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September 09, 2009 03:46 AM PDT
AND then a scholar said, Speak of Talking.
And he answered, saying:
You talk when you cease to be at peace
with your thoughts;
And when you can no longer dwell in the
solitude of your heart you live in your lips,
and sound is a diversion and a pastime.
And in much of your talking, thinking
is half murdered.
For thought is a bird of space, that in a
cage of words many indeed unfold its wings
but cannot fly.
There are those among you who seek the
talkative through fear of being alone.
The silence of aloneness reveals to their
eyes their naked selves and they would es-
cape.
And there are those who talk, and with-
out knowledge or forethought reveal a truth
which they themselves do not understand.
And there are those who have the truth
within them, but they tell it not in words.
In the bosom of such as these the spirit
dwells in rhythmic silence.
When you meet your friend on the road-
side or in the market place, let the spirit in
you move your lips and direct your tongue.
Let the voice within your voice speak to
the ear of his ear;
For his soul will keep the truth of your
heart as the taste of the wine is remembered
When the colour is forgotten and the
vessel is no more.
AND an astronomer said, Master, What of Time?
And he answered:
You would measure time the measure-
less and the immeasurable.
You would adjust your conduct and even
direct the course of your spirit according to
hours and seasons.
Of time you would make a stream upon
whose bank you would sit and watch its
flowing.
Yet the timeless in you is aware of life's
timelessness,
And knows that yesterday is but today's
memory and tomorrow is today's dream.
And that that which sings and contem-
plates in you is still dwelling within the
bounds of that first moment which scat-
tered the stars into space.
Who among you does not feel that his
power to love is boundless?
And yet who does not feel that very love,
though boundless, encompassed within the
centre of his being, and moving not from
love thought to love thought, nor from
love deeds to other love deeds?
And is not time even as love is, undivided
and spaceless?
But if in your thought you must measure
time into seasons, let each season encircle
all the other seasons,
And let today embrace the past with re-
membrance and the future with longing.
AND one of the elders of the city said, Speak to us of Good and Evil.
And he answered:
Of the good in you I can speak, but not
of the evil.
For what is evil but good tortured by its
own hunger and thirst?
Verily when good is hungry it seeks food
even in dark caves, and when it thirsts it
drinks even of dead waters.
You are good when you are one with
yourself.
Yet when you are not one with yourself
you are not evil.
For a divided house is not a den of thieves;
it is only a divided house.
And a ship without rudder may wander
aimlessly among perilous isles yet sink not
to the bottom.
You are good when you strive to give of
yourself.
Yet you are not evil when you seek gain
for yourself.
For when you strive for gain you are but
a root that clings to the earth and sucks at
her breast.
Surely the fruit cannot say to the root,
"Be like me, ripe and full and ever giving
of your abundance."
For to the fruit giving is a need, as re-
ceiving is a need to the root.
You are good when you are fully awake
in your speech,
Yet you are not evil when you sleep while
your tongue staggers without purpose.
And even stumbling speech may strengthen
a weak tongue.
You are good when you walk to your
goal firmly and with bold steps.
Yet you are not evil when you go thither
limping.
Even those who limp go not backward.
But you who are strong and swift, see that
you do not limp before the lame, deeming
it kindness.
You are good in countless ways, and you
are not evil when you are not good,
You are only loitering and sluggard.
Pity that the stags cannot teach swiftness
to the turtles.
In your longing for your giant self lies
your goodness: and that longing is in all of
you.
But in some of you that longing is a
torrent rushing with might to the sea, carr-
ying the secrets of the hillsides and the songs
of the forest.
And in others it is a flat stream that loses
itself in angles and bends and lingers before
it reaches the shore.
But let not him who longs much say to
him who longs little, "Wherefore are you
slow and halting?"
For the truly good ask not the naked,
"Where is your garment?" nor the house-
less, "What has befallen your house?"
http://activeenglishspeaking.com
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