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Emirates: pteron

And if we went to our own appointments, earthen pteron?

a universe of sounds, corridors that take you into pieces, some secret .... and indices as a lantern ...

... to the "fountains sounds. She holds the key to access the parallel worlds of pteron ?

soothing ambience, mysterious, a world where people like to look up to watch the sea

pteron shape of an elsewhere.

http://slurl.com/secondlife/pteron/236/129/33

Pteron from Osiris Pfalz we Vimeo.

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Well, I not contribute often, but I thought yesterday that I could approach this subject.

The basic approach in deciding to "be" Buddhist is taking refuge.
In some schools, this is the subject of a ceremony, others are less stringent on this subject. What is it?

"I take refuge in the Buddha,
" I take refuge in the Dharma,
"I take refuge in Sangha".

said these shelters, they said (essentially to oneself) that take the Buddha and his successors as guides, we will put their teachings into practice, and we rely on all of those who do the same to deepen and expand practice / study.

If I write and "practice / study", mainly because one can not go without the other.

Sometimes, some will object to the religious aspect of Buddhism that it is a philosophy. They forget what the philosophy in antiquity. What we we call philosophy, Robert M Pirsig calls the "philosophologie. We never learn the discourse on the philosophy: history philosophy, the history of their thinkers, elements of their thought, but this is not a philosophy.

In antiquity, when adhered to a philosophical school, this meant to comply with the rules and teachings of this school, in her everyday life. Each school had its own rules of life, and adhere to the teachings was not only a mind game, it was a commitment of the whole being. In this sense we can say the philosophies of antiquity they were closer to what we call "religion" than us, we call "philosophy".

That said, it should also to remember that Man is a symbolic animal. We need this symbolic and try to eliminate it will only make it back otherwise. In this sense, Buddhism is a religion. I still remember that word, instead of etymology so often advanced, but that is false, derived from the verb "religere", that is to say reread, and refers specifically to this aspect of ritual that is just what is the symbolic.

Mokudô Master Taisen (Deshimaru) said that the ceremonies, is theater. Certainly, but it would also forget the religious dimension of the theater. The tragedies of Sophocles, Euripides and others were religious ceremonies, which will leave no surprise to those whom the theater is just entertainment. A wedding is theater. A funeral is theater (and no less!). A graduation ceremony is the theater of proof, there are countries (like ours) or it is not.

is for these reasons that I continue to lead mini-ceremonies. Until now there were just a recitation of the Heart Sutra (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eFletFs5StE&feature=channel_page). I have not yet had the opportunity to impart the precepts, but I guess it will come.

Can we blame the Sotoshu as the AZI is not the practice ceremonies that these associations. Is that these ceremonies take too much space compared to practice (zazen) and study (texts). When this is only the "theater", then one could simply actors. If we want progress, we need to think carefully about the appropriate balance between these aspects.

For now, I will therefore make every morning sampai , like every day since September 2003.

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Storm ... Part third and end

Des Arabesques signed with the pen of an angel, but he waited until the ebb and flow of the tide erases very smoothly sentences to sacred characters, even before his return to the ether. The sea will keep his writings, his thoughts secret in the mystery of this story.

It will remain on the strike, a drawing, signature, black and white, color and a little fun in the waves clear in their undulations.

I remember this storm and an angel, free as a bird fluttering along streams and between the branches.

I remember an angel flying over the castles and temples, admiring the city as the sun built time of twilight.

I remember that was like an angel thought.

Thank KHALIL GIBRAN , reflections it has to devote myself to writing this trilogy, () (gray literature "meeting") thank you to missteps that are never the chance ... thank you to those storms that lead us to a "one step further" our personal history, thank you to all players invisible in this fable that do not have one. Any resemblance to actual events or existing characters, is neither accidental nor coincidental.

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Storm: part 2

Party second

came the meeting ..

The angel was there, in silence tormented earth. I approached him, he raised his head slowly and I saw his eyes very clear ...

He stood silent at first, stretched his arms, throat, sitting in the paralysis of the air, on the day so far in the folds of the endings of the sky, then straightened and the universal language of creation of worlds ... He said:

" What is the misfortune of this world is like the drama of the whole earth. The hypocrisy does not change its nature if it changes people, cheating and lies do not become honest if they are adorned with beautiful fabrics or lodge in the palace. I see that Imposture blended do not become loyal if she takes the train or the balloon. Greed will not be fair, even if she learned the steps and weights. One thing, single

is worthy of love and admiration, is the awakening of the soul happens to be the deepest. It opens the heart to a world of song and color. Life becomes a column of light linking the Earth to infinity. It is a divine flame which comes from the consciousness of the universe to illuminate the heart of being, like a silk thread. is a tenderness that pervades the heart, and from there we will refuse everything can not stay with her and she "

There was a rustle of wings, then nothing, the angel had disappeared and it was silent again ...

On surface of the earth, mysterious arabesques or you could read ... (more)

End Part

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Storm ... In the first part

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My eyelids start getting heavy fatigue that takes me ...

But I remember. I remember that angel returning from a long journey over the old stones, an angel caught in a violent storm, a storm marked on any map but which he knew existed. Buffeted by the swirling winds, playing him like a straw, this toy became an instant son dislocated in silk this invisible puppeteer.

"It's when he emerged from his grasp in a last gasp, he was struck by an intense flash he had seen it coming." How had he seen this tracer only he knew, he who travels for so long the ether.

"A burst of light, an intense flash that illuminated the sky and struck him in the chest, piercing the right through" according to those who had followed the scene from a small shed.

"He fell like a torch, like scroll chaotic and disappeared from sight on the horizon."

Against this desolate earth he came to one knee to the ground, wounded, bruised in body and in his soul by this episode.

On this desolate land I did meet him. (More)

first end portion

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the rustle of the wing ...

Once again, I flew into the highlands of southern France, a wingbeat to the land of ancient stones and the sun, find the roots like being pushed ...

Some images on this flight, some visions from a small garden, one of the citadel.

I also keep this this mirror that keeps the brilliance of a precious meeting, the look of this artist