Tuesday, March 27, 2007
Monday, March 26, 2007
Sunday, March 25, 2007
Sunday
Late afternoon walk on a Sunday
through Foster Fields. The snow
has melted away and oddly a few
trees have little yellow leaves
that have survived the long
winter. During a breeze the
rustling sounded like rushing
water. This is a photograph that
I found online and the dramatic
light reminds me of late afternoon
in the woods here...that and almost
every novel by Thomas Hardy.
Saturday, March 24, 2007
Thursday, March 22, 2007
Friday, March 16, 2007
Thursday, March 15, 2007
Om Mani Padme Hum
It is said that all the teachings of the Buddha are contained in the mantra : Om Mani Padme Hum. Buddha taught many very different methods for removing the cause of suffering, methods appropriate for the very different types and conditions and aptitudes of suffering beings. For those who had the capacity to understand it, he taught the most powerful method of all, a method based on the practice of compassion. It is known as the Mahayana, or Great Vehicle, because practicing it benefits all beings, without partiality. It is likened to a vast boat that carries all the beings in the universe across the sea of suffering.
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
Heavy Lifting
Thinking tonight, of my friends who know how to navigate this. So grateful tonight for your wisdom, your kindness and your understanding....in your debt beyond measure, thank you.
Something Sweet
Last night I baked chocolate chip cookies with chunks of Ghirardelli chocolate, for Owen. He'd had a really rough day. Tonight I want to make peanut butter cookies with a Hershey's Kiss in the middle of each one. I really cannot believe that with all that is going on at the moment - I am taking a break and thinking about baking warm cookies.
Sunday, March 11, 2007
A Sunday Afternoon
quiet reflection today. acceptance.
"...And several other times in my life, when I was swimming far out, or lying alone on a beach, I have had the same experience. Became the sun, the hot sand, green seaweed anchored to a rock, swaying in the tide. Like a saint's vision of beatitude. Like the veil of things as they seem drawn back by an unseen hand. For a second you see - and seeing the secret, are the secret."
Eugene O'Neill