Dalai Lama - The Nobler Truths of Life

The Dalai Lama continues to laugh
addressing
a large audience.

The interpreter is super-serious
has no time for laughter
The English was like a net
the Tibetan words butterflies,
flew from the flower-petal lips of the Dalai Lama
sometimes to sit on the ears of the Tibetan kids
sometimes on the gold-flecked robes,
maybe the wedding dresses
of the Tibetan women
taken out only on special occasions
but worn away at the hems
this bit of sparkle left
like the trace of light  in aged eyes.

The Dalai Lama was expounding
the Four Noble Truths of Buddhism
He raised his arm and
like three little dots of ‘therefore’
there were the marks of childhood vaccination
peeping through his ochre robe.
They whispered:
   Aha, someone is talking about such high principles
            but is from this very world
            this very epoch
            and he’s just a  man.

Right in front of me, rapt, a grandfather
on his shoulder  a chubby little boy and his gurgling bottle
wiping his running nose
on grandpa’s sweater —
He must have been like that  —
the Dalai Lama
What do we know of Tibet  —
Rahul Sanknityayan or Rinpoches
monasteries and chow mein
cheap sweaters and sandals, China,
snow, lost eyes, round faces and faithful Lhasa Apso pups.

How do those noble truths
connect with
such random bits,
the ignoble truths of life?

Does truth too have hierarchies?
A caste system?  —
Brahmin truths at the top
and then the Shudra  truths at the bottom?

Hunger and
thirst
heat and cold
attachment and cruelties
Love and hate  —
are these truths really lower?

Dalai Lama, you tell me, please:
if the truth is like these mountain ranges —
high and low.
I prefer living in the deep cave of a small truth
occasionally coming to you
to learn the nobler truths of life.

You Have A History

You were only six
But your eyes seemed hundreds of years older
And when you asked me if the lines on your palm told your future
I couldn't help but laugh
Because, babe, you had it backwards.

The curvy one growing up from your wrist is the stem
You were once a flower
And the zigzag striking across your palm is the path
You were lightning
The squiggly one that dances from the base of your thumb to the pinky
Isn't it beautiful to know how to fly?

Remember you were a bird
And the ebbing lines running across it all
Waves, you were the most wonderful sea
The ones slowly sliding down from your first finger
Paint.

You were god's masterpiece
Then, finally the short, straight, horizontal
Lines rushing all too quickly across your fingers
Oh, isn't it obvious?

Human.

Paw Prints from Heaven

Though you can't see me, I am always around...
Though you can't hear me, I am speaking to you...
Though you can't touch me, I am reaching for you...
The images you see, but cannot explain...
The energy you feel, but cannot see...
The love that you feel, when thinking of me...
My presence you feel, when walking outside...
My hugs remembered, never let go...
My heart that I gave you, that you now wear...
The things you are seeing, that no one can explain...
And the things that you hear, with no one around...
These gifts that I give you, are my Paw Prints from Heaven.

- Romeo

Lullaby Across the Plains

Fears ensnared within the winter drifts along the harden ground
One lone ember stares off yearning for heaven brothers 
As I watch its simple battle for survival from dust of ashes gray
To tombs that lie stone in forever twilight slumbers

In my sleepy hollow head like a saddened tune on flute play
I hear further, farther days ahead and think them some great enemy
But, louder are the years which shall follow as if it’s greater dread
So I return to thoughts outward of the plains lullaby instead

Outside the winds lost are moaning singing a sacred song
Warning, crawling like shadows long, carry astral visions rolling in
Caught like prey dancing in the trees by guardian dream catchers
Shamans of the din, their medicine cleansing, sweeping away village sin

The ember grows brighter as I feel the warmth on my Ojibwe people all around
Sounds of the old man elder still breathing, rhythms of the ceremonial drum
Hearst beating over silence of the coming whites waiting to steal away the clouds
And their cold tracks of steel lying like death dividing up the rivers run

Still I listen, to the plains that speak in nightless lullabies
So the cricket’s lie dormant the buffalo’s wintry song is a bolder snore
Like clouds upon the desert floor, beneath the watchful eye of the snowy goddess moon
Ghosts of warriors galloping across the plains looking for their home

So, I call out whispers to them “here we are” adding to the Algonquin tune
Smiling with eyes closing, I watch the ember stronger glowing hearth
Empowered by life, the gift of the Great Spirit, mountain coyote serenading love of light
And mother lays her hand across the plains tucking in all her children of this Earth

With this I sleep sounder for awhile longer
Although, knowing all things must end with death
But, the spirit will live on and on
Across the plains in its lullabying song, like the winter's breath

by Micheal Smith 

"Nunna Dual Tsuny"

wild roses now grow
as living epitaphs on
"the trail where they cried"

by Deborah Burch

Compassion

Angels must be confused by war.
Both sides praying for protection,
yet someone always gets hurt.
Someone dies.
Someone cries so deep
they lose their watery state.

Angels must be confused by war.
Who can they help?
Who can they clarify?
Whose mercy do they cast to the merciless?
No modest scream can be heard.
No stainless pain can be felt.
All is clear to angels
except in war.

When I awoke to this truth,
it was from a dream I had last night.
I saw two angels conversing in a field
of children's spirits rising like silver smoke.
The angels were fighting among themselves
about which side was right,
and which was wrong.
Who started the conflict?

Suddenly, the angels stilled themselves
like a stalled pendulum,
and they shed their compassion
to the rising smoke
of souls who bore the watermark of war.
They turned to me with those eyes
from God's library,
and all the pieces fallen
were raised in unison,
intertwined like the breath
of flames in a holy furnace.

Nothing in war comes to destruction,
but the illusion of separateness.
I heard this spoken so clearly I could only
write it down like a forged signature.
I remember the compassion,
mountainous, proportioned for the universe.
I think a tiny fleck still sticks to me,
like gossamer threads
from a spider's web.

And now, when I think of war,
I flick these threads to all the universe,
hoping they stick on others as they did me.
Knitting angels and animals
to the filamental grace of compassion.
The reticulum of our skyward home.


By WingMakers

Time and Again

TIme and again, however well we know the landscape of love,
and the little church-yard with lamenting names,
and the frightfully silent ravine wherein all the others
end: time and again we go out two together,
under the old trees, lie down again and again
between the flowers, face to face with the sky.


Rainer Maria Rilke

1875-1926

Desiderata

Go placidly amid the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence.
As far as possible, without surrender, be on good terms with all persons. Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even to the dull and the ignorant, they too have their story. Avoid loud and aggressive persons, they are vexations to the spirit.
If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain and bitter; for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself. Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.
Exercise caution in your business affairs, for the world is full of trickery. But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals, and everywhere life is full of heroism. Be yourself. Especially, do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love, for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it is perennial as the grass.
Take kindly to the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth. Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.
Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.
Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be, and whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace in your soul.
With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.
Max Ehrmann c.1920

A Child's Prayer

God, Make my life a little light, 
Within the world to glow; 
A little flame that burneth bright, 
Wherever I may go.



God, make my life a little flower, 
That giveth joy to all, 
Content to bloom in native bower, 
Although the place be small.



God, make my life a little song, 
That comforteth the sad, 
That helpeth others to be strong, 
And makes the singer glad.


 by M. Betham - Edwards

The Best Day of My Life

Today, when I awoke, I suddenly realized
that this is the best day of my life, ever!

There were times when I wondered if I would
make it to today; but I did!
And because I did I'm going to celebrate!

Today, I'm going to celebrate what an
unbelievable life I have had so far:
the accomplishments, the many blessings,
and, yes, even the hardships
because they have served to make me stronger.

I will go through this day
with my head held high, and a happy heart.
I will marvel at God's seemingly
simple gifts: the morning dew, the sun,
the clouds, the trees, the flowers,
the birds. Today, none of these miraculous
creations will escape my notice.

Today, I will share my excitement for life
with other people. I'll make
someone smile. I'll go out of my way to
perform an unexpected act of
kindness for someone I don't even know.

Today, I'll give a sincere
compliment to someone who seems down.
I'll tell a child how special he is,
and I'll tell someone I love just how deeply
I care for them and how much
they means to me.

Today is the day I quit worrying about
what I don't have and start being
grateful for all the wonderful things
God has already given me. I'll
remember that to worry is just a
waste of time because my faith in God and
his Divine Plan ensures everything will be just fine.

And tonight, before I
go to bed, I'll go outside and raise my
eyes to the heavens. I will stand
in awe at the beauty of the stars and the moon,
and I will praise God for
these magnificent treasures.

As the day ends and I lay my head down
on my pillow, I will thank the
Almighty for the best day of my life.
And I will sleep the sleep of a
contented child, excited with expectation
because I know tomorrow is going
to be the best day of my life, ever!

By Gregory M. Lousig-Nont, Ph.D.

Rended My Enemies

Such victory one can declare
Healing to the mind of every care.
Broken cords of entanglement
Are gone for good.

Freedom from all oppression,
Shattered depression.
Rended my enemies
In pieces!

Freedom as you go,
Rejoice for God is good.
It's grand to know
Fear not the oppression of the enemy
For it shall not stand.

Be joyful in the Lord
While He holds your hand.
Read My Word to grasp Truth
To learn I AM for you!
Forget things of old
Trust in the Truth told!


 by Anthony Reagan

Native Commandments

Treat the Earth and all that dwell thereon with respect.
Remain close to the Great Spirit.
Show great respect for your fellow beings.
Work together for the benefit of all Mankind.
Give assistance and kindness wherever needed.
Do what you know to be right.
Look after the well being of mind and body.
Dedicate a share of your efforts to the greater good.
Be truthful and honest at all times.
Take full responsibility for your actions.
Let us greet the dawn of a new day
when all can live as one with nature
and peace reigns everywhere.
Oh Great Spirit, bring to our brothers
the wisdom of Nature and the knowledge
that if her laws are obeyed
this land will again flourish
and grasses and trees will grow as before.
Guide those that through their councils
seek to spread the wisdom of their leaders to all people.
Heal the raw wounds of the earth
and restore to our soul the richness
which strengthens men's bodies
and makes them wise in their councils.
Bring to all the knowledge that great cities
live only through the bounty
of the good earth beyond their paved streets
and towers of stone and steel.


by  Jasper Saunkeah, Cherokee

A Different Path

It's time to go, to leave this place
A shadowy voice does cry.
But the voice belongs to me alone,
And still I wonder why.

The time is here upon me now
Like a weight, heavy pounding.
Or has it Lifted? Hard to tell
The Questions keep arising.

The unknown awaits, as it does
For foolish few who dare.

Is it foolishness?

Curiosity perhaps?

Or something I'm not aware.

For I am scared and poignant now
More than ever at present.
Tears cloud my eyes as pen meets paper,
And I hope for my ascent.

I leave behind what I comprehend
And even with all communication.
I know for now without doubt,
I drift, en route a new location.

But who's to say what shall pass
And what still lies ahead.
I only know that were I'm at,
I'll yearn 'till forever dead.

Yet for now the flame still burns inside
However daily dying.
To light the path less traveled by
In haste I'm already striding.

But am I running from that I cannot?

Escape from oneself is ever brief.
Before we are again confronted,
Hunting for relief.

Yet still I follow my perilous path
To wherever it might be leading.
And well it may, onto something new,
And strangely more inviting.

Or perhaps not . . .

But who's to know, not I as yet
The fate of anyone on this Earth,
I wouldn't like to bet.

For life can lead in many ways
Often now undesired.
Fate can deal a cruel hand sometimes,
But we play on, cold and tired.

And art is born of life

Hard, dejected and trodden.

Hence emerges exquisite beauty,
And some direction from the coffin.

Finding it is a difficult thing
Sometimes left without thought.
But time it ticks, and years they fly,
I'm sure it can't be bought.

So we search, as do I
For things that bring on the 'morrow.
The weak are those who don't pursue,
And languish in their sorrow.

Happiness is that I chase
And hope to find someday.
I'll count the means again I'm sure,

There is always another way . . .


 by Brian Emerson

THE RAINBOW BRIDGE POEM

When an animal dies that has been especially close to someone here, that pet goes to Rainbow Bridge. There are meadows and hills for all of our special friends so they can run and play together. There is plenty of food, water and sunshine, and our friends are warm and comfortable.

 
All the animals who had been ill and old are restored to health and vigor. Those who were hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our dreams of days and times gone by. The animals are happy and content, except for one small thing; they each miss someone very special to them, who had to be left behind.

 
They all run and play together, but the day comes when one suddenly stops and looks into the distance. His bright eyes are intent. His eager body quivers. Suddenly he begins to run from the group, flying over the green grass, his legs carrying him faster and faster.

 
You have been spotted, and when you and your special friend finally meet, you cling together in joyous reunion, never to be parted again. The happy kisses rain upon your face; your hands again caress the beloved head, and you look once more into the trusting eyes of your pet, so long gone from your life but never absent from your heart.
 

Then you cross Rainbow Bridge together....

Different

How are we so "different"?

If "different" is just a thing.

If we all have certain features,

What does "different" bring?



People filled with hatred,

Can't possibly see,

That there's not really "differences"

Between you and me.



Looks can't show "difference",

If they're just there to be seen.

If you don't look like someone else,

Why are they so mean?



If being "different" is what is wrong,

I'd rather not be right.

And I'd want to finish living,

Doing the "different" fight.

 by Vincen Tabatha

Love The Children!

when the money is gone,
and they've taken everything away...
they padlocked your house,
and repoed your car...
the years have passed,
have taken their toll.
even the fires of love,
burned down to embers...
at the end of the day,
at the end of the road...
all you have left are the children.
they carry your heart
to a new day and a new world...
love the children!

every child that is born
carries the holy seed.
whatever it takes,
love the children!
a Jesus, a Buddha, a JFK,
a Gandhi, an Einstein,
a Whitman, a Jefferson...
maybe a stronger, better,
reflection of you!
love the children!

by Eric Cockrell

"Life" - A Poem By Marilyn Monroe

Life,
I am of both your directions
Existing more with the cold frost
Strong as a cobweb in the wind
Hanging downward the most
Somehow remaining
Those beaded rays have the colors
I've seen in paintings--ah life
They have cheated you
Thinner than a cobwebs's thread
Sheerer than any-
But it did attach itself
And held fast in strong winds
And singed by the leaping hot fires
Life-of which at singular times
I am both of your directions-
Somehow I remain hanging downward the most
As both of your directions pull me.

Written by Marilyn Monroe

My Silence

Brothers In Arms from ne033x on Vimeo.

Should I hesitate as I speak
Please don't think me preoccupied
For words don't come easily
When one really cares
And often I evaluate each word
Trying to be anyone
-- but myself
And the fear of rejection
Brings confusion
The confusion brings silence
And my heart prays
That you might hear my silence
-- and understand


-Javan

"It Is Never Too Late To Become What You Might Have Been"

Ever wished you would have done something, but didn't? Something you wanted to do, perhaps even needed to do; but for one reason or no reason at all, you just never did. We all have. And many of us still do. Instead of doing, we don't. And a lifetime of missed opportunities passes us by.


What's the deal here? What makes us frequently turn our backs on the very things that are important to us, things that give our lives meaning and purpose? Why do we needlessly allow so many magical moments to silently slip away?


Why do we leave a trail littered with broken promises and unfulfilled dreams instead of just doing what needs to be done?



"Everything comes too late for those who only wait."
Elbert Hubbard

While there are as many reasons as stars in the sky for not doing what we need to do, the most popular explanation is the old reliable 'it's too late' excuse. Since it's too late, there's no sense doing it. So we don't.


But can it ever really be too late? No, no, absolutely no.


Regardless of how desperate life gets or how hopeless things look, it's never too late. No matter how low we have sunk or how far behind we have fallen, it's never too late. As long as there is a single breath left in our bodies, there's always a chance. And a chance is all we need to turn things around.


As long as we're willing to take that chance, we've got a chance.



"The time for action is now. It's never too late to do something."
Antoine de Saint-Exupery

Can it ever be too late to open your heart, to open your eyes, to allow life's best to come rushing in?


Can it ever be too late to do your best, to be your best and to make your dreams come true?


Can it ever be too late to give it a try, to give it a whirl, to take your best shot and see where it takes you?


Can it ever be too late to show your appreciation, to express your gratitude, or to simply say 'thank you?'


Can it ever be too late to savor a sunset, to relax in the woods or treasure the tranquility of the endless heavens above?



"There is an immeasurable distance between late and too late."
Og Mandino

Can it ever be too late to care, to share, to hug a loved one or to say I love you?


Can it ever be too late to do a good deed, to whisper a kind word or to offer a hand in need?


Can it ever be too late to flash a friendly smile, to laugh a hearty laugh, or enjoy a meaningful moment?


As long as you're willing to give it a go, it is never too late. And there is just too much to love about life to simply give up and quit. You need to start living boldly, bravely, with nothing held back, nothing left behind. Giving it all that you've got each and every day. No matter how old or how young you may be right now, it's never too late to love, to live, to be all that you have dreamed of being and more.


So get out there a make today a truly memorable day, a fabulous day, a super sensational day that you'll cherish forever.


The Bottom Line: You need to live every second of every minute of every hour of your life.

The Love of Mother Theresa

People are often unreasonable, illogical,

and self-centered...

Forgive them anyway.



If you are kind,

people may accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives...

Be kind anyway.



If you are successful,

you will win some false friends and some true enemies...

Succeed anyway.



If you are honest and frank,

people may cheat you...

Be honest and frank anyway.



What you spend years building,

some could destroy overnight...

Build anyway.



If you find serenity and happiness,

there may be jealousy...

Be happy anyway.



The good you do today,

people will often forget tomorrow...

Do good anyway.



Give the world the best you have,

and it may never be enough...

Give the world the best you've got anyway.



You see, in the final analysis,

it's between you and God,

It was never between you and them anyway.



~~~ Mother Theresa ~~~