All Posts Tagged ‘flowers

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Meditation

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I’ve read statements by people, in blogs and elsewhere, where they say, for example, “I meditate for 20 minutes a day.”   

Please!

Meditation cannot be practiced.  It is a quietude of the mind that is not made by some projected image of a central controller.  There is no central controller, or “I,” or “me” that can cause meditation.  Meditation is not a mere sequential effect or event (in time) brought about by some predetermined cause (i.e., by some form of causality).  True meditation is timeless and is not what can occur by any methodology in (and “as”) psychological time.  If you think that you are causing so-called meditation to happen for a specified period of time (each day or whatever), it is —  unfortunately — a form of glorified self-hypnosis. 

Real meditation is not even what one can “know” is happening.  It is beyond the field of the known.  One can neither practice it nor know that it is happening… and that is its beauty.  But most people are so addicted to their need to categorize and “know” things that they feel frightened or insecure with not existing (mentally) as the known.  They perpetually cling to the apron-strings of the known.  They have to know that they are meditating or know that they are practicing meditation… all of which are not real meditation whatsoever. 

Or they say such things as, “Well I am working on perfecting my meditation,”… or “I am practicing my meditation more and more each day.”  Who (or what) is this so-called “I” that is supposedly doing such things?  Really, if we are at all honest, it is a protrusion of thought (i.e., an image created by thought) that takes credit for being a central controller or central (mental) orchestrator, of which it is (in actuality) neither.  Most people — plain and simply — are afraid to transcend the false sense of security that the primitive notion of a central “I” projects as.   However, a false (fabricated) central “I” that thinks it is meditating is neither meditating, nor an actuality, nor truly central.  (Past blogs that one has written explain this more; read them if confusion exists at this point.) 

Real meditation may occur when the mind, without effort, is aware beyond superficiality.  That means that it is not merely attached to the field of the known.   The known is always limited; it is grossly circumscribed.  Wisdom is meditation, a non-concocted quietness, which may happen throughout the day without deliberate intent.  Then, perhaps, what is eternal, sacred, unlimited, and beyond words may enter.  But it does not enter if false notions, false practices, and false images are perpetually clung to.   

Real meditation can be a blossoming of the mind.   But if you (metaphorically) cling to fake, fabricated flowers all of your life, nothing profound will happen.

 

The Beauty of Real (not fake) Flowers. … Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2019
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Fourteen Steps Climbed to the Top

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Fourteen steps climbed to the top
from the bottom
An hour and fifteen minutes moved a short hand
and a long hand
One fishing line ignorantly reeled in
what it thought it wasn’t
Three opinions typed what
was surely right
Seven sayings scanned the screen
in a zigzag fashion
Thirty-seven pieces of candy
looked forward to Halloween
Twenty-five Black-Eyed Susans were arrested
for trespassing

A breach on humanity. … Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2019
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Wishy-Washy

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Wishy and Washy were fun-loving gals
     and many folks knew that both were loyal (trueblue) pals

Washy (without Wishy) went to the laundromat (with a basket that she had her clothes in);
     later, the clothes were all swishy and went into full-spin

Wishy, however, was sitting in her comfortable, convenient chair
     pining for great nature photos at which she could stare

So, instead of viewing blog photos of nature (which you often appreciate)
     get over to the clothes-washer and put your laundry in (because it’s getting late)

 

 

Purple Wildflowers … Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2019

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The Ecstasy in the Green Luscious Garden

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The ecstasy in the green luscious garden
flaps its wings in harmony
pert antennae sensing all the smells
in the rapture beyond the kitchen window

Lovely colors moving all around
flower to flower endlessly
cares not a bit about the past
or what the future might just be

Rubbing stamen amongst the stigma
in a style Oh so clean
purity in every blossom
here between the trees and golden honeybees

Collecting nectar sweet and no antiques
living fresh in every moment
time’s illusion not for me
beyond the world’s vast confusion

 

 

Ecstasy in the Green Luscious Garden … Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2019

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Beyond Merely Being a Marionette

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If one is merely a marionette, repeating what others poured into you, then what you say and do will usually be rather robotic, quite puppet-like… though it will seem quite pleasant and socially acceptable to you (while you feel quite unique).  There are so many standardized lemmings out there.  To question things fundamentally, deeply, with substantial passion, takes great intelligence.  That great intelligence (naturally) is largely constituted of immense vastness, which inherently includes compassion.  Compassion acts beyond many of the limits of ordinary perception.  It perceives beyond all of the mundane, superficial, circumscribed borders.  It is not tethered by stale, dinosaurian, antiquated beliefs.  Such intelligence (i.e., such profound, penetrating insight) is extremely rare in the world as it now exists; miseducation has a lot to do with it.  Acceptance of mediocrity has a lot to do with it.  

 

 

Wild Spiderwort … Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2019

 

 

 

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The Sunset Stared

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Part 1

The sunset stared at separate birds
as he pendulously walked into what he thought he wasn’t.
His disconnection with everything  — like the day — was ironically complete:
A separate “me” scratching an arm that was “his” and
there to use from a “distance.”

Part 2

She was the blossoms that she helped grow.
Their colors were colors that were of purplish her.
She was that towering Oak Tree
but to her, it wasn’t an Oak Tree;
it simply was what it was (beyond labels)
and was not separate from any “me” within her,
for she was beyond all “me”s.
She was the beautiful blossoming of wholeness.

 

 

a little bit of her … Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2019