I’ve heard—a
Traveler was moving through the thirty immigration lines at the European
borders with two companions which were standing in local and less occupied
lines. He felt at ease, but he still had
his conditioning about him as he
protected every inch of the “space” around him from those seeking an advantage
in the sea of foreign bodies. “This is
ridiculous,” he thought, but what could he do?
He must wait his turn along with the others which made, space itself, a
commodity and an advantage for advancement.
So he thought. It all came to a
head when a Stranger stepped across his imaginary “space line”; his reaction
was immediate. First, arose in him the
inner insult, then he spat the verbal confrontation. It was short.
“Hey!?” He remarked. The Intruder
received the message and the Traveler felt truly
in the right of this social rule—doesn’t every person on earth adhere to
this rule? Right?...You don’t step into
or in front of another’s space. So he
thought. To his surprise, the Intruder grinned
while taking one courteous step out of the Travelers "space". Then came the final gesture—he held out his
right arm which pointed to the space as if to say “Pass friend, here is your
space back.” He never spoke a word as the
message dug deep inside and pounded repeatedly at the Traveler’s pettiness and
selfish behavior. And for his trouble,
he now stood just inches in front of the Intruder, silently embarrassed and
unable to apologize, but he learned a lasting lesson that day, enough so that he
shed his craving for external “space” for an awareness and understanding I now share
with you. Please, share your space.
Saturday, May 3, 2014
Personal Space#94

The Masters of Classic Literary Fiction had to start somewhere.
Espacio Personal#94
He oído - un Viajero se movía a través de las líneas de inmigración treinta en las fronteras de Europa con dos compañeros que estaban de pie en las líneas locales y menos ocupados. Se sentía a gusto, pero aún tenía su condicionamiento de él como él protegió cada centímetro del "espacio " a su alrededor desde los que buscan una ventaja en el mar de cuerpos extraños. "Esto es ridículo", pensó, pero ¿qué podía hacer ? Él debe esperar su turno junto con los otros que hicieron , el espacio mismo , una mercancía y una ventaja para el adelanto. Así que pensó. Todo llegó a un punto crítico cuando un extraño se acercó a través de su imaginaria "línea espacio "; su reacción fue inmediata. En primer lugar, surgió en él el insulto interno, entonces escupió el enfrentamiento verbal. Fue breve . " Hey! ? ", Comentó. El intruso ha recibido el mensaje y sintió el viajero verdaderamente en la derecha de esta regla -no social de cada persona en la tierra se adhieren a esta regla? ¿Cierto? ... Usted no entras en o delante de otro de espacio. Así que pensó. Para su sorpresa, el Intruso sonrió mientras está tomando un paso cortés sin espacio de los Viajeros " . Luego vino la final gesto - le tendió el brazo derecho que señalaba al espacio como si dijera: "Pasa amigo, aquí es su espacio de nuevo . " Nunca habló una palabra como el mensaje cavó profundamente dentro y golpeó varias veces en la mezquindad del Viajero y el comportamiento egoísta. Y por su trabajo , ahora se encontraba a unos centímetros por delante del Intruder , silencio incómodo e incapaz de disculparse, pero aprendió una lección duradera de ese día , lo suficiente para que él derramó su ansia de " espacio " externo para una toma de conciencia y la comprensión de que ahora compartir con ustedes. Por favor , comparta su espacio.

The Masters of Classic Literary Fiction had to start somewhere.
Persönliche Raum#94
Ich habe gehört, ein - Reisenden wurde durch die Einwanderung dreißig Zeilen bewegen an den europäischen Grenzen mit zwei Begleitern , die in lokalen und weniger besetzten Linien standen. Er fühlte sich wohl , aber er hatte immer noch seine Anlage über ihn, als er geschützt jeden Zentimeter der "Raum" um ihn von denjenigen einen Vorteil in dem Meer von Fremdkörpern. "Das ist lächerlich", dachte er, aber was konnte er tun ? Er muss seinen Zug mit den anderen, die warten entlang gemacht , der Raum selbst , eine Ware und ein Vorteil für die Weiterentwicklung . So dachte er. Es kam zu einem Kopf , wenn ein Fremder trat über seine imaginären " Raum-Linie " ; seine Reaktion kam sofort. Zunächst entstand in ihm die innere Beleidigung , dann spuckte er die verbale Konfrontation. Es war kurz. " Hey! " Er bemerkte . The Intruder erhielt die Nachricht und die Reisenden fühlte mich wirklich in die richtige dieser sozialen Regel -- doch macht jeder Mensch auf der Erde, um diese Regel halten ? Richtig? ... Sie nicht in oder vor einer anderen Raumfahrt Schritt . So dachte er. Zu seiner Überraschung grinste der Intruder während der Einnahme ein höflich Schritt aus der Reise Raum " . Dann kam die letzte Geste , er streckte seinen rechten Arm, der in den Raum zeigte , als wolle er sagen: " Pass Freund , hier ist Ihr Platz zurück . " Er sprach ein Wort nie als die Nachricht grub tief innen und schlug mehrmals auf des Reisenden Kleinlichkeit und egoistisches Verhalten . Und für seine Mühe , jetzt stand er nur wenige Zentimeter vor der Intruder , still verlegen und nicht in der Lage , sich zu entschuldigen , aber er lernte einen bleibenden Unterricht an diesem Tag, genug, so dass er vergossen sein Verlangen für externe "Raum" für ein Bewusstsein und Verständnis ich jetzt mit Ihnen teilen . Bitte teilen Sie Ihren Raum.

The Masters of Classic Literary Fiction had to start somewhere.
Friday, May 2, 2014
"Entschuldigen Sie mich"#93
Ich habe gehört , ein Mann geht einkaufen , um seinen Bauch zu ernähren. Was könnte schief gehen? Als er die Einrichtung betritt , sieht er eine Frau, die mit dem Rücken zu ihm vor den Handkarren . Er würde gerne ein paar Dinge , die er benötigt, zu tragen. Daher hat er keine andere Wahl, als um die Art und traditionellen Worten auszusprechen "Entschuldigen Sie . " Die Worte schwebten aus seiner Kehle , als ob in Songs. Trotzdem hatte er nicht die Erwartung , was er war, zu erhalten. Er hörte : "Sie konnte nicht warten ", sagte sie gereizt . Seine Antwort war jedoch nicht in der Art , weil die Unmittelbarkeit des Bewusstseins war da, halten ihn Sound , wachsam und geerdet , da nur feste Wurzeln Angebotsabgabe kann . Sie starrte ihn an , als wolle er diesen Akt der schieren Grobheit zu begreifen. Wie kann er es wagen zu sagen , "Entschuldigung " in einem so heißen geleitet Mode. Er wusste, dass eine Reaktion muss ausgewiesen werden , es sei " wichtig" dachte er, als er Schritte und bückt sich , um einen Korb zu sammeln. Als er sich aufrichtet blickte er und spricht herzlich , " Mame , hatte ich keine Ahnung, wie lange Sie im Begriff waren , dort zu sein ", und er zog weiter. Sie schwieg mit der Wahrheit. Sie sahen sich durch die Gänge , als sie eingekauft , aber die Begegnung war, obwohl er gerne würde ich ihr auf Grund geben , warum sie so reagiert , aber er bereits wusste. Vielleicht gab es Dinge im Kopf zu dieser Instanz oder eine beliebige Anzahl von Ablenkungen , die soziale Belastung Fragment und unseren Geist , Körper, Leben und Handeln . Wir müssen an unsere aufmerksamen Ausdrücke und Reaktionen sein, denn wir sind nicht ganz oder geerdet -wir einfach nicht verwurzelt waren daher instabil und wird in der Art reagieren. Lassen Sie sich nicht " Entschuldigung" zu einer Entschuldigung nicht auf die Schaffung Sie sind.

The Masters of Classic Literary Fiction had to start somewhere.
Excuse Me#93
I’ve heard—a man goes
shopping to feed his belly. What could
go wrong? As he enters the
establishment, he sees a woman standing with her back to him in front of the
hand-carts. He would like one to carry
the few things he will need. Therefore,
he has no other choice but to utter the kind and traditional words, “Excuse
me.” The words floated out of his throat
as if in song. Still, he had not the
expectation of what he was to receive.
He heard, “You couldn’t wait!”
She said with irritation. His
response, however, was not in kind because the immediateness of awareness was there, keeping him sound, alert and
grounded as only firm roots can tender.
She stared at him as if trying to comprehend this act of sheer
rudeness. How dare he say, “Excuse me”
in such a hot headed fashion. He knew a
response must be expelled, it was “important” he thought as he steps and stoops
to gather a cart. As he straightens up
he glanced and utters warmly, “Mame, I had no idea how long you were going to
be there,” and he moved on. She was
silent with the truth. They saw each
other around the aisles as they shopped, but the encounter was over, although,
he would’ve liked her to give reason why she reacted so, but he already knew. Perhaps there were things on her mind at that
instance or any number of social distractions which fragment and burden our
minds, body, lives and actions. We must be
observant to our expressions and reactions because we are not whole or
grounded—we’re simply not rooted, therefore, were unstable and will react in
kind. Don’t let “excuse me” become an
excuse not to be the creation you are.

The Masters of Classic Literary Fiction had to start somewhere.
Thursday, May 1, 2014
When am I Unaware?#92
Let’s say you’ve done
something which has affected someone so much that they call you “stupid.” Oh, great, how will you go on? You’re stupid and they really mean it. The conditioned
response would be to call them the same in return, but then what? Who is teaching whom? Is there a better and a worse one in this
exchange? Well, in fact, nothing has
happened at all. One might as well talk
to the wall—two rocks are calling the other “hard headed.”
Now, suppose one is
called “stupid” and the reply is, “But
when am I ever unaware?” What then
does the accuser say?...Generally, they would say, “What? What do you mean by that?” It’s
a general reply, but more importantly, you now have their attention, and now
you are able to help them because in that instance
awareness takes place. Don’t waist
this moment. Still, that doesn’t mean
the individual is seeking awareness so we must be patient if the reply is,
“What the hell are you talking about??” Yes?
One could reply with, “I’m talking about whatever you’re not aware of.” But they don’t understand you in the first
place so don’t continue on confusing them; the moment is ripe to teach them
because we don’t want them to run, right?
Teach without teaching. Still,
you have derailed them with this response, slowed their momentum to a crawl.
The statement, “When am I ever unaware?” is quite a brilliant, yet unegotistical thing
to say because it intelligently, calmly engages a depth of human conditioning which
immediately eliminates the course which,
thereby, leads to stupidity or any false act. Do you see the harsh irony here? How does one become “stupid” when one is aware?
You see? It’s like “night” trying
to defeat “day”. How subtle—try it and
watch!

The Masters of Classic Literary Fiction had to start somewhere.
Wednesday, April 30, 2014
What of a Fly?#90
Let us make a comparison--you and a fly?
Wait! We are not different, you
know, merely creatures on a rock. Only
the ego “thinks” it’s different because it is unable to see past itself. Are you better or different in anyway, shape
or form? Did you say “yes”? Is your actions as crisp as a fly’s majestry
in the air? Is your vision in life as one in all directions? Are you light in your “thinking,” able to
sneak in an out of trouble like a whisper?
What of the fly?
Still, can a fly do what you do? Is
what we do of any necessity? Think on that for a spell. Is what we do of any real earthly importance? Do you see?
Is what conditioned humans do
on a daily collective basis without conflict?
Is making and having a baby without conflict?
What of the fly?
It has a purpose and goes about its business without a prying eye,
without fuss. Can we be so fortunate in
our actions—thinking how to do this and that as the results rip and tear
through the fabric of society? Do we see
in all directions as one or do we
just divide in all directions? Don’t we generally divide because of those desire-filled directions?
Don’t we divide based on how and which way to go in life?
What of the fly?
Well, whatever it does, it does so without conflict or quarrel, and all
without knowing or caring that it’s life is only weeks long….And what of us on
this accord?
How then…do we fly?

The Masters of Classic Literary Fiction had to start somewhere.
Tuesday, April 29, 2014
When "I" am not there#86
If the struggles and conflicts of life have never made you question our
behavior and survival then you wouldn’t be reading this. You have to be aware at some level of consciousness to be here now. That is, you are serious about our struggles
and how they are created and are interested in becoming more than what you
think you are. There is no reason to
keep reading if you’ve never questioned awareness, conflict, social unrest and
so forth. Because who can talk to a
doctor who has never studied medicine? What’s the point in engaging them on their
terms without study? The same with
awareness—this conversation is without merit without self study. So you are reading this—good. Then you already understand the title-work,
what that entitles. You understand the duality within. Yes?
There are two entities struggling for dominance in the one body—one is
confused and afraid, the other is the intelligence
waiting to be free again. So what
happens when “I” am not there? 1.) When “I” isn’t busy doing what it pleases,
seeking pleasure, power, addictions and controlling this and that. 2.) When the actions of “me” are selfishly putting someone else’s needs second, third and
forth. 3.) When everything that is “mine” is being violently protected,
fought over and becoming more important than anyone else, so much so that the “I” would inflict pain. You see this, don’t you? You’re reading this and there is a reaction
within you as you make up your mind if you accept or reject this work. You already know or see it taking place,
don’t you? What is happening now that
“you” are not there? Are you aware of it
clearly? The conclusions you gather as
the last period is struck will unveil if “you” were in the way or not.
Were “you” in the way of the clarity and intelligence or were you
contemplating if what is written has valor, a point, is silly, non-sense and so
forth? Is there silence as you read, no
movement at all? Or is there merely
conclusion, a result, a decision of right and wrong or unfamiliarity? You see?
So what happens when “we” are not there?...The “decision” maker or he with
a name? No need for me to go on and on,
but when “we” are not there facing the world, that world ceases to rule our
actions. You see? When “I” am not there…duality is not.

The Masters of Classic Literary Fiction had to start somewhere.
Monday, April 28, 2014
A Borrowed Life#87
You have borrowed a cup from someone, and now you wield it as if it was
yours, but it is not. Still, what is it
to live a borrowed life?
Do you see this? First, it is not
yours, you didn’t build it, create it, mold it, give birth to it. Nothing.
You did nothing to bring it into existence. Yes?
What you did was only receive it?
And now that you have received it, you live it as if it were yours. Do you not use the cup for drink or lend as
you will? Who will know? Who will question what you do with the
cup?...As you live, who will question it?
All that you are and think you’re going to be is borrowed. Have you looked at
it? Have you ever question where “you” came from—not physically, but in
the mind; this thing that calls itself “me”, “mine,” and “I”? Everything within you is borrowed from
outside of yourself. What is your name
and who gave it to you? Are they not
from your friends, family, knowledge, desires and all that? Have you ever questioned where it came
from? Is it not borrowed from outside of you? Is it not merely handed to you from an
outside entity; parents, friends, history and authority? This is merely the knowledge that has built “you” into the image you think is alive
and functioning in the world. Yet,
living a “borrowed life” is a fearful
one. We become fearful with the unfamiliar as we try to relate to this borrowed
thing. We say, ‘How do I do this and
that with it—it is unfamiliar?’ There
are so many questions and confusion with borrowing. But what happens when life isn’t borrowed? When it rises
within you? Then what? You see?
Where is the fear in our living when no
one gives you anything and when you are born with it and “it” is complete
and whole? Yes, when we are born, and there is nothing to borrow,
where then is the confusion, fear and unfamiliarity? What is borrowed? Nothing, for there is only calmness, vitality
and connection.

The Masters of Classic Literary Fiction had to start somewhere.
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