The Living Room

Listening

Posted on May 8, 2012 by Michaela

An enquiry with Adyashanti on deep listening

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Come on, play !

Posted on May 7, 2012 by Michaela

Isn’t life the most exciting, gripping, funniest, saddest, fascinating game there is ? Come on – play !

Wegweise

Ist das Leben zu leben nicht das spannendste, packendste, aufregendste, lustigste, traurigste, faszinierendste Spiel überhaupt?

Come on, play that game!

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Before sunrise

Posted on May 6, 2012 by Michaela

To me no piece of music expresses this particular time we live in better than this one…

L.v. Beethoven; Leonara No 3

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A young monk came to live in the monastery where Ajahn Chah, a prominent Buddhist leader, was practicing. The people who lived in the town outside the monastery were holding a series of festivals in which they sang and danced all night long. When the monks would rise at three thirty in the morning to begin their meditation, the parties from the night before would still be going strong. At last, one morning the young monk cried out to Ajahn Chah, ‘Venerable One, the noise is interrupting my practice — I can’t meditate with all this noise!; ‘The noise isn’t bothering you, ‘ Ajahn responded. ‘You are bothering the noise.’

‘Silence is not a function of what we think of as silence. It’s when my reaction is quiet. What’s silent is my protest against the way things are.’

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Posted on April 26, 2012 by Michaela

Just Poems

Oh tainted thing, you were once the soft and luscious leaf of green, gorging temptress sitting high upon the pedestal of tree. You held a high and mighty place and looked out above the lowly things. Yet remember you flew and fled and lie upon the ground, the hardened ground were the least be found. No more the luscious green, your body wraps and curls as the brown and tainted thing spreads your self, you denied it’s truth. Soon the earth shall claim you.

….and as the traveller passes he looks up to the sky and to the dancing leaves upon the tree and he says to the heavens ‘teach me, tell me of the truth’ yet know not he the ground he stands on is but holy ground. The answers he searches are trembling beneath his feet…. whispering “once upon a day did I dance upon a tree, once…

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