Friday, October 31, 2008
the author and the artist
as they mulch into the ground becoming the dust
escaping in a flight to the light of joy
Thursday, October 30, 2008
about this blog.....
This post addresses questions about peace and finding answers to surviving in the midst of wars on the outside and the even greater wars that exist on the inside. It is authored by Yaron Yemini and contributed to by Nancy Lee Broderson who met through talking with Abu noor, found a strong connection, and now work together talking about this theme.
If you are waiting for peace to come to you from the ending of all wars, from a new government, from moving to a new place, from the learning of a concept, from the attainment of a certain age, certain status, certain monetary achievement...stop waiting. Peace resides inside of every individual and must be found by that individual. Here you will read a personal story that leads to a way to the master teacher of his age, Maharaji.
Through Maharaji, you can learn to unlock the secrets of your heart and live a life filled with joy so all encompassing, that all the pressures of life cannot diminish it. This is an invitation to explore this way of life with us in an ongoing manner. Your comments and insights will be most appreciated and we hope you will follow this blog and become a part of the conversation.
If you are waiting for peace to come to you from the ending of all wars, from a new government, from moving to a new place, from the learning of a concept, from the attainment of a certain age, certain status, certain monetary achievement...stop waiting. Peace resides inside of every individual and must be found by that individual. Here you will read a personal story that leads to a way to the master teacher of his age, Maharaji.
Through Maharaji, you can learn to unlock the secrets of your heart and live a life filled with joy so all encompassing, that all the pressures of life cannot diminish it. This is an invitation to explore this way of life with us in an ongoing manner. Your comments and insights will be most appreciated and we hope you will follow this blog and become a part of the conversation.
Friday, October 24, 2008
Abu noor
This blog is an answer to a request made by a man called Abu noor who is an Iraqi man in hiding within his country because of having worked as an interpreter with the US. He and his family have been in hiding for almost 2 years waiting for a visa to enter the US and live in safety. He has a wife and two small children.
Dear Yaron!!
Please keep the fire going and tell your friends to read the blogs of Matthew
"Do you think it is strange that I have become used to the idea that I could be killed any day?” Sit down and think about losing your home, business, car, FRIENDS, WIFE, HUSBAND or CHILD. Please then think about losing a LEG, ARM, YOUR VISION or YOUR HEARING! Please stay seated and imagine that that chair you are in is a wheelchair (if you were lucky) or that you are covered in third degree burns from head to toe with no pain medication. And your body has been going into spasms because of the pain.
http://netroots.thelistproject.org/profiles/blog/show?id=2153904%3ABlogPost%3A15958
and of Vincenzo “Kill’em All’
http://netroots.thelistproject.org/profiles/blog/show?id=2153904%3ABlogPost%3A16010
I would appreciate your efforts to share these links to your friends so that they can read the blogs and be able to join TLP.
Thank you very much.
Iraqi interpreter
Dear Yaron!!
Please keep the fire going and tell your friends to read the blogs of Matthew
"Do you think it is strange that I have become used to the idea that I could be killed any day?” Sit down and think about losing your home, business, car, FRIENDS, WIFE, HUSBAND or CHILD. Please then think about losing a LEG, ARM, YOUR VISION or YOUR HEARING! Please stay seated and imagine that that chair you are in is a wheelchair (if you were lucky) or that you are covered in third degree burns from head to toe with no pain medication. And your body has been going into spasms because of the pain.
http://netroots.thelistproject.org/profiles/blog/show?id=2153904%3ABlogPost%3A15958
and of Vincenzo “Kill’em All’
http://netroots.thelistproject.org/profiles/blog/show?id=2153904%3ABlogPost%3A16010
I would appreciate your efforts to share these links to your friends so that they can read the blogs and be able to join TLP.
Thank you very much.
Iraqi interpreter
a reminder
To our good friend Abu noor,
Thank you for reminding me of my serious situation for I am that guy in the wheelchair who gets those spasm attacks and I am in the line to die. And I haven't done anything bad and I didn't cooperate with the conqueror or the freer.
I don't know why I am going to be taken away back into dust, I don't know how and I don't know when. And when I do I will definitely lose everything I have, even my broken back. And all the beautiful things that are in front of my eyes. I will also lose the sun and the moon, the stars and the sky, the earth and everything that grows on it. I will also lose so many that I love and love me. I will become nothing after I mulch away into the ground. Just a little bit of dust unknown, unrecognized, insignificant.
Hopefully, some flowers will grow out of my dust. And maybe a good healthy laughter of someone who understood how much I enjoyed this life and how well I lived it. You see, thank you for reminding me of that serious situation most unwanted.
Thank you for reminding me of my serious situation for I am that guy in the wheelchair who gets those spasm attacks and I am in the line to die. And I haven't done anything bad and I didn't cooperate with the conqueror or the freer.
I don't know why I am going to be taken away back into dust, I don't know how and I don't know when. And when I do I will definitely lose everything I have, even my broken back. And all the beautiful things that are in front of my eyes. I will also lose the sun and the moon, the stars and the sky, the earth and everything that grows on it. I will also lose so many that I love and love me. I will become nothing after I mulch away into the ground. Just a little bit of dust unknown, unrecognized, insignificant.
Hopefully, some flowers will grow out of my dust. And maybe a good healthy laughter of someone who understood how much I enjoyed this life and how well I lived it. You see, thank you for reminding me of that serious situation most unwanted.
all I truly have
So what do I do with that reminding? I sit down quietly and observe the miracle of each breath. Before my life will be taken away I wish to feel it and be filled by it. Consciousness is all that I truly have. So I have decided not to think and focus on the death that awaits me and wants to claim me hovering over me.
Now let me tell you about my breath. I could not be connected with that breath and had a very hard time to focus on it. So I became a beggar who wished to feel and break the code of that great secret. I realized as a beggar I could only beg, so I have learned to beg in so many ways.
First I was begging crying. Then I cried and cried trying to impress whoever could hear me. I realized that those that have ears could not really hear and that made me first sad, and then I broke up laughing saying to myself, "How can it be that those who have ears cannot really hear?"
Then I realized they don't really care to hear. My crying and complaints they had of their own, which was too much to bear. And in fact, they couldn't stand to hear me cry so they distanced themselves away.
Now let me tell you about my breath. I could not be connected with that breath and had a very hard time to focus on it. So I became a beggar who wished to feel and break the code of that great secret. I realized as a beggar I could only beg, so I have learned to beg in so many ways.
First I was begging crying. Then I cried and cried trying to impress whoever could hear me. I realized that those that have ears could not really hear and that made me first sad, and then I broke up laughing saying to myself, "How can it be that those who have ears cannot really hear?"
Then I realized they don't really care to hear. My crying and complaints they had of their own, which was too much to bear. And in fact, they couldn't stand to hear me cry so they distanced themselves away.
the attraction of my laughter
But then you see my friend Abu noor, I took notice that when I was laughing I heard the echo of my laughter attracting a listener and to my great surprise he did not have any ears. In fact I could not even see him. But I felt his presence so close to me and from a beggar I became a lover.
I've learned to love the sense of that presence every time I was laughing. Now I thought either I'm going mad in the world of imagination, creating an escape place which did not exist or I found a treasure box that only I could see and feel. But the good thing was I had nothing to lose because I realized that death was claiming me everyday a little more. And not only did I take my chances, but I felt that my laughter and the glimpses of the joy of life was in fact a power that attracts something so subtle and sweet to my life.
I've learned to love the sense of that presence every time I was laughing. Now I thought either I'm going mad in the world of imagination, creating an escape place which did not exist or I found a treasure box that only I could see and feel. But the good thing was I had nothing to lose because I realized that death was claiming me everyday a little more. And not only did I take my chances, but I felt that my laughter and the glimpses of the joy of life was in fact a power that attracts something so subtle and sweet to my life.
a time of war
At that point the world around me, all of humanity, went unto this wave of being inhuman. A great war broke out in the Middle East. Humans were killing humans as if there was no meaning to their lives. One identity trying to destroy another identity. And so many young and beautiful people became food for dogs, for hawks and for the vulture birds who claimed them as food.
Confusion, distrust, fears and despair had conquered the consciousness of humanity all around me and sent its wave to all humanity around the planet. The bad news spread very deep in the minds of all people. And the proven lesson of distrust took deeper roots in the consciousness of all people. And all that fighting happened in the dune sand of the desert where the stories of the saviors of humanity happened in the history of creation.
I thought of those great souls, the saviors of humanity, in the name of Moses, in the name of Jesus, in the name of Mohammed. Those great souls who came to deliver us to a deeper consciousness to a greater understanding of what is. I felt sad again thinking how could that be, that now in the name of the saviors we kill each other. And from the sadness I broke out with a prayer once again. "Come, I said, please come even if it looks like no one wants you, for they are too busy killing each other. But here I am stuck on the dune mountain, in the desert, and from my heart I really want you."
I spoke again to that presence and it appears that it was there all along and I was the one who drifted away from it. I became quiet again listening to the silent voice of that presence.
In the night my friend, the dogs of the desert, craving for more dead bodies, were howling.
Then I could hear the machine guns start to fire different sounds based on the size of the bullets. The dark sky was lit up with fire. Funny enough, that picture had its own beauty. Those streams of fire left behind the traveling bullets had created a beautiful sight of fireworks while the sound of the shooting and the bombing represented a great fear emanating from all sides of animosity. I couldn't help thinking that all these courageous men who fight to defend their identity have lost the identity of being alive.
Confusion, distrust, fears and despair had conquered the consciousness of humanity all around me and sent its wave to all humanity around the planet. The bad news spread very deep in the minds of all people. And the proven lesson of distrust took deeper roots in the consciousness of all people. And all that fighting happened in the dune sand of the desert where the stories of the saviors of humanity happened in the history of creation.
I thought of those great souls, the saviors of humanity, in the name of Moses, in the name of Jesus, in the name of Mohammed. Those great souls who came to deliver us to a deeper consciousness to a greater understanding of what is. I felt sad again thinking how could that be, that now in the name of the saviors we kill each other. And from the sadness I broke out with a prayer once again. "Come, I said, please come even if it looks like no one wants you, for they are too busy killing each other. But here I am stuck on the dune mountain, in the desert, and from my heart I really want you."
I spoke again to that presence and it appears that it was there all along and I was the one who drifted away from it. I became quiet again listening to the silent voice of that presence.
In the night my friend, the dogs of the desert, craving for more dead bodies, were howling.
Then I could hear the machine guns start to fire different sounds based on the size of the bullets. The dark sky was lit up with fire. Funny enough, that picture had its own beauty. Those streams of fire left behind the traveling bullets had created a beautiful sight of fireworks while the sound of the shooting and the bombing represented a great fear emanating from all sides of animosity. I couldn't help thinking that all these courageous men who fight to defend their identity have lost the identity of being alive.
after the fighting
That presence had invited me to its silence to feel the breath of life in its subtle rhythm. Awakening my soul to feel the longing for the Savior, I could hear my heart pray,
"Come again, come again, come again."
After the fighting had ended, back in the mountain where I used to live before the war, a friend of mine came to visit. He invited me to go to a friend's new farmhouse, where he made artistic pottery, for a cup of tea and a cup of good company. I'd like to mention to you, Abu noor, that my friend the potter, who had a great artistic talent could not make a living selling his artwork. So for a living he was making a small doll out of clay representing the identities of those people who were fighting on the different sides of animosity. And strangely enough, that was what the people would buy from him in great numbers. This beautiful and wise potter told me, "You see, my friend Yaron, I make beautiful people out of clay and there is a rule that I must follow. They have to be hollow. And they can never receive the breath of living. As I take them out of the oven's womb and the clay is hardened, I laugh at how much people love their identities and how they become hollow and break so easily just as these clay dolls. It is very sad indeed."
The potter said, "Let me tell you about a beautiful boy who came from a far land propelled by an amazing love for people saying that there is a beauty within the silence of every heart, of every human being who is alive." Hearing these words, I broke up in joyful tears shouting "He's here, he's here, he's here!" Extreme joy filled me instantly and I was back floating in the river of life's natural intoxication. My soul was lit.
Now I am completely awake and alive laughing and dancing with joy. Death could not stand my company. Death did not like to come close around me anymore. I began to laugh even more. Now I was totally in love for that silent presence became so known to me I began to hear its melody play in my heart. The inner dance moves me all around. My wheelchair had become a chariot with no limitations. Even the pain and the spasms have quieted down.
That little boy, you see, gave me the ultimate gift. He showed me where the lock is and he showed me where I lost my key and he said, "Simply, open and be. Go home and see... live in the palace of life where death could never come. For the light inside shines without any oil to burn."
"Come again, come again, come again."
After the fighting had ended, back in the mountain where I used to live before the war, a friend of mine came to visit. He invited me to go to a friend's new farmhouse, where he made artistic pottery, for a cup of tea and a cup of good company. I'd like to mention to you, Abu noor, that my friend the potter, who had a great artistic talent could not make a living selling his artwork. So for a living he was making a small doll out of clay representing the identities of those people who were fighting on the different sides of animosity. And strangely enough, that was what the people would buy from him in great numbers. This beautiful and wise potter told me, "You see, my friend Yaron, I make beautiful people out of clay and there is a rule that I must follow. They have to be hollow. And they can never receive the breath of living. As I take them out of the oven's womb and the clay is hardened, I laugh at how much people love their identities and how they become hollow and break so easily just as these clay dolls. It is very sad indeed."
The potter said, "Let me tell you about a beautiful boy who came from a far land propelled by an amazing love for people saying that there is a beauty within the silence of every heart, of every human being who is alive." Hearing these words, I broke up in joyful tears shouting "He's here, he's here, he's here!" Extreme joy filled me instantly and I was back floating in the river of life's natural intoxication. My soul was lit.
Now I am completely awake and alive laughing and dancing with joy. Death could not stand my company. Death did not like to come close around me anymore. I began to laugh even more. Now I was totally in love for that silent presence became so known to me I began to hear its melody play in my heart. The inner dance moves me all around. My wheelchair had become a chariot with no limitations. Even the pain and the spasms have quieted down.
That little boy, you see, gave me the ultimate gift. He showed me where the lock is and he showed me where I lost my key and he said, "Simply, open and be. Go home and see... live in the palace of life where death could never come. For the light inside shines without any oil to burn."
what you attract to your life
So my dear friend Abu noor, your name means the father of light. If you could just receive that and become that. The secret is the power of attraction. That which you talk about, that which you think about and that which you fear from, is that which you attract to your life. I hear you calling for help and I can tell you that the best help you could find is the understanding of that power which is within you. I'd like to encourage you if I may, to listen to the message that is spoken by Prem Rawat, Maharaji who is traveling the world for the last 40 years bringing the consciousness of that which shines within us.
How dare I tell a man who feels threats to his life and very existence to sit quietly and listen to words of peace, instead of sending him a boat or a magic wand to take him away from the dangers that he fears. Especially after so many before him were killed. My friend, I wish I could help you in these worldly ways, but my own boat is filled with so many holes how could I possibly help you. So you too have nothing to lose. Now from a beggar become a lover and in that you might find the magic wand. Do a search on the internet on you tube and you may hear Maharaji to your heart's content.
There is a bloom in the desert.
Thank you for reminding me.
I love you in a different way.
Yaron Yemini
last page
How dare I tell a man who feels threats to his life and very existence to sit quietly and listen to words of peace, instead of sending him a boat or a magic wand to take him away from the dangers that he fears. Especially after so many before him were killed. My friend, I wish I could help you in these worldly ways, but my own boat is filled with so many holes how could I possibly help you. So you too have nothing to lose. Now from a beggar become a lover and in that you might find the magic wand. Do a search on the internet on you tube and you may hear Maharaji to your heart's content.
There is a bloom in the desert.
Thank you for reminding me.
I love you in a different way.
Yaron Yemini
last page
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)