Post by donq on Jan 19, 2015 6:05:42 GMT
Sorry if I post on the wrong (sub) forum.
I’ve been working on some text (literature) and found some beautiful paragraphs that I’d like to share with you.
Last years, two of my dear friends here lost their beloved ones. And I admired that they handled it so well. I also lost one of my spiritual teacher. Though I felt a bit sad but no way my sadness could compare to of my both friends. And I might be lucky that one of the most serious practice (Buddhism) had something to do with death and dying. We even have to practice on “The contemplation of death” which I will not bother you about its detail here.
Ok, let’s start, shall we? Anyway, I will not tell you where these texts are from.
Oh! ye whose dead lie buried beneath the green grass; who standing among flowers can say—here, here lies my beloved; ye know not the desolation that broods in bosoms like these. What bitter blanks in those black-bordered marbles which cover no ashes! What despair in those immovable inscriptions! What deadly voids and unbidden infidelities in the lines that seem to gnaw upon all Faith, and refuse resurrections to the beings who have placelessly perished without a grave. As well might those tablets stand in the cave of Elephanta*as here.
[*Cave of Elephanta: a cave of rock-cut Hindu temples and sculptures on Gharapuri Island, off the coast of Mumbai (Bombay) in India.]
Though I’m not a Christian, but the text below really moved me.
Delight is to him, who gives no quarter in the truth, and kills, burns, and destroys all sin though he pluck it out from under the robes of Senators and Judges. Delight,—top-gallant delight is to him, who acknowledges no law or lord, but the Lord his God, and is only a patriot to heaven. Delight is to him, whom all the waves of the billows of the seas of the boisterous mob can never shake from this sure Keel of the Ages. And eternal delight and deliciousness will be his, who coming to lay him down, can say with his final breath—O Father!— chiefly known to me by Thy rod—mortal or immortal, here I die. I have striven to be Thine, more than to be this world's, or mine own. Yet this is nothing: I leave eternity to Thee; for what is man that he should live out the lifetime of his God?"
Yes, I hope when my time to lay down came, I could say that something like that (in the tradition of my spiritual practice. But as long as that day is yet to come, I should be like the following noble ship, should I not?
"Ah, noble ship," the angel seemed to say, "beat on, beat on, thou noble ship, and bear a hardy helm; for lo! the sun is breaking through; the clouds are rolling off— serenest azure is at hand."
P.S. Aye, aye. It’s the text from Herman Melville’s famous novel. :-)
I’ve been working on some text (literature) and found some beautiful paragraphs that I’d like to share with you.
Last years, two of my dear friends here lost their beloved ones. And I admired that they handled it so well. I also lost one of my spiritual teacher. Though I felt a bit sad but no way my sadness could compare to of my both friends. And I might be lucky that one of the most serious practice (Buddhism) had something to do with death and dying. We even have to practice on “The contemplation of death” which I will not bother you about its detail here.
Ok, let’s start, shall we? Anyway, I will not tell you where these texts are from.
Oh! ye whose dead lie buried beneath the green grass; who standing among flowers can say—here, here lies my beloved; ye know not the desolation that broods in bosoms like these. What bitter blanks in those black-bordered marbles which cover no ashes! What despair in those immovable inscriptions! What deadly voids and unbidden infidelities in the lines that seem to gnaw upon all Faith, and refuse resurrections to the beings who have placelessly perished without a grave. As well might those tablets stand in the cave of Elephanta*as here.
[*Cave of Elephanta: a cave of rock-cut Hindu temples and sculptures on Gharapuri Island, off the coast of Mumbai (Bombay) in India.]
Though I’m not a Christian, but the text below really moved me.
Delight is to him, who gives no quarter in the truth, and kills, burns, and destroys all sin though he pluck it out from under the robes of Senators and Judges. Delight,—top-gallant delight is to him, who acknowledges no law or lord, but the Lord his God, and is only a patriot to heaven. Delight is to him, whom all the waves of the billows of the seas of the boisterous mob can never shake from this sure Keel of the Ages. And eternal delight and deliciousness will be his, who coming to lay him down, can say with his final breath—O Father!— chiefly known to me by Thy rod—mortal or immortal, here I die. I have striven to be Thine, more than to be this world's, or mine own. Yet this is nothing: I leave eternity to Thee; for what is man that he should live out the lifetime of his God?"
Yes, I hope when my time to lay down came, I could say that something like that (in the tradition of my spiritual practice. But as long as that day is yet to come, I should be like the following noble ship, should I not?
"Ah, noble ship," the angel seemed to say, "beat on, beat on, thou noble ship, and bear a hardy helm; for lo! the sun is breaking through; the clouds are rolling off— serenest azure is at hand."
P.S. Aye, aye. It’s the text from Herman Melville’s famous novel. :-)
I know that whenever I need him I only have to think of him and he is there 
