Planting Lettuce.



Daffodils.

 

I wandered lonely as a cloud

That floats on high over valleys and hills

When all at once I saw a crowd

A host of golden daffodils

Beside the lake beneath the trees

Fluttering and dancing in the breeze

 

Continous as the stars that shine

And twinkle on the milky way

They streched in never ending line

Along the margin of a bay

Ten thosand I saw at a glance

Tosing their heads in sprightly dance

 

The waves beside them dance, but they

Out-did the sparkling waves in glee

A poet cannot but be gay

In such a jocund company

I gazed and gazed but little thought

What wealth the show to me has brought

 

For often when on my couch I lie

In vacant or pensive mood

The flash upon that inward eye

Which is the bliss of solitude

And then my heart with pleasure fills

And dances with the daffodils.

 

(William Wordsworth Longfellow)



Words, not Voice.



The Guru.



Beautiful Place.



Simple living.



This.

 

Self is what you are

You are that fathomlessness

In which experience and concepts appear

Self is the moment that has no coming or going

It is the heart, Atman, Emptiness,

It shines to itself, by itself, in itself,

Self is what gives breath to life

You need not search for it,

It is here

You are that through which you would search

You are what you are looking for,

And that is all it is

Only self is.

 

(From, prose and poetry of Dancing Emptiness

Sri H W L Poona)