welcome, well come to day 25 of a season of peace on this twenty-third day of fleeting february, may we all leap as one, letting go to flow with oceanic imagination into the field of rainbow mystery where only love is real and everything is possible… feel the great turning upon and within us supporting us to let go of fear and anchor in truth, wisdom and love as we swim in these mystical waters of pisces together…

for this sacred moment of eternity when we are aware of many grievous losses, let us beam our attention to facing our mortality and the opportunity we each get with such reflection to intend how we live… when Dr. Oliver Sacks learned he had only months remaining, he chose to live in the deepest, richest, most productive way he could real-eye-sing he is ocean. in his own words before he died:

~

“Over the last few days, I have been able to see my life as from a great altitude, as a sort of landscape, and with a deepening sense of the connection of all its parts. This does not mean I am finished with life.

On the contrary, I feel intensely alive, and I want and hope in the time that remains to deepen my friendships, to say farewell to those I love, to write more, to travel if I have the strength, to achieve new levels of understanding and insight. I feel a sudden clear focus and perspective. There is no time for anything inessential. I must focus on myself, my work and my friends. I shall no longer look at “NewsHour” every night. I shall no longer pay any attention to politics or arguments about global warming.

This is not indifference but detachment — I still care deeply about the Middle East, about global warming, about growing inequality, but these are no longer my business; they belong to the future. I rejoice when I meet gifted young people — even the one who biopsied and diagnosed my metastases. I feel the future is in good hands.

I have been increasingly conscious, for the last 10 years or so, of deaths among my contemporaries. My generation is on the way out, and each death I have felt as an abruption, a tearing away of part of myself. There will be no one like us when we are gone, but then there is no one like anyone else, ever. When people die, they cannot be replaced. They leave holes that cannot be filled, for it is the fate — the genetic and neural fate — of every human being to be a unique individual, to find his own path, to live his own life, to die his own death.

I cannot pretend I am without fear. But my predominant feeling is one of gratitude. I have loved and been loved; I have been given much and I have given something in return; I have read and traveled and thought and written. I have had an intercourse with the world, the special intercourse of writers and readers.

Above all, I have been a sentient being, a thinking animal, on this beautiful planet, and that in itself has been an enormous privilege and adventure.“

~

such an interesting experience as hours later i read what i wrote and thought Oliver’s words were mine… and they are and maybe yours as well as we continue this seemingly never ending moment of sheltering in and wintering as a seed riotously germinating in the deep earth with the mycélium network of imaginal cells deepening in the experience of dissolving from somebody to nobody to everybody, from the ocean in a drop to a drop in the ocean to being the ocean… thank you for walking home along the pathless path with me…

thanks be for the continuation of Thay’s work and wisdom so needed in our world today as the world unravels before our eyes… breakdown to breakthrough in this moment of emerge-n-see, this moment of both danger and opportunity of bringing lasting peace for all beings…

this prayer was used throughout South Vietnam in 1965 in the “Don’t Shoot Your Own Brother” campaign to rouse the willingness to work for peace… during meetings of young people, they chanted this poem, uniting our hearts and our efforts to continue to work for peace:

“In beauty, sitting on a lotus flower,
is Lord Buddha, quiet and solid.
Your humble disciple,
calm and pure of heart,
forms a lotus flower with his hands,
faces you with deep respect,
and offers this heartfelt prayer:

Homage to all Buddhas in the ten directions.
Please have compassion for our suffering.
Our land has been at war for two decades.
Divided, it is a land of tears
and blood and bones of young and old.
Mothers weep till their tears are dry
while sons on distant fields decay.
Its beauty torn apart,
only blood and tears now flow.
Brothers killing brothers
for promises from outsiders.
Homage to all Buddhas in the ten directions.
Because of your love for all people,
have compassion on us.
Help us remember we are just one family,
North and South.
Help us rekindle our compassion and brotherhood,
and transform our separate interests
into loving acceptance for all.
May your compassion help us overcome our hatred.
May Avalokiteshvara Bodhisattva’s love
help the flowers bloom again in the soil of our country.
Humbly, we open our hearts to you,
so you may help us transform our karma
and water the flowers of our spirits.
With your deep understanding,
help our hearts grow light.

Homage to Shakyamuni Buddha
whose great vows and compassion inspire us.
I am determined to cultivate only thoughts
that increase trust and love,
to use my hands to perform only deeds
that build community,
to speak only words of harmony and aid.

May the merit of this prayer
be transformed into peace in [the world]
May each of us realize this,
our deep aspiration.”

shanti shanti shantihi…

welcome, weli come to day 25 of a season of peace on this twenty-third day of free at last february, may we all leap as one, letting go to flow with oceanic imagination into the field of rainbow mystery where only love is real and everything is possible… feel the great turning upon and within us supporting us to let go of fear and anchor in truth, wisdom and love as we swim in these mystical waters of pisces together…

for this special moment of eternity when we are aware of many losses including that of Lawrence Ferlinghetti at 101, let us beam our attention to facing our mortality and the opportunity we each get with such reflection to intend how we live… when Dr. Oliver Sacks learned he had only months remaining, he chose to live in the deepest, richest, most productive way he could real-eye-sing he is ocean. in his own words before he died:

~

“Over the last few days, I have been able to see my life as from a great altitude, as a sort of landscape, and with a deepening sense of the connection of all its parts. This does not mean I am finished with life.

On the contrary, I feel intensely alive, and I want and hope in the time that remains to deepen my friendships, to say farewell to those I love, to write more, to travel if I have the strength, to achieve new levels of understanding and insight.I feel a sudden clear focus and perspective. There is no time for anything inessential. I must focus on myself, my work and my friends. I shall no longer look at “NewsHour” every night. I shall no longer pay any attention to politics or arguments about global warming.

This is not indifference but detachment — I still care deeply about the Middle East, about global warming, about growing inequality, but these are no longer my business; they belong to the future. I rejoice when I meet gifted young people — even the one who biopsied and diagnosed my metastases. I feel the future is in good hands.

I have been increasingly conscious, for the last 10 years or so, of deaths among my contemporaries. My generation is on the way out, and each death I have felt as an abruption, a tearing away of part of myself. There will be no one like us when we are gone, but then there is no one like anyone else, ever. When people die, they cannot be replaced. They leave holes that cannot be filled, for it is the fate — the genetic and neural fate — of every human being to be a unique individual, to find his own path, to live his own life, to die his own death.

I cannot pretend I am without fear. But my predominant feeling is one of gratitude. I have loved and been loved; I have been given much and I have given something in return; I have read and traveled and thought and written. I have had an intercourse with the world, the special intercourse of writers and readers.

Above all, I have been a sentient being, a thinking animal, on this beautiful planet, and that in itself has been an enormous privilege and adventure.“

~

such an interesting experience as hours later i read what i wrote and thought Oliver’s words were mine… and they are and maybe yours as well as we continue this seemingly never ending moment of sheltering in and wintering as a seed riotously germinating in the deep earth with the mycélium network of imaginal cells deepening in the experience of dissolving from somebody to nobody to everybody, from the ocean in a drop to a drop in the ocean to being the ocean… thank you for walking home along the pathless path with me…

welcome, welcome to day 25 of a season of peace on this twenty-third day of the flowering field of february and what a trifecta of riches it is with today also being the astonishing light of your being day and losar, the tibetan new year day and one of my favorite moments in the cycle of life when we rest in the in between times moon, the rainbow moon who sings a song of transformation, of transmuting dark, threatening clouds of pain, into rainbow colored arcs of joy… poised here in the portal of the pisces new moon, may we all leap as one, letting go to flow with oceanic imagination in the field of rainbow mystery where only love is real and everything is possible… feel the great turning upon and within us supporting us to let go of fear and anchor in truth, wisdom and love as we swim in these mystical waters of pisces together…

for this special day, let us beam our attention on facing our mortality and the opportunity we each get to intend how we live… when Dr. Oliver Sacks learned he had only months remaining, he chose to live in the deepest, richest, most productive way he could real-eye-sing he is ocean. in his own words before he died:

~

Over the last few days, I have been able to see my life as from a great altitude, as a sort of landscape, and with a deepening sense of the connection of all its parts. This does not mean I am finished with life.

On the contrary, I feel intensely alive, and I want and hope in the time that remains to deepen my friendships, to say farewell to those I love, to write more, to travel if I have the strength, to achieve new levels of understanding and insight.I feel a sudden clear focus and perspective. There is no time for anything inessential. I must focus on myself, my work and my friends. I shall no longer look at “NewsHour” every night. I shall no longer pay any attention to politics or arguments about global warming.

This is not indifference but detachment — I still care deeply about the Middle East, about global warming, about growing inequality, but these are no longer my business; they belong to the future. I rejoice when I meet gifted young people — even the one who biopsied and diagnosed my metastases. I feel the future is in good hands.

I have been increasingly conscious, for the last 10 years or so, of deaths among my contemporaries. My generation is on the way out, and each death I have felt as an abruption, a tearing away of part of myself. There will be no one like us when we are gone, but then there is no one like anyone else, ever. When people die, they cannot be replaced. They leave holes that cannot be filled, for it is the fate — the genetic and neural fate — of every human being to be a unique individual, to find his own path, to live his own life, to die his own death.

I cannot pretend I am without fear. But my predominant feeling is one of gratitude. I have loved and been loved; I have been given much and I have given something in return; I have read and traveled and thought and written. I have had an intercourse with the world, the special intercourse of writers and readers.

Above all, I have been a sentient being, a thinking animal, on this beautiful planet, and that in itself has been an enormous privilege and adventure.

~

welcome, welcome to day 25 of a season of peace on this twenty-third day of freely flowing february; it’s one more beautiful day of gathering the quintessence, ambassadors of love and light with the sun shining on the energy of  freedom… and even with all the turbulence in the outer world, today i’m still so being sung in every cell the soul song of our wanderer of wonder true nature…

Faced with our mortality, we each get to intend how we live… When Dr. Oliver Sacks learned he had only months remaining, he chose to live in the deepest, richest, most productive way he could realizing he is ocean. In his own words before he died:

~

Over the last few days, I have been able to see my life as from a great altitude, as a sort of landscape, and with a deepening sense of the connection of all its parts. This does not mean I am finished with life.

On the contrary, I feel intensely alive, and I want and hope in the time that remains to deepen my friendships, to say farewell to those I love, to write more, to travel if I have the strength, to achieve new levels of understanding and insight.

This is not indifference but detachment — I still care deeply about the Middle East, about global warming, about growing inequality, but these are no longer my business; they belong to the future. I rejoice when I meet gifted young people — even the one who biopsied and diagnosed my metastases. I feel the future is in good hands.

I have been increasingly conscious, for the last 10 years or so, of deaths among my contemporaries. My generation is on the way out, and each death I have felt as an abruption, a tearing away of part of myself. There will be no one like us when we are gone, but then there is no one like anyone else, ever. When people die, they cannot be replaced. They leave holes that cannot be filled, for it is the fate — the genetic and neural fate — of every human being to be a unique individual, to find his own path, to live his own life, to die his own death.

I cannot pretend I am without fear. But my predominant feeling is one of gratitude. I have loved and been loved; I have been given much and I have given something in return; I have read and traveled and thought and written. I have had an intercourse with the world, the special intercourse of writers and readers.

Above all, I have been a sentient being, a thinking animal, on this beautiful planet, and that in itself has been an enormous privilege and adventure.

~