For the Week that is in it, an extract from TS Elliot, Ash Wednesday:
Blessed sister, holy mother, spirit of the fountain, spirit of the garden,
Suffer us not to mock ourselves with falsehood
Teach us to care and not to care
Teach us to sit still
Even among these rocks,
Our peace in His will
And even among these rocks
Sister, mother
And spirit of the river, spirit of the sea,
Suffer me not to be separatedAnd let my cry come unto Thee.
We do not remember days,
We remember moments
Cesare Pavese 1908 – 1950 Italian poet and novelist
photo Catherine Scott
If you are unable to find the truth right where you are,
where else do you expect to find it?
Dōgen
Just actualize all time as all being.
There is nothing extra
Dōgen, Uji
Some events, like hearing a bird singing early this morning, make it easy to be fully present. We are not remembering another bird, another moment.
I do not know which to prefer
The beauty of inflections
or the beauty of innuendoes,
The blackbird whistling
Or just after
Wallace Stevens, Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird
photo m.betley
What does it mean to see each other exactly as we are? Past memories about ourselves and each other are not how we are right now. Memory is an incomplete and inaccurate recording of the past. Now is something entirely different. Quietly looking and listening now is not memory. It is an entirely different mode of being, It is a cleansing of perception.
Toni Packer, The Work of this Moment
