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Saturday, June 23, 2012

La cithare du bonheur-Conte sufi/une histoire inspirante

Posted on 5:49 AM by Unknown

Artist Robert Pegman

La cithare du bonheur

C'était un homme droit et sincère qui cherchait le chemin du bonheur, qui cherchait le chemin de la vérité. Il alla un jour trouver un vénérable maître soufi dont on lui avait asuré qu'il pourrait les lui indiquer.
Celui-ci l'accueillit aimablement devant sa tente et, après lui avoir servi le thé à la menthe, lui révéla l'itinéraire tant attendu :
« C'est loin d'ici, certes, mais tu ne peux te tromper : au coeur du village que je t'ai décrit, tu trouveras trois échoppes. Là te sera révélé le secret du bonheur et de la vérité. »

La route fut longue. Le chercheur d'absolu passa maints cols et rivières. Jusqu'à ce qu'il arrive en vue du village dont son coeur lui dit très fort :
« C'est là le lieu ! Oui, c'est là ! » Hélas ! Dans chacune des trois boutiques il ne trouva comme marchandises que rouleaux de fils de fer dans l'une, morceaux de bois dans l'autre et pièces éparses de métal dans le troisième. Las et découragé, il sortit du village pour trouver quelque repos dans une clairière voisine.

La nuit venait de tomber. La lune remplissait la clairière d'une douce lumière. Lorsque tout à coup se fit entendre une mélodie sublime. De quel instrument provenait-elle donc ? Il se dressa tout net et avança en direction du musicien.
Lorsque, stupéfaction, il découvrit que l'instrument céleste était une cithare faite de morceaux de bois, des pièces de métal et des fils d'acier qu'il venait de voir en vente dans les trois échoppes du village.

A cet instant, il connut l'éveil. Et il comprit que le bonheur est fait de la synthèse de tout ce qui nous est déjà donné, mais que notre tâche d'hommes intérieurs est d'assembler tous ces éléments dans l'harmonie.


Les quatre saisons
Source inconnue

Il était une fois un homme, père de 4 fils. Il voulait apprendre à ses 4 fils de ne point juger précipitemment. Pour cela il les envoya faire chacun faire une enquête personnelle, ils devaient se rendre à une distance lointaine et aller chacun observer un poirier. Le premier fils partait en hiver, le second au printemps, le troisième en été et le benjamin en automne.

Quand tous furent partis et revenus, il les rassembla et leur demanda de lui décrire ce qu'ils avaient vus.
Le premier fils dit que l'arbre était affreux, plié et les branches tordus.

Le second dit, "non, il était couvert de pousses vertes et plein de promesses".

Le troisième n'était pas d'accord et dit "il était couvert de fleurs qui sentait si agréable et je le trouvais majestueux, c'était l'arbre le plus gracieux que j'avais jamais vu".

Le benjamin secoua sa tête pour bien marquer son désapprobation en disant que les fruits étaient tous murs, lourds de leur jus et plein de promesses.

Le brave homme leur dit alors, "mes fils vous avez tous raison et oui, vous avez tous été à une saison différente et donc chacun a vu seulement une saison dans la vie de l'arbre".

Il leur dit aussi qu'ils ne pouvaient pas juger un arbre ni un être humain en seulement une saison et que l'essence de ce qu'ils sont en réalité ne peut être jugée en seulement une petite partie de vie, car il y a les joies, les peines, les regrets, etc, et qu'ils peuvent seulement être jugé tout à la fin de leur existence.
Si tu abandonnes en hiver alors tu manques inévitablement la promesse du printemps, la beauté de l'été et l'accomplissement de l'automne.

Ne laissez pas le chagrin d'une saison détruire toute la joie de tout ce qui est encore à venir.
Ne jugez pas la vie à cause d'un passage difficile. Persévérez et n'évitez pas les chemins difficiles qui se présentent à vous et soyez-en sûrs l'avenir est plein de promesses car tout change éternellement.

Vit simplement, aime généreusement, prends soin de toi et des autres grandement. Parles poliment et gentiment et laisse le reste à Dieu . Le bonheur te garde doux et en beauté, les expériences te rendent fort et les larmes te gardent humain. Les échecs préservent ton humilité et les succès te font briller.

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Posted in French poems | No comments

Friday, June 22, 2012

Definición del amor;Soneto amoroso de Francisco de Quevedo/ Poesías Románticas

Posted on 12:16 PM by Unknown
Jeffrey T. Larson Art

Definición del amor
Francisco de Quevedo
Es hielo abrasador, es fuego helado,
es herida que duele y no se siente,
es un soñado bien, un mal presente,
es un breve descanso muy cansado.
Es un descuido que nos da cuidado,
un cobarde con nombre de valiente,
un andar solitario entre la gente,
un amar solamente ser amado.
Es una libertad encarcelada,
que dura hasta el postrero paroxismo;
enfermedad que crece si es curada.
Éste es el niño Amor, éste es su abismo.
¿Mirad cuál amistad tendrá con nada
el que en todo es contrario de sí mismo!

Soneto amoroso
Francisco de Quevedo

A fugitivas sombras doy abrazos;
en los sueños se cansa el alma mía;
paso luchando a solas noche y día
con un trasgo que traigo entre mis brazos.

Cuando le quiero más ceñir con lazos,
y viendo mi sudor, se me desvía,
vuelvo con nueva fuerza a mi porfía,
y temas con amor me hacen pedazos.

Voyme a vengar en una imagen vana
que no se aparta de los ojos míos;
búrlame, y de burlarme corre ufana.

Empiézola a seguir, fáltanme bríos;
y como de alcanzarla tengo gana,
hago correr tras ella el llanto en ríos.

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Posted in Painting and fine art, Spanish poems | No comments

Insightful quotes on Time

Posted on 8:06 AM by Unknown
Time is a dream ... a destroying dream;
It lays great cities in dust, it fills the seas;
It covers the face of beauty, and tumbles walls.
CONRAD AIKEN

The universe may be timeless, but if you imagine breaking it into pieces, some of the pieces can serve as clocks for the others. Time emerges from timelessness. We perceive time because we are, by our very nature, one of those pieces.
CRAIG CALLENDER

We are the fools of Time and Terror:
DaysSteal on us, and steal from us; yet we live,
Loathing our life, and dreading still to die.
LORD BYRON

Day by day Time rolls the scroll of Life,
Yet man heeds not in worldly strife
The vanished years, till Death demands his claim--
The mound-lines of the clay that mark his name.
HARRIET MAXWELL CONVERSE

We grasp at Time, but cannot hold
One minute of his treasured hour;
He tarries not, though oft we pray
That he will rest in youth's bright bower.
ARDELIA COTTON BARTON

Old Time, in whose banks we deposit our notes
Is a miser who always wants guineas for groats;
He keeps all his customers still in arrears
By lending them minutes and charging them years.
Oliver Wendell Holmes

Men wrongly lament the flight of time, blaming it for being too swift; they do not perceive that its passage is sufficiently long, but a good memory, which nature has given to us, causes things long past to seem present.
LEONARDO DA VINCI

There is a balance, a kind of standoff between the time continuum and the human entity, our frail bundle of soma and psyche. We eventually succumb to time, it's true, but time depends on us. We carry it in our muscles and genes, pass it on to the next set of time-factoring creatures, our brown-eyed daughters and jug-eared sons, or how would the world keep going. Never mind the time theorists, the cesium devices that measure the life and death of the smallest silvery trillionth of a second.... We were the only crucial clocks, our minds and bodies, way stations for the distribution of time.
DON DELILLO

Time, the cradle of hope.... Wisdom walks before it, opportunity with it, and repentance behind it: he that has made it his friend will have little to fear from his enemies, but he that has made it his enemy will have little to hope from his friends.
Charles Caleb Colton

How rapidly time urges his flight; sometimes as a relentless, unsparing destroyer; but oftener as a swift-winged and beautiful angel; changing, yet not taking away this world's blessings: making our past sorrows look dim in the distance; opening many flowers of pleasure on our way, and gradually ripening our souls for the great eternity.
WILLIAM CHAMBERS

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Posted in Inspirational pictures, Inspirational quotes, Philosophy and Ethics poems and quotes | No comments

Love ,peace and hope quotes by Swami Vivekananda;Sarojini Naidu

Posted on 6:52 AM by Unknown
Paul Hoecker Art

All love is expansion, all selfishness is contraction.
Love is therefore the only law of life.
He who loves lives, he who is selfish is dying.
Therefore love for love's sake,
because it is law of life, just as you breathe to live.
Swami Vivekananda

Once in the dream of a night I stood
Lone in the light of a magical wood,
Soul-deep in visions that poppy-like sprang;
And spirits of Truth were the birds that sang,
And spirits of Love were the stars that glowed,
And spirits of Peace were the streams that flowed
In that magical wood in the land of sleep.
Excerpt from Song of a Dream
Sarojini Naidu

Shall hope prevail where clamorous hate is rife,
Shall sweet love prosper or high dreams have place
Amid the tumult of reverberant strife
'Twixt ancient creeds, 'twixt race and ancient race,
That mars the grave, glad purposes of life,
Leaving no refuge save thy succoring face?
Sarojini Naidu

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Posted in Hope poems and quotes, Inspirational quotes, Love quotes, Painting and fine art, Peace quotes and poems | No comments

Thursday, June 21, 2012

Pretty Words by Elinor Wylie

Posted on 9:09 AM by Unknown

Eugene von Blass Art

Pretty Words
Elinor Wylie

Poets make pets of pretty, docile words:
I love smooth words, like gold-enamelled fish
Which circle slowly with a silken swish,
And tender ones, like downy-feathered birds:
Words shy and dappled, deep-eyed deer in herds,
Come to my hand, and playful if I wish,
Or purring softly at a silver dish,
Blue Persian kittens fed on cream and curds.

I love bright words, words up and singing early;
Words that are luminous in the dark, and sing;
Warm lazy words, white cattle under trees;
I love words opalescent, cool, and pearly,
Like midsummer moths, and honied words like bees,
Gilded and sticky, with a little sting.

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Posted in Beauty poems and quotes, English poems, Inspirational and motivational poems, Painting and fine art | No comments

I See You Still by Paul Verlaine

Posted on 8:47 AM by Unknown

Pino Daeni Art

I See You Still
by Paul Verlaine
(1844-1896)
translated by Gertrude Hall
I see you still! Dressed in a summer dress,
Yellow and white, bestrewn with curtain-flowers;
But you had lost the glistening laughingness
Of our delirious former loving hours.

The eldest daughter and the little wife
Spoke plainly in your bearing's least detail--
Already 'twas, alas! our altered life
That stared me from behind your dotted veil.

Forgiven be! And with no little pride
I treasure up--and you, no doubt, see why--
Remembrance of the lightning to one side
That used to flash from your indignant eye!

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Posted in Love poems, Painting and fine art, Woman poems and quotes | No comments

Wednesday, June 20, 2012

A Brave and Startling Truth by Maya Angelou

Posted on 9:13 AM by Unknown

A Brave and Startling Truth
Maya Angelou

We, this people, on a small and lonely planet
Traveling through casual space
Past aloof stars, across the way of indifferent suns
To a destination where all signs tell us
It is possible and imperative that we learn
A brave and startling truth

And when we come to it
To the day of peacemaking
When we release our fingers
From fists of hostility
And allow the pure air to cool our palms

When we come to it
When the curtain falls on the minstrel show of hate
And faces sooted with scorn are scrubbed clean
When battlefields and coliseum
No longer rake our unique and particular sons and daughters
Up with the bruised and bloody grass
To lie in identical plots in foreign soil

When the rapacious storming of the churches
The screaming racket in the temples have ceased
When the pennants are waving gaily
When the banners of the world tremble
Stoutly in the good, clean breeze

When we come to it
When we let the rifles fall from our shoulders
And children dress their dolls in flags of truce
When land mines of death have been removed
And the aged can walk into evenings of peace
When religious ritual is not perfumed
By the incense of burning flesh
And childhood dreams are not kicked awake
By nightmares of abuse

When we come to it
Then we will confess that not the Pyramids
With their stones set in mysterious perfection
Nor the Gardens of Babylon
Hanging as eternal beauty
In our collective memory
Not the Grand Canyon
Kindled into delicious color
By Western sunsets

Nor the Danube, flowing its blue soul into Europe
Not the sacred peak of Mount Fuji
Stretching to the Rising Sun
Neither Father Amazon nor Mother Mississippi who, without favor,
Nurture all creatures in the depths and on the shores
These are not the only wonders of the world

When we come to it
We, this people, on this minuscule and kithless globe
Who reach daily for the bomb, the blade and the dagger
Yet who petition in the dark for tokens of peace
We, this people on this mote of matter
In whose mouths abide cankerous words
Which challenge our very existence
Yet out of those same mouths
Come songs of such exquisite sweetness
That the heart falters in its labor
And the body is quieted into awe

We, this people, on this small and drifting planet
Whose hands can strike with such abandon
That in a twinkling, life is sapped from the living
Yet those same hands can touch with such healing, irresistible tenderness
That the haughty neck is happy to bow
And the proud back is glad to bend
Out of such chaos, of such contradiction
We learn that we are neither devils nor divines

When we come to it
We, this people, on this wayward, floating body
Created on this earth, of this earth
Have the power to fashion for this earth
A climate where every man and every woman
Can live freely without sanctimonious piety
Without crippling fear

When we come to it
We must confess that we are the possible
We are the miraculous, the true wonder of this world
That is when, and only when
We come to it.

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Posted in Humanism quotes and poems, Inspirational pictures, Peace quotes and poems | No comments
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