 'The Buddha comes closer to the basic truths and facts of life than any
other. Although I am not myself a Buddhist, of course.'
'Why not?' I asked, as politely as possible to make up for my directness.
'No organization, however old or however recent, can lead a man to truth. It is
a hindrance, it can only impede. It blocks a man from sincere study. The truth
comes from within, by seeing for yourself. The conventional way of acquiring
knowledge, it's true, is by reading or listening but to understand you have to
penetrate directly, by silently observing. Then you understand.'
He paused and I waited for him to go on. 'Obviously if you are going to build a
bridge you must study strains and stresses, but in the matter of understanding
truth or the concepts of love, philosophical or religious thoughts, anything to do
with reality, it has to be penetrated and experienced directly without any
intellectual interpretation. Truth comes from within. Once the understanding
comes you are able to talk about it but it does not follow that a listener will
understand.'
'If you described a book or a motor car or the plane we are traveling in I would
understand,' I said.
'That is the purpose of the intellect, sir, to communicate. Mechanical or
materialistic things can be understood, but if I tried to tell you what God is,
what truth is or what love is you would not fully understand. Perhaps I know
what love is, what God is, what reality is - I could write a book on what love is
or what reality is and you could read it and intellectually you would understand
the book, but it does not follow automatically that you would know what love is,
or what reality is. This you must understand by direct experience, without
interpretation and without intellectualization. The thought and the word are not
the thing but a distortion of the reality.'
The old man's flow of words was entirely fascinating and I became very
anxious to continue the discussion. When the meal was finished and our fellow
passengers began to move towards the plane once again I asked him if I might
occupy the seat next to him and talk further. He seemed glad to have a
companion, then a shadow of doubt crossed his face. 'But what about that nice
girl you were sitting with before we stopped here? She might be offended if
you leave her.' His concern for the girl - even the fact that he had noticed herbewildered
me. I didn't know the girl at all and we had exchanged only a few
polite sentences. I reassured the old man and moved my baggage to the rack
nearest his seat.
'I see you have no bags - you're traveling light,' I said.
'I am only going as far as New Delhi,' he replied, 'I have no need of
possessions and carry none. I have no money with me either, I never handle
it.'
'What will you do without money or clothes in Delhi?' I asked. 'How will you
manage for food and accommodation?'
'I shall be among friends,' he replied simply. 'I have been invited to speak and
the people who wish me to make speeches also pay for my journey, my food
and anything else I require. They also put me up in their homes and you may
be certain I shall be comfortable and want for nothing.' 'As a matter of fact,' he
went on, 'I have no permanent home or any possessions, I spend my life
traveling from place to place and my friends everywhere look after my needs. I
belong nowhere, yet everywhere, and my friends are everywhere. My needs
are simple.'
I think Krishnamurti was amused by my statement of incredulity. It must surely
have shown in my face. Even now I did not guess that he was a worldrenowned
mystic with a following in almost every land ready to welcome him
on his visits as their spiritual leader. In spite of all my reading and study of
Eastern philosophy and religious beliefs I had not encountered the name of
Krishnamurti, and for him it must have been something of a novelty to meet
such an earnest young man who quite obviously had never heard of him. I did,
however, recognize that I was in the presence of a remarkable personality, a
man whose words were getting through to me and meaning something. My
search for truth and the quiet mind was at last beginning to show the glimmer
of results. Looking back, I think it may have been precisely because I was not
one of his admirers that induced Krishnamurti to talk so freely to me. My
questioning was unforgivably probing for a complete stranger, yet his answers
were detailed and frank and, far from discouraging me or seeming reproachful
for my self-confident cross-examination, he seemed to enjoy it and even invite
more. His speech was lively and fluent and the flourishes and gestures that
accompanied it were forceful and expressive. The airplane engines droned on
monotonously and while other passengers read or slept we conducted our
vigorous discussion.
'How do you live?' I asked, returning to his earlier theme.
'Oh, things just happen. I'm well provided for. I am happier without
possessions of my own. People give me things but I can take them or leave
them. What do we want with possessions? When you don't want things they
come to you. When you do want things then you're in conflict and when you
don't get them you suffer. When you get them you want something else which
causes further suffering. My needs are very simple. All I need is something to
eat every day, a few calories, enough clothes to keep me warm. These are
very adequately provided for me. The only clothes I own are these I'm
wearing,' he laughed.
'Man's real needs are simple. And it is quite easy to satisfy them. Television
and automobiles are not needed to sustain life and indeed they lead to conflict.
When you desire them and devote attention to acquiring them this is where
conflict comes into life. You are never satisfied. We tend to live in confusion
instead of clarity. This is destructive. Out of confusion more confusion grows.
But if we are aware of the confusion we can stop and examine. Don't take
action out of confusion, sir. Take action based on clarity.'
'How can one achieve clarity?'
'We have to understand living, the living of our daily life, with all its misery,
confusion, conflict. It is not easy. If we can understand how to live, death is
close. Without dying there is no living. We should observe ourselves
constantly. See ourselves, our greed, envy, bitterness, cynicism, beliefs-and
watch them. We cannot see them if we want to change them. Actual seeing
demands energy, active and constant observation.'
'How would you answer a person who sought your advice on developing
spiritually?' I asked.
Krishnamurti's face grew serious. 'Simply by silently watching yourself all the
time, all your actions, your thoughts, your environment. Be silently aware of
things as they occur, without interpretation.'
'But I cannot advise,' he said, laughing suddenly. 'When people ask me for
advice or assurance it is the same as asking for a medicine. I cannot give it.
The answer is within themselves. They must look for it. They are seeking
security and there is no such thing. That's why they believe in a religion or try
to reach God - it's the desire to feel safe. A man is his own salvation and it is
only through himself that he will find the truth, not through religions, thoughts
or theories, and certainly not through following a leader. Leaders and followers
exploit each other and I will have nothing to do with such activities!'
'It's because of this urge to feel safe that we put our faith in leaders. And why?
Because we don't want to do the wrong thing. Fear not clarity, is the basis of
following. We want a permanent idea, a permanent God. When clarity is come
to we don't want to follow. My teaching does not involve faith, but a mind that is
free to examine.'
'Is there, then, no value in following a religion?' I asked.
'All organized religions are forms of escape, sir. They offer comfort, tell you
what to do. If you behave properly you will be rewarded. It is childish. It is a
block to understanding.'
There were many more questions I felt I must put to this sage old Indian whose
words had struck, for the first time, a chord of true response in my mind. But
the changing note of the engines indicated that, all too soon, the journey was
over and in a few minutes we would land and go our separate ways.
'Shall we meet in Delhi?' I asked.
'I shall be gone in a few days,' he replied.
'Where are you going next?'
'America, perhaps, or Switzerland,' he said vaguely. 'I prefer a mild climate,
you know.'
As he rose to leave the plane I noticed for the first time that he carried a book
under his arm. When he saw me glance at the title he smiled a little
sheepishly.
'This is the only kind of literature I read. Everything else bores me.'
It was a paperback crime thriller. I collected my bags and headed for the
airport buildings and the door marked 'exit'. I turned but there was no sign of
the man in the white linen suit - I saw only the crowd of excited men and
women, and the press photographers, who had Krishnamurti somewhere in
their midst.

The awakening of intelligence

“The awakening of intelligence”

Our fundamental problem then is - not how to stop wars, not which God is better than another god, not which political system is better, not which party is worth voting for (they are all crooked anyhow), but the most fundamental problem for the human being, whether he is in America, India or anywhere else, is this question of freedom from “the little corner”. And that little corner is ourselves, that little corner is our shoddy mind. We have made that little corner , because our own little minds are fragmented and therefore incapable of being sensitive to the whole; we want that little part to be made safe , peaceful, quiet , satisfying , pleasurable , thereby avoiding all pain, because fundamentally we are seeking pleasure. And if you have examined pleasure, your own pleasure, have observed it, watched it, gone into it, you will see that where there is pleasure, there is pain. You cannot have one without the other; and we are always demanding more pleasure and therefore inviting more pain. And on that we have built this little part, which we call human life. Seeing is to be intimately in contact with it and you cannot be intimately, actually in contact with it if you have concepts, beliefs, dogmas, or opinions.
So what is important is not to learn but to see and to listen. Listen to the birds, listen to your wife’s voice , however irritating , beautiful or ugly , listen to it and listen to your own voice however beautiful or impatient it may be. Then out of this listening you will find that all separation between you the observer and the observed comes to an end. Therefore no conflict exists and you observe so carefully that the very observation is discipline; you don’t have to impose discipline .And that is the beauty, Sirs (if you only realize it), that is the beauty of seeing. If you can see, you have nothing else to do, because in that seeing there is all discipline, all virtue, which is attention. And in that seeing there is all beauty, and with beauty there is love .Then when there is love you have nothing more to do. Then where you are, you have heaven: then all seeking comes to an end.
Krishnamurti

Grand children

Paul was a grand father. Suddenly it seemed here he was in his sixties. And it was Christmas day.
Equally as unexpectedly he thought of in particularly one of his own Grandfather's, his fathers father.
Was this man, long dead, was he here now?.
Oddly he realized he had never given him much thought during his entire life.
Oddly had never seen his Grandfather indoors. Embraced or welcomed.
In his family, talking about his father’s father was simply not done, even talking about why we don’t talk about him was avoided for all intents and purpose it was better the man had not existed. Unlike his Mother’s father , their were many memories of him and the numerous aunties and uncles.
Paul had only two memories of his Fathers Father.

The first was brief moments alone with his grandfather in a park , he must have been a very small boy, no words were available for recall, only the feeling of nausea from the swing , wishing his Grandfather would stop pushing him, the little Paul didn’t feel he could say he had had enough because of a sense that his grandfather would feel upset , would feel unappreciated, or perhaps disapproving, small Paul felt he would have risked been thought of as too sensitive and should be enjoying the movement of the swing, thinking "I will just put up with it a little longer the swinging would soon stop."
Paul had no memory of any other members of the family being in the park. It was as though this huge man that he met for the first time this was to be the last and only allowed meeting the man would get to be with his only grandson, the boy sensed, didn’t understand only sensed this huge man was in pain, emotional pain , may be this is why small Paul didn't complain, sensing this massive man, his grandfather, was wanting perhaps even needing the small child to enjoy these moments.

The other memory was again that of a small boy. He was with most of his extended family and aunties and uncles at his other grand parents, it was Christmas.
Suddenly there was a look of controlled alarm someone at the door , Winter darkness, cold North of England. Curtain aside for peeping, the big man was standing patiently at the door. In low tones inaudible, some muffled words at the door , no invitation to come in , perhaps he would have politely refused anyway nothing appeared to be left or given. Was something left for Paul that got added with the other presents , some silver coins , don’t know, will never know. This man was not welcome , he was to be forgotten not spoken of, then back to the chatter and games and food and fun of Christmas.
Years later fragments of almost accidental information his grandfather considerd to have not been kind to his family, some reference to a liking for alcohol and its frequent mate brutality.

Now at 65 Paul felt or recognized, even allowed for the first time, a sadness for this big man with whom he spent perhaps half an hour all those years ago. The pain is as fresh today as it was a liftime ago.

Soon Paul's own grandsons would arrive this Christmas day, is the big man watching?

Howard
25th Dec 2007

Fear of breaking down, the floodgates of tears.

There is a huge myth in our society particularly with regard to playing hard contact sport and pushing bodies through a pain barrier.
The myth that the young men playing footy are courageous and face pain.
The reality is they distract themself from the more dreaded of pains, powerlessness, emotionnal pain and true vunerability.
Missing the deeper meaning of being a gentleman.
Therein underlies a social conspiricy to attempt to deny the existance of emotional pain. This goes a long way to understanding the considerable use of drugs and the culture of alcohol consumption that these young warriors entrappe them self in.

Howard

Dancing with the silk

The silk, is caressed by the breeze.
Both are intimate with each other.
Breeze and silk move as one, now there is no separation,

I am this frightened frozen centre, cringing in my smallness.
Trying to maintain and build desperately this me.
This little me.
I have only my tools of fear and desire.

The silk cascades, is held, yet falls from her body.
Is intimate with her movement, body and silk being one.

The dream goes on, the silk is thought, the thinker intimate with the thought,
Thinker and thought move as one.

That which seeks is that which is sought.

That which looks is that which is looked at.

The trace and eddy of water behind the floating leaf, the folds of light, smooth bulbous with perpetual motion,

Time, mind, motion are one.
The moon’s reflections, never really still, the mind moves through itself,
giving the appearance of separateness.

The mind, with its offspring of thought, the seeker with its aversion and attraction.
That which seeks and flees, that which is sought are one.

So ordinary, so redundant I feel, the little me dissolves
into the stone, into the tree, into the alert eye of the seagull, into the breeze.

I am joy dancing with the silk, now even the little i has gone.

i am light skipping after the leaf as it journeys to the sea.

i have awoken from the dream.

i have died and yet I live.
I live in being and being lives in me.

I am light playing on what were once my tears of pain and bliss.
I am no more and yet will always be.

At last I’m free.

Howard

The forest filled with bluebells,
The orchard its blossom and scent,

These two, with loving kindness who cradle flower and fruit, They dreamt.

When meeting in their dreams for them the air is laughter, they know of nothing less.
For us all too often, it is mute.

Awake and between the song bird’s notes, the laughter once more is there for them.

But what of you and I?
On and on through the ordinariness of your day,
Will you, like the bluebells, blossom and scent,
Allow yourself to hear the sound of joy?
I ask you when? And I wish it now.
The blessing sent.


Howard. June 2007

Most action of any kind is an attempt to run from the fear of being nothing.
There is the hope that, if I do this, then I will be something, and this something is worth something. That worth will, at least for a moment, make me forget that perhaps I am really nothing.

The truth is you really are nothing (not an object or a “thing”)
Left unexperienced, this nothing is terrifying, and frantic mental activity is generated to fill the seeming void of nothingness.
The sublime joke and the great discovery is that in the willingness to be nothing, you realize fulfillment; you realize inherent peace.

Then there is no need for them to do something so that you can feel whole.
Action that follows fullfillment is pure, spontaneous, creative and intuitive, having nothing to do with any perceived lack.
Once this discovery has been made. Then yes, there can be enlightened politics, enlightened religions, enlightened families, enlightened relationship of all kinds.

Ganga (Antoinette Robertson Varner)

Only by risking knowing how complex and contradictory you are, and owning up to who that person is, can you discover that actually you can tolerate your own uncomfortable desires , needs and emotions and no longer need to believe they are happening else ware. (reowning your projections).
Most people feel no particular need to make these projections conscious, although by refusing to do so they put themselves in an extremely precarious state.

We are the same in our unchanging spirit.
We have the same need for respect,
The same longing for peace,
The same yearning for acceptance and love,
We have the same fears of suffering and loss.
Seeing the huge and overriding points of similarity it becomes impossible to see the differences of appearance, income, and social status, as having much substance at all anymore.

Anon

"Never mind my toe look at my teeth"

Having fun

Some thoughts...........................on fun.

Thinking of what might be fun i suspect misses the point.one can have fun doing almost anything. Its not the activity.

Fun is a state of mind and is learnt.......???
Fun in some families is illegal, and decried.

If i believe i don't deserve to have fun , i will never allow it, or sabotage it if i happen to stumble on it.

If i believe there is always a high price to pay to have fun , i will arrange a negative pragmatic effect or end game, or outcome to make the belief constant ( in order to avoid a sense of no-thing.)

It seems more to do with do i deserve to have fun. If i am guilty i will not allow self to to have fun , since guilty people must suffer or pay for their "crime"

Do i deserve to have fun all the time?

what are the dangers of having fun all the time ?
Is it possible to stay out of danger and have fun.?
Can i be responsible , sensible , healthy and have fun.?

I believe the best way of staying responsible , sensible and healthy is by having fun.
Howard ..........................................Nov 2007

Be in joy with yourself .

May your hours be joyful,
May your work be joyful and your play bliss.
May the ordinary moments be seen as light on rain, all happening gently.

See the people frightening themselves with self made shadows, like children.
May your joy and bliss be unaffected
May your desires recede. Your craving and revulsion's evaporate.
Each moment is as abundant as the angels that carry you.
Each moment they safely guide you.
Surrender to them, know you are loved.
As the silk yields to the breeze.
The events in your life cannot touch your intrinsic value.
Know you are loved.
May moonbeams lighten the dark areas of your journey.

Howard Nov. 2007

One's foe.

He was standing clear sighted and naked on the battlefield.
His adversary is mazed.

Out of sight and hidden in the ferns,
he has an army in the woods close by.

Howard Nov 2007

The author trying to avoid paparazzi on the way to the fish and chip shop.

In the head or in the heart.

Present moment (a present, a gift). Pre-sent, sent before it was this moment, already with us, not to do with time, was here in no time. Is, or suchness, all there is.
There is no becoming all is.

All we ever have is this moment, this moment moving like the cyclist on the other side of the river, gliding silently. From before your birth to no thing.

A series of events made up of a line , a black line , similar to a minus sign , perhaps slightly longer, the line between the year of you birth and the year of your demise etched into your grave stone.

Of course we have memory, an echo, modified over and over by repetitive play back.
A copy of a copy, some parts tuned down or even out, other fragments of memory amplified perhaps distorted or increased to deafening pitch, so we can work ourselves up to fury, embroider a self for ourselves, to perhaps become intoxicated on the rage or self pity.

The memory is modified with our imagination like drawing horns on politician’s pictures for amusement or to stirr ourselves to longing, or terror, creating something in our mind that is no more than electrical pulses. All this seems to occur in the present moment but is not , it is mind.

This moment……..my moment what to do with this gift of life? ………. am I playing with images, imagining?
Do I have images that have developed a will of their own and appear to be playing to me, can’t stop thinking about a certain thing, or event? The “hurtful thing that was said” The unfairness of my life, the misfortune.

Then there’s the event that might happen, that may, or may not be in my best interest, I die a thousand deaths.

Or my aching , holding an object with the tips of my fingers at arms length, aching with stretching and reaching into the future, longing to have something that is not with me now.

In another room in my mind, the terrifying object I have made. And yet another room I have my desire.
The cellar of my mind, no.......... lets not go there.
Then there is the object that I find difficult to not look at, the object I have an addiction to visit, the object that I use to frighten myself, or stir the juices of my longing, my longing for something other than the socks at Xmas……my “present”.

The ordinariness of socks at Xmas.
The ordinariness of this present moment.
That which is ungraspable forever new.
No mind.
The heart of the matter.

Perhaps the greatest miracle ….no future no past, just the opening of the lily and rose.
The dying and death of a loved one.
May God grant me the strength, the attentiveness, to not shy from the ordinariness, the miracle, of the opening and closing, between the moments of time.
The breathing in and the breathing out.

Howard Nov. 2007

Krishnamurti

Eckhart Tolle

Politeness.

This politeness I subscribe to, i am beginning to think it is too expensive to run.
My head-aches.
My gut aches.
My body aches.
My ill feeling returns.

This politeness I run, what can I do with my resentment?
Not enough anymore to laugh at some ones misfortune, laughter that sometimes embarrassingly bursts forth so impolitely and lets not talk about my passive aggression.

Where in my body do I pack away the rage?
Hide my voice.

I am afraid they will not like me or will hurt me, I am so afraid, please let them like me, or let them be gently with me at least, give me the quite life.

This politeness I run, the price i have been prepared to pay to avoiding revealing who I am , the fear of confrontation , rocking the boat, of upsetting, of speaking as I find, let me be politically correct.

We teach people how to treat us.
Have i done that?

This politeness I have subscribed to, I am, have been, so proud of.

Am I going to be equally proud of my frankness?. Proud of speaking my mind, of not been overly concerned what people may think, of having them take me or leave me.

Who am I without the qualities of politeness and its brother frankness?
Who am I without the quality of pride.
Who am I without the quality of humility.
Yes , I am so proud of my humility.

There is me , and there are my qualities, where do I live, where is my soul?

I never can have enough qualities, I am greedy for qualities, and my addiction to being affirmed is killing me.
For my birthday, celebrate my qualities. Make a video of my life and the people who love and loved me, my accomplishments, have them sign an enlarged picture of me as a child and write bullshit compliments.
Erase the arguments, the deceit, the misunderstanding, the intolerance, and the failures, make it nice, Sunday best nice. Let’s be happy.
Let me have the luxury of irresponsibility.
Let me be selective about what I respond to, of what i attend to, let me ignore that which is uncomfortable.
My ache, my illness is not my choice.
...........Or is it?

Dark days

Ohh! If only something fired me up like that.

Ohh! The envy I have of that person of passion, they are so motivated , so alive with enthusiasm, I know I should be pleased for them.
I am not pleased.
I am envious.
They give me the willy's
They put me in touch with my greyness , my safe non committedness, the question, that, like a mossy around my head…….. “is this all there is to life”? “is this my lot”?

Ohh! Jesus ... If only something fired me up like that.

I long for those days
I recall I used to get excited about …^@!**-+=~~`~……… that occupied me night and day , I long for those days. I was perhaps obsessed, I was lost in it , consumed by it.
I long for those days. That blessing , uninvited.
Longing for that to return …………why did you leave me, deceive me……..?
These moment of fallowing are awful, passionless uninspired hours, grey hours of envy and resentment at others whom seem to have a plan , a novel to write, a play to play, a mountain to climb , fuck their enthusiasm. Fuck the meaning they have been given.

These moments are my enemy.

I have my life cramp, my one damm thing after another, my lack of interest, my writers cramp, my emptiness, my boredom, life's tasteless meal of cardboard.

The compost is warm with transformation, breaking down, compost composing.

Something is at at work here............

Look!….. a naked white shoot, tiny, magnificent green tip,.......... looking for the light.

The ending of thought.

Having an "an allergy to all ideology" is in itself an ideology.
We are so proud of not been sucked into an ideology , the proud arrogant ideology of " being open minded".
Open minded with some exception that is, until we come across "rigid" people or those that would wish us harm. Or we crave to belong, to be understood, to be with "like-minded people" to chase away the terror of a silent scream in our existential aloneness.

The problem is in seeking a "solution" through the use of the mind.
The seeking of the "solution" is the pitfall. The seeking is "making an enemy of the moment" When all the time the moment is always all we have . There is no becoming, all is.

What solution do we seek. We don't like injustice , injustice is an event that " should not be happening " ....an ideology.
We are not keen on (sometimes strongly oppose) things happening that we would prefer didn't.
We are not keen on (sometimes strongly addicted) to things not happening that we prefer they did.
Life not going the way we feel it should , or in a reason...able way. In a way that makes sense to our reason, our thinking.
Or that old favorite boredom (welcome boredom, it is the edge of your magnificence).

Can i live my life primarily free of thought, watching , smiling at thought when it machinates when it does its mischiefs. Thought has only one goal, its survival, to build itself, to exist, its fear is its own evaporation. Thought loves gossip, pettiness, opinions particularly its own, it is in love with its own crazy illusions, anything except its ending. Like a child that craves attention. If it can't get positive attention then it will settle for negative attention, look at me, look at me.
Thought produces feelings and feelings in turn produce thought.

Can i live primarily with no mind , using thought only as a secondary way of being, as a tool, i use the tool, not the tool uses me.
My primary mode, awareness, attentiveness, watching thought if and when it arises, smiling at it, not unlike the smile i might have at a child's playing .....impartial self-awareness, awake, attentive, not concluding.
That which watches is not thought, it leaves no residue, perhaps it is a state of grace , perhaps joy and love , .......enlightenment , ordinariness, such-ness...........no thought.........being.

Go on give it a try.........................thought will not like it , it will tell you "you are nothing without me," ..."in fact I am you".
You will find it will take over , if so, when so ........ just gently move back into impartial self observation .....magic may happen.

Listen to the body, it never lies, tell me what you noticed ..............take a risk........ go on reach out.

We almost always look at the word or the symbol that stands for the fact. The fact recedes and the word, the symbol, becomes all important. We ask people questions so that we don’t have to be vital with them, so that we can avoid the fresh the unknown.
So that we can put them in a box of familiar parameters.

Can you look at the fact, whatever it might be, dissociated from the word, the symbol?
The word love is not the fact, is not the feeling of love.

Can you look at these two bears as if you have never seen such things before, can you look at what you feel is going on between them? Let them talk to you.
Is there a different quality about the experience?
Or do you look at them with your mind and preconcepts.

Look at a thing called a tree and see it for the first time.
What is the point of this? The point is we are dull we see mostly in a repetitive way, we lack freshness vitality the mind moving only in the field of the known.

With thanks to concepts proposed by J. Krishnamurti.

The flower unseen on some uninhabited isle.

Does not need or crave our eyes.

The rose bud blooms and offers its scent.

My nose elseware missing this event.

Neither dampens or improves the bloom.

I sit here watching bee and flower.

I remember the beauty of your eyes.

The soft velvet of the petal,

Your gentle touch.

The bee is goneIts wings and my heart,beat loveingly as one.

If i could capture a moment with you , a look, a touch, a sigh, a moment of delight.

Captured like some ancient primodal footprint , when the condition was just right,

For some future school parties delight.

Just think young ankle biters, the towering creature that roamed this place, would have had you, and you, for Hors d'Oeuvres.

The children leave and blowing in the wind their............ lolly wrappers.

If i could capture a moment with you , in art, words, in music, a photo, or perhaps some pencil drawn curves.

If i could capture a moment with you.

.Smokedk......................................................................................................................................Oct 2007

Rupert faces the press (with his minders)

Don't try to force anything .

let life be a deep let-go.

See Suchness opening millions

of flowers every day

without forcing

the buds.

Rupert Bear

My love for you is not given or received.

It it were so , then i could gift wrap the reflection of the moon in a puddle.

There never was a time i did not love you and in the future that i will not.

Smokedk............................................................................................................... some time or other.