Friday, 14 December 2018

This Summer

This summer the sun will shine on your window pane
and a thousand suns will reflect from the prism
of your eyes as yo stand and watch
the house standing opposite your sash-window panel
the vacant house, desolate, bleak,
staring back at you.

Here in my window the orchids will catch
all the rays coming from you
in blues and white, the yellow light
and they will send them back to you
in multitudes of tripled tiaras of wealth.

Here from my window
miles across the sea and another continent
of space and mind
I know you would gladly buy that vacant house
with all the money you can pool;
and yet , I know you have not the heart
to buy it and move in there,
for all the moons that may shine
upon you and those vacant window panes.

The bleak house will stare back and read
all those words you held back and did not speak
when the season was ripe , but it was still not right
for the strings of the harp to unwind the sound of the wing.
Your sky was mute, and it was the darkest night.

I hear you speak those words
as you rehearse
in the private hour of the dawn
all that had flown in between .

"May I sit on your bench, I love how the benches
warm up in the evening glow. "

"I love how the sun draws patterns light

from the latticed windows of the maple above.'

"I love the benches casting shadows in the twilight
of the sun before he parts."

"And I love the benches and the leaves falling
without a sound as they meet the ground
soaking in the light as they lie low."

"I love the leaves on the pavement here;
but we will not go and collect them.

"Yes, we will not. We will walk on them lightly,
and they will carry the burden of our thoughts lightly.."

"And we will walk on the sand in single file
to fool the people who will come tomorrow.

They will see only the footprint without you and me.
And they will say, "Someone passed alone along this way."

"Then the wind will come and cover the tracks
as if we were not there."



"And how we would like to believe
the word in the leaves, on the empty seat,
and the word in the wind and the sand,
the word that would say we are still there
after you and I are gone."

A poem written in a quick give and take on the net by Sushama Karnik and Tanya Dimitrova.
Torre di Palme   Italy
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The tale of an Enlightened One,
simply told: thus came he and thus was gone.
The truth of his life was compassion.
Nibbana for the ones
such as he was, is not the goal, the ultimate one.
It is the destined end of the way their life is spent on earth.
The souls such as he was, do come and go
before we know who it was we saw.
We remember them after they are gone.
The several Mudras, the significant gestures of beatitude,
the several laconic words they spoke at several times,
remain as beacons to light our path while we live in this world.
Suffering while we live is inevitable.
What we make of it is significant.
There was a Prince who renounced his wealth.
He did not renounce the humanity who suffered.
There are sadly those who have the wealth
but inflict death
on those whom they cannot suffer because they walk a different way.
Buddha too had to suffer on account of the hunger
of those who pursued power and wealth.
There is still no answer to the Mara's blight
in the collective unconscious of humanity.

Sushama Karnik
Dec 15, 2018

Thanks for the post +永銘
Sang Buddha memberitahukan bahwa
beliau dibesarkan di dalam kemewahan,
dengan tiga istana, satu untuk setiap musim.

pada usia 16 th beliau dinikahkan dengan seorang putri raja bernama Yasodhara dan memiliki putra yang diberi nama Rahula. Pangeran Siddhattha menikmati semua kesenangan dan hak istimewa karena kedudukannya yang tinggi, di masa mudanya sampai beliau mengalami hal yang mengejutkan
karena bertemu dengan “utusan agung”, yaitu
usia tua, penyakit, dan kematian.

Hal ini menghancurkan kepuasan duniawinya dan mendorongnya untuk mencari jalan menuju pembebasan.
Maka pada suatu malam, pada usia ke 29, beliau menyelinap keluar dari ibukota kerajaan dan masuk hutan untuk menjalani kehidupan sebagai seorang petapa, bertekad untuk mencari jalan agar terbebas dari penderitaan kehidupan.

Selama enam tahun beliau bereksperimen dengan berbagai macam sistem meditasi dan menjalankan penyiksaan diri yang sangat keras, tetapi beliau mendapati bahwa metode-metode ini tidak membawanya pada tujuan yang sedang dicarinya.

Akhirnya, pada usia ke 35, pada waktu bermeditasi di suatu tempat yang indah di dekat sungai Neranjara, beliau mencapai pencerahan spiritual tertinggi dan menjadi Yang Tercerahkan.

Setelah itu, selama 45 tahun, Beliau berkelana ke seluruh dataran sungai Gangga, menyampaikan kebenaran yang Beliau temukan dan mendirikan Sangha, komunitas bhikkhu dan bhikkhuni, untuk meneruskan pesan Beliau.
Pada usia 80, dengan dikelilingi para siswa, Beliau wafat dengan tenang di dekat sebuah kota kecil bernama Kusinara.

Sang Buddha tidak menyatakan diri sebagai penjelmaan agung atau nabi yang dikirim untuk umat manusia oleh Tuhan. Beliau menyatakan diri sebagai....Yang Sadar-
manusia yang dengan usaha dan pandangan terangnya sendiri, telah sampai pada pencapaian spiritual tertinggi yang mampu dicapai manusia:
kebijaksanaan sempurna,
pemurnian total, dan
pembebasan dari semua penderitaan.

Sehubungan dengan umat manusia,
fungsinya adalah sebagai guru dunia yang dengan penuh kasih sayang menunjukkan pada orang-orang jalan menuju Nibbana,
jalan keluar dari dukkha, yang telah Beliau capai sendiri.
..
SATTHA DEVAMANUSSANAM
Photo

The further you follow the urge
to do more to get to the final flourish
the more you feel the need
to delve into greater subtleties,
the greater depths to be plumbed.
A lot remains to be touched,
a lot remains to be done,
and you stand away from the work
to watch the lines speak, the forms
grow fuller and yet stay incomplete.
The moon is rising high,
and it will rise higher still,
but somewhere the artist retreats
and lets the picture speak.
+Tighe O'Donoghue/Ross My best wishes are with you, always!

Sushama Karnik
Dec 14, 2018
RISING OF THE MOON...the hour is nigh...[ finally,final I will stop here...it only goes to show what Leonardo said “ a painting can never be done, there is always more... “
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Sunday, 14 October 2018


Night sounds have ceased
one by one.
There is still time
for the sunrise.
The blessings of sleep
have covered the world.
And this was the sound
awaited in the lull.
It comes wafted on the breeze,
lilting, lifting, a slow cadence, a prayer
of an unknown origin,
It always stirs
the deep roots in the heart.
The token of early dawn.
May you awaken to its deep song.
It sings for you and me and every being.

The sound of the song has ceased.
The echoes have been absorbed
like an osmosis,
by a bird hiding somewhere in the leaves,
then they spread and mitigate the grief.
A visage of the early dawn is seen
slowly coming up behind the hills.
A slow sunrise and the sounds begin;
once again, the roots stir in the deep,
the leaves speak the language of the earth.
One day has gone, another begins

Tuesday, 25 September 2018

THE HOMES AND THE MAGICAL DAWNS

The home and the magical dawns
are now gone into oblivion,
we have left those vistas of old
into the folds of the outworn tapestry.
No woods lovely, dark and deep
glimmer on the opposite shore.
We are now caught in the rapacity
of the aspirations,and ambitions of urbanity.
The sun is at a sharp right angle on the lake,
and shading our eyes from the daze
we now focus our eye on the upscaling heights of the city.


The image credit
anu x originally shared to Art:
Gustav Klimt
Malcesine on Lake Garda (1913)

In 1913 Klimt broke with his annual three-month visit to Attersee spa in the Austrian Alps, and went to the Italian Lake Garda instead, possibly under the increasing influence of Egon Schiele, who preferred to travel abroad. Whether as a result of the change of light or scenery, this work amply demonstrates its superb effect on him. As in Austria, Klimt paints the scene from a boat out on the water, yet the dramatic distinction of this landscape is the transformed handling of subject-matter, panorama, lighting, and form. It is a wonderful light, expansive work unlike the usual claustrophobic style of his typically intense Austrian scenes. The atmosphere is of life and frivolity rather than the somber, emotionally charged visions of home.
. . . . .
Gustav Klimt was born in Vienna, in 1862, into a lower middle-class family of Moravian origin. His father, Ernst Klimt, worked as an engraver and goldsmith, earning very little, and the artist's childhood was spent in relative poverty. The painter would have to support his family financially throughout his life.
. . . . .
image and comment from www.gustav-klimt.com
. . . . .
#Art #GustavKlimt
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