Sand and Foam by Kahlil Gibran

How can I lose faith in the justice of life, when the dreams of those who sleep upon feathers are not more beautiful that the dreams of those who sleep upon the earth?

We are both right.

The sun is warm and the grass it bright and the world is serenely blanketed in the sky's blue.

After hearing an earnest man debate pragmatically in favour of the truths of intelligent design, I no longer felt compelled to stay. I realized that what really bothers me about the argument between creationists and evolutionists is not the logic of either side in particular (the evidence seemed balanced and convincing enough) but the completely polarizing point of view: "I am right and you are wrong and we are brilliant and you are all ignorant." I wish that scientists of both opinions could see that they are all just doing the best they can with what they have; I wish that they would spend some quality time together to really figure this out with all perspectives involved instead of just shouting at each other from opposite sides of the room.

Maybe most scientists really are peacefully searching for truth together. Maybe it is just the didactic ones who make the news, in the same way as the militant terrorist Muslims get all the coverage while the overwhelming majority of peaceful Muslims go unnoticed.

As for me, I would much prefer to bask in the glory of the earth: the music of the songbirds, green of the trees and yellow of the dandelion. Especially on this pleasant February day.

To you, the world is a cesspool of torment, an abomination. To me, the world is an unfathomable beauty and joy. We are both right.

K'ung Fu-tzu

Today, a 2500-year-old man spoke to me through the lips of my white-bearded professor. He beckoned to me from his path, to join him. He told me that, "Fundamentally, people mean well and want to do right." He told me told me that religion and ritual can be useful to help solve the world's problems, but he himself had stepped outside of religion and philosophy and compelled me to do the same. He told me that all his life he was tremendously lonely, but his few friends were the sole joy of his existence: "Is it not wonderful when friends come together from distant places to discuss matters of common interest?" I am tempted to journey forward in his footprints.

but

There is a thing in death that chills my soul
Not to die
But for others
to be
gone

In your death could I celebrate your life?
I
I would mourn.
I would don clothing of black
and lower my head as I walked
and sing rarely.
And then
as I find peace in the moments when we were together
I would all the more weep bitterly for the moments when we could have been.

But the truth is
Your Life is more than your body
And by knowing each other
Neither of us will outlive the other
And in this way
We will life forever

samsara

I awoke on this morn feeling oddly at peace with the world
as if every bird circling the newly killed carcass
and every droplet of water cascading down the rocks
and every joy and frustration of daily existence
were all part of the same eternal cycle
of birth life and death
and renewal
It must dawn upon every living being
as a sun must daily dawn upon even a cloudy earth
that life is worth its struggles
but even when the sun sets upon a fleeting life
we can know with confidence
perhaps even joy
that death is worth its pain
for what is death if not food for rebirth?
as the meat strengthens the wings
as the water cools the inside
as the sorrows allow for depth in joy
in the same way will you
my child
be another's savior after your last breath
so in death you live on

Dawn, 12/01/2009

The lights of the millions of women and men
Fill the below with a glistening glow
The moon lends her light and the Sun his splendor
As man lies together and sleeps one last hour
The power of this unity only can last
As long as each bed is still filled with its master
When every alarm clock is angrily stoned
And moaning, its owner reclaims the nightly death
We can know with great courage that there is hope yet
To rest through the rancor and pretend our own peace
Sleep, sleep my dear loves, all day if you like
The world wakes and lives with more fullness each moment
If home is a concrete rectangle, please stay
And continue your dreams of unbridled protection
As for me — I sit high on my own private mecca
And hail my Sun as he returns to the world
Come colour and light and life and warmth
To draw the unwilling ones out of their slumber
To wake them again to the glory of day
I waken again to the glory of day
And I am alive
I live

opened to an unexpected page:

Now there are many, many people in the world, but relatively few with whom we interact, and even fewer who cause us problems. So when you come across such a chance for practicing patience and tolerance, you should treat it with gratitude. It is rare. Just as having unexpectedly found a treasure in your own house, you should be happy and grateful towards your enemy for providing that precious opportunity. Because if you are ever to be successful in your practice of patience and tolerance, which are critical factors in counteracting negative emotions, it is due to the combination of your own efforts and also the opportunity provided by your enemy.

--HH Dalai Lama, The Art of Happiness