I Mark Your Courage by Ivan Donn Carswell

I Mark Your Courage
Ivan Donn Carswell

I had no profound feelings of shock or surprise
to those matter-of-fact revelations
which spelled the end of this chapter of your life.
It was, as you put it, too late for recriminations,
and the horrendous realities could be no worse
for having faced them.

I mark your courage in that moment of admission,
when your soul cried out in sympathetic pain,
worn thin by abrasions of self-imprisonment
and total subjugation to providence.
You did not disguise your frailty
as lesser men are apt by schemes
which shorten their horizons, elaborate their dreams.

That you are a molecule conniving in
the physics of human chemistry
is no slight upon your status,
without dynamic you are less
a man of cloth than habit claims you be;
And martyr to ascription is the poorer fate
than anticipated condemnation from
a selfless breach of faith.

Ordinary passions do not progress beyond
the continuum of priestly enlightenment; we share
a whole psychology of man's experience
as our eternal life. Its unitary expression
is no greater than the measureless sum,
and the sum is no value less than life itself.
No enlightened soul can judge another man
for passions of humanity; the sentence of conscience
is an arbitrary punishment in which we all delight.

I am no herdsman fearing ill in ceaseless care
of herded sheep, nor could I choose
entanglement with such an entity; your flock
survives as do your prayers, and will survive
long past your flight. You earned their trust
in episodes of heart and light, and keep
its privileged charter frozen out of time,
embalmed in a perfect past.
As one we mourn your passing.

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Excerpts from"Your Thought and Mine" by Khalil Gibran,Excerpts from "song of the open road" by Walt whitman,Inspiring quotes by Henry W Longfellow

Music:
Richard Clayderman:te Amo

Gary Morrow Art

Excerpts from "Your Thought and Mine"
Khalil Gibran

Your thought is a tree rooted deep in the soil of tradition
and whose branches grow in the power of continuity.
My thought is a cloud moving in the space. It turns into
drops which, as they fall, form a brook that sings its way
into the sea. Then it rises as vapour into the sky.

Your thought is a fortress that neither gale nor the lightning
can shake. My thought is a tender leaf that sways in every
direction and finds pleasure in its swaying.
Your thought is an ancient dogma that cannot change you nor
can you change it.
My thought is new, and it tests me and I test it morn and eve.
You have your thought and I have mine.

Your thought allows you to believe in the unequal contest
of the strong against the weak, and in the tricking of
the simple by the subtle ones. My thought creates in me
the desire to till the earth with my hoe, and harvest
the crops with my sickle, and build my home with stones
and mortar, and weave my raiment with woollen and linen threads.

Your thought urges you to marry wealth and notability.
Mine commends self-reliance. Your thought advocates fame
and show. Mine counsels me and implores me to cast aside
notoriety and treat it like a grain of sand cast upon
the shore of eternity.

Your thought instils in your heart arrogance and superiority.
Mine plants within me love for peace and the desire for
independence. Your thought begets dreams of palaces with
furniture of sandalwood studded with jewels, and beds
made of twisted silk threads.

My thought speaks softly in my ears,Be clean in body and
spirit even if you have nowhere to lay your head. Your
thought makes you aspire to titles and offices.
Mine exhorts me to humble service.
You have your thought and I have mine.

Your thought is social science, a religious and political
dictionary. Mine is simple axiom. Your thought speaks of
the beautiful woman, the ugly, the virtuous, the prostitute,
the intelligent, and the stupid. Mine sees in every woman
a mother, a sister, or a daughter of every man.

The subjects of your thought are thieves, criminals, and
assassins. Mine declares that thieves are the creatures
of monopoly, criminals are the offspring of tyrants, and
assassins are akin to the slain. Your thought describes
laws, courts, judges, punishments. Mine explains that when
man makes a law, he either violates it or obeys it.
If there is a basic law, we are all one before it. He who
disdains the mean is himself mean. He who vaunts his scorn
of the sinful vaunts his disdain of all humanity.

Your thought concerns the skilled, the artist, the intellectual,
the philosopher, the priest. Mine speaks of the loving and
the affectionate, the sincere, the honest, the forthright,
the kindly, and the martyr.

In your thought there are the rich, the poor, and the beggared.
My thought holds that there are no riches but life; that we are
all beggars, and no benefactor exists save life herself.
You have your thought and I have mine.

Your thought differentiates between pragmatist and idealist,
between the part and the whole, between the mystic and materialist.
Mine realizes that life is one and its weights, measures and
tables do not coincide with your weights, measures and tables.
He whom you suppose an idealist may be a practical man.
You have your thought and I have mine.

Your thought is interested in ruins and museums, mummies and
petrified objects. But mine hovers in the ever-renewed haze
and clouds. Your thought is enthroned on skulls. Since you
take pride in it, you glorify it too.

My thought wanders in the obscure and distant valleys.
Your thought trumpets while you dance. Mine prefers
the anguish of death to your music and dancing.
Your thought is the thought of gossip and false pleasure.
Mine is the thought of him who is lost in his own country,
of the alien in his own nation, of the solitary among his
kinfolk and friends.
You have your thought and I have mine.

Michael and Inessa Garmash Painting

Afoot and light-hearted I take to the open road,
Healthy, free, the world before me,
The long brown path before me leading wherever I choose.

Henceforth I ask not good-fortune, I myself am good-fortune,
Henceforth I whimper no more, postpone no more,
need nothing,
Done with indoor complaints, libraries, querulous criticisms,
Strong and content I travel the open road.

(Still here I carry my old delicious burdens,
I carry them, men and women, I carry them with
me wherever I go,
I swear it is impossible for me to get rid of them,
I am fill’d with them, and I will fill them in return.
WALT WHITMAN,excerpts from "Song of the Open Road"

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way;
But to act, that each tomorrow
Find us farther than today.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sand of time;

Footprints, that perhaps another,
Sailing o'er life's solenm main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.

Let us then be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labor and to wait.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

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On Releasing a Captive Bird by James Allen

On Releasing a Captive Bird
James Allen

I found a little bird held fast, ensnared
By ruthless hands; a gentle, captive prey
Thirsting for freedom, piteously scared,
Struggling in vain to ’scape and soar away.

I marked his terror, and I took him up;
His fluttering heart spoke out his wild despair.
"Look, you and I with the great gods shall sup
This day," I said; then threw him into air.

Whereat he soared, and wheeled, and flew away;
Great was his joy, and Truth - born bliss was mine;
Thus supped we both with the high gods that day;
Thus tasted we their nectar, drank their wine.

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BETTER ,From the Dhammapada

Vicente Romero Redondo Art

BETTER
From the Dhammapada

Better than a thousand
Hollow words
Is one word that brings peace.
Better than a thousand
Hollow verses
Is one verse that brings peace.
Better than a hundred
Hollow lines
Is one line of the law, Bringing peace.
It is better to conquer yourself
Than to win a thousand battles;
Then the victory is yours.

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Three Questions: A short story by Leo Tolstoy

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Caspar David Friedrich Art

Three Questions
Leo Tolstoy

It once occurred to a certain king, that if he always knew the right time to begin everything; if he knew who were the right people to listen to, and whom to avoid; and, above all, if he always knew what was the most important thing to do, he would never fail in anything he might undertake.

And this thought having occurred to him, he had it proclaimed throughout his kingdom that he would give a great reward to any one who would teach him what was the right time for every action, and who were the most necessary people, and how he might know what was the most important thing to do.

And learned men came to the King, but they all answered his questions differently.

In reply to the first question, some said that to know the right time for every action, one must draw up in advance, a table of days, months and years, and must live strictly according to it. Only thus, said they, could everything be done at its proper time. Others declared that it was impossible to decide beforehand the right time for every action; but that, not letting oneself be absorbed in idle pastimes, one should always attend to all that was going on, and then do what was most needful. Others, again, said that however attentive the King might be to what was going on, it was impossible for one man to decide correctly the right time for every action, but that he should have a Council of wise men, who would help him to fix the proper time for everything.

But then again others said there were some things which could not wait to be laid before a Council, but about which one had at once to decide whether to undertake them or not. But in order to decide that, one must know beforehand what was going to happen. It is only magicians who know that; and, therefore, in order to know the right time for every action, one must consult magicians.

Equally various were the answers to the second question. Some said, the people the King most needed were his councillors; others, the priests; others, the doctors; while some said the warriors were the most necessary.

To the third question, as to what was the most important occupation: some replied that the most important thing in the world was science. Others said it was skill in warfare; and others, again, that it was religious worship.

All the answers being different, the King agreed with none of them, and gave the reward to none. But still wishing to find the right answers to his questions, he decided to consult a hermit, widely renowned for his wisdom.

The hermit lived in a wood which he never quitted, and he received none but common folk. So the King put on simple clothes, and before reaching the hermit's cell dismounted from his horse, and, leaving his body-guard behind, went on alone.

When the King approached, the hermit was digging the ground in front of his hut. Seeing the King, he greeted him and went on digging. The hermit was frail and weak, and each time he stuck his spade into the ground and turned a little earth, he breathed heavily.

The King went up to him and said: "I have come to you, wise hermit, to ask you to answer three questions: How can I learn to do the right thing at the right time? Who are the people I most need, and to whom should I, therefore, pay more attention than to the rest? And, what affairs are the most important, and need my first attention?"

The hermit listened to the King, but answered nothing. He just spat on his hand and recommenced digging.

"You are tired," said the King, "let me take the spade and work awhile for you."

"Thanks!" said the hermit, and, giving the spade to the King, he sat down on the ground.

When he had dug two beds, the King stopped and repeated his questions. The hermit again gave no answer, but rose, stretched out his hand for the spade, and said:

"Now rest awhile-and let me work a bit."

But the King did not give him the spade, and continued to dig. One hour passed, and another. The sun began to sink behind the trees, and the King at last stuck the spade into the ground, and said:

"I came to you, wise man, for an answer to my questions. If you can give me none, tell me so, and I will return home."

"Here comes some one running," said the hermit, "let us see who it is."

The King turned round, and saw a bearded man come running out of the wood. The man held his hands pressed against his stomach, and blood was flowing from under them. When he reached the King, he fell fainting on the ground moaning feebly. The King and the hermit unfastened the man's clothing. There was a large wound in his stomach. The King washed it as best he could, and bandaged it with his handkerchief and with a towel the hermit had. But the blood would not stop flowing, and the King again and again removed the bandage soaked with warm blood, and washed and rebandaged the wound. When at last the blood ceased flowing, the man revived and asked for something to drink. The King brought fresh water and gave it to him. Meanwhile the sun had set, and it had become cool. So the King, with the hermit's help, carried the wounded man into the hut and laid him on the bed. Lying on the bed the man closed his eyes and was quiet; but the King was so tired with his walk and with the work he had done, that he crouched down on the threshold, and also fell asleep--so soundly that he slept all through the short summer night. When he awoke in the morning, it was long before he could remember where he was, or who was the strange bearded man lying on the bed and gazing intently at him with shining eyes.

"Forgive me!" said the bearded man in a weak voice, when he saw that the King was awake and was looking at him.

"I do not know you, and have nothing to forgive you for," said the King.

"You do not know me, but I know you. I am that enemy of yours who swore to revenge himself on you, because you executed his brother and seized his property. I knew you had gone alone to see the hermit, and I resolved to kill you on your way back. But the day passed and you did not return. So I came out from my ambush to find you, and I came upon your bodyguard, and they recognized me, and wounded me. I escaped from them, but should have bled to death had you not dressed my wound. I wished to kill you, and you have saved my life. Now, if I live, and if you wish it, I will serve you as your most faithful slave, and will bid my sons do the same. Forgive me!"

The King was very glad to have made peace with his enemy so easily, and to have gained him for a friend, and he not only forgave him, but said he would send his servants and his own physician to attend him, and promised to restore his property. Having taken leave of the wounded man, the King went out into the porch and looked around for the hermit. Before going away he wished once more to beg an answer to the questions he had put. The hermit was outside, on his knees, sowing seeds in the beds that had been dug the day before.

The King approached him, and said:

"For the last time, I pray you to answer my questions, wise man."

"You have already been answered!" said the hermit, still crouching on his thin legs, and looking up at the King, who stood before him.

"How answered? What do you mean?" asked the King.

"Do you not see," replied the hermit. "If you had not pitied my weakness yesterday, and had not dug those beds for me, but had gone your way, that man would have attacked you, and you would have repented of not having stayed with me. So the most important time was when you were digging the beds; and I was the most important man; and to do me good was your most important business. Afterwards when that man ran to us, the most important time was when you were attending to him, for if you had not bound up his wounds he would have died without having made peace with you. So he was the most important man, and what you did for him was your most important business. Remember then: there is only one time that is important-- Now! It is the most important time because it is the only time when we have any power. The most necessary man is he with whom you are, for no man knows whether he will ever have dealings with any one else: and the most important affair is, to do him good, because for that purpose alone was man sent into this life!"

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Memory quote by Jane Austen

Johanna Harmon Art

If any one faculty of our nature may be called more wonderful than the rest, I do think it is memory. There seems something more speakingly incomprehensible in the powers, the failures, the inequalities of memory, than in any other of our intelligences. The memory is sometimes so retentive, so serviceable, so obedient; at others, so bewildered and so weak; and at others again, so tyrannic, so beyond control! We are, to be sure, a miracle every way; but our powers of recollecting and of forgetting do seem peculiarly past finding out.
Jane Austen, Mansfield Park

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having eyes only for their sufferings, not for their misdeeds./Compassion quote by miguel de Cervantes

Gabriel Picart Art

It is not the responsibility of knights errant to discover whether the afflicted, the enchained and the oppressed whom they encounter on the road are reduced to these circumstances and suffer this distress for their vices, or for their virtues: the knight's sole responsibility is to succour them as people in need, having eyes only for their sufferings, not for their misdeeds.
Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra, Don Quixote

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