Sunday, December 22, 2013

A Viking Christmas Carol

~ By Courtesy of Others ~


A Viking Christmas Carol
To "´Twas the Night Before Christmas" (YouTube),
original lyrics Clement Clarke Moore (1779-1863)


'Twas the night before Christmas and all through the Hall
Not a creature was stirring, not warrior nor thrall.
And I in my armor, my shield and my helm
Was drunker than anyone else in the Realm.

I staggered upstairs and fell into bed
While four quarts of mead were ablaze in my head.
Then up from below came the sounds of a brawl
So I grabbed up my axe and ran down to the Hall.

I missed the last step and crashed down in a heap
Thinking, "Why can't those low-lifes downstairs go to sleep!"
When what to my wondering eyes should appear
But two brawny strangers, wielding mallet and spear.

I said to myself, "We'll soon have them beat!"
Then I noticed ten warriors laid out at their feet.
I gave out a yell and leapt into the fray...
I'll always regret my poor choice of that day.

For the one laid his hammer to the side of my nose
And up, up, up to the rafters I rose.
Then came a lone frightened voice from the floor,
"Those are no mortal warriors -- that's Odin and Thor!"

Then they looked at each other and they said, "Battle's done.
Now they know who we are, it no longer is fun."
Then Thor raised his hammer, and his elbow he bent,
And with a loud crash, through the ceiling they went.

I crawled through the Hall and flung open the door,
Not really sure that I'd seen them before.
The snow bathed in starlight, the moon like a glede,
I saw them ride off on an eight-legged steed.  

And I heard them exclaim, 'ere they flew out of sight,
"TO HELA WITH CHRISTMAS, WE JUST LOVE A GOOD FIGHT!"
© Guy L Bradley aka Sir Cipriano d'Alvarez, SCA


Image: "Odin in his Hall", © Yngve Oliver Eriksen, used by his kind permission.
More by him at Artwanted.com.


Monday, December 2, 2013

Za Zen of Sacasm

1.  Do not walk behind me, for I may not lead. Do not walk ahead of me, for I may not follow. Do not walk beside me either. Just pretty much leave me the hell alone.

2. The journey of a thousand miles begins with a broken fan belt and leaky tire.

3. It’s always darkest before dawn. So if you’re going to steal your neighbor’s newspaper, that’s the time to do it.

4. Don’t be irreplaceable. If you can’t be replaced, you can’t be promoted.

5. Always remember that you’re unique. Just like everyone else.

6. Never test the depth of the water with both feet.

7. If you think nobody cares if you’re alive, try missing a couple of car payments.

8. Before you criticize someone, you should walk a mile in their shoes. That way, when you criticize them, you’re a mile away and you have their shoes.

9. If at first you don’t succeed, skydiving is not for you.

10. Give a man a fish and he will eat for a day. Teach him how to fish, and he will sit in a boat and drink beer all day.

11. If you lend someone $20 and never see that person again, it was probably worth it.

12. If you tell the truth, you don’t have to remember anything.

13. Some days you’re the bug; some days you’re the windshield.

14. Everyone seems normal until you get to know them.

15. The quickest way to double your money is to fold it in half and put it back in your pocket.

16. A closed mouth gathers no foot.

17. Duct tape is like ‘The Force’. It has a light side and a dark side, and it holds the universe together.

18. There are two theories to arguing with women. Neither one works.

19. Generally speaking, you aren’t learning much when your lips are moving.

20. Experience is something you don’t get until just after you need it.

21. Never miss a good chance to shut up.

22. Never, under any circumstances, take a sleeping pill and a laxative on the same night

ORG SOURCE

Monday, January 21, 2013

“2013: Or, What to Do When the Apocalypse Doesn’t Arrive” by Gary Lachman FULL

“2013: Or, What to Do When the Apocalypse Doesn’t Arrive” by Gary Lachman

The belief in a coming end of the world as we know it may seem understandable to people living in the first decade of the twenty-first century, but a look at history shows that it has been part of Western psychology from the beginning.
The central figure of Western religion, Jesus Christ, told his followers that the end was nigh, and most people who accepted Jesus believed that the cosmic last call would come in their lifetime. Yet Jesus worked within an age-old Jewish tradition that looked to the coming of the Messiah, a religious and political leader who would set the world to rights and, incidentally, free the Chosen People from whomever it was who had conquered them at the time. As Jesus didn’t free the Jews from the Romans—nor seemed able to free himself from them either—the Jews who denied him seem justified in their disbelief. To them, and to the Romans, the Christians who preached a coming Day of Judgment were rather like the urban oracles who inhabit most major cities today, ranting on street corners and pestering passersby to repent.

Post-Jesus, the Jews didn’t give up their anticipation of a Messiah. They merely pushed back the date of his arrival, a tactic the Christians soon adopted as well when it became clear that Jesus’ Second Coming—after his crucifixion and resurrection—was delayed. The last major claimant to Messiahdom was the Turkish Jew Sabbatai Zevi, who, after gathering a huge following, ignominiously abandoned his call in 1666 when threatened with impalement by Sultan Mehmet IV. As did later students of eschatology (the study of the end times), the early Christian theorists were adept in cooking the books and explaining why their own final curtain hadn’t yet fallen. Nevertheless, against all the evidence, the belief in some once-and-for-all denouement remained strong. In 156 AD, for example, a Phrygian named Montanus declared that he was the incarnation of the Holy Spirit and that, in accordance with the Fourth Gospel, he would reveal “things to come,” such as the imminent arrival of Christ’s kingdom, which would physically descend from the heavens and transform Phrygia into a land of saints. Understandably, thousands of Christians flocked to Phrygia to await the Second Coming. Yet again, the expected kingdom’s failure to arrive did little to dampen the belief that it would eventually show up. After Montanus, there were several other false alarms, all of which ended in the same way.
Ironically, the Church itself soon became a strong inhibitor of apocalyptic thought. By the time it became the official religion of the Roman Empire, with the emperor Constantine in the early fourth century, the idea of a coming apocalypse was more of a threat than a promise. The Church was the second most powerful organization in the empire, and that it would lose this status because of the end of the world wasn’t appealing. Drawing on the work of the third-century theologian Origen, it shifted the emphasis from a historical apocalypse to a spiritual one and developed an eschatology of the individual soul. This idea caught on with the more educated and socially well-situated Christians, but the more spectacular theme of a “real-life” apocalypse remained part of the common people’s worldview and has been so ever since, as anyone aware of the enormous popularity of the Left Behind series of apocalyptic novels, based on a selective reading of the Book of Revelations, knows. Titles like The Rapture, Tribulation Force, and The Mark don’t show up on the New York Times bestseller list, but millions of readers with a taste for Christian fundamentalism buy and read these books — well — religiously, as page-turning guides to the coming end times. The overarching theme of Left Behind is the fate of those who are not right with the Lord and who face a gory retribution come the last days. A gateway to paradise for the faithful few, for the disbelieving many, the millennium is their worst nightmare.
As the historian Norman Cohn argues in The Pursuit of the Millennium, millenarian scenarios share some basic ideas. Salvation is collective, involving everyone, although not everyone will be saved; it is to be experienced here on Earth, not in some afterlife; it is on its way and will arrive suddenly; it will be total, effecting a complete transformation of life as we know it; and it is to be achieved through supernatural forces. As Cohn argues, by the Middle Ages, grassroots expectation of the millennium was rampant. With a corrupt Church, the common folk sought salvation through a cleansing apocalypse. This led to some remarkable developments, like the Brethren of the Free Spirit, a loose community of radical Christians circa 1200 who, because of the coming end times, believed they had become free of sin and acted accordingly. Wandering from village to village, they rejected private property—which meant they took whatever they wanted—and devoted themselves to hedonistic pleasures, including “free love” and drunkenness, rather like medieval hippies. Less driven by theology, this and other millenarian sects sought to escape the deprivations of their lives by envisioning a coming cosmic reversal that would set the righteous lowly at the head of the table, with the worldly powerful at best receiving scraps.

The motivation for many of these sects isn’t difficult to grasp. Socially and economically disenfranchised, they resented the generally fine living many monks and priests enjoyed, and understandably wanted some for themselves. If it took an apocalypse to bring this about, so be it. This aspect of millenarianism informed the secular varieties familiar to the modern period, and while the French and Russian revolutions lacked the supernatural forces common to most millenarian movements, they both shared the other criteria admirably. The storming of the Bastille inaugurated the Age of Reason, and the Bolshevik murder of the Romanovs announced the dictatorship of the proletariat. Hitler’s National Socialism was perhaps the most millenarian modern movement of them all, celebrating a Third Reich that would, it claimed, last a thousand years. (Thankfully, all it managed was twelve.) Yet just as the Church did, the leaders of these secular apocalypses soon clamped down on any who felt these events weren’t quite apocalyptic enough; and in all three cases, for many the end times only brought new oppression. Another example of secular millenarian belief was the hoopla in Europe that accompanied the outbreak of the First World War. Many believed that by the end of the nineteenth century Western civilization had become rotten, and they looked to war as a way of clearing away the old world in preparation for the new. It was not until the reality of trench warfare took hold that those expectations dimmed and the war was seen as yet another example of the very thing it was supposed to eliminate.
While I’ve been lucky enough to have missed anything like the French or Russian revolution and the First World War, my own lifetime has been peppered with quite a few millennial expectations. Growing up in the 1960s, through the media I was aware of the modern Brethren of the Free Spirit in places like Greenwich Village and Haight-Ashbury. I was also aware that something called the Age of Aquarius either was on its way or had already arrived (the jury is still out on this). Linked to this was the idea that the fabled lost continent of Atlantis-—which I read about in comic books and fantasy paperbacks—was due to surface sometime in 1969. Both were heralds of a coming golden age, when “peace will guide the planets and love will steer the stars.” By the early seventies such anticipations had fizzled, but in 1974 they were briefly revived when comet Kohoutek sparked new interest in apocalyptic beliefs. A Christian group called the Children of God—who, incidentally, advocated “revolutionary lovemaking” (read: promiscuity)—distributed leaflets announcing doomsday for January of that year, which my friends and I read with interest. Predictably, Kohoutek fizzled as well. That same year, the science writers John Gribbin and Stephen Plagemann published The Jupiter Effect, a bestseller predicting the devastating results (earthquakes, tidal waves, etc.) of a curious alignment of the planets on one side of the sun. When the alignment took place and nothing happened, they wrote a second book, The Jupiter Effect Reconsidered, explaining what went wrong. Not surprisingly, this sequel didn’t sell as well.
There were other millennial dates too. Remember the solar eclipse of 1999 and Y2K, the millennium bug? But the most significant millennial date so far in my lifetime surely was 1987, the year of the Harmonic Convergence—another planetary alignment—which was seen as the kickoff for the most anticipated apocalyptic event in recent years, the year 2012. For those unaware, proponents of 2012 argue that an ancient Mayan calendar—combined with permutations of the I Ching—predicts that tremendous changes will take place in that year and that, as one advocate expresses it, a “singularity,” an event of unprecedented ontological character, will take place and, as the saying goes, transform life as we know it. Recalling Norman Cohn’s criteria for millenarian belief, from everything I’ve heard about 2012, it fits the bill nicely.
I first heard of the Harmonic Convergence in 1987 when I was working at a well-known New Age bookshop in Los Angeles. Although items like crystals and other spiritual accessories were already big sellers, I was intrigued by the flood of people gathering metaphysical paraphernalia in preparation for some major event. I was informed that like Kohoutek, Atlantis, and the Aquarian Age, the Harmonic Convergence marked the end of the old world and the beginning of the new. There would be some disturbance, yes, the Harmonic Convergers I spoke with informed me; the shift into the new time would not be smooth, but I shouldn’t worry. Apparently, the bookshop was one of the safest places on the planet and I would be protected. This was, I admit, a relief, and as my apartment was just a block away from the shop, I wondered just how far the protection would reach.
The sources about the coming event were José Argüelles’s The Mayan Factor and, later, Terence McKenna’s writings on his “time wave” theory in The Archaic Revival and other books. I read Argüelles but wasn’t impressed, and when a later book, Surfers of the Zuvuya, appeared, it just seemed silly. I was also not taken with his apparent adoption of the role of avatar, an identity other proponents of 2012 seem to embrace easily. (I did, however, find an earlier book, The Transformative Vision, to be a profitable study in cultural philosophy.) I found McKenna more interesting and a better writer, but I still wasn’t sold on the idea. I heard McKenna speak, and without doubt the man had kissed the Blarney Stone, but after an entertaining ninety minutes I left the lecture no more convinced than when I arrived. The fact that he banked a great deal on a liberal indulgence in hallucinogens also made me question his seriousness. I had had my own experiences with psychedelics, and while some were interesting, for the most part they seemed more a distraction than anything else.

Much has been written about 2012, pointing out both the value and the flaws in Argüelles’s and McKenna’s interpretations. I don’t intend to repeat those here. The strangeness of the ideas did not repel me. At the time that I came across them, I was reading Rudolf Steiner, who had his own prophecies concerning the third millennium, which, to be honest, were rather vague. I had also already spent some years in the Gurdjieff “work,” so odd ideas were not a threat. What troubled me then and today is what I call the “apocalyptic gesture,” a point I raised recently on the Reality Sandwich website, much of which is dedicated to the 2012 scenario. The desire for some once-and-for-all break with the given conditions of life seems, to me at least, to be embedded in our psyche and is a form of historical or evolutionary impatience. Social, political, or cultural conditions may trigger it, but in essence it’s the same reaction as losing patience with some annoying, mundane business and, in frustration, knocking it aside with the intent to make a “clean start.” While in our personal lives this may result in nothing more than a string of false beginnings and a lack of staying power, on the broader social and political scale it can mean something far more serious.
In essays like “The Destructive Character,” “Critique of Violence,” and “Theologico-Political Fragment,” the German-Jewish cultural thinker Walter Benjamin, who combined an idiosyncratic Marxism with an equally eccentric understanding of the Kabbalah, argued for the need for apocalyptic violence in order to bring about the Messianic Age. Whether it was the class war or Jehovah’s righteous wrath, Benjamin believed in the necessity for some final conclusive event that would restore the fallen world to paradise. The violence of divine intervention and a sudden eschatological change informed Benjamin’s view of history, which he famously saw as a “single catastrophe which keeps piling wreckage upon wreckage.” This hunger for some decisive action to clear away the detritus of the postlapsarian world informed Benjamin’s personal life too, and in 1940, trying to escape from the Nazis, he committed suicide, enacting upon himself an apocalyptic violence he had long contemplated.
In mentioning Benjamin, I’m not suggesting that believers in 2012 advocate violence. I am saying that the anticipation of a singularity associated with 2012 is a manifestation of what may very well be a Jungian archetype, the archetype of the apocalypse. And while violence may not be part of the prophecy, it can easily become part of the anticlimax when the apocalypse doesn’t arrive and disappointment sets in. Recent history suggests this. The “Summer of Love” in 1967—which by many accounts wasn’t as groovy as believed—quickly became the year of “Street Fighting Man” in 1968, when the “generation gap” promised to turn into something like revolution, and dangerous slogans like “If you’re not part of the solution, you’re part of the problem” promoted a simplistic us-or-them scenario. Yet by 1969 the hopes of an Aquarian Age had been severely battered by the gruesome Charles Manson murders and the Rolling Stones’ disastrous concert at Altamont, when Hell’s Angels murdered one man and terrorized hundreds of others, including the Stones themselves. (I tell the story in Turn Off Your Mind: The Mystic Sixties and the Dark Side of the Age of Aquarius.) Exorbitantly high hopes can often lead to very deep depressions, and in a microcosmic popular sense, within a few years the peace and love unreservedly embraced by the flower generation became the “no future” of the punks. Cynicism, jadedness, and pessimism often constitute the hangover from the intoxication of excessively high expectations. No one rejects ideals more vigorously than a bruised romantic.
Again, in mentioning this I’m not saying that the many crises that lead some to look to 2012 as a solution are not real. Clearly they are. We all know them, and it would be tedious for me to roll off a list. But anticipating an apocalypse or singularity is only one response to crises. There are others. And a radical shift in the nature of things is only one possibility.
The philosopher Jean Gebser, who argued very persuasively that we are experiencing what he called a breakdown in our “structure of consciousness,” likewise saw significant changes on the historical horizon. Gebser did not, however, tie himself to a deadline and didn’t anticipate a golden age. “The world will not become much better,” Gebser wrote, “merely a little different, and perhaps somewhat more appreciative of the things that really matter.” To those expecting some unprecedented alteration in the conditions of existence, this probably seems a bit tame. To me, it is more than enough of a goal to work toward, and if only a handful of people become “more appreciative of the things that really matter,” then the Life Force, evolution, or whatever you want to call it is getting the job done.
In his Study of History, an account of the rise and fall of civilizations, the historian Arnold Toynbee argues that there are two stereotypical responses to what he calls a “time of troubles,” the crisis points that make or break a civilization. One is the “archaist,” a desire to return to some previous happy time or golden age. The other is the “futurist,” an urge to accelerate time and leap into a dazzling future. That both offerings are embraced today is, I think, clear. The belief that a saving grace may come from indigenous non-Western people untouched by modernity’s sins is part of a very popular “archaic revival.” Likewise, the trans- or posthumanism that sees salvation in some form of technological marriage between man and computer is equally fashionable. The 2012 scenario seems to partake of both camps: It proposes a return to the beliefs of an ancient civilization in order to make a leap into an unimaginable future. What both strategies share, however, is a desire to escape the present. Given our own “time of troubles,” this seems understandable enough.
Toynbee also believed in what I call the “Goldilocks theory of history,” and to me it makes a lot of sense. If a challenge facing it is too great, he argued, a civilization smashes. If it isn’t great enough, the civilization overcomes it too easily, becomes decadent, and decays. But if the challenge is “just right”—not too great and not too small—it forces the civilization to make sufficient effort to advance creatively.
Sadly, most of the civilizations Toynbee studied either cracked or went soft. The verdict has yet to come in on our own, and as everyone knows, there are no guarantees. But I’m willing to make a bet. There are still a few years left, and, of course, things can change. But I’m willing to wager that with any luck, 2013 will show that we got it just right. If nothing else, trying to meet our challenges successfully will give us all something to do when the apocalypse doesn’t arrive.

What to Do When the Apocalypse Doesn’t Arrive

The second piece is by Gary Lachman, an author, occult scholar, and former bassist for the band Blondie. He wrote an article entitled “2013, Or What to Do When the Apocalypse Doesn’t Arrive,” several years ago for my former publication EnlightenNext magazine. In it he identifies what he calls an “archetype of apocalypse” within the human psyche. This archetype shows up consistently throughout history and compels human beings to believe that a huge shift or monumental transition—for better or worse—is about to happen (whether it be the Second Coming or Y2K). He calls it an expression of “evolutionary impatience” and suggests that in reality, the grand utopian visions and doomsday scenarios that often get so much attention, so far at least, have never really come to pass. Here’s an excerpt:
In his Study of History, an account of the rise and fall of civilizations, the historian Arnold Toynbee argues that there are two stereotypical responses to what he calls a “time of troubles,” the crisis points that make or break a civilization. One is the “archaist,” a desire to return to some previous happy time or golden age. The other is the “futurist,” an urge to accelerate time and leap into a dazzling future. That both offerings are embraced today is, I think, clear.
The belief that a saving grace may come from indigenous non-Western people untouched by modernity’s sins is part of a very popular “archaic revival.” Likewise, the trans- or posthumanism that sees salvation in some form of technological marriage between man and computer is equally fashionable.
The 2012 scenario seems to partake of both camps: It proposes a return to the beliefs of an ancient civilization in order to make a leap into an unimaginable future. What both strategies share, however, is a desire to escape the present. Given our own “time of troubles,” this seems understandable enough.
Toynbee also believed in what I call the “Goldilocks theory of history,” and to me it makes a lot of sense. If a challenge facing it is too great, he argued, a civilization smashes. If it isn’t great enough, the civilization overcomes it too easily, becomes decadent, and decays. But if the challenge is “just right”—not too great and not too small—it forces the civilization to make sufficient effort to advance creatively.
Sadly, most of the civilizations Toynbee studied either cracked or went soft. The verdict has yet to come in on our own, and as everyone knows, there are no guarantees. But I’m willing to make a bet. There are still a few years left, and, of course, things can change. But I’m willing to wager that with any luck, 2013 will show that we got it just right. If nothing else, trying to meet our challenges successfully will give us all something to do when the apocalypse doesn’t arrive.

Saturday, January 19, 2013

7 Corporal Works of Mercy



What are the Corporal & Spiritual  Works of Mercy?

The word “corporal” means “of or belonging to the body,” and so the corporal works of mercy refer to acts of mercy that relate to the physical, to bodily needs. Many of the corporal works of mercy were referenced directly by Christ in the Parable of the Sheep and Goats in Matthew 25:31-46:

For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you clothed me, I was sick and you visited me, I was in prison and you came to me. . . Truly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brethren, you did it to me.” (Matthew 25:35-36, 40)

The seventh corporal work of mercy, burying the dead, is referenced more than once in Tobit. 


The 7 Corporal Works of Mercy:
  1. To feed the hungry.
  2. To give drink to the thirsty.
  3. To clothe the naked.
  4. To shelter the homeless.
  5. To visit the imprisoned
  6. To visit the sick.
  7. To bury the dead.


The 7 Spiritual Works of Mercy:
  1. To counsel the doubtful
  2. To instruct the ignorant
  3. To admonish the sinner
  4. To comfort the sorrowful
  5. To forgive all injuries
  6. To bear wrongs patiently
  7. To pray for the living and the dead


 

The Eight Beatitudes

The text of St. Matthew runs as follows:
  • Blessed are the poor in spirit: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. (Verse 3)
  • Blessed are the meek: for they shall possess the land. (Verse 4)
  • Blessed are they who mourn: for they shall be comforted. (Verse 5)
  • Blessed are they that hunger and thirst after justice: for they shall have their fill. (Verse 6)
  • Blessed are the merciful: for they shall obtain mercy. (Verse 7)
  • Blessed are the clean of heart: for they shall see God. (Verse 8)
  • Blessed are the peacemakers: for they shall be called the children of God. (Verse 9)
  • Blessed are they that suffer persecution for justice' sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. (Verse 10)

10 precepts of taoism

  1. Do not kill but always be mindful of the host of living beings.
  2. Do not be lascivious or think depraved thoughts.
  3. Do not steal or receive unrighteous wealth.
  4. Do not cheat or misrepresent good and evil.
  5. Do not get intoxicated but always think of pure conduct.
  6. I will maintain harmony with my ancestors and family and never disregard my kin.
  7. When I see someone do a good deed, I will support him with joy and delight.
  8. When I see someone unfortunate, I will support him with dignity to recover good fortune.
  9. When someone comes to do me harm, I will not harbor thoughts of revenge.
  10. As long as all beings have not attained the Tao, I will not expect to do so myself.

10 Perfections to Buddhahood

10 Perfections to Buddhahood (Dasa Parami)

1st Perfection of Generosity : Dana
May I be generous and helpful!

2nd Perfection of Morality : Sila
May I be well-disciplined and refined in manners!
May I be pure and clean in all my dealings!
May my thoughts, words and deeds be pure!

3rd Perfection of Renunciation : Nekkhamma
May I not be selfish and self-possessive but selfless and disinterested!
May I be able to sacrifice my pleasure for the sake of others!

4th Perfection of Wisdom : Panna
May I be wise and be able to see things as they truly are!
May I see the light of Truth and lead others from darkness to light!
May I be enlightened and be able to enlighten others!
May I be able to give the benefit of my knowledge to others!

5th Perfection of Energy : Viriya
May I be energetic, vigorous and persevering!
May I strive diligently until I achieve my goal!
May I be fearless in facing dangers and courageously surmount all obstacles!
May I be able to serve others to the best of my ability!

6th Perfection of Patience : Khanti
May I be ever patient!
May I be able to bear and forbear the wrongs of others!
May I ever be tolerant and see the good and beautiful in all!

7th Perfection of Truthfulness : Sacca
May I ever be truthful and honest!
May I not hide the truth to be polite!
May I never swerve from the path of Truth!

8th Perfection of Determination : Aditthana
May I be firm and resolute and have an iron will!
May I be soft as a flower and firm as a rock!
May I ever be high-principled!

9th Perfection of Loving-Kindness : Metta
May I ever be kind, friendly and compassionate!
May I be able to regard all as my brothers and sisters and be one with all!

10th Perfection of Equanimity : Upekkha
May I ever be calm, serene, unruffled and peaceful!
May I gain a balanced mind!
May I have perfect equanimity!

May I serve to be perfect!
May I be perfect to serve!

-Venerable Narada (Buddhism in a Nutshell )

The Ten vows of dharma

The Ten vows of dharma:

    1. Panatipata veramani sikkhapadam samadiyami
    (I undertake to abstain from harming or taking life).

    2. Adinnadanna veramani sikkhapadam samadiyami
    (I undertake to abstain from taking what is not given).

    3. Abrahmacariya veramani sikkhapadam samadiyami
    (I undertake to abstain from any sexual contact).

    4. Musavada veramani sikkhapadam samadiyami
    (I undertake to abstain from false speech).

    5. Sura meraya majjapamadatthana veramani sikkhapadam samadiyami
    (I undertake to abstain from the use of intoxicants).

    6. Vikalabhojana veramani sikkhapadam samadiyami
    (I undertake to abstain from taking food after midday).

    7. Nacca gita vadita visuka dassana veramani sikkhapadam samadiyami
    (I undertake to abstain from dancing, singing, music or any kind of entertainment).

    8. Mala ganda vilepana dharana mandana vibhusanatthana veramani sikkhapadam samadiyami
    (I undertake to abstain from the use of garlands, perfumes, unguents and adornments).

    9. Uccasayana mahasayana veramani sikkhapadam samadiyami
    (I undertake to abstain from using luxurious seats).

    10. Jatarupa rajata patiggahana veramani sikkhapadam samadiyami
    (I undertake to abstain from accepting and holding money).

Sunday, January 13, 2013

Four noble truths

Lama Surya Das: life is difficult

Lama Surya Das summarizes the four noble truths as follows:[9]
  1. The First Noble Truth: Life is difficult.
  2. The Second Noble Truth: Life is difficult because of attachment, because we crave satisfaction in ways that are inherently dissatisfying
  3. The Third Noble Truth: The possibility of liberation from difficulties exists for everyone.
  4. The Fourth Noble Truth: The way to realize this liberation and enlightenment is by leading a compassionate life of virtue, wisdom, and meditation. These three spiritual trainings comprise the teachings of the Eight-fold Path to Enlightenment.

10 Avatars of Vishnu

The scriptures speak of the 10 Avatars of Vishnu – different incarnations that take the form of divine intervention provided by Vishnu during the various stages of human evolution. The “dasavatara” (ten avatars) is meant to re-establish dharma or righteousness and destroy tyranny and injustice on earth.
The ten Avatars are:
    1. Matsya (the fish)
    2. Koorma (the tortoise)
    3. Varaha (the boar)
    4. Narasimha (the human-lion)
    5. Vamana (the dwarf)
    6. Parasurama (the angry man, Rama with an axe)
    7. Lord Rama (the perfect man, king of Ayodha)
    8. Lord Krishna (the divine statesman)
    9. Balarama (elder brother of Krishna)
    10. Kalki (the mighty worrior)
The last Avatar is yet to appear, and in many versions of the mythology, the ninth incarnation is mentioned as Lord Buddha.

Saturday, January 12, 2013

triple infinity


infinity minus one, microscopic reduction and descension

infinity zero, absolute stasis

infinity Plus one macroscopic expansion and ascension

addtional trine representations
  1. matter: solid liquid gas
  2. body, mind, spirit
  3. past, present, future

the five elements

The Wu Xing, ( wŭ xíng) also known as the Five Elements, Five Phases, the Five Agents, the Five Movements, Five Processes, and the Five Steps/Stages, is a fivefold conceptual scheme that many traditional Chinese fields used to explain a wide array of phenomena, from cosmic cycles to the interaction between internal organs, and from the succession of political regimes to the properties of medicinal drugs. The "Five Phases" are Wood ( ), Fire ( huǒ), Earth ( ), Metal ( jīn), and Water ( shuǐ). This order of presentation is known as the "mutual generation" (xiangsheng 相生) sequence. In the order of "mutual conquest" (xiangsheng 相勝) or "mutual overcoming" (xiangke 相剋), they are Wood, Earth, Water, Fire, and Metal.

Cycles

The doctrine of five phases describes two cycles, a generating or creation (生, shēng) cycle, also known as "mother-son", and an overcoming or destruction (剋/克, ) cycle, also known as "grandfather-nephew", of interactions between the phases. Within Chinese medicine the effects of these two main relations are further elaborated: a. Inter-promoting (mother/son) b. Inter-acting (grand-mother/grand-son) c. Over-acting (Ke cycle) d. Counter-acting (Reverse Ke)

Generating

The five elements are usually used to describe the state in nature:
  • Wood/Spring: a period of growth, which generates abundant wood and vitality
  • Fire/Summer: a period of swellness, flowering, which overbrews with fire and energy
  • Earth: the in-between transitional seasonal periods, or a separate 'season' known as Late Summer or Long Summer - in the latter case associated with leveling and dampening (moderation) and fruition
  • Metal/Autumn: a period of harvesting and collecting
  • Water/Winter: a period of retreat, where stillness and storage pervades
The common memory jogs, which help to remind in what order the phases are:
  • Wood feeds Fire
  • Fire creates Earth (ash)
  • Earth bears Metal
  • Metal carries Water (as in a bucket or tap, or water condenses on metal)
  • Water nourishes Wood
Other common words for this cycle include "begets", "engenders" and "mothers."

Overcoming

  • Wood parts Earth (such as roots; or, Trees can prevent soil erosion)
  • Earth dams (or muddies or absorbs) Water
  • Water extinguishes Fire
  • Fire melts Metal
  • Metal chops Wood
This cycle might also be called "controls", "restrains" or "fathers