Month: March 2007

  • Those who do not remember their past are condemned to repeat their mistakes.

    death of an icon

    Progress, far from consisting in change, depends on retentiveness.

    Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.

    George Santayana (1863 – 1952)

  • named fear

    Named must your fear be before banish it you can.

    – Yoda

  • Shelter from the storm

    ‘Twas in another lifetime, one of toil and blood
    When blackness was a virtue and the road was full of mud
    I came in from the wilderness, a creature void of form.
    “Come in,” she said,
    “I’ll give you shelter from the storm.”

    And if I pass this way again, you can rest assured
    I’ll always do my best for her, on that I give my word
    In a world of steel-eyed death, and men who are fighting to be warm.
    “Come in,” she said,
    “I’ll give you shelter from the storm.”

    Not a word was spoke between us, there was little risk involved
    Everything up to that point had been left unresolved.
    Try imagining a place where it’s always safe and warm.
    “Come in,” she said,
    “I’ll give you shelter from the storm.”

    I was burned out from exhaustion, buried in the hail,
    Poisoned in the bushes an’ blown out on the trail,
    Hunted like a crocodile, ravaged in the corn.
    “Come in,” she said,
    “I’ll give you shelter from the storm.”

    Suddenly I turned around and she was standin’ there
    With silver bracelets on her wrists and flowers in her hair.
    She walked up to me so gracefully and took my crown of thorns.
    “Come in,” she said,
    “I’ll give you shelter from the storm.”

    Now there’s a wall between us, somethin’ there’s been lost
    I took too much for granted, got my signals crossed.
    Just to think that it all began on a long-forgotten morn.
    “Come in,” she said,
    “I’ll give you shelter from the storm.”

    Well, the deputy walks on hard nails and the preacher rides a mount
    But nothing really matters much, it’s doom alone that counts
    And the one-eyed undertaker, he blows a futile horn.
    “Come in,” she said,
    “I’ll give you shelter from the storm.”

    I’ve heard newborn babies wailin’ like a mournin’ dove
    And old men with broken teeth stranded without love.
    Do I understand your question, man, is it hopeless and forlorn?
    “Come in,” she said,
    “I’ll give you shelter from the storm.”

    In a little hilltop village, they gambled for my clothes
    I bargained for salvation an’ they gave me a lethal dose.
    I offered up my innocence and got repaid with scorn.
    “Come in,” she said,
    “I’ll give you shelter from the storm.”

    Well, I’m livin’ in a foreign country but I’m bound to cross the line
    Beauty walks a razor’s edge, someday I’ll make it mine.
    If I could only turn back the clock to when God and her were born.
    “Come in,” she said,
    “I’ll give you shelter from the storm.”

    – Bob Dylan 

  • Nameless and formless

    Nameless and formless,
    I leave birth-and-death.
    – Layman P’ang (740 – 808)

  • No man is an island



    All mankind is of one author, and is one volume; when one man dies, one chapter is not torn out of the book, but translated into a better language; and every chapter must be so translated.

    As therefore the bell that rings to a sermon, calls not upon the preacher only, but upon the congregation to come: so this bell calls us all: but how much more me, who am brought so near the door by this sickness.

    No man is an island, entire of itself…any man’s death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind; and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.

    – John Donne (1572-1631)
    Devotions Upon Emergent Occasions, Meditation XVII

  • only the heart can see rightly


    It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential
    is invisible to the eye.
    Antoine de Saint-Exupery (1900-1944)

  • Jewels

    If I should see your eyes again,
    I know how far their look would go —
    Back to a morning in the park
    With sapphire shadows on the snow.

    Or back to oak trees in the spring
    When you unloosed my hair and kissed
    The head that lay against your knees
    In the leaf shadow’s amethyst.

    And still another shining place
    We would remember — how the dun
    Wild mountain held us on its crest
    One diamond morning white with sun.

    But I will turn my eyes from you
    As women turn to put away
    The jewels they have worn at night
    And cannot wear in sober day.”

    Sara Teasdale (1884-1933)

  • always zen

    Zen students are with their masters at least ten years before they presume to teach others. Nan-in was visited by Tenno, who, having passed his apprenticeship, had become a teacher. The day happened to be rainy, so Tenno wore wooden clogs and carried an umbrella. After greeting him Nan-in remarked: “I suppose you left your wodden clogs in the vestibule. I want to know if your umbrella is on the right or left side of the clogs.”

    Tenno, confused, had no instant answer. He realized that he was unable to carry his Zen every minute. He became Nan-in’s pupil, and he studied six more years to accomplish his every-minute Zen.

    ( found at ashidakim.com )

  • quickly life

    The sound of a swollen
    Mountain stream rapidly rushing
    Makes one know
    How very quickly life itself
    Is pressed along its course.
    – Saigyo (1118-1190)