Archives for February 2011

10 sec reading: stay in the desert


Illustration by Ken Crane

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EN ESPANOL: Quedarse en el desierto
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“Why do you live in the desert?”

“Because I can’t be what I want to be.
” When I begin to be myself, people treat me with a reverence that’s false.
“When I am true to my faith, then they begin to doubt.
“They all believe they are holier than I, but they pretend they are sinners, afraid to insult my solitude.
“They try all the time to show that they consider me a saint, and in this way they become emissaries of the devil, tempting me with Pride.”

“Your problem isn’t trying to be who you are, but trying to be accepted by everybody in the way you think you should be accepted” said the gentleman, walking off.
“And acting in this way, it’s better to stay in the desert.”

Zenga Zenga

lyrics from the speech given this past week

NY Times: How this video was conceived

The three editions

The monk Tetsugen had a dream: to publish a book in Japanese, containing all the sacred verses.
Determined to transform this dream into reality, he began to travel the country in order to raise the necessary money.

 
However, just as he had managed to get together enough money to begin work on the project, the river Uji flooded, provoking a catastrophe of gigantic proportions.
When he saw the victims of the flood, Tetsugen resolved to spend all the money he had collected on relieving the sufferings of the people.

 
Afterwards, he resumed his struggle to make his dream come true: he went from door to door, he visited the various islands of Japan, and once more he managed to raise the money he needed.
When he returned, exultant, to Edo, a cholera epidemic was sweeping the country. Again, the monk used the money to treat the sick and to help the families of the dead.

 
Undeterred, he returned to his original project. He set off again and, nearly twenty years later, he published seven thousand copies of the sacred verses.

 
They say that Tetsugen actually published three separate editions of the sacred texts.
 
But the first two are invisible.

Amistad

Cuando tení­a once años, Anita fue a quejarse a su madre:
-No consigo hacer amigas. Como soy muy celosa, al final todas me dejan sola.

La madre estaba cuidando a unos pollitos recién nacidos. Anita cogió uno, que inmediatamente comenzó a luchar para libertarse.
Cuanto más lo apretaba la niña en su mano, más se debatí­a el pollito.

La madre comentó:
-¿Por qué no pruebas a sostenerlo con suavidad?
Anita obedeció. Abrió las manos, y el pollito paró de debatirse. Empezó a acariciarlo muy suavemente, y el animalillo se arrellanó entre sus dedos.

-Los seres humanos también son así­ -dijo la madre. -Si lo que quieres es atraparlos sea como sea, se te escapan. Pero si eres dulce con ellos, se quedarán siempre junto a ti.

Matando nuestros suenos


(traduccion: Karem Molina Escobar)


El primer sí­ntoma
de que estamos matando nuestros sueños es la falta de tiempo. Las personas más ocupadas que he conocido en la vida siempre tení­an tiempo para todo. Las que nada hací­an estaban siempre cansadas, no conseguí­an realizar el poco trabajo que tení­an y se quejaban constantemente de que el dí­a era demasiado corto. En realidad, tení­an miedo de enfrentarse con el Buen Combate.

El segundo sí­ntoma de la muerte de nuestros sueños son nuestras certezas. Porque no queremos ver la vida como una gran aventura para ser vivida. Comenzamos a creernos sabios, justos y correctos en lo poco que le pedimos a la vida. Miramos más allá de las murallas de nuestra cotidianidad y oí­mos el ruido de las lanzas que se quiebran, el olor del sudor y de la pólvora, las grandes caí­das y las miradas sedientas de conquista de los guerreros. Pero nunca sentimos la alegrí­a, la inmensa alegrí­a presente en el corazón de quien está luchando, porque para ellos no importan ni la victoria ni la derrota, importa sólo participar del Buen Combate.

Finalmente, el tercer sí­ntoma de la muerte de nuestros sueños es la paz. La vida se convierte en una tarde de domingo y ya no nos pide grandes cosas, ni exige más de lo que queremos dar. Entonces creemos que somos maduros, dejamos de lado las fantasí­as de la infancia y alcanzamos nuestra realización personal y profesional. Nos sorprende cuando alguien de nuestra edad dice que aún quiere esto o aquello de la vida. Pero en realidad, en lo más profundo de nuestro corazón, sabemos que lo que sucede es que renunciamos a luchar por nuestros sueños, a librar el Buen Combate.

Cuando renunciamos a nuestros sueños y encontramos la paz, tenemos un pequeño periodo de tranquilidad. Pero los sueños muertos comienzan a pudrirse dentro de nosotros e infectan todo el ambiente en que vivimos.

Comenzamos a ser crueles con los que nos rodean y, finalmente, dirigimos esa crueldad contra nosotros. Surgen las enfermedades y las psicosis. Lo que querí­amos evitar en el combate “”la decepción y la derrota”” se convierte en el único legado de nuestra cobardí­a. Y un bello dí­a, los sueños muertos y podridos vuelven el aire difí­cil de respirar y comenzamos a desear la muerte, la muerte que nos libera de nuestras certezas, de nuestras ocupaciones y de aquella terrible paz de las tardes de domingo.

__________________________

Petrus fue mi guí­a en el Camino de Santiago, experiencia que conté en el libro “El Peregrino de Compostela” (1987)

Matando os sonhos

” O primeiro sintoma de que estamos matando nossos sonhos é a falta de tempo. As pessoas mais ocupadas que conheci na minha vida sempre tinham tempo para tudo. As que nada faziam estavam sempre cansadas, ní£o davam conta do pouco trabalho que precisavam realizar, e se queixavam de que o dia era curto demais: na verdade, elas tinham medo de combater o Bom Combate.

“O segundo sintoma da morte de nossos sonhos sí£o nossas certezas. Porque ní£o queremos aceitar a vida como uma grande aventura a ser vivida, passamos a nos julgar sábios, justos e corretos no pouco que pedimos da existíªncia. Olhamos para além das muralhas do nosso dia-dia, ouvimos o ruí­do de laní§as que se quebram, o cheiro de suor e de pólvora, as grandes quedas e os olhares sedentos de conquista dos guerreiros. Mas nunca percebemos a alegria, a imensa Alegria que está no coraí§í£o de quem está lutando, porque para estes ní£o importa nem a vitória nem a derrota, importa apenas combater o Bom Combate.

“Finalmente, o terceiro sintoma da morte de nossos sonhos é a Paz. A vida passa a ser uma tarde de Domingo, sem nos pedir grandes coisas, e sem exigir mais do que queremos dar. Achamos entí£o que estamos maduros, deixamos de lado as fantasias da infí¢ncia, e conseguimos nossa realizaí§í£o pessoal e profissional. Mas na verdade, no í­ntimo de nosso coraí§í£o, sabemos que o que aconteceu foi que renunciamos í  luta por nossos sonhos, a combater o Bom Combate.

” Quando renunciamos aos nossos sonhos e encontramos a paz, temos um pequeno perí­odo de tranqüilidade. Mas os sonhos mortos comeí§am a apodrecer dentro de nós, e infestar todo o ambiente em que vivemos.

“Comeí§amos a nos tornar cruéis com aqueles que nos cercam, e finalmente passamos a dirigir esta crueldade contra nós mesmos. Surgem as doení§as e as psicoses. O que querí­amos evitar no combate – a decepí§í£o e a derrota – passa a ser o único legado de nossa covardia. E um belo dia, os sonhos mortos e apodrecidos tornam o ar difí­cil de respirar e passamos a desejar a morte, que nos livra de nossas certezas, de nossas ocupaí§íµes, e daquela terrí­vel paz das tardes de domingo.”

__________________________
Petrus foi o meu guia no Caminho de Santiago, experiíªncia que contei em do livro “O Diario de um Mago” (1987)

The 3 symptoms of killing our dreams

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ESPANOL CLICAR AQUI: Matando los suenos
PORTUGUES CLICAR AQUI: Matando os sonhos
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The first symptom of the process of our killing our dreams is the lack of time. The busiest people I have known in my life always have time enough to do everything. Those who do nothing are always tired and pay no attention to the little amount of work they are required to do. They complain constantly that the day is too short. The truth is, they are afraid to fight the Good Fight.

The second symptom of the death of our dreams lies in our certainties. Because we don’t want to see life as a grand adventure, we begin to think of ourselves as wise and fair and correct in asking so little of life. We look beyond the walls of our day-to-day existence, and we hear the sound of lances breaking, we smell the dust and the sweat, and we see the great defeats and the fire in the eyes of the warriors. But we never see the delight, the immense delight in the hearts of those who are engaged in the battle. For them, neither victory nor defeat is important; what’s important is only that they are fighting the Good Fight.

And, finally, the third symptom of the passing of our dreams is peace. Life becomes a Sunday afternoon; we ask for nothing grand, and we cease to demand anything more than we are willing to give. In that state, we think of ourselves as being mature; we put aside the fantasies of our youth, and we seek personal and professional achievement. We are surprised when people our age say that they still want this or that out of life. But really, deep in our hearts, we know that what has happened is that we have renounced the battle for our dreams – we have refused to fight the Good Fight.

When we renounce our dreams and find peace, we go through a short period of tranquility. But the dead dreams begin to rot within us and to infect our entire being.
We become cruel to those around us, and then we begin to direct this cruelty against ourselves. That’s when illnesses and psychoses arise. What we sought to avoid in combat – disappointment and defeat – come upon us because of our cowardice.

And one day, the dead, spoiled dreams make it difficult to breathe, and we actually seek death. It’s death that frees us from our certainties, from our work, and from that terrible peace of our Sunday afternoon

taken from THE PILGRIMAGE

 

Past and Present


How do you make peace with a negative past and with those who have wronged you?
(By Alex)

In order to move from the past to the present you need to accept your scars. But you need to do everything in your power in order to heal them so that the ghosts of your past will no longer barge in your present life.

It is a long and difficult process I grant you – but it’s a way out of guilt and hatred in my eyes.

How does one keep enthusiasm, especially when you meet people who are well.. scary and mean?
(By Gina)

It’s normal that we don’t always keep our enthusiasm in front of obstacles. Indeed some people truly make an effort in destroying our plans and hopes and so they appear as evil.

But in these moments, if you are able to remind yourself of the reason of your actions and also see that those that are committed in creating pain around them are actually their first victims – then you may at least find an extra dose of consolation in your path. Ally yourself with those that wish you the best and don’t give strength to those that want to see you down. Don’t even grant them the right to be called your “enemies”.

How do you stop sadness? (By Nuri)

By welcoming it and living it intensively for a determined amount of period. In my case I give myself three days to be completely submersed in this feeling.

Once I’ve let sadness pay me a visit, then I kindly ask it to leave. Sadness is then satisfied and leaves.

Fist Coca Cola TV ad in Brasil

No tengo idea de adónde voy


IN ENGLISH HERE : I have no idea where I am going
EM PORTUGUES AQUI: Senhor, eu ní£o sei onde estou indo
 
 

Dios, Señor Mí­o, no tengo idea de adónde voy,
no veo el camino delante de mí­.
No puedo saber con certeza dónde terminará.

Tampoco me conozco realmente,
y el hecho de pensar que estoy siguiendo tu voluntad no significa que en realidad lo esté haciendo.
Pero creo que el deseo de agradarte, de hecho te agrada.

Y espero tener ese deseo en todo lo que hago.
Espero nunca hacer algo apartado de ese deseo.
Y sé que si hago esto me llevarás por el camino correcto,
aunque yo no sepa nada al respecto.

No tendré temor porque estás siempre conmigo,
nunca dejarás que enfrente solo mis peligros.

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en Pensamientos en Soledad por Thomas Merton

trad: Karem Molina Escobar

Senhor, não sei onde estou indo


IN ENGLISH HERE : I have no idea where I am going
EN ESPANOL AQUI: No tengo idea de adónde voy

Senhor meu Deus, eu não tenho idéia para onde estou indo,
não vejo o caminho adiante
E não tenho certeza onde irá me levar

Tampouco conheçoo a mim mesmo
E o fato de achar que estou cumprindo sua vontade
não me garante que estou fazendo o que devo

Mas acredito que meu desejo de agrada-lo lhe deixa contente.
Espero que este desejo esteja presente em tudo que faça

E que eu sempre consiga mante-lo em meu coração.
Se eu continuar assim, voce me guiará pelo caminho certo
apesar das minhas dúvidas

E eu nada temerei, pois Você sempre estará comigo
e nunca irá me deixar enfrentar os perigos sozinho

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em in Thoughts in Solitude de Thomas Merton

 

 

Livraria Online AQUI
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I wish you enough


(today a received an email from a very close friend of mine. I asked her if I could share it here, and she agreed)

Feb 14, 2011

Dear Friends,
Amongst all the activities I enjoy in London (shows, galleries, big parties etc…), the moment I enjoyed and cherished most was spending time with my 86 year old neighbor, who always took time to make me his own special coffee with a plate of cookies so graciously served to me on a white linen We used to spend hours talking…primarily me talking and he listening… with his advice whenever I asked.
Yesterday, I sent an email to him (the text is not mine) which was bounced back to me, and after having my husband (who is presently in London) check on him, I received a call to tell me that he had passed away on Jan 28th. My message of appreciation to him was a bit too late…
Below you find my message
Love
I.C.

Recently I overheard a father and daughter in their last moments together at the airport. They had announced the departure.
Standing near the security gate, they hugged and the father said, ‘I love you, and I wish you enough.’

They kissed and the daughter left. The father walked over to the window where I was seated. I tried not to intrude on his privacy, but I could not refrain from asking:
‘When you were saying good-bye, I heard you say, ‘I wish you enough.’ May I ask what that means?’

He began to smile. ‘That’s a wish that has been handed down from other generations. My parents used to say it to everyone.’
He paused a moment and looked up as if trying to remember it in detail, and he smiled even more.
‘When we said, ‘I wish you enough,’ we were wanting the other person to have a life filled with just enough good things to sustain them.’
Then turning toward me, he shared the following as if he were reciting it from memory.

I wish you enough sun to keep your attitude bright no matter how gray the day may appear.

I wish you enough rain to appreciate the sun even more..

I wish you enough happiness to keep your spirit alive and everlasting.

I wish you enough pain so that even the smallest of joys in life may appear bigger.

I wish you enough gain to satisfy your wanting…
I wish you enough loss to appreciate all that you possess.

I wish you enough hellos to get you through the final good- bye.

Personaje de la semana: El Alquimista

Cierto mercader envió a su hijo a aprender el Secreto de la Felicidad con el más sabio de todos los hombres. El muchacho anduvo durante cuarenta dí­as por el desierto, hasta llegar a un bello castillo, en lo alto de una montaña. Allí­ viví­a el sabio que el muchacho buscaba.

No obstante, en lugar de encontrar a un hombre santo, nuestro héroe entró en una sala en la que se deparó con una enorme actividad: mercaderes que entraban y salí­an, personas conversando por los rincones, una pequeña orquesta tocando suaves melodí­as, y una mesa muy bien servida con los más deliciosos platos de aquella región del mundo.

El Sabio conversaba con todos, y el muchacho tuvo que esperar durante dos horas hasta que pudo ser atendido.

Con mucha paciencia, el Sabio escuchó atentamente el motivo de la visita del chico, pero le dijo que en ese momento no tení­a tiempo para explicarle el Secreto de la Felicidad.

Le sugirió que diese un paseo por su palacio, y regresase al cabo de dos horas.

-De todas maneras, voy a pedirte un favor -añadió, entregándole al muchacho una cucharita de té en la que dejó caer dos gotas de aceite-. Mientras estés caminando, lleva contigo esta cuchara sin derramar el aceite.

El joven empezó a subir y a bajar las escalinatas del palacio sin apartar la mirada de las gotitas de aceite. Dos horas más tarde, regresó ante la presencia del Sabio.

-Entonces – preguntó el sabio- ¿ya has visto los tapices de Persia que están en mi comedor, y el jardí­n que al Maestro de los Jardineros le llevó diez años concluir? ¿Y te has fijado en los hermosos pergaminos de mi biblioteca?

El muchacho, avergonzado, confesó que no habí­a visto nada de eso. Su única preocupación habí­a sido no derramar las gotas de aceite que el Sabio le habí­a confiado.

-En ese caso vuelve y conoce las maravillas de mi mundo -dijo el Sabio-. No puedes confiar en alguien hasta que no conoces su casa.

Ya más tranquilo, el joven muchacho tomó una vez más la cucharilla y volvió a pasear por el palacio, pero esta vez fijándose en todas las obras de arte que colgaban del techo y las paredes. Vio los jardines, las montañas de alrededor, la delicadeza de las flores, el refinamiento con que cada obra de arte habí­a sido colocada en su lugar. Por fin, una vez más ante la presencia del Sabio, le contó pormenorizadamente todo lo que habí­a visto.

-Pero, ¿dónde están las dos gotas de aceite que te confié?- preguntó el Sabio.

Mirando a la cuchara, el joven se dio cuenta de que las habí­a derramado.

-Pues este es el único consejo que puedo darte – dijo el más Sabio de los Sabios-. El secreto de la felicidad está en saber mirar todas las maravillas del mundo, sin olvidarse nunca de las dos gotas de aceite de la cucharilla.

en
El Alquimista

O segredo da felicidade (O Alquimista)

Certo mercador enviou seu filho para aprender o Segredo da Felicidade com o mais sábio de todos os homens. O rapaz andou durante quarenta dias pelo deserto, até chegar a um belo castelo, no alto de uma montanha. Lá vivia o Sábio que o rapaz buscava.

Ao invés de encontrar um homem santo, porém, o nosso herói entrou numa sala e viu uma atividade imensa; mercadores entravam e saí­am, pessoas conversavam pelos cantos, uma pequena orquestra tocava melodias suaves, e havia uma farta mesa com os mais deliciosos pratos daquela regií£o do mundo.

O Sábio conversava com todos, e o rapaz teve que esperar duas horas até chegar sua vez de ser atendido.

Com muita paciíªncia, escutou atentamente o motivo da visita do rapaz, mas disse-lhe que naquele momento ní£o tinha tempo de explicar-lhe o Segredo da Felicidade.

Sugeriu que o rapaz desse um passeio por seu palácio, e voltasse daqui a duas horas.

– Entretanto, quero lhe pedir um favor – completou, entregando ao rapaz uma colher de chá, onde pingou duas gotas de óleo. – Enquanto vocíª estiver caminhando, carregue esta colher sem deixar que o óleo seja derramado.

O rapaz comeí§ou a subir e descer as escadarias do palácio, mantendo sempre os olhos fixos na colher. Ao final de duas horas, retornou í  presení§a do Sábio.

– Entí£o – perguntou o Sábio – vocíª viu as tapeí§arias da Pérsia que estí£o na minha sala de jantar? Viu o jardim que o Mestre dos Jardineiros demorou dez anos para criar? Reparou nos belos pergaminhos de minha biblioteca?

O rapaz, envergonhado, confessou que ní£o havia visto nada. Sua única preocupaí§í£o era ní£o derramar as gotas de óleo que o Sábio lhe havia confiado.

– Pois entí£o volte e conheí§a as maravilhas do meu mundo – disse o Sábio. – Vocíª ní£o pode confiar num homem se ní£o conhece sua casa.

Já mais tranqüilo, o rapaz pegou a colher e voltou a passear pelo palácio, desta vez reparando em todas as obras de arte que pendiam do teto e das paredes. Viu os jardins, as montanhas ao redor, a delicadeza das flores, o requinte com que cada obra de arte estava colocada em seu lugar. De volta í  presení§a do Sábio, relatou pormenorizadamente tudo que havia visto.

– Mas onde estí£o as duas gotas de óleo que lhe confiei? – perguntou o Sábio.

Olhando para a colher, o rapaz percebeu que as havia derramado.

– Pois este é o único conselho que eu tenho para lhe dar – disse o mais Sábio dos Sábios. – O segredo da felicidade está em olhar todas as maravilhas do mundo, e nunca se esquecer das duas gotas de óleo na colher.

do livro O ALQUIMISTA

Character of the week: The Alchemist


_____________________________
EN ESPANOL CLICAR AQUI: Personaje de la semana: El alquimista
EM PORTUGUES CLICAR AQUI: Personagem da semana: O alquimista
_____________________________

“Why do we have to listen to our hearts?” the boy asked, when they had made camp that day.

“Because, wherever your heart is, that is where you’ll find your treasure.”

“But my heart is agitated,” the boy said. “It has its dreams, it gets emotional, and it’s become passionate over a woman of the desert. It asks things of me, and it keeps me from sleeping many nights, when I’m thinking about her.”

“Well, that’s good. Your heart is alive. Keep listening to what it has to say.”

“My heart is a traitor,” the boy said to the alchemist, when they had paused to rest the horses. “It doesn’t want me to go on.”

“That makes sense. Naturally it’s afraid that, in pursuing your dream, you might lose everything you’ve won.”

“Well, then, why should I listen to my heart?”

“Because you will never again be able to keep it quiet. Even if you pretend not to have heard what it tells you, it will always be there inside you, repeating to you what you’re thinking about life and about the world.”

“You mean I should listen, even if it’s treasonous?”

“Treason is a blow that comes unexpectedly. If you know your heart well, it will never be able to do that to you. Because you’ll know its dreams and wishes, and will know how to deal with them.

“My heart is afraid that it will have to suffer,” the boy told the alchemist one night as they looked up at the moonless sky.

“Tell your heart that the fear of suffering is worse than the suffering itself. And that no heart has ever suffered when it goes in search of its dreams, because every second of the search is a second’s encounter with God and with eternity.”

“Every second of the search is an encounter with God,” the boy told his heart.

“Everyone on earth has a treasure that awaits him,” his heart said. “We, people’s hearts, seldom say much about those treasures, because people no longer want to go in search of them. We speak of them only to children. Later, we simply let life proceed, in its own direction, toward its own fate. But, unfortunately, very few follow the path laid out for them—the path to their destinies, and to happiness. Most people see the world as a threatening place, and, because they do, the world turns out indeed, to be threatening place.

“So, we, their hearts, speak more and more softly. We never stop speaking out, but we begin to hope that our words won’t be heard: we don’t want people to suffer because they don’t follow their hearts.”

From “The Alchemist”

Amor/Love


Un buen regalo para St. Valentin (en todos los paises de de habla hispana)

Showing off…