its a good night to spam
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The Call Of Nature
Saint (what else!)
so am I. She 's invited all the searchers for tea this afternoon. With yummy homemade cookies *drool*. I'm not sure if the sheep are going to be invited, too 
, though they certainly deserve it.
It's snowing again *sigh*. Has to: I got my laundry out on the terrace. Ah well, it will dry finally. Only with the snow it'll take a day or two longer.
, though they certainly deserve it.It's snowing again *sigh*. Has to: I got my laundry out on the terrace. Ah well, it will dry finally. Only with the snow it'll take a day or two longer.
SuN
.:~**~.~**~.~**~:.
On Joy and Sorrow
Kahlil Gibran
Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.
And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears.
And how else can it be?
The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.
Is not the cup that holds your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter's oven?
And is not the lute that soothes your spirit, the very wood that was hollowed with knives?
When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy.
When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.
Some of you say, "Joy is greater thar sorrow," and others say, "Nay, sorrow is the greater."
But I say unto you, they are inseparable.
Together they come, and when one sits, alone with you at your board, remember that the other is asleep upon your bed.
Verily you are suspended like scales between your sorrow and your joy.
Only when you are empty are you at standstill and balanced.
When the treasure-keeper lifts you to weigh his gold and his silver, needs must your joy or your sorrow rise or fall.
Kahlil Gibran
Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.
And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears.
And how else can it be?
The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.
Is not the cup that holds your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter's oven?
And is not the lute that soothes your spirit, the very wood that was hollowed with knives?
When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy.
When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.
Some of you say, "Joy is greater thar sorrow," and others say, "Nay, sorrow is the greater."
But I say unto you, they are inseparable.
Together they come, and when one sits, alone with you at your board, remember that the other is asleep upon your bed.
Verily you are suspended like scales between your sorrow and your joy.
Only when you are empty are you at standstill and balanced.
When the treasure-keeper lifts you to weigh his gold and his silver, needs must your joy or your sorrow rise or fall.
SuN
.:~**~.~**~.~**~:.
THE FORERUNNER
You are your own forerunner, and the towers you have builded are but the foundation of your giant-self. And that self too shall be a foundation.
And I too am my own forerunner, for the long shadow stretching before me at sunrise shall gather under my feet at the noon hour. Yet another sunrise shall lay another shadow before me, and that also shall be gathered at another noon.
Always have we been our own forerunners, and always shall we be. And all that we have gathered and shall gather shall be but seeds for fields yet unploughed. We are the fields and the ploughmen, the gatherers and the gathered.
When you were a wandering desire in the mist, I too was there, a wandering desire. Then we sought one another, and out of our eagerness dreams were born. And dreams were time limitless, and dreams were space without measure.
And when you were a silent word upon life's quivering lips, I too was there, another silent word. Then life uttered us and we came down the years throbbing with memories of yesterday and with longing for tomorrow, for yesterday was death conquered and tomorrow was birth pursued.
And now we are in God's hands. You are a sun in His right hand and I an earth in His left hand. Yet you are not more, shining, than I, shone upon.
And we, sun and earth, are but the beginning of a greater sun and a greater earth. And always shall we be the beginning.
You are your own forerunner, you the stranger passing by the gate of my garden.
And I too am my own forerunner, though I sit in the shadows of my trees and seem motionless.
You are your own forerunner, and the towers you have builded are but the foundation of your giant-self. And that self too shall be a foundation.
And I too am my own forerunner, for the long shadow stretching before me at sunrise shall gather under my feet at the noon hour. Yet another sunrise shall lay another shadow before me, and that also shall be gathered at another noon.
Always have we been our own forerunners, and always shall we be. And all that we have gathered and shall gather shall be but seeds for fields yet unploughed. We are the fields and the ploughmen, the gatherers and the gathered.
When you were a wandering desire in the mist, I too was there, a wandering desire. Then we sought one another, and out of our eagerness dreams were born. And dreams were time limitless, and dreams were space without measure.
And when you were a silent word upon life's quivering lips, I too was there, another silent word. Then life uttered us and we came down the years throbbing with memories of yesterday and with longing for tomorrow, for yesterday was death conquered and tomorrow was birth pursued.
And now we are in God's hands. You are a sun in His right hand and I an earth in His left hand. Yet you are not more, shining, than I, shone upon.
And we, sun and earth, are but the beginning of a greater sun and a greater earth. And always shall we be the beginning.
You are your own forerunner, you the stranger passing by the gate of my garden.
And I too am my own forerunner, though I sit in the shadows of my trees and seem motionless.
SuN
.:~**~.~**~.~**~:.
CRITICS
One nightfall a man travelling on horseback towards the sea reached an inn by the roadside. He dismounted and, confident in man and night like all riders towards the sea, he tied his horse to a tree beside the door and entered into the inn.
At midnight, when all were asleep, a thief came and stole the traveller's horse.
In the morning the man awoke, and discovered that his horse was stolen. And he grieved for his horse, and that a man had found it in his heart to steal.
Then his fellow lodgers came and stood around him and began to talk.
And the first man said, "How foolish of you to tie your horse outside the stable."
And the second said, " Still more foolish, without even hobbling the horse!"
And the third man said, "It is stupid at best to travel to the sea on horseback."
And the fourth said, "Only the indolent and the slow of foot own horses."
Then the traveller was much astonished. At last he cried, "My friends, because my horse was stolen, you have hastened one and all to tell me my faults and my shortcomings. But strange, not one word of reproach have you uttered about the man who stole my horse."
One nightfall a man travelling on horseback towards the sea reached an inn by the roadside. He dismounted and, confident in man and night like all riders towards the sea, he tied his horse to a tree beside the door and entered into the inn.
At midnight, when all were asleep, a thief came and stole the traveller's horse.
In the morning the man awoke, and discovered that his horse was stolen. And he grieved for his horse, and that a man had found it in his heart to steal.
Then his fellow lodgers came and stood around him and began to talk.
And the first man said, "How foolish of you to tie your horse outside the stable."
And the second said, " Still more foolish, without even hobbling the horse!"
And the third man said, "It is stupid at best to travel to the sea on horseback."
And the fourth said, "Only the indolent and the slow of foot own horses."
Then the traveller was much astonished. At last he cried, "My friends, because my horse was stolen, you have hastened one and all to tell me my faults and my shortcomings. But strange, not one word of reproach have you uttered about the man who stole my horse."
SuN
.:~**~.~**~.~**~:.
THE LION'S DAUGHTER
Four slaves stood fanning an old queen who was asleep upon her throne. And she was snoring. And upon the queen's lap a cat lay purring and gazing lazily at the slaves.
The first slave spoke, and said, "How ugly this old woman is in her sleep. See her mouth droop; and she breathes as if the devil were choking her."
Then the cat said, purring, "Not half so ugly in her sleep as you in your waking slavery."
And the second slave said, "You would think sleep would smooth her wrinkles instead of deepening them. She must be dreaming of something evil."
And the cat purred, "Would that you might sleep also and dream of your freedom."
And the third slave said, "Perhaps she is seeing the procession of all those that she has slain."
And the cat purred, "Aye, she sees the procession of your forefathers and your descendants."
And the fourth slave said, "It is all very well to talk about her, but it does not make me less weary of standing and fanning."
And the cat purred, "You shall be fanning to all eternity; for as it is on earth, so it is in heaven."
At this moment the old queen nodded in her sleep, and her crown fell to the floor.
And one of the slaves said, "That is a bad omen."
And the cat purred, "The bad omen of one is the good omen of another."
And the second slave said, "What if she should wake, and find her crown fallen! She would surely slay us."
And the cat purred, "Daily from your birth she has slain you and you know it not."
And the third slave said, "Yes, she would slay us and she would call it making a sacrifice to the gods."
And the cat purred, "Only the weak are sacrificed to the gods."
And the fourth slave silenced the others, and softly he picked up the crown and replaced it, without waking her, on the old queen's head.
And the cat purred, "Only a slave restores a crown that has fallen."
And after a while the old queen woke, and she looked about her and yawned. Then she said, "Methought I dreamed, and I saw four caterpillars chased by a scorpion around the trunk of an ancient oak tree. I like not my dream."
Then she closed her eyes and went to sleep again. And she snored. And the four slaves went on fanning her.
And the cat purred, "Fan on, fan on, stupids. You fan but the fire that consumes you."
Four slaves stood fanning an old queen who was asleep upon her throne. And she was snoring. And upon the queen's lap a cat lay purring and gazing lazily at the slaves.
The first slave spoke, and said, "How ugly this old woman is in her sleep. See her mouth droop; and she breathes as if the devil were choking her."
Then the cat said, purring, "Not half so ugly in her sleep as you in your waking slavery."
And the second slave said, "You would think sleep would smooth her wrinkles instead of deepening them. She must be dreaming of something evil."
And the cat purred, "Would that you might sleep also and dream of your freedom."
And the third slave said, "Perhaps she is seeing the procession of all those that she has slain."
And the cat purred, "Aye, she sees the procession of your forefathers and your descendants."
And the fourth slave said, "It is all very well to talk about her, but it does not make me less weary of standing and fanning."
And the cat purred, "You shall be fanning to all eternity; for as it is on earth, so it is in heaven."
At this moment the old queen nodded in her sleep, and her crown fell to the floor.
And one of the slaves said, "That is a bad omen."
And the cat purred, "The bad omen of one is the good omen of another."
And the second slave said, "What if she should wake, and find her crown fallen! She would surely slay us."
And the cat purred, "Daily from your birth she has slain you and you know it not."
And the third slave said, "Yes, she would slay us and she would call it making a sacrifice to the gods."
And the cat purred, "Only the weak are sacrificed to the gods."
And the fourth slave silenced the others, and softly he picked up the crown and replaced it, without waking her, on the old queen's head.
And the cat purred, "Only a slave restores a crown that has fallen."
And after a while the old queen woke, and she looked about her and yawned. Then she said, "Methought I dreamed, and I saw four caterpillars chased by a scorpion around the trunk of an ancient oak tree. I like not my dream."
Then she closed her eyes and went to sleep again. And she snored. And the four slaves went on fanning her.
And the cat purred, "Fan on, fan on, stupids. You fan but the fire that consumes you."