Wednesday, October 11, 2006

Mile Marker

It's been awhile, I know. But trust me: I've been making tracks on this Freeway--quite the scenic route, to say the least--and I've been accumulating mucho evidence of Love having its way and...well, it's been rather piling up. So I pulled off to set up shop and begin production.


Yes. Phase two, after the birth of the blog a month and (almost) a half ago. But I'm getting to that.

First, I want to thank 'eezngrce' for the recent extremely thoughtful comment. In particular, your words:

"You forgot, which is our vast and endless human story. We are the great forgetters are we not? We forget. We lose contact with still awareness, with our inherent essential beingness..."

Your words excited me. "Yes, yes!" I thought. "That's it exactly. We forget." That's the reason for Love's Freeway, and for whatever comes down this pike. Phase two, for example. But hold on; I'm getting to that.

Make no mistake: Love's way is no utopia. Sometimes Love's way is to take a life. A limb. To cause devastation, to raze, to smother. To level, in mind, body and/or spirit. I have not intended to paint a myopic, one-sided, or sugar-coated picture here. Love's way includes many an "ugly," painful, trying mile. Yes, sometimes one must lose one's mind in order for Love to get its way. Or lose one's home or cat or spouse or breast. I will expand on this another time, if need be. But for the moment (since I'm really hot to talk about Phase two, as you well know), suffice it to say that resistance that blocks the flow of that "inherent essential beingness" blocks Love's way. The result of that block is all manner of unhappiness, all manner of illness. And these can be, if we're listening for it, the great awakeners, great gifts. Reminders that we've forgotten.

I've long taken comfort and cues from Nature, which is supremely adept at giving Love its way. Nature expresses its "inherent essential beingness"...well, naturally. I've said it before: trees tree. Ducks duck. The moth moths. I've never seen a moth trying to bee or bird or duck or tree. Moths moth, and that's all. And it gets even more specific of course. Monarchs monarch. Snapdragons snapdragon. Sycamores sycamore. That's all. They never stop and ask "How'm I doing?" The horsechestnut tree never inquires, "Hey, whadya think of these chestnuts? Pretty good, huh?" Because trees tree. They live outside the realm of dichotomous thought, of the duality of good or bad, right or wrong. They simply express what they're here to express, without pause and with no need for applause.

We (humans), as expressions of the Natural World, are capable of this as well, capable of living outside the realm of the duality of good and bad, right and wrong, expressing what we're here to express, without pause and with no need for applause--purely, truly. But ha ha, and alas: as 'eezngrce' reminds us: we forget.

The scenery, the images I've posted here thus far are intended as reminders. Such exquisite, arresting evidence of Love's way, which in a busy day you might very well pass and not even notice, walking around your world, I've deliberately captured, close up, for just this purpose. I defy you to look deep into the throat of a bearded iris and tell me it doesn't embody the pure, true expression.

And at last, this brings me to Phase two.

I have capture hundreds of such images, offer hundreds of such reminders. And am adding to them almost daily. (Like I said, lots of evidence has been piling up.) So I've set up the shop, and gone to town transforming these images, these captured evidences, these often breathtaking reminders into a goodly supply of original, handmade note cards. And as of today, they are officially available for purchase. And when I can get the elves busily at work with card production--at least the elf or elves with web design skills--over to the computer to build our website, it will be my wholehearted pleasure and fulfillment to feature them there. Phase three will include enlarged, matted and framed (or unframed) prints as well, but I'm getting ahead of myself. Watch for a future mile marker to announce that.

Why am I joyful about this?

Because sure: words can be wonderful reminders. Words can inspire, instruct, inquire, involve, incite--do so many things. But how much more preferable and pleasing it is to 'get it from the horse's mouth.' I'm happier to let the evidence (not mine, Love's) speak for itself. Plus, the concrete fact of these cards means the Freeway has just expanded to reach wider and farther than it has up to now. It will reach into anniversary and birthday and wedding celebrations. (One card has already been purchased for a wedding gift, one has honored 26 years of great leadership and community building, one has appreciated a dinner host.) It will reach into reunions and graduations and reconciliations. It will provide bridges for forgiveness, for ardor, for apology, for tribute, for--of all things-- love.

Am I excited? YES, I am excited!

Witness the evidence yourself and remember.


Blogger rltylvr said...

An Exploration of Nowness....

Heart Sutra 2004
by A. Viola (aka Kitty) Teshvara

Psst. Hey pal. C'mere. Got something to tell you. Fine story. If you truly hear it, it will change your life. I should know because it happened to me, in a manner of speaking. So, pull up a cushion and settle down and pay attention because today's your lucky day.

So, there I am in front of my students. I fancied myself a teacher once, but now, but now...I tell this story. I am about to begin my lecture just like always, but for some reason, my mind goes completely whoosh. No words come out of my mouth. In the distance I hear this sound, wind in the trees. Then from the ground, from my mind(?), from the Purple Iris on my desk, comes a telepathic fax. It says, "Go Kitty go. You can do it." Suddenly everything is sharp and clean, clear like a like a cloudless blue sky sunny day clear. The words find me: They say (I say), "Nothing is as it seems to be." Not a moment later, one of my best students, Sherry Petry, raises her hand and asks, "Well Professor Teshvara, just what is that supposed to mean? What are we supposed to make of that? And will this be on the final?!"

I looked deeply into Sherry's waiting eyes. She looked open, so full of wishful longing. I said gently (clarity gaining strength), "Oh Sherry, just as I said. Nothing is as it seems to be. Look deeply. Things appear to be solid and separate but they are not. We could say they are in truth, empty. Empty of what you might ask?" Sherry nodded vigorously. I continued. "Empty of anything permanent, empty of unrelatedness, empty of an independent, separate, absolute identity. But these things do appear to us (miraculously) even though they are empty. So things, everything in fact, and emptiness are the same, they are not separate. Everything we see, hear, taste, touch, smell. Our feelings, perceptions, intellect, awareness of these things are empty of anything self-defining. They cannot be frozen. The self itself is empty of a self. Everything we believe in, birth, sickness, death, hardship, freedom, ignorance, insight, empowerment, attainment, there's nothing to hang your hat on; nothing NOT to hang your hat on. It is beyond hat hanging. It will slip through your hands if you try to claim it. It is beyond such petty exploits, impossible to describe adequately but we try, oh we try. We try in this way. Say it with me.

Oh Gone is the Self. So Gone is Every Belief that comes from the Self. Goner than Gone. Beyond the Gonest Gone that's ever come Along. Wake-up Dorothy, you're not in Kansas anymore. There, 'nuff said."

I looked at Sherry. She looked stunned but alert, quite alive. Then she smiled and nodded. Others in the class looked shocked, but also alive, awake. Then the class became quiet, peaceful, touched with a poignant sadness. I received another telepathic fax. It said, "Good job grasshopper."

The class sighed all at once. It was intimate and fleeting. The room felt large. The bell rang. We all laughed. I watched as the students spilled into the hall and onto their next class.

Nothing is as it seems to be....

8:24 PM  
Blogger Svaha said...

Love's Fool
by Ven. Chogyam Trungpa Rinpoche

What is love?
What is love.
Love is a fading memory.
Love is piercingly present.
Love is full of charm.
Love is hideously in the way.
Explosion of love makes you feel ecstatic.
Explosion of love makes you feel suicidal.
Love brings goodliness and godliness.
Love brings celestial vision.
Love creates the unity of heaven and earth.
Love tears apart heaven and earth.
Is love sympathy.
Is love gentleness.
Is love possessiveness.
Is love sexuality.
Is love friendship.
Who knows?
Maybe the rock knows.
Sitting diligently on earth,
Not flinching from cold snowstorms or baking heat.
O rock,
How much I love you:
You are the only loveable one.
Would you let me grow a little flower of love on you?
If you don't mind,
Maybe I could grow a little pine tree on you.
If you are so generous,
Maybe I could build a house on you.
If you are fantastically generous,
Maybe I could eat you up,
or move you to my landscape garden.
It is nice to be friends with a rock!

6:23 PM  
Blogger outer/inner/secret said...

More by C.T.R.

Off Beat

In the clear atmosphere, a dot occurred.
Passion tinged that dot vermiliion red,
Shaded with depression pink.
How beautiful to be in the realm of nonexistence!
When you dissolve, the dot dissolves.
When you open up, clear space opens.
Let us dissolve in the realm of passion,
Which is feared by the theologians and lawmakers.
Pluck, pluck, pluck, pluck the wild flower.
It is not so much of orgasm,
But it is a simple gesture,
To realize fresh mountain air that includes the innocence of a wild flower.
Come, come, you could join us.
The freshness is not a threat, not a burden.
It is a most affectionate gesture-
That a city could dissolve in love of the wildness of country flowers.
No duty, no sacrifice, no trap.
The world is full of trustworthy openness.
Let us celebrate in the cool joy,
The turquoise blue,
Morning dew,
Sunny laughter,
Humid home.
Images of love are so good and brilliant!

3:55 PM  

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