Sprayed Moods

Digital graffiti 7.


Street Gallery.


La Culpa / Guilt.

Sex
Sex is one of the nine reasons for reincarnation.
The other eight are unimportant.
From Sexus by Henry Miller.
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Gracias por su visita / Thanks for visiting.

Raindrops of May

Congratulations!
Congratulations, you are alive. Here you are. Once, you weren’t here. And one
day, you won’t be. All your drama and trauma, all your ideas, all the things
you like and don’t like, all the things that happen that you judge your life by
are but a dream. Just a dream. Dreams are not to be taken lightly, but they
are dreams.

In the middle of all these dreams, there is a place within you where you can
truly be awake. In that awakening, there is no judgment. There aren’t issues
of good and bad, right and wrong. You are not judged. There are no yardsticks
and no races. Nobody is standing there saying, “You won” or “You lost.” Just a
beautiful reality that you are alive.

You have the ability to understand, to know, to admire. These are your
qualities. You have the ability to get angry and the ability to be calm. You
have the ability to be in turmoil and the ability to be in peace. Which do you use the most? Frustration. Anger. Disappointment.

Once in awhile, you actually find yourself happy. When you are, it is such a big deal that you think about it for years to
come. And when you get older and your short‑term memory goes, you will say, “I remember when I was there. Oh, that was so beautiful.”

You have some other qualities: You can appreciate this existence. You can truly be happy in a timeless way—no camera needed, no special circumstances required. You can be in the joy that springs from your heart every single day.

Most people are trying to understand their mind. People have been trying to do
that for an extremely long time. And they never will. They write books and say
beautiful things, but it is like having a garden that looks spectacular though every
flower is made out of paper and every tree is plastic. The grass is fake, so you
don’t ever have to cut it.

The disadvantage is that flowers don’t bloom there and spring never comes. Bees
never fly, no flower has a beautiful aroma, and the trees do not sway in the wind.
Even though it all looks pretty, it is static—as in dead.

That is why it is so important to have a living experience. Living. Breathing.
Existing. Feeling. Thinking. Understanding. Knowing. That’s what is real.

What does your garden look like? Have you smelled the flowers? Have you ever seen a bee? Are there birds in the trees? Is there a season when it looks fine and you are content?

People get used to being frustrated. They get used to being mad, upset. They
say, “That’s life. Good times, bad times—it’s all okay.” What is okay? Me being
lost? Me ignoring my own nature? Me being away from myself? Me not
recognizing myself?

That’s why every one of us needs so desperately to understand that there can
be no compromises, that an effort needs to be made every single day to see,
to feel what we have been given—from the heart, from our very basic being.

Know that a time will come when all that you rely on will slowly fade away.
What will remain? You. You will still be able to experience, but erosion is afoot.
It happens so slowly you don’t notice it, but it’s afoot. Every day, every
second, it marches on, but above it floats a beautiful reality that is timeless.
You are alive. And till the day you are alive no more, you can go inside and
feel happiness; you can feel joy.

There is hope. Your heart is knocking on the door. Open up. Feel, see, understand, realize, know. Be in that joy, be in
that feeling every moment. Understand the beauty of the possibility to feel clarity, to feel gratitude, to be thankful to be
alive. I’m here to remind you: don’t wait. Wake up. See, feel, admire, be a part of your existence.

Peace is the perfume of God.

Maharaji Speaks.
Maharaji speaking at an event in Barcelona, Spain, on February 15, 2009. Duration: 43 minutes. (Highly Recommended)
[Post 900]
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Gracias por su visita / Thanks for visiting.

No Left Turn

Politics
One has to be a lowbrow, a bit of a murderer, to be a politician, ready and willing to see people sacrificed, slaughtered for the sake of an idea, whether a good one or a bad one.
From Writers at Work by Henry Miller.
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Gracias por su visita / Thanks for visiting.

The Bike

Bicycles
I took to calling my bike my friend, I carried on silent conversations with it. And of course I paid it the best attention. Which meant that every time I returned home I stood the bike upside down, searched for a clean rag and polished the hubs and the spokes. Then I cleaned the chain and greased it afresh. That operation left ugly stains on the stone in the walkway. My mother would complain, beg me to put a newspaper under my wheel before starting to clean it. Sometimes she would get so incensed that she would say to me in full sarcasm, 'I'm surprised you don't take that thing to bed with you!' And I would retort -- 'I would if I had a decent room and a big enough bed.

After a time, habituated to spending so many hours a day on my bike, I became less and less interested in my friends. My wheel had now become my one and only friend. I could relay on it, which is more than I could say about my buddies. It's too bad no one ever photographed me with my friend. I would give anything now to know what we looked like.

I took care of my wheel as one would look after a Rolls Royce. If it needed repairs I always brought it to the same shop on Myrtle Avenue run by a named Ed Perry. He handled the bike with kid gloves, you might say. He would always see to it that neither front nor back wheel wobbled. Often he would do a job for me without pay, because, as he put it, he never saw a man so in love with his bike as I was.

Often I was in the saddle, so to speak, from morning till evening. I rode everywhere and usually at a good clip. Some days, I encountered some of the six-day riders at the fountain in Prospect Park. They would permit me to set the pace for them along the smooth path that led from the Park to Coney Island.

From The Quotable Cyclist. My Bike and other Friends by Henry Miller.

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Gracias por su visita / Thanks for visiting.

Freedom

Freedom
Freedom includes everything. Freedom converts everything to its basic nature, which is perfection.
From Sexus by Henry Miller.
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Gracias por su visita / Thanks for visiting.