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"Seventy-two thousand channels
threading through five sheaths,
here the Self ever makes its home."

Swami Muktananda

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"...I am a string 

stretched across deep
surging resonance.
Things are violin bodies
full of murmuring darkness,
where women's weeping dreams,
where the rancor of whole generations
stirs in its sleep . . .
I should release
my silver vibrations: then
everything below me will live,
and whatever strays into things
will seek the light
that falls without end from my dancing tone
into the old abysses
around which heaven swells
through narrow
imploring.” Rilke

 

 

“Spaces 

Clarities steeply cut 
Suspended By the night's flank 
Black gardens of rock crystal 
Flowering on a rod of smoke 
White gardens exploding in the air...”

Octavio Paz

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“As the fresh winds from the mountains

That awaken the shadows in the valley

So let doubt call to dance

The decaying love of a contented mind...”

Krishnamurti 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“... discover the reality which hides behind the picture, behind the sunset, behind all philosophies, behind all religions, all sects, all organizations. And to discover and understand that you have to hang onto a peg of unreality, untruth, until, little by little you are able to pass all the shrines that are limiting, that are binding, all the gods that insist on worship. In passing all those you are able to arrive where all religions, where all affections are consummated, where all worship ends, where all desire ceases, where the separate self is purified by being destroyed...” Krishnamurti

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Watch the dust grains moving in the light near the window. Their dance is our dance. We rarely hear the inward music, but we are all dancing to it nevertheless directed by the one who teaches us, the pure joy of the sun, our music master.” Rumi

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Between going and staying 
the day wavers, 
in love with its own transparency. 
The circular afternoon is now a bay 
where the world in stillness rocks. 
All is visible and all elusive, 
all is near and can’t be touched...” Octavio Paz

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