sloppybuddhist

Posts Tagged ‘Amsterdam’

5 x 9

In Art, Body, Buddha, Buddhist philosophical concepts, Emotion, Learning, Music, Photography, Story, Travel, Truth, Uncategorized, Writing on 2011/11/25 at 07:00

according to Buddha

The world, indeed, is like a dream and the treasures of the world are an alluring mirage.

Like the apparent distances in a picture, things have no reality in themselves, but they are like heat haze.

looking for something…

 …those little things

 that sweet dreams are made of…

who would disagree?


following 38

In Buddha, Buddhist philosophical concepts, Emotion, Learning, Music, Photography, Story, Travel, Truth, Uncategorized, Writing on 2011/11/03 at 14:46

according to Buddha

You, yourself, as much as anybody in the entire universe, deserve your love and affection.

what’s wrong with that

here i go again….

unloading and reloading the dishwasher

listening to silly little love songs

but i look around me and i see it is so…

it isn’t silly at all…

…load…unload…

…repeat…

and what’s wrong with that….

smallest square triangular number other than 1

In Age, Art, Buddha, Buddhist philosophical concepts, Learning, Music, Photography, Story, Travel, Truth, Uncategorized, Writing on 2011/10/23 at 12:00

According to Buddha

All wrong-doing arises because of mind. If mind is transformed can wrong-doing remain? 

i was drifting through my photographs from Amsterdam

reflecting on a week of worldviews

which left me wondering…

again,

everybody knows

an eye for an eye justice

is blind

and

two wrongs make a right

 is still wrong…

…now twice as wrong?

33

In Art, Buddha, Buddhist philosophical concepts, Learning, Music, Organizing, Photography, Story, Travel, Uncategorized on 2011/10/07 at 13:15

according to Buddha


When you realize how perfect everything is you will tilt your head back and laugh at the sky

“The Prelude” – Tomas Tranströmer

Waking up is a jump, a skydive from the dream.

Free of the smothering whirl the traveler

sinks toward morning’s green zone.

Things start to flare. He perceives–in the trembling lark’s

position–the mighty tree-root systems

underground swinging lamps. But standing

above–in tropical profusion–is verdure, with

upraised arms, listening

to the rhythm of an invisible pumping station.

And he sinks toward summer, is lowered

into its blinding crater, down

through shafts of ages green with damp

quaking under the turbine of the sun.

So ceases this vertical flight through the moment, and the wings spread out

into the osprey’s repose over streaming water.

The Bronze Age trumpet’s

tone of exile

hovers over bottomlessness.

 

In the first hours of day consciousness can embrace the world

just as the hand grasps a sun-warm stone.

The traveler stands under the tree.

After the plunge through death’s whirling vortex, will

a great light unfurl over his head?

 

(Translation of “Preludium.” First published in 17 Dikter (Stockholm, 1954). By arrangement with the author. Translation copyright 2007 by Rika Lesser. All rights reserved.)

photo from Openbare Bibliotheek Amsterdam

appreciating and congratulating  Tomas Tranströmer

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