Friday, February 4, 2011

For the sake of the one who sees

If anyone has eloquence, a listener draws it out:
the teacher's enthusiasm and energy
are derived from the child he teaches.
When the harpist who plays twenty-four musical modes
finds no ear to listen, his harp becomes a burden:
no song comes to mind, his ten fingers will not function.
If there were no ears to receive the message from the Unseen,
no prophet would have brought a revelation from Heaven.
And if there were no eyes to see the works of God,
neither would the sky have revolved,
nor would the earth have smiled with fertile greenness.
The declaration lawlâka* means this,
that the whole business of creation
is for the sake of the perceiving eye
and the one who sees.

RUMI

Always be present, attentive, and ready in yourself

If a blow comes to you from Heaven,
be alert to a gift of honor after it;
for He is not the King to slap you
without giving you a crown
and a throne on which to rest.
The whole world is worth only a gnat's wing,
but a single slap may bring an infinite reward.
Slip your neck nimbly out of this golden collar
that is the world, and take the slaps that come from God.
The prophets suffered those blows on the neck,
and from that affliction they lifted their heads high.
But always be present, attentive, and ready in yourself,
youthful one, in order that He may find you at home.
Otherwise He will take back His gift of honor,
saying "I found no one there."

RUMI

Protection

A sober-minded man said to Jesus,
"What in this existence is hardest to bear?"
"O dear soul," he replied, "the hardest is God's anger,from which Hell is trembling as we are."
"And what is the protection against God's anger?"
Said Jesus, "To abandon your own anger at once."

RUMI

GOOD DEEDS

चिरप्पवासिं पुरिसं, दूरतो सोत्थिमागतं।

ञातिमित्ता सुहज्‍जा च, अभिनन्दन्ति आगतं॥

तथेव कतपुञ्‍ञम्पि, अस्मा लोका परं गतं।

पुञ्‍ञानि पटिगण्हन्ति, पियं ञातीव आगतं॥






A man long absent
comes home safe from afar.

His kin, his friends, his companions,

delight in his return.


In just the same way,

when you've done good

and gone from this world

to the world beyond,

your good deeds receive you —

as kin, someone dear

come home.

English translation by courtesy of: Piyavagga: Dear Ones" (Dhp XVI), translated from the Pali by Thanissaro Bhikkhu. Access to Insight, September 19, 2010, http://www.accesstoinsight.org/tipitaka/kn/dhp/dhp.16.than.html.



from DHAMMPAD

Wednesday, February 2, 2011

God, the cause of all

I must say at once that all the reasons showing that
God exists and is the first and unchangeable cause of all effects that don’t depend on human free will seem to me to show equally that he is also the cause of all the effects that do depend on it. For the only way to demonstrate that he exists is to consider him as a supremely perfect being; and
he wouldn’t be supremely perfect if anything could happen in the world that didn’t come entirely from him. It’s true that only faith can teach us what that grace is by which God raises us to a supernatural beatitude; but unaided philosophy shows us that not even the slightest thought could enter into a human mind without God’s willing it to
do so. . . . The scholastic distinction between universal and particular causes is irrelevant here. ·Here’s an example of it·: The sun is the universal cause of all flowers, but isn’t the ·particular· cause of the difference between tulips and roses. But that is because the production of flowers depends also on other particular causes that aren’t subordinated to the sun. ·Obviously that is irrelevant to our present topic, because· God is the universal cause of everything in such a way that he is also the total cause—·the sole cause·—of everything; so nothing can happen without his will.

Descartes

Tuesday, February 1, 2011

Cheerfulness

Consider someone who has every reason to be happy but who continually sees enacted before him tragedies full of disastrous events, and who spends all his time brooding on sad and pitiful objects. Suppose that he knows that these are imaginary fables: they draw tears from his eyes and move his imagination, but don’t touch his intellect at all. I think that this by itself would be enough gradually to constrict his heart and make him sigh in
such a way that the circulation of his blood would be clogged and slowed down. The bigger parts of his blood, sticking together, could easily block the spleen, getting caught in it and stopping in its pores; while the more finely divided parts, being continually agitated, could affect his lungs and
cause a cough which in time might be very dangerous.

•Now consider someone who has countless genuine reasons for distress but who takes such trouble to direct his imagination that he never thinks about them except when some practical necessity forces him to, and who spends the rest of his time
thinking about things that can give him contentment and joy.
This will greatly help him by enabling him to make sounder judgments about the things that matter to him, because he’ll look on them without passion. Furthermore, I am sure that this by itself could restore him to health, even if his spleen
and lungs were already in a poor condition because of the bad condition of the blood caused by sadness.
I know that everything I write here is better known to you than to me, and that what’s difficult in this matter is not the theory but the practice. Still, the great favour that you do me in showing that you aren’t averse to hearing my views makes me take the liberty of writing them down just as they are,
and of adding this: The remedy I have just suggested cured an illness of mine that was very like yours and perhaps even more dangerous. I was born of a mother who, a few days [actually, 14 months] after my birth, died from a disease of the
lungs caused by distress. From her I inherited a dry cough and a pale colour which stayed with me until I was more than twenty, so that all the doctors who saw me predicted that I would die young. But I have always tended to look at things from the most favourable angle and to make my chief happiness depend upon myself alone; and I believe that this
tendency caused the indisposition gradually to disappear completely—the indisposition that was almost part of my nature

Descartes ( from a letter to Princess Elisabeth)

Great souls

What chiefly marks off the greatest souls from low-level vulgar ones, it seems to me, is that vulgar souls give themselves over to their passions and are happy or sad purely according to whether what  happens to them is agreeable or unpleasant;
whereas great souls reason so powerfully that—although they too have passions, which are often more violent than those of the vulgar—their reason remains in command and brings it about that even afflictions serve them and contribute to the perfect happiness that they can enjoy not merely in the after-life but already in this life.
Here is how they do it. They bear in mind •that they are immortal and capable of receiving very great contentment, and on the other hand •that they are joined to mortal and fragile bodies that are bound to perish in a few years; so they do whatever they can to make fortune favourable in this
life, but they value this life so little from the perspective of eternity that they give ·worldly· events no more consideration than we give to events on the stage. Just as the sad stories that we weep to see represented on a stage often entertain
us as much as happy ones, so the greatest souls get an inner satisfaction from all the things that happen to them, even the most distressing and unbearable. When they feel pain in their bodies they try hard to put up with it, and this show of their strength is agreeable to them. Seeing a friend in some great trouble they feel compassion at the friend’s ill fortune and do all they can to rescue him from it,
and they aren’t afraid of risking death if that is necessary for this purpose. But the sadness that their compassion brings doesn’t afflict them, because they are happy over the testimony of their conscience, which tells them that they are
doing their duty, acting in a manner that is praiseworthy and virtuous. In short, just as the greatest prosperity of fortune never intoxicates them or makes them insolent, so also the greatest adversities can’t defeat them or make them so sad that the body to which they are joined falls ill.
Descartes