At 12:59 AM 1/1/2008, you wrote:
> > Date: Tue, 1 Jan 2008 00:40:06 -0500 > > To: [EMAIL PROTECTED] > > From: [EMAIL PROTECTED] > > Subject: Re: [MD] Mind-body practice > > > > At 11:46 PM 12/31/2007, you wrote: > > > > > > > > > >>"Action is thy duty, reward not thy concern." (Bhagavad Gita) > >> > >> > >>> Date: Mon, 31 Dec 2007 02:52:39 -0500 > >>> To: [EMAIL PROTECTED] > >>> From: [EMAIL PROTECTED] > >>> Subject: Re: [MD] Mind-body practice > >>> > >>> At 12:20 AM 12/31/2007, you wrote: > >>> > >>>>Hello everyone > >>>> > >>>>> Date: Sun, 30 Dec 2007 02:53:33 -0500 > >>>>> To: [EMAIL PROTECTED] > >>>>> From: [EMAIL PROTECTED] > >>>>> Subject: Re: [MD] Mind-body practice > >>>>> > >>>>> At 01:46 AM 12/30/2007, you wrote: > >>>>> > >>>>>>Hello everyone > >>>>>> > >>>>>> > >>>>>>> Date: Wed, 26 Dec 2007 15:02:53 -0500 > >>>>>>> To: [EMAIL PROTECTED] > >>>>>>> From: [EMAIL PROTECTED] > >>>>>>> Subject: Re: [MD] Mind-body practice > >>>>>>> > >>>>>>> At 01:58 PM 12/26/2007, you wrote: > >>>>>>> > >>>>>>>>Hello everyone > >>>>>>>> > >>>>>>>> > >>>>>>>>> Date: Wed, 26 Dec 2007 02:29:31 -0500 > >>>>>>>>> To: [EMAIL PROTECTED] > >>>>>>>>> From: [EMAIL PROTECTED] > >>>>>>>>> Subject: Re: [MD] Mind-body practice > >>>>>>>>> > >>>>>>>>> At 06:36 AM 12/25/2007, Krimel wrote: > >>>>>>>>> > >>>>>>>>> > >>>>>>>>>>[Krimel] > >>>>>>>>>>I engage in a daily practice of reading, listening, study, > >> meditation, > >>>>>>>>>>discussion and writing on concepts that make-up the > associationistic > >>>>>>>>>>patterns of my thoughts. I probe these patterns for error and > >>>>>> look for new > >>>>>>>>>>concepts and new ways to incorporate new concepts into this > >>>>>>>> network of ideas > >>>>>>>>>>and associations. > >>>>>>>>>> > >>>>>>>>>>I rejoice in the mystical sensations of new ideas shaking the > >>>> network and > >>>>>>>>>>creating Gestalt shifts in my perception. I am rewarded when > >>>> new thoughts > >>>>>>>>>>and associations occur to me and when new fractal patterns > >>>>>> emerge from the > >>>>>>>>>>effort. I observe the illusions of the moment in light of the > >>>>>> illusions of > >>>>>>>>>>the past and wait in awe for the shifting illusions of the future. > >>>>>>>>>> > >>>>>>>>>>I expand my consciousness (whatever that is) by bringing in > >>>> new ideas and > >>>>>>>>>>testing old ones. I reflect on film, art, music and new > >>>>>> narrative concepts > >>>>>>>>>>that employ fiction to augment facets in the structure of > >> my thoughts. > >>>>>>>>>> > >>>>>>>>>>I seek harmony in the thoughts of others and marvel at the > >>>>>> infinite variety > >>>>>>>>>>of perception and processing available to the human spirit. > >>>>>>>>> > >>>>>>>>> > >>>>>>>>> Greetings, > >>>>>>>>> > >>>>>>>>> I've been thinking about what Krimel wrote here. I like > to play this > >>>>>>>>> game. I thought this description really quite beautiful. It can't > >>>>>>>>> be taken seriously though, it is play, it is Lila. But this game > >>>>>>>>> also seems contrary to all the literature on the Tao, Buddhism, > >>>>>>>>> etc. Maybe I'm missing something, but that seems silly. How can > >>>>>>>>> anything be excluded? > >>>>>>>>> > >>>>>>>>> Anybody have any thoughts? > >>>>>>>> > >>>>>>>>Hi Marsha > >>>>>>>> > >>>>>>>>I agree it's intellectually appealing to learn new ideas and to fill > >>>>>>>>our days chasing empty concepts. I think the MOQ says that that > >>>>>>>>takes us away from Dynamic Quality, however. It doesn't bring us > >>>>>>>>closer. Perhaps that is what the literature on the Tao and Buddhism > >>>>>>>>is telling you. > >>>>>>>> > >>>>>>>>Thanks, > >>>>>>>> > >>>>>>>>Dan > >>>>>>> > >>>>>>> > >>>>>>> Dan, > >>>>>>> > >>>>>>> Perhaps if this is what one did all day long, every day. Or if one > >>>>>>> mistook their thoughts and ideas for the truth. > >>>>>>>But what if you think like Tim Robbins, "I believe in nothing, > >>>>>> everything is sacred, > >>>>>>> I believe in everything, nothing is sacred." Then isn't thinking, > >>>>>>> with nonattachment, the same as a cloud, or tree, or flowing > >>>>>>> river? > >>>>>>>This is a serious question. It's hard for me to believe > >>>>>>> that this particular aspect of nature should be negated. Isn't it > >>>>>>> attachment that causes suffering and illusion? > >>>>>> > >>>>>>Hi Marsha > >>>>>> > >>>>>>I've heard it said that ignorance of the nature of all living beings > >>>>>>as well as the nature of inanimate things gives rise to suffering. > >>>>>>This ignorance is the notion that all exists in and of itself, > >>>>>>separate and apart from all else. Is that what you mean by attachment? > >>>>>> > >>>>>>Thank you, > >>>>>> > >>>>>>Dan > >>>>> > >>>>> Greetings, > >>>>> > >>>>> No, that's not exactly what I mean, but that would also seem to cause > >>>>> suffering. I was considering more the transitory nature of > >>>>> experience. More like trying to capture a river using a bucket. Or > >>>>> capturing a cloud in a jar. Or capturing rain using a bottle. Or > >>>>> thinking memory has captured experience. > >>>>> > >>>>> Interesting that the painting I'm working with is needing a broken > >>>>> arrow and a bottle of rain. Trying to imagine what kind of bottle > >>>>> this man would use to bring rain has got me baffled. A Budweiser > >>>>> bottle just doesn't seem right. > >>>> > >>>>The Rain Jar > >>>> > >>>>I once knew a man in Arkansas who was building a cordwood house on > >>>>top of a mountain on an old foundation, which was all that remained > >>>>of a prior dwelling. The home was located deep in the woods in a > >>>>pretty little valley reached by driving several miles down old dirt > >>>>logging trails. The locals called it Hippie Hollow as there were > >>>>quite a number of families living there who were practicing > >>>>alternative lifestyles. Now-a-days such goings-on might be tolerated > >>>>but this was back in the middle '70's so the experiment was doomed > >>>>from the start. We of course didn't understand that at the time... > >>>>it is only in retrospect that I understand it now. > >>>> > >>>>Since I didn't have any pressing engagements in those days I found > >>>>was able to spend the summer there helping to build the cordwood > >>>>house. Now I had heretofore never built a cordwood house nor in fact > >>>>had I ever heard of such a creation. But the man assured me once > >>>>complete the house would last a thousand years or more. It struck me > >>>>at that time that such an acclomplishment had real value and so > >>>>without hope of recompense I spent several months laboring away deep > >>>>in an Arkansas forest building a dwelling that would last a thousand > >>>>years. We spend the days cutting cordwood and the nights reading ZMM > >>>>by the campfire and discussing Quality. > >>>> > >>>>I might have neglected until now to mention that the man of whom I > >>>>speak didn't have two nickels to rub together. Since the local > >>>>well-driller charged several thousand dollars to drill a well this > >>>>man instead gathered a large clump of red Arkansas creek clay (the > >>>>same red clay we used to fashion mortar for the cordwood house) and > >>>>shaped it into a large jar in which to store rain water. He called > >>>>the vessel his rain jar. Once he had shaped the rain jar the man > >>>>built a kiln out of fallen branches in which to bake his creation. > >>>>Everyone told him it wouldn't work but he did it anyway. And it > >>>>worked. I am unsure whether it was dumb luck or sheer genius but I > >>>>suspect the former. > >>>> > >>>>The rain jar was big and red and when it was ready it would hold > >>>>hundrds of gallons of water. The rain jar even had a red clay cover > >>>>to keep the water fresh and pure. However it was completed before > >>>>the cordwood house was done and so there was no roof to act as a > >>>>collector. So the jar just sat there in the woods waiting for the > >>>>day when it would fullfill it's intented use. But one day the > >>>>sheriff showed up and arrested the man who was building the cordwood > >>>>house for growing wacky tobaccy on a southern slope just down the > >>>>way. It wasn't long after that mysterious fires began to plague > >>>>Hippie Hollow and one by one the families started packing up and leaving. > >>>> > >>>>Since it was clear to me by that time that the cordwood house would > >>>>never be completed I packed up my meager belongings and moved on > >>>>down the road myself. Many years later I found myself in the same > >>>>area of Arkansas and out of curiosity I drove down to Hippie Hollow > >>>>to see the old stomping grounds. The old dirt logging trail was now > >>>>a paved road leading to an exclusive subdivision. Driving past the > >>>>expensive homes I happened to spot a familar sight in one of back > >>>>yards. The half-finished cordwood house was covered with steel > >>>>siding and the large red clay rain jar still stood there unused amid > >>>>the trees. I didn't like looking at it. It made me sad somehow. So I > >>>>drove away and never went back. > >>>> > >>> > >>> The Witness Tree > >>> > >>> Although the full moon is not present, it's affects are present. In > >>> the background are two snow-capped mountains in the shape of > >>> breasts. The night sky is a bit turbulent. In the foreground is a > >>> man sitting at the base of a tree whose bare branches reach into the > >>> night. This man is naked and waiting. He is staring into the night, > >>> oblivious to what is above him. In the crux of the tree is a glass > >>> container filled with water. It is in the shape of a half-moon, and > >>> lit the color of the moon. From the side of this container peers a > >>> woman. She is looking in his direction. She seems to sense his > >>> presence, but it is not apparent that she sees him. > >>> > >> > >>A Butterfly Picnic > >> > >>Clumps of small white butterflies with black eyeballs on their wings > >>dance in spiraling circles along the creek. A woman is watching the > >>butterflies play but she isn't seeing them. She sits on a green and > >>white plaid blanket. Along side her a loaf of bread and a bottle of > >>wine poke up out of a brown woven basket. Sunshine tingles over her > >>naked body. A breeze rustles the cattails growing in shallow water > >>beside the creek bank and tickles the grass growing around her > >>blanket. A long unused train trestle runs over the rippling water > >>just a short distance away. Mottled-gray stones at its base are > >>crumbling. A man sits on the trestle on a ledge near the top close > >>by a metal ladder driven into the weathered stone blocks. The woman > >>takes the bread and breaks it, reveling in finding the soft > >>underneath through the crisp crust. She pours the wine. Raising the > >>glass to her lips she looks up to see the man watching her. She > >>starts but quickly remembers that he has always been there. Sh > >> e watches the butterflies play but she isn't seeing them. > > > > Greetings Dan > > > > I hate to intrude on your creativity. > >Hi Marsha > >And I on yours. > > >Is it possible that the woman > > already knows she is woman, and the watching man, and the butterflies? > >Yes I think so. > >Thank you, > >Dan I'm thrilled with the container of rain. It's perfect. Marsha Shoot for the moon. Even if you miss, you'll land among the stars... Moq_Discuss mailing list Listinfo, Unsubscribing etc. http://lists.moqtalk.org/listinfo.cgi/moq_discuss-moqtalk.org Archives: http://lists.moqtalk.org/pipermail/moq_discuss-moqtalk.org/ http://moq.org.uk/pipermail/moq_discuss_archive/
