There is only one time in the history of each planet when its inhabitants first wire up its innumerable parts to make one large machine…You and I are alive at this moment.Kevin Kelly
Off to the coast with Morgan… down to Pacific City. Hopefully, a good drive. Pacific City is very beautiful… I may bring some pictures back.
Weather seems to be changing fast everywhere. I am amazed at what is going on. If the predictions are correct, much of what we love here as the Pacific Coast and its small towns are going to change very dramatically, very soon.
Gwyllm
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On The Menu
The Links
Quotes from: Thich Nhat Hanh
From Walker – Bombay Dub Orchestra/Monsoon Malabar
Ancient Tales: Story of the betel leaf and the areca nut
Ancient Tales: How the Tiger got his stripes
Vietnamese Poetry: Lâm Thi My Da
Art: Portrayals of Maitreya….
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The Links:
Pagans Want Their Ancestors Bones Reburied
Beauty Sued For Marrying A Tree
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Quotes from: Thich Nhat Hanh
Hope is important because it can make the present moment less difficult to bear. If we believe that tomorrow will be better, we can bear a hardship today.
The most precious gift we can offer others is our presence. When mindfulness embraces those we love, they will bloom like flowers.
We have more possibilities available in each moment than we realize.
Breath is the bridge which connects life to consciousness, which unites your body to your thoughts.
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From Walker – Bombay Dub Orchestra/Monsoon Malabar
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Ancient Tales: Story of the betel leaf and the areca nut
(From Viet Nam)
There were two twin brothers of the Cao family. Their names were Tan for the eldest brother, and Lang for the youngest one. They got schooling with a Taoist named Chu Chu who lived with his eighteen-year old daughter. He then married her to Tân, and the young couple lived their conjugal life happily. But, Lang found out that his brother treated him less intimately since he got married. In fact, Lang left the house wandering around the country. He reached a larger river and couldn’t cross it. Not even a small boat was in the vicinity to transport him to the other side of the river. He was so sad that he kept on weeping till death and was transformed into a lime-stone lying by the river side.
Troubled by the long absence of his brother, Tân went out to look for him. When he reached the riverside he sat on the lime-stone and died by exhaustion and weariness. He was transformed into an areca tree. The young woman in turn was upset by the long absence of her husband and got out for a search. She reached the same place where the areca tree had grown, leaned against the tree and died, transformed into a plant with large piquant leaves climbing on the areca tree. Hearing of this tragic love story, local inhabitants in the area set up a temple to their memory.
One day, King Hùng went by the site and gained knowledge of this story from local people. He ordered his men to take and ground together a leaf of betel, an areca nut and a piece of lime. A juice as red as human blood was squeezed out from the melange. He tasted the juice and found it delicious. Then he recommended the use of betel chewed along with areca nut and lime at every marital ceremony. From this time on, chewing betel became a custom for Vietnamese, and very often they began their conversation with a quid of betel. 1
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Ancient Tales: How the Tiger got his stripes
(From Viet Nam)
This story took place in prehistoric times, when animals still had the power of speech. A young farmer had just stopped plowing his rice paddy. It was noon, and he sat down to eat his lunch in the shade of banana plant near his land. Not far away his water buffalo was grazing along the grass-covered dikes enclosing rice fields. After the meal the farmer reclined and observed the stout beast which was chewing quietly. From time to time it would chase away the obnoxious flies with a vigorous swing of its massive head.
Suddenly the great beast became alarmed; the wind carried the odor of a dangerous animal. The buffalo rose to its feet, and awaited the arrival of the enemy. With the speed of lighting a tiger sprang into the clearing.
“I have not come as an enemy,” he said. “I only wish to have something explained. I have been watching you every day from the edge of the forest, and I have observed the strange spectacle of your common labour with the man. That man, that small and vertical being, who has neither great strength nor sharp vision, nor even a keen sense of smell, has been able to keep you in bondage and work for his profit. You are actually ten times heavier than he, much stronger, and more hardened to heavy labour. Yet he rules you. What is the source of his magic power?”
“To tell the truth,” said the buffalo, “I know nothing about all that. I only know I shall never be freed of his power, for he has a talisman he calls wisdom.”
“I must ask him about that,” said the tiger, “because, you see, if I could get this wisdom I would have even greater power over the other animals. Instead of having to conceal myself and spring on them unawares, I could simply order them to remain motionless. I could choose from among all the animals, at my whim and fancy, the most delicious meats.”
“Well!” replied the startled buffalo. “Why dont you ask the farmer about his wisdom.”
The tiger decided to approach the farmer.
“Mr Man,” he said, “I am big, strong, and quick but I want to be more so. I have heard it said that you have something called wisdom which makes it possible for you to rule over all the animals. Can you transfer this wisdom to me? It would be of great value to me in my daily search for food.”
“Unfortunately,” replied the man, “I have left wisdom at home. I never bring it with me to the fields. But if you like I will go there for it.”
“May I accompany you?” asked the tiger, delighted with what had just heard.
“No, you had better stay here,” replied the farmer, “if the villagers see you with me they may become alarmed and perhaps beat you to death. Wait here, I will find what you need and return.”
And the farmer took a few steps, as if to set off homeward. But then he turned around and with wrinkled brow addressed the tiger.
“I am somewhat disturbed by the possibility that during my absence you might be seized with the desire to eat my buffalo. I have great need of it in my daily work. Who would repay me for such a loss?”
The tiger did not know what to say.
The farmer continued: “If you consent, I will tie you to a tree; then my mind will be free.”
The tiger wanted the mysterious wisdom very much so much, in fact, that he was willing to agree to anything. He permitted the farmer to pass ropes round his body and to tie him to the trunk of big tree.
The farmer then went home and gathered a great armload of dry straw. He returned to the big tree and placed the straw under the tiger and set it on fire.
“Be hold my wisdom!” he shouted at his unfortunate victim, as the flames encircled the tiger and burned him fiercely. The tiger roared so loudly that the neighbouring trees trembled. He raged and pleaded, but the farmer would not untie him. Finally, the fire burned through the ropes and he was able to free himself from cremation. He bounded away into the forest, howling with pain.
In time his wounds healed, but he was never able to rid himself of the long black stripes of the ropes which the flames had seared into his flesh.
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Vietnamese Poetry: Lâm Thi My Da
Friends
My friends are gathered here
Like a cluster of fresh fruit.
Bright as red monordica
Soothing as custard apples
Sharp and keen as star-fruit
They give, like gold persimmons.
The durian behind its thorn
Exudes an unearthly scent.
Outside green, inside red —
O, sweet watermelon.
My friends love serenely
Like squash on low vines.
When we talk over snail soup
And laugh, our voices rise.
None of us has much time
But we give to one another.
When one of us goes away
The others stand by her boat.
I love you deeply, friends.
Though life is passing by
I hope our sharing of sweetness
And sorrow never ends.
I have carried friendship with me
On all my many journeys —
An undepleted treasure
Like the vibrant shimmering sky.
And if in dark moments
My life seems dull and bleak,
I am warmed by the hearts of friends
Like pineapple, fresh and sweet.
—-
Night Harvest
The white circles of conical hats have come out
Like the quiet skies of our childhood,
Like an egret’s spreading wings in the night:
White circles evoking the open sky.
The golds of rice and cluster-bombs blend together.
Even delayed-fuse bombs bring no fear:
Our spirits have known many years of war.
Come, sisters, let us gather the harvest.
Each of us wears her own small moon
Glittering on a carpet of gold rice.
We are the harvesters of my village,
Twelve white hats bright in the long night.
We are not frightened by bullets and bombs in the air —
Only by dew wetting our lime-scented hair.
— 1971
Dedicated To A Dream
A bird brings a dream and flies away.
A little boy sleeps under a starlit sky;
He has no worries.
What did you dream last night?
I dreamed I became a bird.
What was the voice of the bird in the dream?
The bird in the dream was silent
Like a mermaid,
Its radiant song
Kept all its life
As a gift for one person.
Flying through a thousand nights
Flying through a thousand stars
Leaves gleaming a magical color
Flowers shaped like fingers and hands —
Sleep now sleep
Now sleep.
Who was the boy?
I was the boy.
Who was the bird?
I was the bird.
Who was the dream?
I was the dream.
Last night
I dreamed I became myself.
I dreamed I became a bird.
I dreamed I became a dream.
