Beauty

Quotation below from:

How Then, Shall We Live? by Wayne Muller (highly recommended).

“Ananda, the beloved disciple of the Buddha, once remarked to his master, ‘Half the holy life, O master, is friendship with the beautiful, association with the beautiful, communion with the beautiful.’ The Buddha replied, ‘Say not so, Ananda, say not so. It is not half the holy life. It is the whole of the holy life.'”

Grace

Sight whispers, shadows drift, delicate hands, cool shaded fingers trace sunken places; bruised, but too tender to hold. How delicate the sound of shadow, drifting upon heat, drought and burnt sand. Shadow cast upon rippled mirror. Her tender damp, ripples, a whisper curves and retreats, a poem enfolds itself, before the bashful seconds.

The first red leaf of maple, falls; resting upon glistening waters––time outstretched, silver glass running. Sweet, cool and vanishing.

Oh, how precious is this world! What pain is not rich, warm and overfull within you?

Shadow drifts upon cool glass, spilling. The sound of shadow, drifting upon mirror. Sweet, cool and vanishing.

Torn seconds nourished, pouring cool, silent, and full.

The first red leaf of maple, falls; resting upon glistening waters.

Grace.

––

We are the children of light. We are self-evolving beings. We are ethics themselves. Why? Because we are based entirely in libido, in love. [Consciousness is resultant of affect/libido: click here, and here] This is why we are higher beings fit for proper self-evolution and are ourselves: creation. The lower, that military and covert authority which is mutilating this precious earth, mutilating her body, that which poisons humanity and the earth, controls, harms and demonstrates no empathy, therefore being defined as the inferior [click here for The Answer] has no understanding of our very human essence; our worth and the worth of this bountiful world and earth eludes these inferior creatures that are in authority. The world is defined from the higher to the entire, from the spiritual toward valuation of the complete system. This idea is too difficult for them. They can only count objects, destroy and control, as greedy criminals. That value of any thing in its own right, that value only understood through compassion and sensitivity, that value which is our very essence and true nature, that which is the higher itself is beyond them: Beauty.

We children of light live in a state of Grace.

Within our genes, is a store of human treasure laden with intricate tenderness and subtle warmth, divinity’s brush is but the song of ages concealed, waiting, for her to open the palette and begin, and then, paint the world in beauty…her tonic amongst tears.

The genes of each contain the rewards and punishments of the ages. Patriarchy has laden us with the expressions of punishments and commands shouted from a crooked mouth, but she is true and pure, and will call up the antidote to suffering and all obedience leading to self-destruction––you will be healed and affirmed, in beauty.

The unconscious creates the world we see. The unconscious is scripted by our ancient past which is housed within our genes click here. This epigenetic material is called into play due to our present experience in the world. Learning, information from the past of the race is in our genes waiting to define reality. Patriarchy has burdened us with expressions of the pain of ages scripting our broken, unhappy unconscious minds and conscious worlds. Each moment has been controlled and destroyed from within, and made ugly. Click here. She will change the entire of your mind, into pure beauty.

This will heal.

This is our reward.

Our heaven, is now.

Grace

Sight whispers, shadows drift, delicate hands, cool shaded fingers trace sunken places; bruised, but too tender to hold. How delicate the sound of shadow, drifting upon heat, drought and burnt sand. Shadow cast upon rippled mirror. Her tender damp, ripples, a whisper curves and retreats, a poem enfolds itself, before the bashful seconds.

The first red leaf of maple, falls; resting upon glistening waters––time outstretched, silver glass running. Sweet, cool and vanishing.

Oh, how precious is this world! What pain is not rich, warm and overfull within you?

Shadow drifts upon cool glass, spilling. The sound of shadow, drifting upon mirror. Sweet, cool and vanishing.

Torn seconds nourished, pouring cool, silent, and full.

The first red leaf of maple, falls; resting upon glistening waters.

Grace.