Uma belíssima forma de praticar Mindfulness é ler e contemplar poesia e frases inspiradoras. Partilho aqui alguns favoritos, ótimos para essa prática.
“Do not ask your children
to strive for extraordinary lives.
Such striving may seem admirable,
but it is the way of foolishness.
Help them instead to find the wonder
and the marvel of an ordinary life.
Show them the joy of tasting
tomatoes, apples and pears.
Show them how to cry
when pets and people die.
Show them the infinite pleasure
in the touch of a hand.
And make the ordinary come alive for them.
The extraordinary will take care of itself.”
― William Martin, The Parent's Tao Te Ching: Ancient Advice for Modern Parents
E uma mulher
que trazia um menino ao colo
- Fala-nos das Crianças.
E ele respondeu:
- Os vossos filhos
não são vossos filhos:
são filhos e filhas
do chamamento da própria Vida.
Vêm por vosso meio
mas não de vós;
e apesar de estarem convosco,
não vos pertencem.
Podeis dar-lhes o vosso amor;
mas não os vossos pensamentos:
porque eIes têm pensamentos próprios.
Podeis acolher os seus corpos;
mas não as suas aImas:
porque as suas aImas
habitam a casa de amanha
que não podeis visitar,
nem sequer em sonhos.
Podeis esforçar-vos por ser como eles;
mas não tenteis fazê-los como vós.
Porque a vida não vai para trás,
nem se detêm com o ontem.
Sois os arcos, e os vossos filhos
as setas vivas projectadas.
O Arqueiro vê o alvo no caminho do infinito,
e reteza-vos com o seu poder
para que as setas
possam voar depressa para longe.
Que a vossa tensão na mão do Arqueiro
seja de alegria.
Porque assim coma Ele gosta
da seta que voa,
também gosta do arco que fica.
Khalil Gibran in “O Profeta”
"The desire to be in control, the illusion of being in control, and the hope of being in control are all based on the megalomaniacal belief that you know when and what the outcome should be."
"Real meditation is not about mastering a technique; it's about letting go of control."
“Be patient toward all that is unresolved in your heart Try to love the questions themselves. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given Because you would not be able to live them. And the point is to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, Live along some distant day into the answers.” Rainer Maria Rilke
"Se nunca condenasses, nunca seria necessário perdoar." Anthony de Mello
Sleeping in the Forest
I thought the earth remembered me,
she took me back so tenderly,
arranging her dark skirts, her pockets
full of lichens and seeds.
I slept as never before, a stone on the river bed,
nothing between me and the white fire of the stars
but my thoughts, and they floated light as moths
among the branches of the perfect trees.
All night I heard the small kingdoms
breathing around me, the insects,
and the birds who do their work in the darkness.
All night I rose and fell, as if in water,
grappling with a luminous doom. By morning
I had vanished at least a dozen times
into something better.
Enough. These few words are enough.
If not these words, this breath.
If not this breath, this sitting here.
This opening to the life
We have refused again and again
Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and right doing
there is a field. I will meet you there.
When the soul lies down in that grass,
the world is too full to talk about.
Ideas, language, even the phrase each other
doesn’t make any sense.
Now we will count to twelve
and we will all keep still.
For once on the face of the earth,
let's not speak in any language,
let's stop for a second,
and not move our arms so much.
It would be an exotic moment
without rush, without engines;
we would all be together
in a sudden strangeness.
If we were not so single-minded
about keeping our lives moving,
and for once could do nothing,
perhaps a huge silence
might interrupt this sadness
of never understanding ourselves
and of threatening ourselves
Perhaps the earth can teach us
as when everything seems dead in winter
and later proves to be alive.
Now I'll count up to twelve
and you keep quiet and I will go.
The Guest House
This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they're a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.
The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.
Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.
"And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom." Anais Nin
"Very rarely will the mind confess to us that it has no idea what is going on." Adyashanti
The sun hears the fields talking about effort
And the sun
And whispers to
“Why don’t the fields just rest, for
I am willing to do
To help them
Rest, my dears,
St Catherine of Siena (1347-1380)
"If you live the sacred and despise the ordinary,
you are still bobbing in the ocean of delusion."
Zen Master Lin-Chi
Para ser grande, sê inteiro: nada
Teu exagera ou exclui.
Sê todo em cada coisa. Põe quanto és
No mínimo que fazes.
Assim em cada lago a lua toda
Brilha, porque alta vive
Ricardo Reis, in "Odes"
"Wherever you are, be the soul of that place."
"Fighting the wounds of the past will only deepen those wounds. Relaxation is the method that heals the wounds of the mind, not reaction." Amma
"When the mind is still, tranquil, not seeking any
answer or solution even, neither resisting or avoiding,
it is only then there can be a regeneration, because
only then is the mind capable of perceiving what is true,
and it is the truth that liberates, not our effort to be free."
"The One you are looking for Is the One who is looking."
St. Francis of Assisi
"We think that the point is to pass the test or overcome the problem, but the truth is that things don't really get solved. They come together and they fall apart. Then they come together again and fall apart again. It's just like that. The healing comes from letting there be room for all of this to happen: room for grief, for relief, for misery, for joy."
A espantosa realidade das cousas
A espantosa realidade das cousas
É a minha descoberta de todos os dias.
Cada cousa é o que é,
E é difícil explicar a alguém quanto isso me alegra,
E quanto isso me basta.
Basta existir para se ser completo.
Tenho escrito bastantes poemas.
Hei de escrever muitos mais. Naturalmente.
Cada poema meu diz isto,
E todos os meus poemas são diferentes,
Porque cada cousa que há é uma maneira de dizer isto.
Às vezes ponho-me a olhar para uma pedra.
Não me ponho a pensar se ela sente.
Não me perco a chamar-lhe minha irmã.
Mas gosto dela por ela ser uma pedra,
Gosto dela porque ela não sente nada.
Gosto dela porque ela não tem parentesco nenhum comigo.
Outras vezes oiço passar o vento,
E acho que só para ouvir passar o vento vale a pena ter nascido.
Eu não sei o que é que os outros pensarão lendo isto;
Mas acho que isto deve estar bem porque o penso sem estorvo,
Nem idéia de outras pessoas a ouvir-me pensar;
Porque o penso sem pensamentos
Porque o digo como as minhas palavras o dizem.
Uma vez chamaram-me poeta materialista,
E eu admirei-me, porque não julgava
Que se me pudesse chamar qualquer cousa.
Eu nem sequer sou poeta: vejo.
Se o que escrevo tem valor, não sou eu que o tenho:
O valor está ali, nos meus versos.
Tudo isso é absolutamente independente da minha vontade.
Alberto Caeiro, in "Poemas Inconjuntos"
Um dia de chuva
Um dia de chuva é tão belo como um dia de sol.
Ambos existem; cada um como é.
Alberto Caeiro, in "Poemas Inconjuntos"
“Wisdom is knowing I am nothing,
Love is knowing I am everything,
and between the two my life flows.”
Please Call Me by my True Name
Do not say that I will depart tomorrow
because even today I still arrive
Look deeply: I arrive in every second
to be a bud on a spring branch
to be a tiny bird, with wings still so fragile
learning to sing in my new nest
to be a caterpillar in the heart of flower
to be a jewel hiding itself in stone
I still arrive, in order to laugh and to cry,
in order to fear and to hope,
the rhythm of my heart is the birth and death of all that are alive.
I am the mayfly metamorphosing on the surface of the river,
and I am the bird which, when spring comes, arrives in time to eat the mayfly.
I am the frog swimming happily in the clear water of the pond,
and I am also the grass-snake who,
approaching in silence, feeds itself on the frog.
I am the child in Uganda, all skin and bones,
my legs as thin as bamboo sticks,
and I am the arms merchant selling deadly weapons to Uganda.
I am the 12 year old girl, refugee on a small boat,
who throws herself into the ocean after being raped by a sea pirate,
and I am the pirate, my heart not yet capable of seeing and loving
I am a member of the politburo, with plenty of power in my hands,
and I am the man who has to pay his "debt of blood" to my people,
dying slowly in a forced labour camp.
My joy is like spring, so warm it makes flowers bloom in all walks of life.
My pain is like a river of tears, so full it fills up the four oceans.
Please call me by my true names,
so I can hear all my cries and my laughs at once,
so I can see that my joy and pain are one.
Please call me by my true names,
so I can wake up,
and so the door of my heart can be left open,
the door of compassion.
Thich Nhat Hanh
We can make our minds so like still water that beings gather about us, that they may see, it may be, their own images, and so live for a moment with a clearer, perhaps even with a fiercer life because of our quiet.
One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
their bad advice-
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
"Mend my life!"
each voice cried.
But you didn't stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do--
determined to save
the only life you could save.
You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting--
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.
"I am at home in nowhere." Byron Katie
"As soon as you believe that a label you’ve put on yourself is true, you’ve limited something that is literally limitless, you’ve limited who you are into nothing but a thought." Adyashanti
"Unease, anxiety, tension, stress, worry — all forms of fear — are caused by too much future, and not enough presence. Guilt, regret, resentment, grievances, sadness, bitterness, and all forms of nonforgiveness are caused by too much past, and not enough presence" Eckhart Tolle
Let me not pray to be sheltered from dangers, but to be fearless in facing them.
Let me not beg for the stilling of my pain, but for the heart to conquer it.
“This is what you shall do; Love the earth and sun and the animals, despise riches, give alms to every one that asks, stand up for the stupid and crazy, devote your income and labor to others, hate tyrants, argue not concerning God, have patience and indulgence toward the people, take off your hat to nothing known or unknown or to any man or number of men, go freely with powerful uneducated persons and with the young and with the mothers of families, read these leaves in the open air every season of every year of your life, re-examine all you have been told at school or church or in any book, dismiss whatever insults your own soul, and your very flesh shall be a great poem and have the richest fluency not only in its words but in the silent lines of its lips and face and between the lashes of your eyes and in every motion and joint of your body.” Walt Whitman
“Liberdade é pouco. O que eu quero ainda não tem nome”.
"Num certo sentido a história da minha vida não é sobre mais nada: um desejo insatisfeito que é em si mais desejável que qualquer outra satisfação." C.S. Lewis
“If someone comes along and shoots an arrow into your heart, it’s fruitless to stand there and yell at the person. It would be much better to turn your attention to the fact that there’s an arrow in your heart...” Pema Chödrön
“Someone I loved once gave me a box full of darkness. It took me years to understand that this too, was a gift.” ~ Mary Oliver