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[Sunday 26th April07:15 pm] |
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'And it came to me then. That were were wonderful traveling companions, but in the end no more than lonely lumps of metal on their own separate orbits. From far off they look like beautiful shooting stars, but in reality they're nothing more than prisons, where each of us is locked up alone, going nowhere. When the orbits of these two satellites of ours happened to cross paths, we could be together. Maybe even open our hearts to each other. But that was only for the briefest moment. In the next instant we'd be in absolute solitude. Until we burned up and became nothing.' |
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[Friday 6th March10:51 pm] |
If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor and surrender my body to the flames, but have not love, I gain nothing.
Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.
Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away. For we know in part and we prophesy in part, but when perfection comes, the imperfect disappears. When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put childish ways behind me. Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.
And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love. |
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[Saturday 14th February09:21 pm] |
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Envy and jealousy often come from this idea that somehow love is limited, when in fact it’s unlimited, it’s everywhere and in everything. |
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[Friday 6th February02:37 pm] |
Self As Illusion (an excerpt from 'This Is Not A Book: Adventures in Popular Philosophy').
The premise of the Buddha is that the world is out of kilter. Suffering is endemic, part of every life story. He was not blaming the victim when he said that the cause of suffering is craving, an ignorant clinging and thirst for life. We want what we do not have. We have what we do not want. The clamouring self is at the root of these frustrations, but the self is only a fiction of our life narratives. It is a rhetorical device we use to bind ourselves up with the world and to our relations. Our mental dramas intensify the suffering; stepping back from them relieves it. This does not require leaving home, or even withdrawing from experience. On the contrary, the posture of just observing is stepping back enough, and the development of this mental discipline brings one closer to experience, ultimately liberating one by weakening reflexive habit patterns based on the illusion of self. |
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[Monday 18th August12:53 am] |
Physically describing the feeling of love:
Leaving a towel over a heater for an hour or so, and then wrapping it around your legs. |
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