Thursday, February 23, 2023

Via Dhamma Wheel | Right Action: Reflecting upon Bodily Action

 


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RIGHT ACTION
Reflecting Upon Bodily Action
However the seed is planted, in that way the fruit is gathered. Good things come from doing good deeds, bad things come from doing bad deeds. (SN 11.10) What is the purpose of a mirror? For the purpose of reflection. So too bodily action is to be done with repeated reflection. (MN 61)

When you wish to do an action with the body, reflect upon that same bodily action thus: "Would this action I wish to do with the body lead to the affliction of another?" If, upon reflection, you know that it would, then do not do it; if you know that it would not, then proceed. (MN 61)
Reflection
How much of our bodily action is intentional, done with full awareness, and how much of what we do is done out of habit? Seeing what you do as you do it, as when you observe yourself in a mirror, is one of the metaphors used for mindfulness. 

Daily Practice
Practice acting with full awareness. Even simple tasks like breathing and walking and eating can be fields for training the capacity for mindfulness. Then the ability will be available when more ethically challenging situations arise. It is a matter of becoming more sensitive to the implications of acting, and being more aware of everything we do. In this way we can plant healthy fruit, rather than just dealing with whatever arises. 

Tomorrow: Abstaining from Harming Living Beings
One week from today: Reflecting upon Verbal Action

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#DhammaWheel

Questions?
Visit the Dhamma Wheel orientation page.



Tricycle is a nonprofit and relies on your support to keep its wheels turning.

© 2023 Tricycle Foundation
89 5th Ave, New York, NY 10003

Via Daily Dharma: The Meaning of Equanimity

 Equanimity means profound stability, like trees planted by the water that shall not be moved. That’s the fierce equanimity that comes from an open heart, open mind, and a clear direction of our energy toward changing the direct trajectory of history.

Larry Ward, “Awakening to the Apocalypse”


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Wednesday, February 22, 2023

Via Krishna Das // FB


 
 
 
Bhakti yoga isn't something you join. It's love. It means falling in love.
 
 

 

Inspiration / Humor Via BoredPanda

 


Via Shambhala Online // Exploring White Conditioning

 

Exploring White Conditioning
Sacred Activism Series: Part II

March 5, 12, 19, and 26
11:00am-1:00pm EST

 

As we look into the concept of whiteness we will explore our assumptions, implicit biases and unconscious behaviors with kindness and honesty. Using writing, movement exercises, media, small group sharing, and other experiential exercises, participants will be encouraged to deeply examine their white identity. Awareness and compassion will be brought into this exploration of how to co-create a more caring, welcoming, and diverse community and world.

In creating a more awake society, we all have a responsibility to apply the dharma to addressing suffering in our world. This includes white-identified meditators investigating their own social conditioning as white people and how this impacts people of color in our communities and society at large. Many people of color throughout the Shambhala community and other meditation communities have urged white people to do this important work in a setting that does not burden people of color with being the educators. We offer this course in that spirit and ask that you join us

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Via Dhamma Wheel | Right Speech: Refraining from False Speech

 



RIGHT SPEECH
Refraining from False Speech
False speech is unhealthy. Refraining from false speech is healthy. (MN 9) Abandoning false speech, one dwells refraining from false speech, a truth-speaker, one to be relied on, trustworthy, dependable, not a deceiver of the world. One does not in full awareness speak falsehood for one’s own ends, or for another’s ends, or for some trifling worldly end. (DN 1) One practices thus: "Others may speak falsely, but I shall abstain from false speech." (MN 8)

Such speech as you know to be true and correct but unbeneficial, and which is welcome and agreeable to others—do not utter such speech. (MN 58)
Reflection
Speaking truthfully is a habit that can be learned, even if we have previously learned the habit of speaking untruthfully. It is a matter of bringing full awareness to your speech and its consequences. Often there may appear to be a short-term benefit from speaking falsely, but the Buddha is pointing out the long-term harm that false speech does to your character. In the long run the lack of integrity is unhealthy.

Daily Practice
This passage is urging us to speak only when what we say is likely to have a beneficial effect on another person or on the situation at hand. It is not enough to say things that are agreeable to others, even if they are true. Flattery, for example, might have an unbeneficial effect on someone by inflating their sense of themselves. Practice speaking only those words that are going to be helpful.

Tomorrow: Reflecting upon Bodily Action
One week from today: Refraining from Malicious Speech

Share your thoughts and join the conversation on social media
#DhammaWheel

Questions?
Visit the Dhamma Wheel orientation page.



Tricycle is a nonprofit and relies on your support to keep its wheels turning.

© 2023 Tricycle Foundation
89 5th Ave, New York, NY 10003

Via Daily Dharma: The Path Is Common Sense

 Through kindness, through affection, through honesty, through truth and justice toward all others we ensure our own benefit. This is not a matter for complicated theorizing. It is a matter of common sense.

The Dalai Lama, “Consider Yourself a Tourist”


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Via Ram Dass - Love Serve Remember Foundation // Words of Wisdom - February 22, 2023 💌

 

 

You see people through the veil of the fear-driven paranoia that comes from getting trapped in your separateness; when you break out of that, you experience compassion that is not pity and not kindness; but compassion born of identifying with the people around you.

-Ram Dass -

Tuesday, February 21, 2023

Via Dhamma Wheel | Right Intention: Cultivating Lovingkindness

RIGHT INTENTION
Cultivating Lovingkindness
Whatever you intend, whatever you plan, and whatever you have a tendency toward, that will become the basis on which your mind is established. (SN 12.40) Develop meditation on lovingkindness, for when you develop meditation on lovingkindness, all ill will will be abandoned. (MN 62) 

The manifestation of lovingkindness is the removal of annoyance. (Vm 9.93)
Reflection
Only one experience occurs at a time. Each one replaces the one before it and is itself replaced by the next. This happens in rapid succession as the stream of consciousness flows on. It feels like a continuous event, much as the still images displayed rapidly in a movie theater merge into a flowing story, but in fact, each mind moment is organized around a single object, with a single emotional response.

Daily Practice
This means that when you are feeling kindly or benevolent toward a particular person or in a particular situation, you cannot at the same time feel ill will or anger or annoyance. The beauty of lovingkindness is that it replaces negative emotions in the mind. Next time you feel even slightly annoyed by someone or something, try conjuring up an attitude of kindness toward something and watch the annoyance disappear.

Tomorrow: Refraining from False Speech
One week from today: Cultivating Compassion

Share your thoughts and join the conversation on social media
#DhammaWheel

Questions?
Visit the Dhamma Wheel orientation page.



Tricycle is a nonprofit and relies on your support to keep its wheels turning.

© 2023 Tricycle Foundation
89 5th Ave, New York, NY 10003

 

Via Daily Dharma: The Gift of Change

This is the gift of change, to know that although it is difficult right now, this too shall pass. 

Martine Batchelor, “The Gift of Change”


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Via White Crane Institute // W. H. AUDEN


W.H. Auden
1907 -

WYSTAN H. AUDEN, English poet born (d. 1973); an Anglo-American poet, regarded by many as one of the greatest writers of the 20th century. His work is noted for its stylistic and technical achievements, its engagement with moral and political issues, and its variety of tone, form, and content. The central themes of his poetry are: personal love, politics and citizenship, religion and morals, and the relationship between unique human beings and the anonymous, impersonal world of nature.

Aside from graduate school courses in English literature, where life is taken very seriously, the question about the great English poet that most people want answered is: Did Auden write a poem about a blow job or didn’t he? The answer is yes, he did. The poem, written in 1948 to amuse himself and his friends, is actually called “The Platonic Blow,” although it appears in unauthorized form as “The Gobble Poem,” hardly a title that a poet of Auden’s quality would have chosen. After Fuck You: A Magazine of the Arts published the poem without the poet’s permission in 1965, “A Platonic Blow” was issued in “a Trade edition” of 300 copies and “a Rough Trade edition of five numbered copies, each with beautiful slurp drawings by the artist Joe Brainard.” The poem’s first two lines suggest its flavor: “It was a Spring day, a day for a lay, when the air / Smelled like a locker-room, a day to blow or get blown.” Auden proudly admitted authorship in 1968.

Until he was fifteen he expected to become a mining engineer, but his "passion for words" had already begun. He wrote later: "words so excite me that a pornographic story, for example, excites me sexually more than a living person can do".

 Auden and Christopher Isherwood sailed to New York in January 1939, entering on temporary visas. Their departure from Britain was later seen by many there as a betrayal and Auden's reputation suffered. In April 1939 Isherwood moved to California, and he and Auden saw each other only intermittently in later years. Around this time, Auden met an eighteen-year old poet Chester Kallman, who became his lover for the next two years (Auden described their relation as a "marriage" that began with a cross-country "honeymoon" journey). In 1941 Kallman ended their sexual relations because he could not accept Auden's insistence on a mutual faithful relationship, but he and Auden remained companions for the rest of Auden's life, sharing houses and apartments from 1953 until Auden's death. Auden dedicated both editions of his collected poetry (1945/50 and 1966) to Isherwood and Kallman. In 1940-41, Auden lived in a house in Brooklyn Heights which he shared with Carson McCullers, Benjamin Britten and others, and which became a famous center of artistic life.

Today's Gay Wisdom
2011 -

The Platonic Blow
W. H. Auden

It was a spring day, a day for a lay, when the air
Smelled like a locker-room, a day to blow or get blown;
Returning from lunch I turned my corner and there
On a near-by stoop I saw him standing alone.

I glanced as I advanced. The clean white T-shirt outlined
A forceful torso, the light-blue denims divulged
Much. I observed the snug curves where they hugged the behind,
I watched the crotch where the cloth intriguingly bulged.

Our eyes met. I felt sick. My knees turned weak.
I couldn’t move. I didn’t know what to say.
In a blur I heard words, myself like a stranger speak
“Will you come to my room?” Then a husky voice, “O.K.”

I produced some beer and we talked. Like a little boy
He told me his story. Present address: next door.
Half Polish, half Irish. The youngest. From Illinois.
Profession: mechanic. Name: Bud. Age: twenty-four.

He put down his glass and stretched his bare arms along
The back of my sofa. The afternoon sunlight struck
The blond hairs on the wrist near my head. His chin was strong.
His mouth sucky. I could hardly believe my luck.

And here he was sitting beside me, legs apart.
I could bear it no longer. I touched the inside of his thigh.
His reply was to move closer. I trembled, my heart
Thumped and jumped as my fingers went to his fly.

I opened a gap in the flap. I went in there.
I sought for a slit in the gripper shorts that had charge
Of the basket I asked for. I came to warm flesh then to hair.
I went on. I found what I hoped. I groped. It was large.

He responded to my fondling in a charming, disarming way:
Without a word he unbuckled his belt while I felt.
And lolled back, stretching his legs. His pants fell away.
Carefully drawing it out, I beheld what I held.

The circumcised head was a work of mastercraft
With perfectly beveled rim of unusual weight
And the friendliest red. Even relaxed, the shaft
Was of noble dimensions with the wrinkles that indicate

Singular powers of extension. For a second or two,
It lay there inert, then suddenly stirred in my hand,
Then paused as if frightened or doubtful of what to do.
And then with a violent jerk began to expand.

By soundless bounds it extended and distended, by quick
Great leaps it rose, it flushed, it rushed to its full size.
Nearly nine inches long and three inches thick,
A royal column, ineffably solemn and wise.

I tested its length and strength with a manual squeeze.
I bunched my fingers and twirled them about the knob.
I stroked it from top to bottom. I got on my knees.
I lowered my head. I opened my mouth for the job.

But he pushed me gently away. He bent down. He unlaced
His shoes. He removed his socks. Stood up. Shed
His pants altogether. Muscles in arms and waist
Rippled as he whipped his T-shirt over his head.

I scanned his tan, enjoyed the contrast of brown
Trunk against white shorts taut around small
Hips. With a dig and a wriggle he peeled them down.
I tore off my clothes. He faced me, smiling. I saw all.

The gorgeous organ stood stiffly and straightly out
With a slight flare upwards. At each beat of his heart it threw
An odd little nod my way. From the slot of the spout
Exuded a drop of transparent viscous goo.

The lair of hair was fair, the grove of a young man,
A tangle of curls and whorls, luxuriant but couth.
Except for a spur of golden hairs that fan
To the neat navel, the rest of the belly was smooth.

Well hung, slung from the fork of the muscular legs,
The firm vase of his sperm, like a bulging pear,
Cradling its handsome glands, two herculean eggs,
Swung as he came towards me, shameless, bare.

We aligned mouths. We entwined. All act was clutch,
All fact contact, the attack and the interlock
Of tongues, the charms of arms. I shook at the touch
Of his fresh flesh, I rocked at the shock of his cock.

Straddling my legs a little I inserted his divine
Person between and closed on it tight as I could.
The upright warmth of his belly lay all along mine.
Nude, glued together for a minute, we stood.

I stroked the lobes of his ears, the back of his head
And the broad shoulders. I took bold hold of the compact
Globes of his bottom. We tottered. He fell on the bed.
Lips parted, eyes closed, he lay there, ripe for the act.

Mad to be had, to be felt and smelled. My lips
Explored the adorable masculine tits. My eyes
Assessed the chest. I caressed the athletic hips
And the slim limbs. I approved the grooves of the thighs.

I hugged, I snuggled into an armpit. I sniffed
The subtle whiff of its tuft. I lapped up the taste
Of its hot hollow. My fingers began to drift
On a trek of inspection, a leisurely tour of the waist.

Downward in narrowing circles they playfully strayed.
Encroached on his privates like poachers, approached the prick,
But teasingly swerved, retreated from meeting. It betrayed
Its pleading need by a pretty imploring kick.

“Shall I rim you?” I whispered. He shifted his limbs in assent.
Turned on his side and opened his legs, let me pass
To the dark parts behind. I kissed as I went
The great thick cord that ran back from his balls to his arse.

Prying the buttocks aside, I nosed my way in
Down the shaggy slopes. I came to the puckered goal.
It was quick to my licking. He pressed his crotch to my chin.
His thighs squirmed as my tongue wormed in his hole.

His sensations yearned for consummation. He untucked
His legs and lay panting, hot as a teen-age boy.
Naked, enlarged, charged, aching to get sucked,
Clawing the sheet, all his pores open to joy.

I inspected his erection. I surveyed his parts with a stare
From scrotum level. Sighting along the underside
Of his cock, I looked through the forest of pubic hair
To the range of the chest beyond rising lofty and wide.

I admired the texture, the delicate wrinkles and the neat
Sutures of the capacious bag. I adored the grace
Of the male genitalia. I raised the delicious meat
Up to my mouth, brought the face of its hard-on to my face.

Slipping my lips round the Byzantine dome of the head,
With the tip of my tongue I caressed the sensitive groove.
He thrilled to the trill. “That’s lovely!” he hoarsely said.
“Go on! Go on!” Very slowly I started to move.

Gently, intently, I slid to the massive base
Of his tower of power, paused there a moment down
In the warm moist thicket, then began to retrace
Inch by inch the smooth way to the throbbing crown.

Indwelling excitements swelled at delights to come
As I descended and ascended those thick distended walls.
I grasped his root between left forefinger and thumb
And with my right hand tickled his heavy voluminous balls.

I plunged with a rhythmical lunge steady and slow,
And at every stroke made a corkscrew roll with my tongue.
His soul reeled in the feeling. He whimpered “Oh!”
As I tongued and squeezed and rolled and tickled and swung.

Then I pressed on the spot where the groin is joined to the cock,
Slipped a finger into his arse and massaged him from inside.
The secret sluices of his juices began to unlock.
He melted into what he felt. “O Jesus!” he cried.

Waves of immeasurable pleasures mounted his member in quick
Spasms. I lay still in the notch of his crotch inhaling his sweat.
His ring convulsed round my finger. Into me, rich and thick,
His hot spunk spouted in gouts, spurted in jet after jet.


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Gay Wisdom for Daily Living from White Crane Institute

"With the increasing commodification of gay news, views, and culture by powerful corporate interests, having a strong independent voice in our community is all the more important. White Crane is one of the last brave standouts in this bland new world... a triumph over the looming mediocrity of the mainstream Gay world." - Mark Thompson

Exploring Gay Wisdom & Culture since 1989!
www.whitecraneinstitute.org

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