Keys and Voices

Look around, just people, can you hear her voice
Find the one who'll guide you to the limits of your choice
If you're in the eye of a storm, at the tail, pray for the lonely dove
The experience of survival is the key to the gravity of love.

J. L. B

"Who dwells in a realm, magical and barren… Without a before, or an after, or a when...To be forever; but never to have been."
– Jorge Luis Borges, The Enigmas

Am I....sure?

Is it life, or my idea of life that brings me happiness?

The buddha told the story of a merchant, who went away on a business trip and left his little boy at home. While he was away, bandits came and burned down the whole village. When the merchant returned, he didn’t find his house, it was just a heap of ash. There was the charred body of child close by. He threw himself on the ground and began to weep over his body.

The next day he had the little body cremated. Because his son was his only reason for existence, he made a beautiful little velvet bag and put his ashes inside. Wherever he went, he took the ashes with him. In fact his son had been kidnapped by bandits; three months later, the boy escaped and returned to the home. WHen he arrived, it was two o’clock in the morning. He knocked on the door of the new house his father had built. The poor father was lying on his bed crying, holding the bag of ashes, and he asked, “ Who is there?” It’s me, Daddy your son.” The father answered, “That’s not possible. My son is dead. I’ve cremated his body and I carry his ashes with me. You must be some naughty boy who’s trying to fool me. Go away! and don’t disturb me! He refused to open the door, and there was no way for the little boy to come in. The boy had to go away and the father lost his son forever.



After telling this story , the Buddha said, “If at some point in your life you adopt an idea of a perception as the absolute truth, you close the door of your mind.”

Attachment to ideas, views, and perceptions are the biggest obstacles to the truth.

This is why we must learn to ask ourselves, "Am I sure?"

Light Feathers---Heavy Dreams

She had come to him to escape her mothers world, a world where all bodies were equal. She had come to him to make her body unique, irreplaceable. But he,too, had drawn an equal mark between her and the rest of them.....

She would dream three series of dream in succession: the first was of cats going bersek and referred to the sufferings she had gone though in her lifetime; the second was images of her execution and came in countless variations; the third dream was of her life after death, when humiliation turned into a never-ending state.

The dreams left nothing to be deciphered. The accusation they leveled at Tomas was so clear that his only reaction was to hang his head and stroke her hand without a word.

Dreaming is not merely an act of communication, it is also an aesthetic activity, a game of the imagination. a game that is a value in itself. Our dream prove that to imagine- to dream about things that have not happened- is among mankind’s deepest needs. Here in lies the danger....
If dreams were not beautiful, then would quickly be forgotten. But Tereza kept coming back to her dreams, running through them in her mind, turning them into legends. Tomas lived under the hypnotic spell cast by the excruciating beauty of Tereza’s dreams.

“Dear Tereza, sweet Tereza, what am I losing you to?” he once said to her as they sat face to face in a wine cellar. “Every night you dream of death as if you really wished to quit this world....”

It was day’ reason and will power were back in place. A drop of red wine ran slowly down her glass as she answered. “ There’s nothing I can do about it, Tomas. Oh, I understand. I know you love me. I know your infidelities are no great tragedy...”

She looked at him with love in her eyes, but she feared the night ahead, feared her dreams. Her life was split. Both day and night were competing for her.

- Milan Kundera ++The Unbearable Lightness of Being++