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Name & Location:
Church of the International Society for Krishna Consciousness
243 Avenue Road, Toronto Annex
Year Completed: 1899
Alternate Name:
ISKCON Toronto; Hare Krishna Centre; Hare Krishna Temple; Govinda's; Church of the Covenant; Avenue Road Church
Notes:
This church was altered in 1906. A fire gutted it in 1944, and it was subsequently restored. The International Society for Krishna Consciousness acquired it in 1976.
Syle: Gothic Revival'
Glowing in the light of a golden new day, Star assumes the Upavistha Januparivrttasana posture (or so she tells me...for all I know it could be a poor imitation...not to mention that I had to accept her word for it on the spelling) to maximize the contemplative and meditative benefits that she so vigorously maintains only yoga provides.
I tend to believe her, since she has effectively argued that the concept of a cat having nine lives is not really a myth, but a confused view of the fact that the cat is the only species who long ago attained the highest levels of evolutionary spiritual enlightenment, pointing out that one never hears reference to a dog having more than one life...or a clam...or even a human. Thus, having reached this stage, a cat can of its own volition choose to return to earth (or not) and show not the slightest distress or concern with its surroundings or situation, whatever they may be.
Certainly explains a lot to me...
🎧 microscopic meditations offered for heart and heart's ease, after listening to morning blessings of Mahant Swami Maharaj in his divine presence in Mumbai on 23 February 2023:
to see right there in the palm of your hand, a place where consciousness & the subliminal gather in hands cupped like a bowl; to go into the forest with this bowl, where silence and beauty are the deepest; and that’s when the magic happens...
phone isn’t
the same string
from person to
person now
that we carry
them and
have no homes
eileen myles
when you 'get it,' the language is heart's ease - beautiful, connected, resonant; and when you don’t, it can be frustrating to ramble about an isolating experience.{} honesty is a sine qua non to this reflection process...all I want is to be opened.
Meditation 1: painful intimacy - emotional openness ...which stems from startled silence of emotion; emotion never dodged, only the details. an intimacy which is not destructive, on the contrary, it becomes constructive to discover through the fogs of silence, the secret of the wounds. an innocent intimacy as you meditate like writing a letter to a close friend, confiding the innermost and intimate nature of that kind of conversation:
between two infinities, when one can never spin fast enough to catch a glimpse of the spinning world; zoom in - a pas de loup. body-edged journey squaring the circle; where openness is not charted - soul-flow is getting missed; and so the next second brings storm-clouds ☁ over the head; unguarded position found. le séjour. it brings in triple waves - of emptiness, of hurried emotions (signs of dizziness you don't know) and of deeply unfathomable feelings (when light and darkness is felt closer than ever); feeling cold to take the next step in the shivering rain that never stops, one further feels the subtle clouds looming over a larger distance as far as you can see, to bring in muted moments of indecision. terra incognita - the map of every place in the mind of 'jonathan livingston storm gull'; wherein to find the path means to lose the peace. a silver lining gains a place of esteem in the head-cloud, “we don't patch up and piece together the time spent with illusions.”
"I tie my handkerchief
to a kite
to try and dry
the cries of
the clouds up there.
Pour, pour:
oh, if only
I hadn’t loaned
my umbrella
to that submarine!"
.
playing the royal game in circles, 'put the blame on', each and every day, the paper airplanes fly inside through the window; the newspaper has been crying another day older denying any liability in non-fulfillment to worth of life; the auto-triggered paralyzing thoughts of a messy heart slowly finds the status quo - the chaos reigns as reprehensible acts gain momentum and then it will no longer be possible to stave off utter misery; pollen's hardened outer coating, the honey bees cleave the grains at a vulnerable point. a moth-like attraction to the mental processes full of waves of frivolity, that will cost the moth everything; recklessness always turns out to be expensive, yet the mind clothed in rags remains obdurate as it cannot let go the sub-stratum of such images which spring to the impromptu mind who dreams to robe ornate clothing; images which are result of attraction of cohesion to the highest beauty which a flesh-mental-ego self would love to marry. the dense calendar flows like water bursting out through your hands and yet the empty thirst never quenched; and when you really wake up, the corrosive paper airplane has been compelled to form a slowly moving boat of ineptitude, asking you to drink your own tears. with bonds damaged, tissue paper in water, coming apart from a sailing quality. inundated areas of thinking start to project the weakness on others. same emotion tumbling around in your head, amorphous but forming. evaporating as the years pass by and the brooding clouds keep crying. even when the skies clear, there is a constellation of grief around and there is no clearing of deceit-less path to find a way out of the shame, dread, debt, doubt and sadness. lurching between soaring high waves and agonizing lows waves, how can one sail in the ruling tides of haunted past, wistful present, and the disorienting future? simply unmoored, breasting the surging tide, the turbulent seas...
heart does the assignment
underlines the words
after mind erases them
the emotion has its own tide coming in
a blank page is a mirror
has the line that won't go away
being aware of the deceptive circles in which you move. ripples... as in the mirror, every little bad dream is preening to be remembered; also a reflection of hangover after past that adumbrates the future and so the mind is churned over again to seek relief-joy; a melting point [IIΙ] for wisdom followed by series of griefs, each compounding the last one. the count never ends; but this creates a immobilizing language of circumstances and sad database, which infiltrates the joy of gratitude and the defense of it.
"every problem has a solution. the problem is to find the solution to the problem." — pierre filion
irredeemably till how long will you will you continue to define yourself but not refine yourself into aligned understanding? restructuring of the self and reality needs to see the essence - 'the soul can always evolve.' backfired, in measuring the positive parts of life, the numbered days of the passing life does not paint the whole picture; and yet they start becoming a Lazy Sunday - each day. and so finding satisfaction in moments of stark relief, punctured in these wasted days, a recluse does not think beyond the merry-go-round of the numbered whole.
"Books were to her not an end in themselves but a substitute for living. She raced through folios because she was forbidden to scamper on the grass." Virginia Woolf on Aurora Leigh
so much information to be deposited elsewhere keeps coming at you and very little manages to stick and make you think better. things can move better and be possible, only when you are in a state of grace, when deep channels are open throughout; deeply stirred balance maintained. but ignorance can quickly hold us as whole, at most of the times, like no knowing can; because in this shelled ignorance lies body-edged joy brought in quickly, not even giving a fortnight of chance to the story of patience - that which can ripen as the joy of an enduring kind - a story about river meeting it's sea. instead our story becomes like sea channels that needs regular dredging to stay open and that cannot happen by staying shrouded in mystery.
futzing around ever since,
a story about story-lessness,
or to become of worthlessness
or ideas left to stew in
vat of pulpy esoteric stew.
again, a fear to lose the face,
in those staircase encounters,
where unsettled ghosts linger.
formlessness of the darkness
living an austere life, existence
you hardly even acknowledge
eyes of others; felt ambivalence
as time passes distance grows
leaves a couple of points undefined.
until you really stop to examine
the progression and coherence,
the dreary analytical lines can spin
into excess; inhibiting the soul-work.
an afterthought to character development
wasn’t really addressing any
of the questions that really drew me,
a muffled voice says within & still mumbling
lines follow shifts in the thoughts and feelings
with no break in the texture and flow
homogeneous passages maddeningly ambiguous
dense & abstract aesthetic, return to form
emotionlessly transposing world into word.
to make the thought sound more deep than it is.
looking to address such battles
of the negligible music; with a narrative
from the timbre of his voice
every story wants every vile human impulse
to be transformed through care; and,
in case you forget who i am, do not
forget the common ground, just plowed
grief isn’t fresh but it’s ongoing
confounds but deepen us
the glimmers of hope deep inside you
grateful, not hateful.
enter the harvest time
.
"most of our problems proceed from our inability
to sit quietly in a small room." — pascal.
solving one problem by creating other problems is not the way to do things... don't you see?
feeling discouraged as well as judgmental, how much overwhelming information would be flitting around the mind? still the plans for the road ahead were always ditched for the earliest fixations of the mind - a way to grapple with un-grappable feelings as well as tendency to crumble in pressure situations. with nothing at stake, the relief-joy moments are delineated'; merry - no - round, there is an unseen hole in this illusory sense of whole and unable to deal with the painful and prosaic realities of life. the relief-wisdom, if at all gained in the process, may never get beyond just being good - becoming a lengthy as well as single monotonous line without a melody.
“I buried my head under the darkness of the pillow and pretended it was night. I couldn't see the point of getting up. I had nothing to look forward to.” ― Sylvia Plath
“Growth in painful. Change is painful. But nothing is as painful as staying stuck somewhere you don’t belong.”
in such a state of inconsequential affairs, when one's heart is fettered with memories and when one's heart does not really get moved, the strident hinged door opens up certain promising techniques of the times. the cross is, basically, that the portrait of the soul loses many wholes with frontal light of such techniques. such techniques like mindfulness to the present moment and other quick-fix ways will never fill the void within nor answer a lot of questions about 'right affection'. continuing our discordant chorus, the fulfillment of heart never really happens as one switches between the light and dark moments without much rhyme or reason. after a peak of body-edged joy trying to fill the bottomless ego, there is a rapidly decreasing taste of enjoyment as the senses are blunted to some extent. momentarily stumped and yet to forget the queasy feelings and as an act of coping mechanism, one is pulled in to that same cycle of relief-joy and then feeling rather stung by the pleasure. if it was treasured time, why that became a trash time? why you grew more and more despondent? why ashamed to see what you leave in your wake? inured to stress, as if the side-lined efforts were for nought - the factor by which nothing will multiply and fickleness of eyes never saturated; now, never eager to receive the grace of the Purest who can enlighten the earnest eyes.
"a shrug says sorry" and you stay near but elsewhere; and you delude yourself to exist trouble-free in same plane of thoughts but not able to see how the grace can end the suffering created by struggle between truth consciousness and unconsciousness of peace-making pathways. in over-trying to do things in own mind's dominant reaction to difficult situations, you forget to establish the rhythm formed in the pathway charted through fortitude, and a graceful rhythm as being greatly reflected in the Purest Heart.
everything the heart needed appears in that moment of belonging to the Heart breathing the truth of devotion, and then recedes as the delusion in own mind also intensifies when crisscrossing the landscapes of momentary belonging is a journey to pass into days of dust. near to the wild heart, with this mindset of giving all-or-nothing and letting time slip in rolls-royce ecstasy, till when can one wait to have the courage for surrendering to the compassionate Truth? and travel through gates of vulnerability before the scorpion tells the truth? is it that when eyes ache, then only it can be seen that the self which resisted baring is going to fail? shouldn't the methods of living life as learned behavior of unawareness and unwanted urges, expose the hollowness in one or another area, till the collective trauma of the profound personal loss is not addressed by going to the source? to see what blesses and sustains us at the source level. it is definitely some grace received to find that inner alignment and rhythm and then asking the right questions.
"Days pass when I forget the mystery." — Denise Levertov
steeped in comfort, till when can you continue to secure a favorable or transcendent narrative to camouflage unscrupulous deeds? isn't it too taxing to maintain our pretenses with the ugly tedium of explanatory justifications? of commanding cerebral experiences? of disparaging cliches? when will you stop the inflationary use of the compensatory and positive words that are not a stitch in time to save nine? don't you see that these words of suffocating clarity trickle down and gets stuck in your heart like a thorn? when will that understanding happen to see - why you've been protecting yourself, wearing a hat always in style, instead of wholeheartedly working on protecting the truth? don't you know that only the pencil will support your weight without leaving an indelible scar? how will you navigate your own self-doubts and misgivings? are you really interrogating the nature of your fears or just becoming more weaker with the fear of questions? will not, adding here of one more thing, to the list of interfering questions, create more disconnection and disorientation and cast doubt across decades; or are these questions stepping in stones to meet the hurtful part of self? to see how deterioration started by collusion with this gradual process of enticement. how long will you entertain false-hearted guests to your thought process? don't you see that every little comment from them just chips away at your confidence.
ventriloquizing of a voice dreaded throughout from an ingrained identity but not from purity of a soul? forced to question when you are ruing the lost time? are these self-obsessed questions another form of resistance - a daily resistance to death (or reluctance to let go) and an embrace of life? or are these tea-time questions, a sign of sugar full of procrastination to indefinite prolongation and beyond? a sign of inveterate tendency to overlook the course of action? can just asking more of such unconsidered questions fill your ravenous soul? soul that is increasingly being alienated from own purpose and true self. would you like when someone quizzes you about your irrecoverable unemployment? ignoring the many ways of associative knowing, life destroyed by silent-natured embarrassing relationships and obliterated by subsequent incidences of missing the deeper and subtler eye to see through such awkward involvements. can you read your personal, intimate book? incapable of deep-reading, eliminating the mystifying features of the study days; alienated and demystified from natural world and natural order to study, you only exclude learning and wonder pathways and become hardened to integrate them. unsure but hopeful, in the end, are these spiritual questions limbering up or just the magnitude of cerebral questions in which you feel cleaving of mind between intimacy and distance for the same concepts seen in limited observation of the mind shining through flashbacks of fragmentary memories; maybe, like Emily since the ancient times, cannot explain with a delicate-as-lace sentences poem:
The Lost Thought
I felt a cleaving in my mind
As if my brain had split;
I tried to match it, seam by seam,
But could not make them fit.
The thought behind I strove to join
Unto the thought before, ,
But sequence ravelled out of reach
Like balls upon a floor.
Emily Dickinson (can you see if Emily in you retreated further into herself or emerged out open to big change?) she saw deeply and so could also see that something was missing. unfortunately, she couldn't put her finger on what that was. She definitely did not had a cursory way of looking at grief.
imprisoned within the shrinking confines of a conscribed life, to read the questions straight through will further tangle the mind. and it is difficult to read these questions and "difficult" is a different thing from "incomprehensible". the ego has a false belief that everything will cohere somehow or other, because it all comes from you! to take the next right step, something always gets missed, you say with a sinking voice. a voice which asks, "does not the fragmented structure of the thought process echo your mental state? the general tenor of all but querulous...
mind to soul and soul to mind, each preaching to the choir and so the honest question was never attempted from the very beginning. only ego massage by seemingly big questions and then nothing. the honest question to ask the self mirror is - how principles once rigidly followed become fluid when it becomes expedient? the golden principles can only be truly lived, right from the start, if one is truthful in love, but not by who feigns love for selfish reasons. please do not have a convenient follow up to these questions with a band-aid to plug a deluge.
“when the sky cries, things start to bloom. so, let those tears flow. it's good for you too. all things which greatly hurt me greatly teach me. often, it’s the deepest pain which empowers you to grow into your highest self.” ~ ― karen salmonsohn
grief, I’ve learned, is really just love.
it’s all the love you want to give, but cannot.
all that unspent love gathers up in the corners of your eyes, the lump in your throat, and in that hollow part of your chest.
grief is just love with no place to go.
jamie anderson
les nuages dans ma tête. going à travers a baffling phase in own life and impossible to act in the moment when thinking diverges into abstractness, it takes extraordinary acts of metamorphosis by fostering qualities of courage and engagement in shaking the self, to get the self looking through after the initial breakthrough - a look for cathartic value in the continuum of life in everyday and of pathways that create better connection to your intermediate stages in journey; bridging through metaphors and similes and the grateful connection to grand continuum. in this act of listening in care, what does being fully present to the moment mean? it is when one brings parts of self together (who had been put up with each other and so had not communicated with each other for long), so that they listen to each other. worth the pain, "i feel so gutted" for the gain of affection; it is then, when one begins to heal and find how the pain hurts so less than subdued grief of regret; and then you listen to your true source in pursuit of the sublime.
did you see this as a fallow period which is now copiously bestowed with the ripening is because of trust of 'Eterna-Oski' who is so steadfast and believing? Tears...
looking into the sea of your eyes, tears broke through me, through my fears, the way frozen river break open after the arrival of spring. once you find your breakthrough moment, rivers of yearning, rivers of reaching... comes through
it is this continuum wholeness where clouds become witness to a graceful sight – leaf joyfully breathes the wind —
looking into the eyes of love in the clouds, what is seen, is a beautiful journey of training as an apprentice with alertness and dedication, to achieve the continuum of consciousness, that is observing – with equanimity and not living from behind the positioned ego, that creates barriers to being fully present.
.
Meditation 2: returning with wonder. the pitch and purpose of this peaceful reflection is 'spiritual openness' as a source of clarity and compassion, about how we love.
"But to say, I know—is there any touch in it?
To be there; to listen; not invade. Another solitude ..."
— Jean Valentine
being fully present in the moment is never about being in middle of nowhere. meaning of a word is its use in the language coming from the Heart. shapes of preciousness. ton histoire commence par un voyage. must press on for one last battle, gentle warrior of mine, revisiting the arc - not just a point we’ve arrived at but a direction of travel:
of truly "seeing" where you belong, the vantage point offered, beyond being an oddball; this seeing in essence, becomes a simple yet generative story of mine, of finding a closure - closure to body-edged drifting of self, along the great tendencies of 'nakara' self who always craved to get the crumbs of fairy-tale joy; such an urge, felt by the untested self; felt without stronger feelings due to heartstrings stretched in every direction in the fleeting moments. interplay of disorder and order as day and night follows in a worn world. steering the strong waves with own mind as rudder, between all the competing voices pulling us here, pushing us there, this vantage point of life offering a steady beacon of light by which you can navigate to your authentic self and devote truly in love.
a small bowl
in my hands like the nest
/- joseph fasano
lumière divine sur toi, this vantage point of life - an attachment formed via wonder of the soul to love the dweller inside the inner garden, two doors away and the shrine eight outer barriers away; bringing the purest and golden transformation of self. la caresse, a guide and a gift, an invitation at the same time into yourself and beyond yourself; whispering woods - this secret, no longer held between shadow and light present in every vanishing page of life. everything unfolds from the center with no boundaries of affection.
once a true love is recognized, it takes tremendous courage to make a connection with right affection and completely trust your journey to it, with it. beauty of love that is challenging and comforting at the same time - expanding thoughts to meaning, healing, order, respect, rhythm and timeless calm. compassion you have for those of us who "try" earnestly, humbly and transparently. very taken by this innocence of friendship at its most glorious and by nourishing care, to be lost in contemplation in the grateful wonder of this garden .. following the great footsteps, this homecoming filling the void of the soul at the feelings level, relevant and true - of experiencing 'Eterna Tenderness' of Purest Hearts.
a thought under my pillow, glowing in the morning's dark
now all the efforts surf on 'finesse et légèreté'/fineness & lightness. performing the poetry of such tenderness together, of nurturing one another, a great joy comes when we re-imagine our world together united as one. nourished wisdom that plants seeds of Tenderness... of beauty and light. the more generously we love, the more blessed we lead our lives and get to flourish. compelling honesty cast like dandelions upon the air of thoughts; with such ease, and such care that only true friendship can do. companionship thought buds toward devotion, blossoming with tender honesty and deeper truths.
Dear Heart, do not be stymied by what you consider as mistakes. keep growing in our joy of togetherness.
when i'm not thinking about anything else, that’s joy forever. heart is no longer vacant of dreams; yet, never a wish for something more, now, every dream i have, transcends me to same garden of the Heart where I see the Form behind the light. one stays amazed in this magical dream so truthful, and from that moment, the time was enfolded in the act of being fully present to unfold the bundles of conversational joy with a steadfast companion; and now the earthly glow responds with saintliness to blossom the flowers of peace for one and all - a wish, highest of all.
Consciousness
HKD
Ansichtssache
Thema Nr. 11
Was sind meine Ansichten über Tod, Transzendenz und Erlösung?
Alle Erscheinungen finden – man denke an einen Traum – im Bewusstsein statt. Alle Phänomene sind vom Bewusstsein abhängig, denn der träumende Geist erzeugt alle Erscheinungen, den Träumer und die um ihn erscheinenden Objekte. Alles sind bedingte und vorübergehende, sich wieder im Bewusstsein auflösende Dinge. Alles verschwindet schließlich im Nichts des nicht mehr träumenden Geistes.
Der Geist an sich (analog zu Gott) ist der Erzeuger und dieser ist ohne Anfang und ohne Ende, unabhängig. Er ist vergleichbar mit dem Buddha-Geist, Allah, dem Geliebten, dem Tao, dem Heiligen Geist und zahlreicher weiterer Begriffe, die versuchen, das Höchste zu umschreiben.
Der zu einer menschlichen Existenz verdichtete Geist, der sich in der Realität (der Matrix) davon überzeugt hat, dass er ein bedingtes und beschränktes Wesen ist, verlässt diese „Vorstellung“ oder „Illusion“ und kehrt zurück in den Zustand, der vor der Geburt (des Lebenstraumes) herrschte.
Ich bringe meine Ansichten noch einmal auf den Punkt, um aus dieser Perspektive das Thema Tod und Transzendenz zu bespiegeln:
Die alltäglichen Erfahrungen oder das Alltagsleben beruhen auf einem spezifisch eingestellten Bewusstseinszustand und dieser lässt die Realität als das erscheinen, was man gerade wahrnimmt. Diesen Bewusstseinszustand bezeichne ich auch als Inkarnation. Das Ende einer Inkarnation ist für mich der Tod.
Aus meiner Sicht bedeutet Erlösung des Menschen die Rückkehr in den unbedingten oder göttlichen Zustand des Geistes. Keine Träume. Keine Objekte. Alles vereint. Vollkommene Bewusstheit, reines Bewusstsein oder „weißes Licht“.
Ich sehe den Tod als das Ende der Illusion der Matrix. Man mag das auch als Erlösung, Befreiung oder je nach heutigem Standpunkt bezeichnen.
Geburt ist für mich Inkarnation und Hineintauchen in die Matrix – das Alltagsleben.
Bewusstsein kreiert eine „Traumfigur“ und Bewusstsein löst die „Traumfigur“ wieder auf. Geburt und Tod sind vom Bewusstsein (Gott, Buddha, Tao etc.) hervorgebrachte Phänomene. Aus der Perspektive des höheren Bewusstseins (Selbst, Gott usw.) gibt es weder Geburt noch Tod.
Für mich ist Transzendenz der Weg vom Ego ins Selbst. Das Selbst (analog zu Gott) ist das Transzendente. Das Ego-Leben ist der persönliche Lebensfilm – die Matrix.
Das Transzendente steht hinter dem Leben und den Dingen.
Aus dem Transzendenten werden alle Erscheinungen geboren.
Das Transzendente ist für mich eine Umschreibung für Gott.
Es werde Licht…
HKD
Digital Art – own resources
HKD
Wireless Consciousness.
Декларирование прибыльные добродетели похоти, расположенных принципов Шут рассуждений в,
inconscientes malheurs dégoûtantes stimulantes humanité refoulée ridicule peur,
pudet concepimus effecerit tragoedorum removed discretio ploratio sympathias gradus alicunde,
priste katastrofer meninger motsetninger måler umulige beregninger undersøker,
kreischend Schweisse zerzaust vorspringenden prejudicious Gerechtigkeit gerächt Eisen weinen schelmischen Stunden,
sovuqqonlik hayrat ning sahna musodara darg'azab chuqur hayrat ning aql kurash,
сціскаючы розуму рудага вочы д'ябальскія вартаўнікоў пякельныя глыбіні апускаючыся ў адчай страшна цені сілы,
силан коморе пробуди приметна злочине ступефиед Нигхтмарес штетних страхови се поново појављује,
aħħari prinċipji diversitajiet riżoluzzjonijiet adornments distinti kwistjonijiet inferjuri immaġina forom intelletti mobbli,
spørgende manifester opdelt traditioner foreslår forskellige betingelser skrevet peger love modstandere blandt,
引数は有毒な質問を考えリテラル通訳サイエンス適合倫理を誘惑神学.
Steve.D.Hammond.
Watercolor, pen and gold pen.
Made today 02/15/22, while talking on the phone w/ my brother-in-law.
Sometimes it's nice to make something while speaking on the
phone; I'm not conscious of what I'm doing, just letting the
hand meander.
There it was… a geological marvel, an inspiration by any definition. Standing in awe, my ears heard the summer wind whistle through Navajo Mountain canyons and the eyes saw how rocks were carved for ages to form what now crosses over the little creek leading to the mighty Colorado River. But it is not only the creek that it bridges. It bridges time, traditions, cultures, emotions, beliefs and above all, it bridges opposites. Sitting beneath its sacred presence, I felt that these opposites are our own and are often paired in vain. There is flickering anxiety with every hope, an apology for every prejudice, a dash of disdain for every bow in front of weird whims, a silent laughter of renouncement for every tear… I could go on. Our consciousness is captivated in opposites. We are hypocritical in the sense that we manifest ourselves taking every care to hide the internal dichotomy. We smile but hide the pain. We talk but speak nothing of the silence. We yell but look away when eyes tear up… never will you find a moment when opposites don’t define it. Perhaps our consciousness would not appear so enigmatic if we did not disown our dilemmas so fastidiously.
In all my thoughts, I did not notice when the canyon wind had picked up a distant Navajo tune and the clouds had broken to let the midday sun through to those holy rocks. And it was then I felt the rainbow… or, as the young Navajo lady on the boat had said, I felt Nonnezoshe, the rainbow that had turned stone. Perhaps long ago it was a big boulder of sandstone… like us, rigid and pretentious. Years of sorrow flowing as a tiny river deep within has carved those contradictions away leaving it in harmony with its opposites. Perhaps, if I let my pain run its course, I too will find my Nonnezoshe… my peace.
-----------------------------------
This was shot with Canon EOS Ti on Kodak Chrome 200 in 2004 and was recently digitized. We do not have written accounts of how native Indians feel about this monument, but my brief interaction with few locals left me in no doubt that this place means a lot to them. That is how it has been for ages. If you have an hour that needs to be killed, then read this travel account from 1913.
Has it ever happened to you, your mind awakens, but your body still sleeps...you scream but no one hears you. It has to me, not a very pleasant experience. This is how I interpreted the thought. Slipping from unconscious to consciousness..
watch the details closer.
Here's my new drawing. Drawn on A4-sized craft paper sheet, using 0.20 & 0.25 mm Sakura Micron ink pens and two white Crown gel pens. Took me about three weeks to finish it.
This original piece is up for sale. Contact me if you’re interested.
more info: www.86era.org/blog/?p=156
1. If you separate yourself from the body and abide at ease in Consciousness you will become one (the sole Reality), everything else appearing (insignificant) Like grass.
2. After knowing that by which you know this (world) turn the mind inward and then you will see clearly the effulgence of the Self.
3. O Raghava, that by which you recognize sound, taste, form and smell, know that as your Self, the Supreme Brahman, the Lord of lords.
4. , O Raghava, that in which beings vibrate, that which creates them, know that Self to be your real Self.
5. After rejecting, through reasoning, all that can be known as ' non-truth ' what remains as pure Consciousness-regard that as your real Self.
6. Knowledge is not separate from you and that which is known is not separate from knowledge. Hence there is nothing other than the Self, nothing separate from it.
7. 'All that Brahma, Vishnu, Siva, Indra and others always do is done by me, the embodiment of Consciousness' - think in this manner.
8. 'I am the whole universe. I am the undecaying Supreme Self. There is neither past norfuture apart from me '-reflect in this manner.
9. 'Everything is the One Brahman, pure Consciousness, the Self of all, indivisible and immutable `-reflect in this manner.
10. 'There is neither I nor any other thing. Only Brahman exists always full of bliss everywhere.'- meditate on this calmly.
11. The sense of perceiver and perceived is common to all embodied beings, but the Yogi worships the One Self.
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Yoga Vasishta Sara - SELECTED VERSES - Worship of the Self
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Painting by Petrus Christus (La Virgen del arbol seco, c. 1465)
…about ¼ of the mural flow, scribed in real-time…
In preparation for the MLab Management 2.0 conference, Gary Hamel paraphrased a brainstorming interview we did in advance about how large organizations could become more innovative, adaptive and engaging [to clarify, what follows was my input to the brain spa]:
Flaws
Large group sizes working on any project and/or involved in most important decisions, and all sustaining the same business model (vs. competing to develop alternative concepts).
Work organization patterns that systematically eliminate options more than a standard deviation away from the mean.
Promotion and reward mechanisms that favor convergence to the mean and “playing well with others” over bold moves.
Fixes
Many (competing) small teams of 3-5, then reorient decision making to support selection of “winning” project ideas.
Four tenets jump to mind if we consider the Wisdom of Crowds as an emergent phenomenon, operating at a higher level of abstraction:
1) team (thinking style) diversity is more important than individual ability
2) disagreement is more important than consensus
3) and the voting policies and selection mechanisms that you put in place are more important than the coherence or even the comprehensibility about what you do.
4) The role of upper management is to tune the parameters of communication
Hire and build organizations to sustain group (hive) learning over individual learning, by consciously assembling teams of MIN 3 and MAX 7 with very diverse approaches. Number of teams you assign depends on the range of probability that you’ll get a very different, compelling answer out of one of them.
Structure the organization for more failure and greater selection of non-normative choices through difference-seeking voting policies and more observation of - and experimentation with - “perturbations” (vs. predictive extrapolation).
Other
DFJ uses voting methods that allow a vocal minority to overrule a wishy-washy majority, if the goal is to advance a very different concept. (“Passion-weighted vote”; “Silver bullets”).
You might improve a corporation’s ability to allocate resources across a more diverse portfolio of ideas if you can put those decisions in the hands of executives not vested in day-to-day execution of the initiatives (as the venture model - or Richard Branson - does).
Firms need to cross the threshold of accepting that they’ll be wrong more than 50% of the time when pursuing disruptive innovation, and therefore need to swing for the fences more often to make up for more losers.
Well, maybe not, but it makes a good title.
- West Fork Little Colorado River, White Mountains, Arizona
{ L } Lightbox view is best
© All Rights Reserved
vivid consciousness - of time long past.
Unintentionally - this is the sister to THIS photo :)
Another photo from the NYC meetup! This is the gorgeous Anna. We found this area next to a small playground while trying to escape the rain. Needless to say - we made it work! Stay tuned for more from the meetup ♥
Consciousness, Attitude. Engagement.....all this on behalf of the environmental preservation that makes us alive. Cambára do Sul, RS, Brazil
“It seems like the chaos of this world is accelerating, but so is the beauty in the consciousness of more and more people.” ~ Anthony Kiedis
The more you know about consciousness
the more you know about Buddha or God.
The Universe lies in yourself.
HKD
Das Universum liegt in dir
Wenn der Faktor Bewusstsein die Hauptrolle in der eigenen Weltanschauung übernimmt, tritt der Faktor Materie als Erscheinungsform des Bewusstseins an die zweite Stelle. Materie wird dann als eine energetische Erscheinung wahrgenommen, ein Umstand, der von der Physik belegt wird. Es kommt auf die Veranlagung des Beobachters an.
Das kosmische Bewusstsein sieht alle Erscheinung als Manifestationen des Geistes an. Manifestationen, wie sie in einem Traum erscheinen. Das eigentlich Phantastische ist das Leben, das als absolut reale Wahrnehmung erscheint. Je intensiver die Realität als eine solche erfahren wird, umso stärker ist das Bewusstsein auf den Alltag fixiert. In meditativ ausgerichteten Klöstern suchte und sucht man sich von der praktischen Seite her aus dieser Fixierung zu lösen. Vom profanen in den kosmischen oder göttlichen Bewusstseinszustand.
HKD
Rinpoche smiled at me. “The circle is a symbol of oneness. Water, hills, the sky and the bird are one. This is what it reminds me of. In a dream everything is generated by your brain, as you would say I guess. Everything has one source. Everything you see around including you and me has one source. It is generated by god you may say. And yes, everything is Buddha. Consciousness is all there is. By getting older and older I realized more and more the truth of Buddha’s teachings. It takes time. The heron has to fly for a while until it is home.”
HKD
Von Zeit zu Zeit mache ich immer wieder gerne meditative Bilder. Sie sind meine Erinnerungsstützen und meine Pausen.
Lange Jahre habe ich intensiv meditiert und zu meiner inneren Ruhe gefunden.
Ich lebe auch heute noch gern zurückgezogen und bin vielmehr ein Einsiedler als ein Mensch den es nach Gesellschaft sehnt. Über die Meditation habe ich mein Allein sehr genießen gelernt. Was früher einmal Gefühle von Verlassensein und Orientierungslosigkeit waren hat sich gewandelt in das Gefühl intensiver Freiheit und Zufriedenheit.
Alleinsein mit dem oben gezeigten Fischreiher. Alleinsein mit der Inspiration und dem kreativen Prozess. Allein am Computer und aus der Stille, aus der Mitte heraus ein Bild zu schöpfen, das die Schwingung der Stille in sich trägt, die innere Stille des Geistes, das ist mir eine unglaubliche Freude, die ich über die Schöpfungen einem Betrachter vermitteln kann.
Einen Augenblick verweilen, mitschwingen… erinnern.
HKD
El Romeral, Toledo.Spain
Please don't use this image on websites, blogs or other media without my explicit permission.
My photos are © all rights reserved. Please e-mail me if you would like to use these photos.
Direction of consciousness
Installation de Chiharu Shiota (1972,Japon)
Galerie basse du fenil
Domaine de Chaumont-sur-Loire
Chiharu Shiota crée des lieux vidés de toute présence humaine, de toute présence physique mais où littéralement les fils de la mémoire, les empreintes temporelles viennent tisser des toiles arachnéennes qui lient les objets inertes au temps passé, à des instants, des présences qui n’existent plus que dans la mémoire.... Extrait du site de l'exposition
domaine-chaumont.fr/fr/centre-d-arts-et-de-nature/saison-...
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Le Domaine de Chaumont-sur-Loire est la propriété de la Région Centre-Val de Loire depuis 2007 et Établissement Public de Coopération Culturelle depuis janvier 2008. Il organise depuis 1992 le Festival international des jardins et dispose d'un centre d'arts et de nature. Des installations pérennes d'artistes contemporains sont visibles dans le parc, dans le château et les écuries. Des commandes artistiques sont effectuées par la Région Centre-Val de Loire.
About Point Roberts:
Point Roberts, Washington is a mix of down home, small town charm and International consciousness. Only 20 minutes from Vancouver International airport and not much longer from downtown Vancouver, BC. Many full-time residents are consultants, inventors, scientists, writers, artists and virtual business owners who enjoy the natural beauty, peace and relaxed pace in between global travels.
A geopolitical oddity, Point Roberts is a part of the United States that is not physically connected to it, making it a pene-exclave of the U.S. It is located on the southernmost tip of the Tsawwassen Peninsula, south of Delta, British Columbia, Canada, and can be reached by land from the rest of the United States only by traveling through Canada. It can be reached directly from the rest of Washington and the U.S. by crossing Boundary Bay by sea or air.
Fresh air, miles of trails through ancient forests, miles of natural beaches, ocean kayaking, sailing, biking, hiking, photography and sighting the thriving eagle community and visits from J-Pod Orca whales can be enjoyed by everyone.
Organic gardening is a big deal at the Point Roberts Garden Club which has an annual tour that showcases a breathtaking array of gardens. Their site has "must see" pictures of previous tours and funds raised each year go towards community beautification projects.
This image is best viewed in Large screen.
Thank-you for your visit, and any faves or comments are always sincerely appreciated.
Sonja
As the consciousness of human beings developed, flowers were most likely the first thing they came to value that had no utilitarian purpose for them, that is to say, was not linked in some way to survival. They provided inspiration to countless artists, poets, and mystics. Jesus tells us to contemplate the flowers and learn from them how to live. The Buddha is said to have given a “silent sermon” once during which he held up a flower and gazed at it. After a while, one of those present, a monk called Mahakasyapa, began to smile. He is said to have been the only one who had understood the sermon. According to legend, that smile (that is to say, realization) was handed down by twenty-eight successive masters and much later became the origin of Zen.
from A New Earth
Eckhart Tolle
Info:
Exposure: 60 Sec.
Aperture: f/ 9.0
ISO-Speed: 100
Focal Length: 30mm
Lens: SIGMA 30mm f/ 1.4 DC HSM
...caught in the war of hemispheres,
between the love lost in my head...
This is actually a remake of an older shot of mine. I decided to redo it and post the “improved” version here.
This was taken at our summerhouse in Mariestad, Sweden.
Hope you like it!
This is 3 shots with +-0.7 exposures tonemapped in Photomatix Pro 3 and finalized in CS5 with a whole lot of layers.
Cheers,
Janne