If you are a dreamer, come in,

If you are a dreamer, a wisher, a liar,

A hoper, a pray-er, a magic-bean-buyer,

If you're a pretender, come sit by my fire,

For we have some flax golden tales to spin.

Come in! 

Come in! 

- Shel Silverstein 1930-99

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You do not have to be good.

You do not have to walk on your knees

for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.

You only have to let the soft animal of your body 

love what it loves.

Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.

Meanwhile the world goes on.

Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain

are moving across the landscapes,

over the prairies and the deep trees,

the mountains and the rivers.

Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,

are heading home again.

Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,

the world offers itself to your imagination,

calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting –

over and over announcing your place

in the family of things.

- Mary Oliver b.1935

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I opened a book and in I strode.

Now nobody can find me.

I've left my chair, my house, my road,

My town and my world behind me.

I'm wearing the cloak, I've slipped on the ring,

I've swallowed the magic potion.

I've fought with a dragon, dined with a king

And dived in a bottomless ocean.

I opened a book and made some friends.

I shared their tears and laughter

And followed their road with its bumps and bends

To the happily ever after.

I finished my book and out I came.

The cloak can no longer hide me.

My chair and my house are just the same,

But I have a book inside me.

- Julia Donaldson b.1948

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There is nothing at all that can be talked about adequately, 

and the whole art of poetry is to say what can't be said. 

- Alan W. Watts 1915-73

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From "Letters to a Young Poet"by Rainer Maria Rilke 1875-1926

How should we be able to forget those ancient myths that are at the beginning of all peoples, the myths about dragons that at the last moment turn into princesses; perhaps all the dragons of our lives are princesses who are only waiting to see us once beautiful and brave. Perhaps everything terrible is in its deepest being something helpless that wants help from us.

So you must not be frightened if a sadness rises up before you larger than any you have ever seen; if a restiveness, like light and cloud shadows, passes over your hands and over all you do. You must think that something is happening with you, that life has not forgotten you, that it holds you in its hand; it will not let you fall. Why do you want to shut out of your life any uneasiness, any miseries, or any depressions? For after all, you do not know what work these conditions are doing inside you.

Rainer Maria Rilke was a Bohemian-Austrian poet and novelist "widely recognized as one of the most lyrically intense German-language poets", writing in both verse and highly lyrical prose. Several critics have described Rilke's work as inherently "mystical." - From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

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NEXT POST SATURDAY

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No thief, however skillful, can rob one of knowledge,
 and that is why knowledge is the best and safest treasure to acquire.
- L. Frank Baum 1856-1919

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The Nightingale
(from "The Te of Piglet" by Benjamin Hoff

The emperor of China loved to listen to the singing of the nightingale which brought him great contentment. One day he was presented with a mechanical bird covered with jewels and gold. To the emperor's amazement, it sang the nightingale's song with perfect clockwork precision, whenever he wanted it to. It quickly became the sensation of the empire - from peasant children to court officials, everyone (or almost everyone) admired the wonderful bird which sang perfectly over and over. Ignored and forgotten, the real bird flew away.

But after some time, the clockwork bird broke down. Without its song to soothe him, the emperor became ill. His condition grew worse until he was nearly at the point of death. Just then, a nightingale alighted outside the window and began to sing. His will to live restored, the emperor recovered.

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Where the Sidewalk ends
Shel Silverstein 1930-99

There is a place where the sidewalk ends
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white,
And there the sun burns crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.

Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
And the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
To the place where the sidewalk ends.

Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
The place where the sidewalk ends.

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El Rio de Luz (The River of Light)  (1877)
Frederic Edwin Church 1826-1900

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NEXT POST THURSDAY

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It's the possibility of having a dream come true that makes life interesting. 

- Paulo Coelho,

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Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow;

They toil not, neither do they spin;

And yet I say unto you, that even Solomon in all his glory

was not arrayed like one of these.

from The Sermon on the Mount preached by Jesus of Nazareth

One of Master Gasan's monks had spent some time at Tokyo University. When he got back, he asked Gasan if he had ever read the Christian bible. Gasan shook his head but asked the monk to read some of it to him. 

The monk opened the bible at the Sermon on the Mount and read the part which referred to the lilies of the field.

Gasan listened attentively and for a few minutes said nothing. "Yes," he said at last, "Whoever uttered those words is an enlightened being. What you have read to me is the essence of everything I have been trying to teach you here."

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The fragrance of flowers spreads only in the direction of the wind,

but the goodness of a person spreads in all directions.

- Chanakya 371-283 BC

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"Second Waltz" by Dmitri Shostakovich

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The new series of
NOW THAT'S WHAT I CALL ART
begins tomorrow
http://nowthatswhaticallart.blogspot.com

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For every beauty there is an eye somewhere to see it.

For every truth there is an ear somewhere to hear it.

For every love there is a heart somewhere to receive it.

- Ivan Panin 1855-1942

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The Lotus is believed to have originated in Egypt, the Indus River Valley and Mesopotamia.

There are many stories about the lotus flower, some of which have been passed down from the earliest times.

The flower has always been associated in some way with religion. Christians have related the lotus to the divine nature of Jesus of Nazareth. Buddhists see the flower as a symbol of enlightenment, and images of Hindu gods are often depicted seated on lotus flowers.

In some way the flower is a icon of spirituality that unites people of different religions.

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Interlude

Amy Lowell 1874-1925

When I have baked white cakes

And grated green almonds to spread upon them;

When I have picked the green crowns from the strawberries

And piled them, cone-pointed, in a blue and yellow platter;

When I have smoothed the seam of the linen I have been working;

What then?

To-morrow it will be the same:

Cakes and strawberries,

And needles in and out of cloth.

If the sun is beautiful on bricks and pewter,

How much more beautiful is the moon,

Slanting down the gauffered branches of a plum-tree;

The moon,

Wavering across a bed of tulips;

The moon,

Still,

Upon your face.

You shine, Beloved,

You and the moon.

But which is the reflection?

The clock is striking eleven.

I think, when we have shut and barred the door,

The night will be dark

Outside.

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“No sight so sad as that of a naughty child," he began, "especially a naughty little girl. Do you know where the wicked go after death?"

"They go to hell," was my ready and orthodox answer.

"And what is hell? Can you tell me that?"

"A pit full of fire."

"And should you like to fall into that pit, and to be burning there for ever?"

"No, sir."

"What must you do to avoid it?"

I deliberated a moment: my answer, when it did come was objectionable: "I must keep in good health and not die.” 

- Charlotte Brontë 1816-55, from Jane Eyre

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NEXT POST SATURDAY

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Life is a treasure-chest of opportunities, choices, and time. 

Unfortunately, the choice many people make is to argue 

about the details of the chest instead of seizing the treasure within it. 

- Steve Maraboli

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The fragrance of flowers spreads only in the direction of the wind,

but the goodness of a person spreads in all directions.

- Chanakya

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This is a photo of the famous Bahá'í House of Worship in New Delhi, India, which has become known as the Lotus Temple. Built in 1986, it’s constructed in the shape of a nine-sided lotus flower with 27 marble "petals." It has nine doors leading in to a central hall capable of housing up to 2,500 people. The Temple has nine surrounding ponds and with the gardens covers 26 acres.

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12th century silk painting

Every night the farmer had lain in bed listening to the nightingale’s beautiful song and thinking how he would love to possess the bird for himself. He laid a trap and the nightingale was caught and caged.

“Now you shall always sing for me,” he told the bird.

“But nightingales never sing in cages,” the bird replied, “However, if you let me go free, I promise that I’ll tell you three things that are very much better than my singing.”

The farmer opened the door of the cage and the nightingale flew out and alighted on a nearby tree.

The bird told him, “Never believe a captive's promise, keep what you have and don’t sorrow what is lost forever," and flew away, never to return.

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After a break of three months

NOW THAT'S WHAT I CALL ART

returns on Sunday 22nd March

http://nowthatswhaticallart.blogspot.com

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Can you coax your mind from its wandering 

and keep to the original oneness?

Can you let your body become

supple as a newborn child’s?

Can you cleanse your inner vision 

until you see nothing but the light?

Can you love people and lead them

without imposing your will?

Can you deal with the most vital matters

by letting events take their course? 

Can you step back from your own mind

and thus understand all things?

Giving birth and nourishing, 

having without possessing,

acting with no expectations,

leading and not trying to control:

this is the supreme virtue.

- Tao Te Ching (Chinese text written c.6th century BC)

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From "Summoned by Bells"
John Betjeman 1906-84

Walking from school is a consummate art:
Which route to follow to avoid the gangs,
Which paths to find that lead, circuitous,
To leafy squirrel haunts and plopping ponds,
For dreams of Archibald and Tiger Tim;
Which hiding place is safe, and when it is;
What time to leave to dodge the enemy.
I only once was trapped. I knew the trap -
I heard it in their tones: “Walk back with us.”
I knew they weren’t my friends; but that soft voice
Wheedled me from my route to cold Swain’s Lane.
There in a holly bush they threw me down,
Pulled off my shorts, and laughed and ran away;
And, as I struggled up, I saw grey brick,
The cemetery railings and the tomb.

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Going with the Flow

A Taoist story tells of an old man who accidentally fell into the river rapids leading to a high and dangerous waterfall. Onlookers feared for his life. Miraculously, he came out alive and unharmed downstream at the bottom of the falls. People asked him how he managed to survive. "I accommodated myself to the water, not the water to me. Without thinking, I allowed myself to be shaped by it. Plunging into the swirl, I came out with the swirl. This is how I survived."

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The music is "Serenata" by Enrico Toselli

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The greatest gift to others
is to freely relinquish yourself.
- Bodhidharma  5th or 6th cent AD

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TAKING THE ONE LESS TRAVELLED BY
will be updated
Every Saturday, Tuesday and Thursday

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One ought every day at least to hear a little song, read a good poem, 

see a fine picture and, if it were possible, to speak a few reasonable words.

- Johann Wolfgang von Goethe 1749-1832

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-o0o-

You do not have to be good.

You do not have to walk on your knees

for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.

You only have to let the soft animal of your body 

love what it loves.

Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.

Meanwhile the world goes on.

Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain

are moving across the landscapes,

over the prairies and the deep trees,

the mountains and the rivers.

Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,

are heading home again.

Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,

the world offers itself to your imagination,

calls to you like the 

wild geese, harsh and exciting –

over and over announcing your place

in the family of things.

- Mary Oliver b.1935

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A Zen Story

The wife of a man became very sick. On her deathbed, she said to him, "I love you so much! I don't want to leave you, and I don't want you to betray me. Promise that you will not take another woman after I'm gone, or I will come back to haunt you."

For several months after her death, the husband did avoid other women, but then he met someone and fell in love. On the night that they were engaged to be married, the ghost of his former wife appeared to him. She blamed him for not keeping the promise, and every night afterwards she returned to taunt him. The ghost would remind him of everything that had happened between him and his fiancee that day, even to the point of repeating, word for word, their conversations. It upset him so badly that he couldn't sleep at all.

Desperate, he sought the advice of a Zen master who lived in the village. "This is a very clever ghost," the master said upon hearing the man's story. "It is!" replied the man. "She remembers every detail of what I say and do. She knows everything!" The master then told him what he should do the next time the ghost appeared.

That night the ghost returned. The man responded just as the master had advised. "You are such a wise ghost," the man said, "You know that I can hide nothing from you. If you can answer me one question, I will break off the engagement and remain single for the rest of my life." "Ask your question," the ghost replied. The man scooped up a handful of beans from a large bag on the floor, "Tell me exactly how many beans I have in my hand."

At that moment the ghost disappeared and never returned.

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The Road goes ever on and on

Down from the door where it began.

Now far ahead the Road has gone,

And I must follow, if I can,

Pursuing it with eager feet,

Until it joins some larger way

Where many paths and errands meet.

And whither then? I cannot say.

- J.R.R. Tolkien 1892-1973

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"Elegy for the victims of the earthquake and tsunami" 

composed and played by Nobuyuki Tsujii, the Japanese pianist who has been blind from birth.

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TAKING THE ONE LESS TRAVELLED BY
 updated every Saturday, Tuesday and Thursday

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