This tile made of red hexagons . This avenue of rustling trees of a rainy spring . The staircase with the wrought iron railing . This day under the door of the room which lets rise the bursts of voice coming from the dining room . These windows with their old-fashioned fittings . This poorly fixed wooden shutter that beats against the wall when a gust of wind rises . Like the cupboard with its mirror glass from a time stored .
Be there in the shadow of things in place sitting in the smashed chair webs of badly negotiated ideas enturbaning my thoughts memories chanted by a small inner voice I took my clicks and my slaps picture box and moleskin notebook to go on a pilgrimage to the scents of yesteryear .
Cold and rain changed the dark air in the middle of the afternoon discrete passage to this state of listening allowing to be disposed stone on which to build the city of brothers Heavenly Jerusalem without her angels made visible Jerusalem just existing to welcome the soul walker in search of a probable detour towards the premonitory state of repentance looking for breath and light to ride on researcher returned to his task the hoop of a then obsolete croquet game before the mallet of emptiness the promoter of desired encounters those that availability without waiting allows to hatch even during off-peak hours as the crumpled song of rain and mixed colors rises from between the ash trees and the elms in the bright and fragrant garden phrasing of tears in spring at the confluence of sound loads of raging water scraping invisible pebbles pots of giants .
Some water plenty of water assigned to the incessant growl of an animal whisper rustling of a voice against the basalt wall droplets of pearls in tune with a guttural sound clapping hairy hands against the bloody rock.
Arise the monotonous allegiance the continuous beam the stratified complaint of the ecobuages of the city .
The alphabet expresses itself in its dissonances these brothers whose craftsmanship was carried away by the burle towards the valley of permissiveness .
Only the sound of a bell over the stream of water maneuver on call the men of the magnanerie while it's still dark on this winter morning to cross this wooden bridge the clogs striking with their fittings the threshold of the workshop .
Happy event that the arrival of bales of silk bristling with a thousand iridescent threads off the coarse burlap stopped as hesitant to enter the ghoul where the mash of scrap metal associated with the screeching of scratches gurgle smoothing fine textiles . Instant marauding of the boy behind the building quickly picking up the full bag placed on the sticky bench in the locker room time for a leap in the shadows out of the ravine of expectations to get drunk free the beating heart on the stony path outside the promiscuity of the bottom and high hearts bring to the cottage without fire the black streaks of a printed update around her face chestnuts and onions oings .
out of age message spirit-lifting floricultural weary genuflexions on the way to the three crosses between Golgotha and the finitude of Mary .
Only women saints admitted to hold by the arm passing males for a smile riots disappear in the thicket looking for sea buckthorn that they will ooze on the stone of fevers story of getting started without countdown on the shell path .
Only women saints admitted slowly progressing towards love and compassion laden with armfuls of golden broom to the measure of the high barn doors burrowing under their ample skirts the skulls of the dead the loins girded with a cloth si rouge than the rising sun by its iridescent disc evokes the holy chrism of the anointing of Holy Wednesday that of the day makers as long as betting is allowed on saffron suin of master Cornille's gray mare shaken with pleasure at the sight of this flour so white than the powerful movement of the millstone stone against stone makes you fly away according to the trills of the blackbird at dawn of a May morning .
To have you
met fills me with joy, toi, different from me and yet so close .
You accompany me
and calm me when the weather is stormy, black thoughts rise from
my bitter chasms and that my repartee are excessive .
Your firm anger
that one might think feigned are to me the vibrant and saving brainstorm
when touched by a slumber of attention and soul I stammer
vague responses to the risk of novelty .
I love you, without
the shadow of a doubt, that even our joint arrival on another planet does not
could exempt us from expressing our mad desire in the mirror of seeking and
to understand all about what life is .
I admire you
beyond any restrictive consideration, with a willing and broad admiration,
that even the late flight of a partridge in front of our steps could not distract us .
And yet God
knows that I like the red partridges which, with their heavy and flat flight, could
wake up with a saving start the sleeper of the valley that I have so often
tend to be .
In front of our
energy of standing men charged with the possibilities of future realization, the
earth, our field of activity, is so vast, powerful and fragile at the same time,
sensible, loving and receptive, that we even hear the whisper
from the beginning of beginnings .
Your word turned
towards the eternal urgency to state the essence of things allows me to continue
my way, freed from all shackles, towards the clear sowing of my
deepest gardens .
You welcome me
with so much generosity, promptness and accuracy that I do not even have the
time to thank you. As soon as I see you, I'm on the prowl to consume you
with my head and my heart, and as soon as I consume myself, as soon as you give me
penetrate me, then you disappear, so i fund .
you are mother, big
sister, angel and felibrige of my heart for whom the emotion that I feel at your
regard is immediately transformed into “senses” clear and deep in the service
of my commitment of fidelity to your teaching. You, my luminous arrow .
And then I have you free
chosen as my friend when you don't choose your family .
And I would be
always the bow to bend your reiterated thoughts with force as it is
imperative for you that we take them into account. The current state of the world
depends .
Your message gets through.
Your word is queen. The fluidity of your vision marries me. The tracks that you
leave behind, I collect them at the height of my perceptions and
my mental capacities to integrate them for the time of a communion .
Your face is
inscribed in the depths of my soul and as soon as a breath comes to pass,
immediately I get up to take up this mysterious song that during one of our
first meetings I whispered and who has always accompanied me when
I cross your path .
Your gaze signs
the authorities of these places of peace and summons to the vigilance of a
attentive flame of relevance .
If it happens to
lose us some time and find you, no preamble is required
in the first look you give me. You are the, I'm here, corps, soul and
spirit ready for the task before us, this great work woven with warmth
human, intentions of kindness and demands for understanding about our
posture to hold in our troubled times .
And if you go
travel, know that here or elsewhere there will be room for your disciples, for
my brothers and sisters in you, to perpetuate the fire from between the waters and the
skull, and tell us about what still needs to be done .
And since life
is a continuous quest and pilgrimage, you are the pilgrim's bumblebee, the precious stick
which sustains me and with which I calligraph in the dust of the path the
sacred letters of our universal writing .
Wisdom. Word
“wisdom” comes from latin “know”, where also comes from
word “flavor”. Wisdom is the art of appreciating flavor. She
shows a very concrete attitude, very real, and quite far from
elaborate conceptual organization. It's about finding an art of living that
let you taste the flavor of life .
How does this concept of wisdom relate to that, plus occidental,
fromphilosophy ; because philosophy means “love of wisdom”.
In ancient times philosophers were men who were expected to
live by their philosophy that they taught. To philosophize involved a
a way of life which harmonizes thought and life .
And then over the last few centuries, in
West, philosophy has become the art of building systems of
thought, to support them, to defend them and, in “legal problems”,
discussions, to prove their supremacy over others. In classical China, one of
homes of worldly wisdom, it was designed differently ; so we
said that “the wise man is clueless, sans position, without necessity” .
I think a sage is a human being without
particular quality, without a predetermined idea, without standing at
defend, because he wants to remain open to reality, to be fresh and
ready for what happens. It is through this posture that the sage can best
reflect the one who confides in him. Wisdom is the opposite of wisdom.
twitching. She is close to serenity .
The wise “believes”
not ; he has the “he was” .
The “belief” comes from latin
“to believe” and in this family of words we find in particular in
French “credulity”, that is to say a way of giving one's adhesion
to assertions that one is unable to rationally substantiate. Believe
it is to adhere to certain affirmations .
The “he was” comes from latin
“fides” and in the family of words derived from this root there are
Latin “trust”, who gave “trust ” in French. A
man of faith is not primarily a man who believes this or that, but a man
inhabited from within by confidence. Have faith, is to trust
in whatever ultimate reality. We can be inhabited by
confidence and faith without really knowing what is the bottom of the bottom of the real
.
Do not consider the “belief” as
credulity, but as being of another order level of consciousness than the
“he was .”
And on this way, we are always trying to
to do the first step. When we take a step, we expose ourselves to a
imbalance. We accept for a moment to lose the balance of stillness
until a new equilibrium point is found, setting foot on the ground.
When there's nothing more reassuring than standing still, advance one
foot in front of the other, is to take the risk of tripping. It is accepting the
known to go to the unknown, And this, without knowing in advance if this
reserve joy and trial. To him who gets up and walks, will open before him a
vast space, because depending on the course he sets – whether it is
truth, reality or wisdom – the “true walker” can only go from
beginning to beginning with beginnings that have no end.
The “true walker” is a man of this
world. He cannot deviate from the commitment which at the turn of his life course
will summon him to enter into a story, to subscribe to what has been done
or not yet done before him and that he senses that it must be done. He will need
to take part. He will have to incarnate to help transform the world.
The “true walker” also seems to
out of the world. He is in himself, for himself, the object of its realization
through an internal route. He is in direct contact with what is beyond him and
inexorably advances towards the unnameable and the nameless. He gives and receives as
of passing time and the encounters it makes without particularly lending
pay attention to the consequences of their actions. It is“presence” to what is. He is in
trust .
The “true walker” in search of his
achievement must overcome the contradiction between“l’engagement” and“interiority” in order to be at
gates of the temple where “wisdom” and “awareness” are at the
both differentiated and reunited. At this point in his journey, by a reversal
perspective driven by faith, it can exceed the level of reality beyond
from which our logic no longer works. In effect, what in our world
usual seems inappropriate, can appear on the contrary in consonance, when
we change register, like a new level of reality .
There is no opposition between the search for
interiority and engagement in the life of the world. One is almost
condition for the other to be truly effective. The one who would stay
almost always locked in on itself in a sort of bottomless quest
end up drying out on the vine because it will lack food from the
relationship with all the beings around him. And whoever would engage in
transformation of the world without taking the time to return to its interiority
deep, this one after a while will be able to scatter, crumble, to
disperse, se chosifier .
Il est admis que c’est seulement par l’expérience personnelle que nous pouvons accéder à un peu plus de connaissance .
Put in a
jar all the substitute teachings only lead to subjecting to the test of
the brine the purity of the quest in its foreplay ; things are getting hot, it burns
same, but this researcher of dark waters will never reach maturity .
Tu n’attesteras pas de ton appartenance à quoi que ce soit, une joie illusoire pouvant se glisser entre ta parole et l’objet de ta recherche .
really be you. Crossing the ford, there will be a test. Alors ne te raconte pas d’histoire. Et même, do not say anything. Keep silent. See, and you will be seen .
Si viens à passer le voyageur aux sept chameaux chargés de tapis, of silks, de fourrures de parfums et de pierres précieuses, et que celui-ci veuille acheter tes vieilles chaussures toutes racornies, c’est que ces chaussures n’ont pas toujours été les tiennes et qu’un autre les portera .
You are then left
the path, and be his obliged .
Ne sois plus la victime de ta croyance à être sur le “bon” way. Les grandes choses que nous puissions voir le seront par l’entremise des proches personnes qui t’entourent. Your wife, your man, your children, your friends, your neighbors, te convoqueront à cesser d’être la victime de l’autre pour t’engager sur la voie de n’attendre rien .
I am part of this brotherhood of gardeners from
creation .
I know that you have to progress with your bare hands,
work in the moment, in obedience to what is, to listen, and no
don't wear high-performance tools .
And then I discovered that nature speaks, and
listening to it, I discovered the inner silence of communion, of this
union of oneself with the other, that the other is a mineral, a plant, a being
animal or human, or a natural or cosmic entity greater than oneself
.
Certainly nature does not speak French or
Japanese, nor a symbolic language, but it is expressed by
“resonance”. We put ourselves in a waiting position without waiting, of
pray, of contemplation and the cherry tree tells you a story, and the ash,
another story, and beech yet another story .
with Christians, at Easter, we touch the mystery
of death : if there is no death, there is no resurrection. If I bring
my granddaughter see the rotting almond, I don't tell him :
“Look at the rotting almond”, more : “Looked
the almond tree being born”. For the almond, it is certainly a
terrible time, but this almond gives life. It's letting go,
l'abandon, trust .
Trees give us growth .
One day while walking, I passed an apple tree,
with at its base a small apple tree no higher than three apples in the process of
to push . I looked up and saw a rotten apple hanging from the apple tree. I
understood then that there were two deaths. This apple loved its mama so much
that she did not want to cut the umbilical cord and remained clinging to the
branch where it rotted without giving life. another apple, elle, fell.
She took the risk of looking elsewhere and cutting the umbilical cord is
fell to the ground ; She is dead, but from this death was born an apple tree .
Nature teaches us that there are jumps, deaths, pruning, breaks in rhythm, a necessary obedience to be done with confidence in order to find the first act, the creative act .
