When death comes
like the hungry bear in autumn;
when death comes and takes all the bright coins from his purse
to buy me, and snaps the purse shut;
when death comes
like the measle-pox;
when death comes
like an iceberg between the shoulder blades,
I want to step through the door full of curiosity, wondering:
what is it going to be like, that cottage of darkness?
And therefore I look upon everything
as a brotherhood and a sisterhood,
and I look upon time as no more than an idea,
and I consider eternity as another possibility,
and I think of each life as a flower, as common
as a field daisy, and as singular,
and each name a comfortable music in the mouth,
tending, as all music does, toward silence,
and each body a lion of courage, and something
precious to the earth.
When it’s over, I want to say: all my life
I was a bride married to amazement.
I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.
When it’s over, I don’t want to wonder
if I have made of my life something particular, and real.
I don’t want to find myself sighing and frightened,
or full of argument.
I don’t want to end up simply having visited this world.
Give yourself permission to rest and receive lullabies for your heart.
The meaning of death and dying in a death-phobic culture and more on Sounds of SAND Episode 2
A duet of cello and birdsong
Zen Buddhism and its relation to Nonduality, the symbolism of the ensō (円相, "circular form") calligraphy, and the Heart Sutra
For the philosopher, our postfactual stimulus culture is one that edges out time-consuming values such as loyalty, ritual and commitment
Dazzling timelapse shows how microbes spoil our food – and sometimes enrich it.
SAND guest speaker with a taste of Sufi Whirling
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