Christopher Robin came down from the Forest to the Bridge,
feeling all sunny and careless, and just as if twice nineteen
didn't matter a bit, as it didn't on such a happy afternoon, and
he thought that if he stood on the bottom rail of the bridge, and
leant over, and watched the river slipping slowly away beneath
him, then he would suddenly know everything that there was
to be known.
feeling all sunny and careless, and just as if twice nineteen
didn't matter a bit, as it didn't on such a happy afternoon, and
he thought that if he stood on the bottom rail of the bridge, and
leant over, and watched the river slipping slowly away beneath
him, then he would suddenly know everything that there was
to be known.
- From Winnie-the-Pooh by A.A. Milne
Siddartha came to the same realization - that the river offers
access to all knowledge, at least all that is important. You have
to tune into the river first though. You can't think of it as an
impediment.
access to all knowledge, at least all that is important. You have
to tune into the river first though. You can't think of it as an
impediment.
It slips slowly by underneath you. If you tune into it, believe it
might be able to tell you something, it offers unity with all voices,
all goals, all yearnings, sorrows, pleasures, good and evil, the
laughter of the wise as well as the groan of the dying.
might be able to tell you something, it offers unity with all voices,
all goals, all yearnings, sorrows, pleasures, good and evil, the
laughter of the wise as well as the groan of the dying.
If you listen to the river long enough, if you stand on the bottom
rung and tune in, the river offers unity in all things.
rung and tune in, the river offers unity in all things.
~~~
Siddartha listened. He was so listening intently, completely
absorbed, quite empty, taking in everything. He felt that he
had now completely learned the art of listening. He had often
heard all this before, all these numerous voices in the river, but
today they sounded different. He could no longer distinguish
the different voices - the merry voice from the weeping voice,
the childish voice from the manly voice. They all belonged to
each other: the lament of those who yearn, the laughter of the
wise, the cry of indignation and the groan of the dying. They
were all interwoven and interlocked, entwined in a thousand
ways. And all the voices, all the goals, all the yearnings, all
the sorrows, all the pleasures, all the good and evil, all of them
together was the world. All of them together was the stream of
events, the music of life. When Siddartha listened attentively
to this river, to this song of a thousand voices; when he did not
listen to the sorrow or laughter, when he did not bind his soul
to any one particular voice and absorb it in his Self, but heard
them all, the whole, the unity; then the great song of a thousand
voices consisted of one word: OM - perfection.
absorbed, quite empty, taking in everything. He felt that he
had now completely learned the art of listening. He had often
heard all this before, all these numerous voices in the river, but
today they sounded different. He could no longer distinguish
the different voices - the merry voice from the weeping voice,
the childish voice from the manly voice. They all belonged to
each other: the lament of those who yearn, the laughter of the
wise, the cry of indignation and the groan of the dying. They
were all interwoven and interlocked, entwined in a thousand
ways. And all the voices, all the goals, all the yearnings, all
the sorrows, all the pleasures, all the good and evil, all of them
together was the world. All of them together was the stream of
events, the music of life. When Siddartha listened attentively
to this river, to this song of a thousand voices; when he did not
listen to the sorrow or laughter, when he did not bind his soul
to any one particular voice and absorb it in his Self, but heard
them all, the whole, the unity; then the great song of a thousand
voices consisted of one word: OM - perfection.
"Do you hear?" asked Vasudeva's glance once again.
Vasudeva's smile was radiant; it hovered brightly in all the
wrinkles of his old face, as the OM hovered over all the voices
of the river. His smile was radiant as he looked at this friend,
and now the same smile appeared on Siddartha's face. His
wound was healing, his pain was dispersing; his Self had
merged into unity.
wrinkles of his old face, as the OM hovered over all the voices
of the river. His smile was radiant as he looked at this friend,
and now the same smile appeared on Siddartha's face. His
wound was healing, his pain was dispersing; his Self had
merged into unity.
From that hour Siddartha ceased to fight against his destiny.
There shone on his face the serenity of knowledge, of one who
is no longer confronted with conflict of desires,
who is in harmony with the stream of events, with the stream
of life, full of sympathy and compassion, surrendering himself
to the stream, belonging to the unity of all things.
There shone on his face the serenity of knowledge, of one who
is no longer confronted with conflict of desires,
who is in harmony with the stream of events, with the stream
of life, full of sympathy and compassion, surrendering himself
to the stream, belonging to the unity of all things.
Hermann Hesse
From Siddartha
From Siddartha
With thanks to Rod MacIver
at Heron Dance Art Studio
at Heron Dance Art Studio
~
Photo - Mystic Meandering
