lovers who burn

the compassions of Thích Quảng Đức and Malcolm Browne

 

It’s not Me

that’s glorified in acts

of worship. It’s the worshipers!

I don’t hear the words they say. I look inside at

the humility. That broken-open lowliness is the Reality,

not the language! Forget phraseology. I want burning,

burning. Be friends with your burning. Burn up

your thinking and your forms of expression!

Moses, those who pay attention to ways

of behaving and speaking are one

sort. Lovers who burn are

another.

 

Rumi

 

 

Do

you wish

to realize the Way?

Dissolve everything instantly,

like a drop of water

hitting a red-hot

coal.

 

Forget

thoughts and

feelings and ideas of self.

Remaining ordinary, foregoing airs,

persevering in simplicity for years

and decades, you enter

into the Oneness,

and it into

you.

 

Wei wu Wei Ching, Chapter 47

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warbler


 

This year

we have two gorgeous

yellow warblers nesting in the

honeysuckle bush. The other day I stuck

my head in the bush. The nestlings weigh one-twentieth

of an ounce, about the size of a honeybee. We stared

at each other, startled by our existence.

In a month or so, when they reach

the size of bumblebees they’ll

fly to Costa Rica without

a map.

 

the late & decidedly great

Jim Harrison