factor of attitude

Nobody really owns anything. We give back our bodies at the end of our lives. We own our thoughts, but everything else is just borrowed. We use it for a while, then pass it on. Everything. We borrow the sun that shines on us today from the people on the other side of the world while they borrow the moon from us. Then we give it back. We can’t keep the sun, no matter how afraid we are of the dark. We borrow our food. What we eat becomes fertilizer that goes back into the earth and gets turned back into food. Everything is borrowed. Once I realized that, I stopped worrying about how I would survive. I didn’t need to have anything, I just needed to borrow.

Try to learn to breathe deeply, really to taste food when you eat, and when you sleep, really to sleep. Try as much as possible to be wholly alive with all your might, and when you laugh, laugh like hell. And when you get angry, get good and angry. Try to be alive. You will be dead soon enough.

You must be strong enough for this truth: you are not the life in you. You do not exist. There is nothing you can call “mine.” You do not own Life: it is Life that owns you. You endure it. It is a pure illusion to believe that this phantasm of a “Self” is able to live forever, following the decay of the body. Can’t you see that the relation with this body is essential to your “Self,” and that any illness, trauma, or accident has a precise influence on all of it’s faculties, no matter how “spiritual” and “superior” they may be? And now, detach yourself form your own self and cross the threshold, as you feel the rhythmic sensation of analogy, deeper and deeper into the dark recesses of the force that sustains your body. Here it looses name and individuation. The sensation of this force will expand to encompass the notions of “me” and “not-me,” pervading all nature, substantiating time, carrying myriads of beings along as if they were drunk or hypnotized, reaffirming itself in a thousand forms, irresistible, wild, limitless, burning with an eternal insufficiency and privation. Think to yourself: “This is.” If this knowledge leads you back to yourself, and as you experience a sense of deadly cold, you feel an abyss yawning beneath you: “I exist in this” - then you’ve achieved the knowledge of the waters.

Take an interest in your pain and your fear. Move closer, lean in, get curious; even for a moment experience the feelings beyond labels, beyond being good or bad. Welcome them. Invite them. Do anything that helps melt the resistance.

Time to leave now, get out of this room, go somewhere, anywhere; sharpen this feeling of happiness and freedom, stretch your limbs, fill your eyes, be awake, wider awake, vividly awake in every sense and every pore.

This body is not me. I am not limited by this body.
I am life without boundaries. I have never been born,
and I have never died.
Since before time, I have been free.
Birth and death are only doors through which we pass
sacred thresholds on our journey.
Birth and death are a game of hide and seek.
So laugh with me, hold my hand,
Let us say goodbye..Say goodbye to meet again soon.
We meet today
We will meet again tomorrow
We will meet at the source of every moment
We will meet each other in all forms of life.

Nobody really owns anything. We give back our bodies at the end of our lives. We own our thoughts, but everything else is just borrowed. We use it for a while, then pass it on. Everything. We borrow the sun that shines on us today from the people on the other side of the world while they borrow the moon from us. Then we give it back. We can’t keep the sun, no matter how afraid we are of the dark. We borrow our food. What we eat becomes fertilizer that goes back into the earth and gets turned back into food. Everything is borrowed. Once I realized that, I stopped worrying about how I would survive. I didn’t need to have anything, I just needed to borrow.

If you’re really listening, if you’re awake to the poignant beauty of the world, your heart breaks regularly. In fact, your heart is made to break; its purpose is to burst open again and again so that it can hold ever-more wonders.

You must be strong enough for this truth: you are not the life in you. You do not exist. There is nothing you can call “mine.” You do not own Life: it is Life that owns you. You endure it. It is a pure illusion to believe that this phantasm of a “Self” is able to live forever, following the decay of the body. Can’t you see that the relation with this body is essential to your “Self,” and that any illness, trauma, or accident has a precise influence on all of it’s faculties, no matter how “spiritual” and “superior” they may be? And now, detach yourself form your own self and cross the threshold, as you feel the rhythmic sensation of analogy, deeper and deeper into the dark recesses of the force that sustains your body. Here it looses name and individuation. The sensation of this force will expand to encompass the notions of “me” and “not-me,” pervading all nature, substantiating time, carrying myriads of beings along as if they were drunk or hypnotized, reaffirming itself in a thousand forms, irresistible, wild, limitless, burning with an eternal insufficiency and privation. Think to yourself: “This is.” If this knowledge leads you back to yourself, and as you experience a sense of deadly cold, you feel an abyss yawning beneath you: “I exist in this” - then you’ve achieved the knowledge of the waters.

What I hate is ignorance, smallness of imagination, the eye that sees no farther than its own lashes. All things are possible. Who you are is limited only by who you think you are.

Death twitches my ear. Live, he says, I am coming.

Stay neurotic. Stay frustrated. Stay emotional. Stay excited. Your life is happening.