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From the book; The Joys of Live Alchemy
Compartments of the Mind
The Neuro-Dawn at the Hippocampus Foundation.
Mary,
Mary, quite contrary, how does your garden grow?
Inside our head, various departments, compartments, areas and domains contain information.... All these different sections connect to each other and compete for attention, to get access within our central ‘thought-of-the-moment.' For instance, we may have two itches at the same time. One in the foot and one in our nose and the strongest itch will take center court. So it is with all our thoughts. A tranquil joyful thought, that may be meaningful, may be overridden by a stronger, angry negative emotion. Whatever congests/inspires the mind will deplete/nourish the body.
Our mind accommodates a vast network of intelligence all vying for access into our consciousness. Some of the intelligence accumulated in our memory banks over time, whilst other forms of intelligence constantly transmit information into our headquarters from different parts of our body.
The five senses also play a big part in programming the types of thoughts we are thinking. As we observe events going on all around us, our mind processes the information our sight, sound, tastes, touch and smell relay into our minds.
Other people's actions/words, which we come into contact with, can also have an effect on our digestion of information, as do the media, education, religion and everything we observe on a daily basis.
All the information is constantly collected, processed and transmitted into our conscious thoughts. Then, the thoughts themselves cause a reaction in every part of our body...How do I know all this? Simply by paying attention to how my mind/body functions...Just like Mary, Mary, I want to know how my garden (authentic, organic mind) is growing and what I can do to make it produce a joyful, loving bouquet of thoughts. Moreover, I must admit, I have become very skilled in-deed, and I enjoy every moment, in a most delightful manner.
One hundred years ago, there were no wireless sets, TVs or Internet, so events that happened in other parts of the country and the world took a long time to come to our attention. In many cases they were not noticed by the average person, so atrocities committed in other places had no effect on our lives...Hence the saying ... ignorance is bliss.
In today's world, the media are hell bent on reporting all the hoi polloi none-sense of humanity it can find, magnifying the hunger for, ever more depressing information. Any sincere philosophy of life, that can help folks enjoy their lives on earth, is mostly ignored and neglected. Some sections of the public mistakenly train their thoughts to feast on other people's downfalls and derogation. More demand for negativity fabricates ... more sick minds and bodies.
So, I think you will agree, keeping a ‘cool-head' when all around you are ‘heating-up' is no easy task in a three dimensional world of mis-information. Actually, if we view the three-dimensional world as our only world, it is impossible to keep our minds balanced and clear at all times. Eventually we become tangled-up in all the media hype and hooked onto an erroneous lifestyle.
Happily, for humanity, the third dimensional world is only a minor part of a much bigger picture. When our thoughts-detector directs its attention to a superb well of information, that is infinite in scope and eternal in source, then we are no longer at the mercy of our intellectual department-faculty within our minds. This gives us freedom of the mind. We begin to understand; we can control our emotions and feelings by having the natural power to process what thoughts we allow our minds to project.
New creative thoughts overtake pre-consigned stale thoughts and old conditioning is replaced with new fresh invigorating visions that take center stage. This allows us to enact a performance of a lifetime on earth, reverberating in generic blissfulness.
Mary,
Mary, now becomes a contrarian on a blissful journey.
It
cultivates an oneness with every plant, ocean, mountain and
life composition.
An
opus, collected in a pure essence of truth, filters in every
compartment of the organic mind.
The
whole organic mind comes-alive and bright.
New windows of opportunity open as the mind rewires itself and tunes into the melodies within the cosmic blueprint of time and space....
Yes in-deed, the garden of the human organic mind ripens with many golden belles and delightful innovative shells, set up in a transcendent lifetime show. All rights reserved. Michael Levy
Bio
Michael Levy is
the author six books. His inspirational
poetry and essays now grace many assorted
web sites, journals and magazines throughout
the world.
He is expert
columnist for Positive Health magazine, the
leading complimentary health publication in
the UK.
INNER STRENGTH
If you can start the day without caffeine or pep pills, If you can be cheerful, ignoring aches and pains, If you can resist complaining and boring people with your troubles, If you can eat the same food every day and be grateful for it, If you can understand that loved ones can be too busy to give you time, If you can take criticism and blame with resentment, If you can face the world without lies and deceit, If you can sleep without the aid of drugs, If you can do all these things, Then you are probably the family dog.
I am Music
I am the most ancient of the arts. I am more than ancient; I am eternal. Even before life began upon this Earth, I was here – in the winds and the waves. When the first trees and flowers and grasses appeared, I was among them. And when humanity came, I at once became the most delicate, most subtle and most powerful medium for the expression of emotions. In all ages I have inspired people with hope, kindled their love, given a voice to their joys, cheered them on to valorous deeds, and soothed them in times of despair. I have played a great part in the drama of life, whose end and purpose is the complete perfection of human nature. Through my influence, humanity has been uplifted, sweetened and refined. With the aid of humanity I have become a fine art. I have a myriad of voices and instruments. I am in the hearts of all and on their tongues, in all lands among all peoples; the ignorant and unlettered know me, not less than the rich and the learned. For I speak to all, in a language that all can feel. Even the deaf hear me, if they but listen to the voices of their own souls. I am the food of love. I have taught people gentleness and peace and I have led them onward to heroic deeds. I am comfort for the lonely and I harmonise the discord of crowds. I am a necessary luxury for all; I am music.
Taken from the Edgar Cayce Centre Durham Newsletter 49. Reprinted from the South African Journal, of Natural Medicine with thanks to JASH – Jewish Association of Spiritual Healers.
A DAY OF WONDER Breathe in the easy flutters of the morning Quiet and cool here River lapping Marmoset is peeping Incandescent morning Thrills of green as trees sway and rustle Oh what a day I’ve found Practising the art of silence. Muscatberries (?) fragrant in the warmth I believe, I believe…… Yellow mountains, sun shimmers, prevaricates, slithers. A day of wonder.
Channelled from Simon Baptiste 21st June 2004
AIR The air is filled with airiness And twirling whirls of light And stars And dust And breaths And sounds And wishes and wants And hopes and dreams Yesterdays and tomorrows And maybes, and cannots, and hopes And memories And pearls And feelings and hurts and joys And sounds and smells And bees and birds Sorrow, pain, Sun, rain Blues and golds and distant lands And floating dreams All hovering there In the air I’m breathing every day
Channelled from Simon Baptiste 27th July 2004
A MARK OF RESPECT Show a mark of respect To all those you meet They live in this world They share it with you They walk their ways In decided or undecided fashion They yearn, as do you. No matter if their goal is different All on this earth Are more alike than unalike Pre-destined to move onwards Lethargically or with much speed Knowing or ignorant What matters if they do not agree With what you hold most dear Or if you cannot see reason in their actions? What matters it? Everyone belongs Only go about their lives in different ways. Be pleased to share. Be gentle. Bestow a mark of respect To all you meet.
Channelled from Simon Baptiste 27th July 2004
KINDNESS Perpetuate kindness To all and everything Everywhere In every place you are.
Steer clear of unkind thoughts That fill the head, Besmirch the mind, Reduce the light.
Shield yourself from bitter thoughts Don’t take revenge. Where does it lead? Nowhere you need to go.
Protect the Soul from viciousness Whose icy claws will tear. Beware of hard words That cannot be withdrawn.
Mark the boundaries of Life With light and good cheer. Seek not to acquire, But yet to gain The best that possibly can be For you and for the world in which you live. And be easy on yourself And always kind.
(Channelled from Simon Baptiste 6th July 2004)
EQUATE WITH ME IN PEACE
Prayer for Humanity
For those who live with suffering, I ask for relief For those who live with sorrow, I ask for upliftment For those who live with terror, I ask for serenity For those who live without love, I ask for it in abundance For those who live with abuse, I ask for respect For those who live with guilt, I ask for release For those who live with hatred, I ask for love For those who live with tears, I ask for laughter For those who live with darkness, I ask for sunshine For those who live with disability, I ask for strength For those who live with addiction, I ask for the power to overcome For those who live with greed, I ask for generosity For those who live with confusion, I ask for understanding For those who live with violence, I ask for peace and tranquility For those who live with illness, I ask for vitality and strength For those who live with poverty, I ask for compassion For those who live with hunger, I ask for sustenance For those who live with cruelty, I ask for kindness For those who live with loneliness, I ask for caring friends For those who live with ignorance, I ask for education For those who live with regret, I ask that they learn and move on For those who live with depression, I ask for inspiration For those who “don’t fit in”, I ask for acceptance For those who live without faith, I ask for sympathy For those who nurture children, I ask for the understanding that they have the future of our World in their hands.
Cheyenne ~ An Angel Unawares You may have written these words yourself - maybe you have ‘been there’?
"Watch out! You nearly broad-sided that car!" My father yelled at me. "Can't you do anything right?" Those words hurt worse than blows. I turned my head toward the elderly man in the seat beside me, daring me to challenge him. A lump rose in my throat as I averted my eyes. I wasn't prepared for another battle. "I saw the car, Dad. Please don't yell at me when I'm driving." My voice was measured and steady, sounding far calmer than I really felt. Dad glared at me, then turned away and settled back. At home I left Dad in front of the television and went outside to collect my thoughts. Dark, heavy clouds hung in the air with a promise of rain. The rumble of distant thunder seemed to echo my inner turmoil. What could I do about him? Dad had been a lumberjack in Washington and Oregon. He had enjoyed being outdoors and had revelled in pitting his strength against the forces of nature. He had entered gruelling lumberjack competitions, and had placed often. The shelves in his house were filled with trophies that attested to his prowess. The years marched on relentlessly. The first time he couldn't lift a heavy log, he joked about it; but later that same day I saw him outside alone, straining to lift it. He became irritable whenever anyone teased him about his advancing age, or when he couldn't do something he had done as a younger man. Four days after his sixty-seventh birthday, he had a heart attack. An ambulance sped him to the hospital while a paramedic administered CPR to keep blood and oxygen flowing. At the hospital, Dad was rushed into an operating room. He was lucky. He survived. But something inside Dad died. His zest for life was gone. He obstinately refused to follow doctor's orders. Suggestions and offers of help were turned aside with sarcasm and insults. The number of visitors thinned, then finally stopped altogether. Dad was left alone. My husband, Dick, and I asked Dad to come live with us on our small farm. We hoped the fresh air and rustic atmosphere would help him adjust. Within a week after he moved in, I regretted the invitation. It seemed nothing was satisfactory. He criticized everything I did. I became frustrated and moody. Soon I was taking my pent-up anger out on Dick. We began to bicker and argue. Alarmed, Dick sought out our pastor and explained the situation. The clergyman set up weekly counselling appointments for us. At the close of each session he prayed, asking God to soothe Dad's troubled mind. But the months wore on and God was silent. A raindrop struck my cheek. I looked up into the gray sky. Somewhere up there was "God." Although I believe a Supreme Being had created the universe, I had difficulty believing that God cared about the tiny human being on this earth. I was tired of waiting for a God who didn't answer. Something had to be done and it was up to me to do it. The next day I sat down with the phone book and methodically called each of the mental health clinics listed in the Yellow Pages. I explained my problem to each of the sympathetic voices that answered. In vain. Just when I was giving up hope, one of the voices suddenly exclaimed, "I just read something that might help you! Let me go get the article." I listened as she read. The article described a remarkable study done at a nursing home. All of the patients were under treatment for chronic depression. Yet their attitudes had improved dramatically when they were given responsibility for a dog. I drove to the animal shelter that afternoon. After I filled out a questionnaire, a uniformed officer led me to the kennels. The odour of disinfectant stung my nostrils as I moved down the row of pens. Each contained five to seven dogs. Long-haired dogs, curly-haired dogs, black dogs, spotted dogs-all jumped up, trying to reach me. I studied each one but rejected one after the other for various reasons. Too big, too small, too much hair. As I neared the last pen a dog in the shadows of the far corner struggled to his feet, walked to the front of the room and sat down. It was a pointer, one of the dog world's aristocrats. But this was a caricature of the breed. Years had etched his face and muzzle with shades of gray. His hipbones jutted out in lopsided triangles. But it was his eyes that caught and held my attention. Calm and clear, they beheld me unwaveringly. I pointed to the dog. "Can you tell me about him?" The officer looked, then shook his head in puzzlement. "He's a funny one. Appeared out of nowhere and sat in front of the gate. We brought him in, figuring someone would be right down to claim him. That was two weeks ago and we've heard nothing. His time is up tomorrow." He gestured helplessly. As the words sank in I turned to the man in horror. "You mean you're going to kill him?" "Ma'am," he said gently, "that's our policy. We don't have room for every unclaimed dog." I looked at the pointer again. The calm brown eyes awaited my decision. "I'll take him," I said. I drove home with the dog on the front seat beside me. When I reached the house I honked the horn twice. I was helping my prize out of the car when Dad shuffled onto the front porch. "Ta-da! Look what I got for you, Dad!" I said excitedly. Dad looked, then wrinkled his face in disgust. "If I had wanted a dog I would have gotten one. And I would have picked out a better specimen than that bag of bones. Keep it!!!! I don't want it!!!" Dad waved his arm scornfully and turned back toward the house. Anger rose inside me. It squeezed together my throat muscles and pounded into my temples. "You'd better get used to him, Dad. He's staying!!!" Dad ignored me. "Did you hear me, Dad?" I screamed. At those words Dad whirled angrily, his hands clenched at his sides, ~ his eyes narrowed and blazing with hate. We stood glaring at each other like duellists, when suddenly the pointer pulled free from my grasp. He wobbled toward my dad and sat down in front of him. Then slowly, carefully, he raised his paw. Dad's lower jaw trembled as he stared at the uplifted paw. Confusion replaced the anger in his eyes. The pointer waited patiently. Then Dad was on his knees hugging the animal. It was the beginning of a warm and intimate friendship. Dad named the pointer Cheyenne. Together he and Cheyenne explored the community. They spent long hours walking down dusty lanes. They spent reflective moments on the banks of streams, angling for tasty trout. They even started to attend Sunday services together, Dad sitting in a pew and Cheyenne lying quietly at his feet. Dad and Cheyenne were inseparable throughout the next three years. Dad's bitterness faded, and he and Cheyenne made many friends. Then late one night I was startled to feel Cheyenne's cold nose burrowing through our bed covers. He had never before come into our bedroom at night. I woke Dick, put on my robe and ran into my father's room. Dad lay in his bed, his face serene. But his spirit had left quietly sometime during the night. Two days later my shock and grief deepened when I discovered Cheyenne lying dead beside Dad's bed. I wrapped his still form in the rag rug he had slept on. As Dick and I buried him near a favourite fishing hole, I silently thanked the dog for the help he had given me in restoring Dad's peace of mind. The morning of Dad's funeral dawned overcast and dreary. This day looks like the way I feel, I thought, as I walked down the aisle to the pews reserved for family. I was surprised to see the many friends Dad and Cheyenne had made filling the church. The pastor began his eulogy. It was a tribute to both Dad and the dog who had changed his life. And then the pastor turned to Hebrews 13:2. "Be not forgetful to entertain strangers. I've often thanked God for sending that angel," he said. For me, the past dropped into place, completing a puzzle that I had not seen before: The sympathetic voice that had just read the right article. Cheyenne's unexpected appearance at the animal shelter. His calm acceptance and complete devotion to my father. The proximity of their deaths. - And suddenly I understood, and I knew. God had answered my prayers after all. Author - Unknown
The
paradox of our time in history is that we have taller buildings but
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This piece of inspired writing was
written by George Carlin - comedian of the
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