The Musings of a Manic

"Three objects, three poisons, and lots of misery" or "Three objects, three poisons, and three seeds of confusion, bewilderment​ and pain." So there are three things, which in the slogan are called three objects.   One object is what we find pleasant, another is what we find unpleasant, and a third is what we are neutral about.  If it's pleasant, it triggers ignorance.  Craving, aversion, and ignorance are the three poisons. There's nothing really wrong with passion or aggression or ignorance, except that we take it so personally and therefore waste all that juicy stuff.  The peacock eats poison and that's what makes the colors of its tail so brilliant.  That's the traditional image for this practice, that the poison becomes the source of great beauty and joy; poison becomes medicine. Pema Choldron

August is the heavy grapes in the vineyard, and the lacy leaf where the Japanese beetle feasted.  August is a hastening sun, earlier to bed and later to rise.  August is summer thinking of the cut and color of her autumn costume.

At summer a tree has spread it's green tiers of foliage outside Your window, spray on spray of Airy leaves that set the sun And shade to dancing on your floor. Through the long summer You came to take it for granted. And almost ceased to see it.

Hinduism taught that the cycle was neverending but Buddhists believed that the repetitive suffering experienced in reincarnation after reincarnation could be avoided by the attainment of nirvana. Nirvana has been variously defined.   Find union with supreme soul of the universe was one intellectualized definition.   Another, with wider appeal, was that nirvana is everlasting, indescribable peace, a state of eternal bliss.

Behind the red lacquered gates, Wine is left to sour, meat to rot Outside these gates lie the bones Of the frozen and the starved. The flourishing and the withered Are just a foot apart----- In words my heart do ponder on it. Tu Fu

The sun is in the East That beauty is a lady She is in my house, In my house. She approaches me ritually          And I accept her. The moon is in the East That beauty is a lady She is in my bedroom In my bedroom She approaches me ritually and            I make off with her. Shih Ching

Horses for ye, and brown Greek manuscripts, And mistresses with great smooth marbly limbs. --Robert Browning

Don't know where you are But you're my lucky star My moon 🌚 at night through the trees The sun 🌞 beaming right down upon me When I dream of you I'm free Letting me be at peace You could cure all my disease Just lay your hands on me One thing I know is You are gorgeous And if you don't expect too much I can show you what I'm made of Which is splendor and youth and beauty and truth Kiss me you fool! I'm only dreaming Of you My fantasies are a spiral of ecstasy I love you, I think you should know... Just you and me. 💗

I wake and find myself in the woods, far from the castle. The train hurtles through lonely Louisiana at night... When I look back, there is a blind spot in the car. It is some bit of my father I keep not seeing. I cannot remember years of my childhood. Some parts of me I cannot find now... Is there enough left of me now to be honest? How much I am drawn toward my parents!   I walk back and forth, looking to the old landing.  Night frogs give out the croak of the planet turning. Robert Bly

Heavenly father full of grace, bless my boyfriends happy face.  Bless his hair that sometimes curls, keep him away from other girls. Bless his hands that are so strong, Lord keep them where they belong.  Bless his eyes that tend to roam, keep them from seeing what isn't shown.  Bless the boy I hope to kiss, bless the boy I always miss.  Bless the boy i hope to marry, bless the children I hope to carry.  If he reads this prayer of mine, bless the thoughts that enter his mind. I found this photocopied and folded in an envelope full of my mothers stuff, in my Grandmothers' handwriting. Reading this, I get a real sense of innocence permeated by and underlying possessiveness that comes from being madly in love.  💘  theres the sense of yearning and longing.  You can tell times have changed since this poem was wrote but the sentiment is the same.

Layering, the art of piling garmet upon garmet, and also aided a rich look.  Layering savvy consisted of double blouses, multiple sweaters of varying lengths, pants under tunic dresses, jumpers over dresses, double coats (a paper thin rain shell over a warm wool knit, or fur version), hoods under hats, and shawls over everything.  The triangular scarf was the ultimate layer. Neutral colors from nature--beige, sage, and blush--in one-color combinations played up the luxurious textures.  The most vital color was charcoal gray and pale gray, with ovetones of violet and blue.  Also prominent were charcoal navy, loden green, wine red, winter red, and clear scarlet.  Squishy hats, crushed boots, pouch bags. Ombre-shaded sunglasses, and polished wood, silver, and gold jewelry completed the picture. Lingerie evening dresses in peach, pink, ivory, or cafe au lait struck a note of pampered, indolent femininity of bygone days.  Melon pink silk robes and floating pajamas in shades of the Jazz Age

Like the sweet apple which reddens upon the topmost bough, A-top on the topmost twig, -----which the pluckers forgot somehow, ----- Forget it not, nay, but got it not, for none could get it till now.  A single blossoming, miraculously dewy still, fresh music from beyond the seas of time.

In the evening, there's warmth to an August Moon and the fullness of midsummer.  It is a generous moon that lights the green hills with a kind of ripening-apple-glow.  There is a mellowness about a moon lit night in August that is a sweet antidote for the cicada heat and the dusty glare of the sun. 

The quiet ponds scummed over now and full of algae, and one gets then feeling that anything can happen in such waters, any kind of life arise from them.  Here, in the dead heat of lot summer, is  the marshy margin and primordial ooze, and he who approaches it might be walking backward in time toward remote beginnings.

Here I am in a strange place Where everyone is trying to save face But in the space Between here and there Is a California Eden Hard to find On your path through life It's divine And you may need help If you can't escape your hell But they're there And, there there... You'll be alright Let me kiss you goodnight Tuck you in so you can dream Of the California Eden.

A pence for your thoughts Sing me another song One about the moonbeams and sunrays Of everyday and beyond And I'll sing along Because you know just what I want To hear Of course I'm not the only one Yet you have a way Of making me feel Alone in the thought With only you And no one else.

For the love Of all religions Of all the stars in the sky There's nothing I long for more Then to look deep into your soul And be transfixed by your eyes You're my knight in shining armor But the prince I dream of each night Soon to be a king And I'm soon to be his wife Queen upon the throne I wear a gilded crown But I do love you Don't even forget that.

Sleeping under silver stars A canopy 100 feet high Waking to the humid and flowering air Very little sunlight Where will the day take us? The time is to explore Tree frogs, anole lizards and chameleons Butterfly orchids and passion flower Woody vines 200 feet long Plants growing on rotting logs Here in the rainforest Life just beautifully belongs.

Single is the race, single/of man and gods;/From a single mother we both drew breath.--Pindor To think is the greatest virtue and wisdom consists of speaking what is true and acting in obedience to nature.  --Herachitus For a man health is the first and best possession,/Second best to be born with shapely beauty,/ And the third is wealth honestly won,/ Fourth are the days of youth spent in delight with friends. '-Attic Drinking Song That i am mortal I know   And do confess My span of the day:       But when I gaze upon The thousandfold circling  Gyre of the stars No longer do I walk the earth              But rise. The peer of God himself to take       My fill And the ambrosial banquet of The undying. --Ptolomy

Bright shines the moonlight at the foot of my bed Perhaps reflected from frost on the ground. Lifting my head I gaze at the bright moon Bowing my head I think of my family back home. Yang Kuie-fei

Being preoccupied with our self-image is like being deaf and blind.  It's like standing in the middle of a vast field of wildflowers with a black hood over our heads,.  It's like coming upon a tree of singing birds while wearing earplugs. There's so much resentment and so much resistance to life in all nations, it's like a plague that's gotten out of control and is poisoning the atmosphere of the world.  At this point it might be wise to wonder about these things and begin to get the knack of loving -kindness. When the rivers and air are polluted, when families and nations are at war, when homeless wanderers fill the highways these are traditional sings of a dark age.  Another is that people become poisoned by self doubt and become cowards. Practicing loving-kindness toward ourselves seems as good way as any start illuminating the darkness of difficult times.

The Navajo teach their children that every morning when the sun comes up, it's a brand new sun.  It's born each morning, it lives for the duration of one day, and in the evening it passes on, never to return again.  As soon as the children are old enough to understand, the adults take them out at dawn and they say "The sun has only one day.  You must live this day in a good way, so that the sun wouldn't have wasted precious time."  Acknowledging the preciousness of each day is a good way to live, a good way to reconnect\with our basic joy.