Power aims
at Freedom To;
finds itself
on a collision course
with all the other Freedoms To
that inhabit gods and men and beast;
storm and drought and pestilence;
sickness, old age and death.

Wisdom aims
for Freedom From
discovers that all the competing Freedom To’s
struggle within the stadium of life
and win and lose and win and lose
and lose at last at the gates
of old age and death.

Discovers that he who enters not
the arena of the breath
suffers no loss and dies no death.


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A boat
on the stream
of time.

On either bank
the dream;
a banquet for the senses.
A blaze
of colour and livingness
of music and messages
to tempt and amaze;
enticements and instant memories;
the enchanting voice
of the serpent.

on the stream
from nowhere
to nothing.


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All you have to do is accept
that what happened happened
and move on from there;
not whether you were wrong
nor whether you were right.

Whenever the Truth arises
in whatever place and guise,
a thousand mouths will appear before long
to claim it for their own,
and argue and fight.


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If something is True,
it undoubtedly is True
until investigation shows
that somewhere else
it undoubtedly is not True.
Everything that is true
is true on the level(s)
that it is True on.
But never elsewhere!

For with the same measure that ye mete withal it shall be measured to you again.

Jesus brought them
The Kingdom of Heaven
and Eternal Life.
In exchange,
they gave him a long and painful Death
to accompany his dying breath.

The Truth is True
(but only wherever it is true).


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Spirit is the substance of Happiness.
It cannot be perceived by Mind or Body.
It infuses them
when there are no fences facing.


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To the rose
the garden disappears.
To the garden
the rose withers away.

(If you were the gardener,
what would you say?)

Trace it all back as far as you can
from where it is now to where it began.
From knife to hand
from hand to eye;
from footprints on sand
to sun in the sky.
Trace it back further to where it begins
to the gateways and windows where all things get in.

The scent is not the rose
but the hairs that line the nose.
The seascape is the roving eye,
the tongue is the taste not the apple pie.
Mozart is what you hear
and his place is in the ear.

And all the subtle sensations that impinge upon the skin
flare their little on/off switches
in the mind that shines within.


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The pure cry of the uncomplicated child
before it has been trained
in the verbalisations of this world
is the Voice of the Eternal.

Learn from it:
that the way back to God
lies backwards beyond
and identifying
and mentifying;
that the Tree of Knowledge
shares the One Root
with the Tree of Life
but bears a very different fruit.

Taste the fruit of the Tree of Life:

For except ye be converted
and become as little children
you can by no means enter
the Kingdom of Heaven.


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