things were so much
simpler then.
Now we understand that
the colour of skin
opens doors for some
in this country,
forever closes them
for others.
I’m going south
alone to chase a dream,
because I can,
you can’t,
for this I’m sorry
and I really don’t know
if I’m ever
coming back.

Train Ride to Singapore by Gilbert Koh

parabola-magazine:

“The authority and ease with which he often wrote came from his wholeness, but wholeness was a work in progress. “The voice of God is not clearly heard at every moment,” he wrote…,”and part of the ‘work of the cell’ is attention, so that one may not miss any sound of that voice. What this means, therefore, is not only attention to inner grace but to external reality and to one’s self as a completely integrated part of that reality. Hence, this implies also a forgetfulness of oneself as totally apart from outer objects, standing back from outer objects; it demands an integration of one’s own life in the stream of natural and human and cultural life of the moment. When we understand how little we listen, how stubborn and gross our hearts are, we realize how important this inner work is. And we see how badly we are prepared to do it.” 
Passages of this quality from his writings deserve a place on seekers’ bulletin boards or in their journals. How can one keep these thoughts in mind and live by their light? One’s own search, however structured and inspired, must be similarly alive–and complex enough to address the human condition as a whole. We are our own workshops. Merton knew this.”
–Roger Lipsey, a longtime contributor to Parabola Magazine on the inner search of Trappist Monk, Thomas Merton from his forthcoming book We Are Already One: Thomas Merton’s Message of Hope: Reflections to Honor his Centenary (1915-2015).
To read the full excerpt, purchase our Fall Issue on Spiritual Practice.
Help support Parabola by subscribing.
Photography Credit: Jonathan Williams, Portrait of Thomas Merton

parabola-magazine:

“The authority and ease with which he often wrote came from his wholeness, but wholeness was a work in progress. “The voice of God is not clearly heard at every moment,” he wrote…,”and part of the ‘work of the cell’ is attention, so that one may not miss any sound of that voice. What this means, therefore, is not only attention to inner grace but to external reality and to one’s self as a completely integrated part of that reality. Hence, this implies also a forgetfulness of oneself as totally apart from outer objects, standing back from outer objects; it demands an integration of one’s own life in the stream of natural and human and cultural life of the moment. When we understand how little we listen, how stubborn and gross our hearts are, we realize how important this inner work is. And we see how badly we are prepared to do it.” 

Passages of this quality from his writings deserve a place on seekers’ bulletin boards or in their journals. How can one keep these thoughts in mind and live by their light? One’s own search, however structured and inspired, must be similarly alive–and complex enough to address the human condition as a whole. We are our own workshops. Merton knew this.”

–Roger Lipsey, a longtime contributor to Parabola Magazine on the inner search of Trappist Monk, Thomas Merton from his forthcoming book We Are Already One: Thomas Merton’s Message of Hope: Reflections to Honor his Centenary (1915-2015).

To read the full excerpt, purchase our Fall Issue on Spiritual Practice.

Help support Parabola by subscribing.

Photography Credit: Jonathan Williams, Portrait of Thomas Merton

We shed as we pick up, like travellers who must carry everything in their arms, and what we let fall will be picked up by those behind. The procession is very long and life is very short. We die on the march. But there is nothing outside the march so nothing can be lost to it. The missing plays of Sophocles will turn up piece by piece, or be written again in another language. Ancient cures for diseases will reveal themselves once more. Mathematical discoveries glimpsed and lost to view will have their time again. You do not suppose, my lady, that if all of Archimedes had been hiding in the great library of Alexandria, we would be at a loss for a corkscrew?

Tom Stoppard, Arcadia (via fables-of-the-reconstruction)

(via commovente)

And your doubt can become a good quality if you train it. It must become knowing, it must become criticism. Ask it, whenever it wants to spoil something for you, why something is ugly, demand proofs from it, test it, and you will find it perhaps bewildered and embarrassed; perhaps also protesting. But don’t give in, insist on arguments, and act in this way, attentive and persistent, every single time, and the day will come when, instead of being a destroyer, it will become one of your best workers—perhaps the most intelligent of all the ones that are building your life.

Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet (via alighthouseofwords)

How many human beings have there been, in fact how many living creatures have there been, since before the less part of beginningless time? Why, oy, I reckon you would have to calculate the number of grains of sand on this beach and on every star in the sky, in every one of the ten thousand great chilicosms, which would be a number of sand grains uncomputable by IBM and Burroughs too, why boy I don’t rightly know

The Dharma Bums by Jack Kerouac

I love the rain. I love how it softens the outlines of things. The world becomes softly blurred, and I feel like I melt right into it.

Hanamoto Hagumi, Honey and Clover  (via exoticwild)

(via exoticwild)

Week 1 Day 1

image

I spent my first day of school, walking over the peak hour bustle and hurried road of AYE, to reach the fields. The muddy fields has taught me many great lessons.

image

On the second day of school, I spent my morning following my cat and sketching him in all his varied positions. He was a bit too active per usual although there were moments where he laid and stared confusedly at the pencil I was holding.

Yet neither of those films, unnerving as they might be, strives to empathize with a man who built instruments of death. Miyazaki clearly sees something of himself in Horikoshi; as cofounder of a successful animation studio, he too has transformed his fantasies into large-scale industrial operations. By acknowledging his similarities with a warplane designer, Miyazaki notes our proximity to the atrocities of the 20th century and asks how we live contentedly with this knowledge.