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#16 Shiba

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Posted 16 February 2006 - 17:38

Neo: But if you already know, how can I make a choice?
The Oracle: Because you didn't come here to make the choice, you've already made it. You're here to try to understand *why* you made it. I thought you'd have figured that out by now.
.............

The Oracle: ... The bad news is there's no way if you can really know whether I'm here to help you or not, so it's really up to you. You just have to make up you on damned mind to either accept what I'm going to tell you, or reject it.
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#17 Rostokovsky

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Posted 17 February 2006 - 14:04

One of the most honored zen masters in history, Ikkyu Sojun (1394-1481), had little respect for a paint-by-numbers approach to zen. In one of the many poems of his quoted in this work, he says: "The autumn breeze of a single night of love is better than a hundred thousand years of sterile sitting meditation."
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#18 LJU-LJU

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Posted 19 February 2006 - 00:08

pardon, dali '35

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#19 LJU-LJU

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Posted 19 February 2006 - 21:25

...

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#20 LJU-LJU

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Posted 22 February 2006 - 22:23

i necu vise :wub:

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#21 Allegra

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Posted 23 February 2006 - 01:01

More Is Not Enough

There was once a stone cutter who was dissatisfied with himself and with his position in life. One day he passed a wealthy merchant's house. Through the open gateway, he saw many fine possessions and important visitors. "How powerful that merchant must be!" thought the stone cutter. He became very envious and wished that he could be like the merchant.
To his great surprise, he suddenly became the merchant, enjoying more luxuries and power than he had ever imagined, but envied and detested by those less wealthy than himself. Soon a high official passed by, carried in a sedan chair, accompanied by attendants and escorted by soldiers beating gongs. Everyone, no matter how wealthy, had to bow low before the procession. "How powerful that official is!" he thought. "I wish that I could be a high official!"
Then he became the high official, carried everywhere in his embroidered sedan chair, feared and hated by the people all around. It was a hot summer day, so the official felt very uncomfortable in the sticky sedan chair. He looked up at the sun. It shone proudly in the sky, unaffected by his presence. "How powerful the sun is!" he thought. "I wish that I could be the sun!"
Then he became the sun, shining fiercely down on everyone, scorching the fields, cursed by the farmers and laborers. But a huge black cloud moved between him and the earth, so that his light could no longer shine on everything below. "How powerful that storm cloud is!" he thought. "I wish that I could be a cloud!"
Then he became the cloud, flooding the fields and villages, shouted at by everyone. But soon he found that he was being pushed away by some great force, and realized that it was the wind. "How powerful it is!" he thought. "I wish that I could be the wind!"
Then he became the wind, blowing tiles off the roofs of houses, uprooting trees, feared and hated by all below him. But after a while, he ran up against something that would not move, no matter how forcefully he blew against it - a huge, towering rock. "How powerful that rock is!" he thought. "I wish that I could be a rock!"
Then he became the rock, more powerful than anything else on earth. But as he stood there, he heard the sound of a hammer pounding a chisel into the hard surface, and felt himself being changed. "What could be more powerful than I, the rock?" he thought.
He looked down and saw far below him the figure of a stone cutter.



****************************************************************




It Will Pass

A student went to his meditation teacher and said, "My meditation is horrible! I feel so distracted, or my legs ache, or I'm constantly falling asleep. It's just horrible!" "It will pass," the teacher said matter-of-factly.
A week later, the student came back to his teacher. "My meditation is wonderful! I feel so aware, so peaceful, so alive! It's just wonderful!'
"It will pass,"
the teacher replied matter-of-factly.
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#22 Indy

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Posted 23 February 2006 - 01:24

...Looking on the bright side, let us remind ourselves of what has happened in the wake of earlier demystifications. We find no diminution of wonder; on the contrary, we find deeper beauties and more dazzling visions of the complexity of the universe than the protectors of mystery ever conceived. The "magic" of earlier visions was, for the most part, a cover-up for frank failures of imagination, a boring dodge enshrined in the concept of a deus ex machina. Fiery gods driving golden chariots across the skies are simpleminded comic-book fare compared to the ravishing strangeness of contemporary cosmology, and the recursive intricacies of the reproductive machinery of DNA make elan vital about as interesting as Superman's dead kryptonite. When we understand consciousness - when there is no mystery - consciousness will be different, but there will still be beauty, and more room than ever for awe.


(D. Dennett)
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#23 Alexia

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Posted 23 February 2006 - 02:08

Mora biti da nešto sa njim nije u redu
jer ne bi se tako ponašao
da je tako
dakle ponaša se tako
jer nešto s njim nije u redu

On ne smatra da nešto sa njim nije u redu
jer
izmedju ostalog
nije u redu
to što ne smatra da s njim
nešto nije u redu
dakle
moramo mu pomoći da shvati da
to što on ne smatra da s njim
nešto nije u redu
izmedju ostalog
nije u redu

nešto s njim nije u redu
jer smatra da
mora biti da s nama nešto nije u redu
kad nastojimo da mu pomognemo da shvati da
mora biti da nešto s njim nije u redu
kad smatra da nešto sa nama nije u redu
kad nastojimo da mu pomognemo da shvati
da mu pomažemo
da shvati da

mi njega ne progonimo
kad mu pomažemo
da shvati da ga mi ne progonimo
kad mu pomažemo
da shvati da
on odbija da shvati
da nešto s njim nije u redu
kad ne smatra da nešto s njim nije u redu

(R.D. Laing, Čvorovi)
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#24 Unbeliever

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Posted 23 February 2006 - 04:22

I touch your mouth, with a finger I touch the rim of your mouth, go drawing it as if it was going out of my hand, as if for the first time your mouth was half-opened, and it is enough to me to close the eyes to undo everything and to recommence, I make to be born every time the mouth that I wish, the mouth that my hand chooses and draws you in the face, a mouth chosen between all, with sovereign freedom chosen by me to draw it with my hand for your face, and that for a hazard who did not think about how to understand coincides exactly with your mouth that smiles below that my hand draws you.

You look at me, closely you look at me, more and more closely and then we play to the Cyclops, look more and more closely and our eyes are enlarged, approach between yes, overlap and the Cyclops looks, breathing confused, the mouths are and fight lukewarmly, bitting with the lips, supporting scarcely the language in the teeth, playing in his enclosures where a heavy air goes and comes with an old perfume and a silence. Then my hands think about how to sink in your hair, caress slowly the depth of your hair while we kiss as if we had the mouth full of flowers or of fish, of alive movements, of dark fragrance. And if we bite the pain it is sweet, and if we suffocate in the brief one and the terrible one to absorb simultaneously of the breath, this instantaneous death is beautiful. And there is only one saliva and only one flavor to mature fruit, and I you am sorry to tremble against me as a moon in the water.


Julio Cortázar | Rayuela
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#25 Allegra

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Posted 23 February 2006 - 22:22

There's a blue bird in my heart that wants to get out
but I'm too tough for him,
I say, stay in there, i'm not going to let anybody see you.


There's a blue bird in my heart that wants to get out
but I pour whiskey on him and inhale cigarette smoke
and the whores and the bartenders and the grocery clerks
never know that he's in there.


There's a blue bird in my heart that wants to get out
but I'm too tough for him,
I say, stay down, do you want to mess me up?
you want to screw up the works?
you want to blow my book sales in Europe?


There's a blue bird in my heart that wants to get out
but I'm too clever, I only let him out at night sometimes
when everybody's asleep.
I say, I know that you're there, so don't be sad.


Then I put him back, but he's singing a little in there,
I haven't quite let him die
and we sleep together like that
with our secret pact
and it's nice enough to make a man weep,
but I don't weep,

do you?

Edited by Allegra, 23 February 2006 - 22:29.

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#26 lancia

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Posted 23 February 2006 - 23:38

Mora biti da nešto sa njim nije u redu..
(R.D. Laing, Čvorovi)

<{POST_SNAPBACK}>


Sjajno.
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#27 Rostokovsky

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Posted 25 February 2006 - 06:42

MRS. SMITH: Mrs. Parker knows a Rumanian grocer by the name of Popesco Rosenfeld, who has just come from Constantinople. He is a great specialist in yogurt. He has a diploma from the school of yogurt-making in Adrianople. Tomorrow I shall buy a large pot of native Rumanian yogurt from him. One doesn't often find such things here in the suburbs of London.

MR. SMITH [continues to read, clicks his tongue.]

MRS. SMITH: Yogurt is excellent for the stomach, the kidneys, the appendicitis, and apotheosis. It was Doctor Mackenzie-King who told me that, he's the one who takes care of the children of our neighbors, the Johns. He's a good doctor. One can trust him. He never prescribes any medicine that he's not tried out on himself first. Before operating on Parker, he had his own liver operated on first, although he was not the least bit ill.

MR. SMITH: But how does it happen that the doctor pulled through while Parker died?

MRS. SMITH: Because the operation was successful in the doctor's case and it was not in Parker's.

MR. SMITH: Then Mackenzie is not a good doctor. The operation should have succeeded with both of them or else both should have died.

MRS. SMITH: Why?

MR. SMITH: A conscientious doctor must die with his patient if they can't get well together. The captain of a ship goes down with his ship into the briny deep, he does not survive alone.

MRS. SMITH: One cannot compare a patient with a ship.

MR. SMITH: Why not? A ship has its diseases too moreover, your doctor is as hale as a ship; that's why he should have perished at the same time as his patient, like the captain and his ship.

MRS. SMITH: Ah! I hadn't thought of that... Perhaps it is true... And then, what conclusion do you draw from this?

MR. SMITH: All doctors are quacks. And all patients too. Only the Royal Navy is honest in England.
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#28 lancia

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Posted 25 February 2006 - 10:49

3opge, stize mi uskoro 'pevacica', taman je za zagrevanje.

troll
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#29 Leia

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Posted 25 February 2006 - 11:59

Beauty is worse than wine, it intoxicates both the holder and beholder.

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autor?
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#30 Rostokovsky

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Posted 25 February 2006 - 14:26

3opge, stize mi uskoro 'pevacica', taman je za zagrevanje. 

troll

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sta ce da peva u tom novom baru, folk, country ili obe muzike?
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