BhAshpavAri paripUrna locanam...

[sunyata07]

Namaste.

This is another piece of text that has moved me when I read it some time ago. It is a letter rich in wisdom and earnestness, but also in great sadness for a dying land and people. The subject of the writing is quite dated, but it has immense relevance to our growing concerns for the environment and preserving our natural resources. It is also a sad reminder of the kind of damages that white colonialism wrought on the Americas, thinking they could enlighten "savages" with their technology, ideals and modern ways of living.

Although it has been misquoted that these were the words of the Chief Seattle from 1854 (and yet, I have no doubt he would have had some very similar thoughts!), it is nonetheless a very beautiful piece of writing:

The Earth is Precious

How can you buy or sell the sky, the warmth of the land? The idea is strange to us. If we do not own the freshness of the air and the sparkle of the water, how can you buy them?

Every part of the Earth is sacred to my people. Every shining pine needle, every sandy shore, every mist in the dark woods, every clear and humming insect is holy in the memory and experience of my people. The sap which courses through the trees carries the memory and experience of my people. The sap which courses through the trees carries the memories of the red man.

The white man's dead forget the country of their birth when they go to walk among the stars. Our dead never forget this beautiful Earth, for it is the mother of the red man. We are part of the Earth and it is part of us. The perfumed flowers are our sisters, the deer, the horse, the great eagle, these are our brothers. The rocky crests, the juices in the meadows, the body heat of the pony, and the man, all belong to the same family.

So, when the Great Chief in Washington sends word that he wishes to buy our land, he asks much of us. The Great White Chief sends word he will reserve us a place so that we can live comfortably to ourselves. He will be our father and we will be his children. So we will consider your offer to buy land. But it will not be easy. For this land is sacred to us.

The shining water that moves in the stream and rivers is not just water but the blood of our ancestors. If we sell you land, you must remember that it is the sacred blood of our ancestors. If we sell you land, you must remember that it is sacred, and you must teach your children that it is sacred and that each ghostly reflection in the clear water of the lakes tells of events and memories in the life of my people. The water's murmur is the voice of my father's father.

The rivers are our brothers, they quench our thirst. The rivers carry our canoes, and feed our children. If we sell you our land, you must remember, and teach your children, that the rivers are our brothers, and yours, and you must henceforth give the rivers the kindness you would give any brother. We know that the white man does not understand our ways. One portion of land is the same to him as the next, for he is a stranger who comes in the night and takes from the land whatever he needs.

The earth is not his brother, but his enemy, and when he has conquered it, he moves on. He leaves his father's graves behind, and he does not care. He kidnaps the earth from his children, and he does not care. His father's grave, and his children's birthright, are forgotten. He treats his mother, the earth, and his brother, the sky, as things to be bought, plundered, sold like sheep or bright beads. His appetite will devour the earth and leave behind only a desert.

I do not know. Our ways are different from your ways. The sight of your cities pains the eyes of the red man. But perhaps it is because the red man is a savage and does not understand.

There is no quiet place in the white man's cities. No place to hear the unfurling of leaves in spring, or the rustle of an insect's wings. But perhaps it is is because I am a savage and do not understand.

The clatter only seems to insult the ears. And what is there to life if a man cannot hear the lonely cry of the whippoorwill or the arguments of the frogs around a pond at night? I am a red man and do not understand. The Indian prefers the soft sound of the wind darting over the face of a pond, and the smell of the wind itself, cleaned by a midday rain, or scented with the pinon pine.

The air is precious to the red man, for all things share the same breath - the beast, the tree, the man, they all share the same breath..
The white man does not seem to notice, the air he breathes. Like a man dying for many days, he is numb to the stench.

But if we sell you our land, you must remember that the air is precious to us, that the air shares its spirit with all the life it supports. The wind that gave our grandfather his first breath also receives his last sigh. And if we sell you our land, you must keep it apart and sacred, as a place where even the white man can go to taste the wind that is sweetened by the meadow's flowers.

So we will consider your offer to buy our land. If we decide to accept, I will make one condition: the white man must treat the beasts of this land as his brothers. I am a savage and I do not understand any other way. I have seen a thousand rotting buffaloes on the prairie, left by the white man who shot them from a passing train. I am a savage and I do not understand how the smoking iron horse can be more important than the buffalo that we kill only to stay alive. What is man without the beasts? If all the beasts were gone, man would die from a great loneliness of spirit. For whatever happens to the beasts, soon happens to man. All things are connected.

You must teach your children that the ground beneath their feet is the ashes of your grandfathers. So that they will respect the land, tell your children that the earth is rich with the lives of our kin. Teach your children what we have taught our children, that the earth is our mother. Whatever befalls the earth befalls the sons of the earth. If men spit upon the ground, they spit upon themselves. This we know: the earth does not belong to man; man belongs to the earth. This we know.

All things are connected like the blood which unites one family. All things are connected. Whatever befalls the earth befalls the sons of the earth. Man did not weave the web of life: he is merely a strand in it. Whatever he does to the web, he does to himself. Even the white man, whose God walks and talks with him as friend to friend, cannot be exempt from the common destiny.

We may be brothers after all.

We shall see.

One thing we know, which the white man may one day discover - our God is the same God. You may think now that you own Him as you wish to own our land; but you cannot. He is the God of man, and His compassion is equal for the red man and the white. This earth is precious to Him, and to harm the earth is to heap contempt on its Creator. The whites too shall pass; perhaps sooner than all other tribes. Contaminate your bed, and you will one night suffocate in your own waste. But In your perishing you will shine brightly, fired by the strength of the God who brought you to this land and for some special purpose gave you dominion over this land and over the red man.

That destiny is a mystery to us, for we do not understand when the buffalos are all slaughtered, the wild horses are tamed, the secret corners of the forest heavy with scent of many men, and the view of the ripe hills blotted by talking wires.

Where is the thicket? Gone.
Where is the eagle? Gone.
The end of living and the beginning of survival.

_________________________________________

Om namah Shivaya

[saidevo]

Why we should read GOOD BOOKS on religion

This is A Beautiful Story.

An old American (east Indian) lived on a farm in the mountains of Eastern Kentucky with his Young Grandson.

Each morning Grandpa was up early, sitting at the kitchen table, reading his Bhagavat Gita. His grandson wanted to be Just like him and tried to imitate him in every way he could.

One day the grandson asked, "Grandpa! I try to read The Gita just like you. But I don't understand it, and what I do understand, I forget as soon as I close The Book. What good does the reading do?"

The grandfather quietly turned from putting coal in the stove and replied, "Take this coal basket down to the river and bring me back a basket of water."

The boy did as he was told, but all the water leaked out before he got back to the house.

The grandfather laughed and said, "You'll have to move a little faster next time," and sent him back to the river with the basket to try again

This time the boy ran faster, but again the basket was empty before he returned home.

Out of breath, he told his grandfather that it was impossible to carry water in a basket, and he went to get a bucket instead.

The old man said, "I don't want a bucket of water. I want a basket of water.

You're just not trying hard enough," and he went out the door to watch the boy try again.

At this point, the boy knew it was impossible, but he wanted to show his grandfather that even if he ran as fast as he could, the water would leak out before he got back to the house.

The boy again dipped the basket into river and ran hard, but when he reached his grandfather, the basket was again empty.

Out of breath, he said, " See Grandpa, it is Useless!"

"So you Think it is Useless?" The old man said, "Look at the Basket."

“The boy looked at the BASKET and for the first time realized that the BASKET looked different.

It had been transformed from a Dirty Old Coal Basket and was now clean, inside and out.

"Son, that's what happens when you read The Book. You Might Not Understand or Remember Everything, But When You Read it, you Will Be Changed, inside and out."

*****

[sunyata07]

Namaste,

This is a nice, little story I've come across a few times. I'm not sure if it has already been shared on the forum, but I will post it below anyway:

Don't forsake your dharma

A sage seated near the Ganges, happens to notice a scorpion fall into the river. Quick as a flash, the sage hurries to the water's edge and reaches in to save the scorpion, only to be stung on the hand. Despite this, the sage reaches in again to try and rescue the animal, and once again he is stung.

An observer who has been watching all of this calls out to the sage, "Holy one, why do continue to try and rescue such an ungrateful creature? Don't you realise that the scorpion will always sting you as his thanks?"

The sage answers, "Of course. It is the dharma of a scorpion to sting, just it is the dharma of a human being to save. The scorpion has not forsaken his dharma. Why should I?"

[saidevo]

Abundant blessings

A king who did not believe in the goodness of God, had a slave who, in all circumstances, said, "My king, do not be discouraged, because everything God does is perfect, no mistakes!"

One day they went hunting and along the way a wild animal attacked the king. His slave managed to kill the animal, but could not prevent his majesty losing a finger.

Furious and without showing his gratitude for being saved, the nobleman said, "Is God good? If He was good, I would not have been attacked and lost my finger."

The slave replied: "My king, despite all these things, I can only tell you that God is good, and he knows "why" of all these things. What God does is perfect. He is never wrong!"

Outraged by the response, the king ordered the arrest of his slave.

Later, he left for another hunt and was captured by savages who made human sacrifices.

In the altar, ready to sacrifice the nobleman, the savages found that the victim had not one of his fingers, so he was released.

According to them, it was not so complete to be offered to the gods.

Upon his return to the palace, he authorized the release of his slave that he received very affectionately.

"My dear, God was really good to me! I was almost killed by the wild men, but for lack of a single finger, I was let go! But I have a question: if God is so good, why did he allow me to put you in jail?"

"My King, if I had gone with you in this hunt, I would have been sacrificed for you, because I have no missing finger, therefore, remember everything God does is perfect. He is never wrong."

God is never wrong. Believe in him.

*****