Quotations from various Spiritual sources

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A Child, as Seen Through the Eyes of an Adult Child

The Child, as Seen Through the Eyes of an Adult Child

By John Hartery

It could have been another lifetime, I could have been someone else. Am I really now the emergence of that child of the fifties? How exactly did I reach this place today? My long ago past is blurring in a haze. It is over now. It was over long ago. It was like a series of moments of the atmosphere of the age. The moments of the child seem clearer, more real somehow as I look on them now, though retrospect is a liar. Elongated moments lost in the life around me, when the life around me was lost in me. The atmosphere was potent and pure and simple, the belief of the child breathed with a greater force and single-mindedness than I know now.

In the great winter of ’63 I felt the cold like an enemy in battle. We were sent from school, back to our homes, to our parents, to my one parent. People came around, the fire breathed warmth and spoke of comfort and wealth, the poker amid the embers, and the toasting fork and the tea, and the malt extract and Vitamin C capsules arming us against the cruel weather.
Then the winter was ended and we played our games in victory, in league with the sun of the summer. There was the Football, that special code that we played with only the one lad in each team. We placed two tin cans some ten or twelve feet apart. The goal was a can, and the penalty area was a circle drawn in chalk around each can. No goalkeepers now, or we were the ten outfield players and the goalkeeper too, each one of us, under the gaze of the tenements, long since demolished.

I imagined that the people in the buildings were the spectators of our game, just like the people in the main stand up the road at Celtic Park, where I often went. These games seemed to last for hours until it was time for tea, we knew this only because brothers and sisters had come looking for us on the orders of the family hierarchy and they were less than charming with being taken away from the things that they themselves were doing. The tea was always I remember a very rushed job, because after all, we had a very important date to get back to, of sport and friendship.

I remember the park. It was nore than a park, it was almost a lake with sixty or seventy swans swimming around, and working model ships keeping well away from them. Sometimes we would race around the beautifully shaped perimeter path absolute perfect for a cycle race until the ‘Parky’ would tell us to stop. The ‘Parky‘ was ‘The Man.’ He was in charge of the park. We knew he wouldn’t let us do what what we knew we shouldn’t do but couldn’t resist the urge of doing, so I don’t suppose we held too much of a grudge against him on account of this suppressed guilt complex. At times when we were sat around and planning strategies he would come and be with us and advise us to where we could play on our bikes and play football without scaring the swans too much, those places were never quite the same somehow.

I remember that I got to know a man just like a ‘Parky,’ he was a Lamplighter. He used to come around each evening with his magical rod and light up the gas lamps on each of the floors of the tenement that we lived in, and I imagine many others beside.

Glasgow is translated as ‘dear green place’ from the Gaelic ‘Glascu’ and has an abundance of parkland. It was always exciting to find a new one and often there would be different entertainments at different parks. One of these, which was special to me was known for its boat rides. I remember Russian Tea in a tearoom, and the Trolley Bus. I loved the Trolley Bus. It was electrically driven with two long rods on top affixed to overhead cable. I always wanted to drive one when I got older, but as I got older, alas, they were gone.

I don’t know if childhood is a fixed period of time, but I do believe that it will always live inside, and when it is gone, it will never be gone. Childhood gave me my life and through its experiments and learnings, taught me what beauty was, and simplicity and purity. It taught me to aim for the purity in thought, to aim to achieve in adulthood what was natural in me as a child. It makes me question maturity………

El Niño, como Visto Por los Ojos de un Niño AdultoPor John HarteryPodría haber sido otra vida, yo podría haber sido otra persona. ¿Soy yo realmente ahora la salida de ese niño de los cincuenta? ¿Cuán exactamente alcancé yo este lugar hoy? Mi largo hace el pasado enturbio en una neblina. Está sobre ahora. Estaba sobre hace mucho tiempo. Estaba como una serie de momentos de la atmósfera de la edad. Los momentos del niño parecen más claros, más verdaderos de algún modo como yo miro en ellos ahora, aunque retrospecto es un mentiroso. Los momentos alargados perdieron en la vida alrededor de mí, cuando la vida alrededor de mí se perdió en mí. La atmósfera era poderosa y pura y sencilla, la creencia del niño respirado con una fuerza y la resolución más grande que sé ahora. En el gran invierno de' 63 sentía el frío como un enemigo en la batalla. Fuimos mandados de la escuela, atrás a nuestros hogares, a nuestros padres, a mi un padre. Las personas se recuperaron, el fuego respiró el calor y habló del consuelo y la riqueza, el póker entre las ascuas, y el tenedor que brinda y el té, y el extracto de malta y cápsulas de Vitamina C que nos arman contra el tiempo cruel. Entonces el invierno se terminó y jugamos nuestros juegos en la victoria, en la liga con el sol del verano. Había el Fútbol, que código especial que jugamos con sólo el un muchacho en cada equipo. Colocamos dos latas unos diez o doce pies aparte. La meta era un puede, y la zona de castigo era un círculo dibujado en la tiza alrededor de cada puede. Ningunos porteros ahora, ni éramos los diez jugadores de praderas y el portero también, cada uno de nosotros, bajo la mirada de las viviendas, largo desde que derribado. Yo me imaginé que las personas en los edificios eran los espectadores de nuestro juego, como las personas en el soporte principal arriba el camino en el Parque céltico, donde yo a menudo fui. Estos juegos parecieron durar por horas hasta que fuera tiempo para el té, nosotros supimos estes sólo porque hermanos y hermanas habían venido el buscarnos en las órdenes de la jerarquía de la familia y ellos eran menos que encantando con siendo llevado de las cosas que ellos sí mismos hacían. El té era siempre recuerdo un trabajo muy apresurado, porque a fin de cuentas, nosotros tuvimos una fecha muy importante para volver a, del deporte y la amistad. Recuerdo el parque. Era nore que un parque, era casi un lago con sesenta o setenta cisnes que nadan alrededor, y los barcos de trabajo del modelo que mantienen bien lejos de ellos. A veces nosotros competiríamos alrededor del sendero hermosamente formado del perímetro absoluto perfecto para una carrera ciclista hasta que el "Fría" nos diga parar. El 'Fría 'era 'El Hombre.' El estaba encargado del parque. Supimos que él no permitiría que nosotros hacer lo que lo que supo que nosotros no debemos hacer pero no podríamos resistir el impulso de hacer, así que yo no supongo que tuvimos demasiado de un envidia contra él por motivo de este complejo de culpabilidad suprimido. A veces cuando fuimos sentados alrededor de y alrededor de la planificación las estrategias él vendría y estaría con nosotros y nos aconseja a donde podríamos jugar en nuestras bicicletas y jugar al fútbol sin espantar los cisnes demasiado, esos lugares eran nunca bastante el mismo de algún modo. Recuerdo que obtuve para saber un hombre como un 'Fría,' él era un Farolero. El utilizó para recuperarse cada tarde con su barra mágica e iluminar las lámparas de gas en cada uno de los pisos de la vivienda de que vivimos en, y yo me imagino muchos otros al lado. Glasgow se traduce como 'estimado lugar verde' del "Glascu" gaélico y tiene una abundancia de jardines. Siempre emocionaba a encontrar uno nuevo y a menudo habría entretenimientos diferentes en parques diferentes. Uno de éstos, que era especial a mí fui sabido para sus paseos del barco. Recuerdo Té ruso en un tearoom, y en el Autobús de Tranvía. Adoré el Autobús de Tranvía. Se manejó eléctricamente con dos barras largas en la cima puso cable de arriba. Yo siempre quise manejar uno cuando obtuve más viejo, pero cuando obtuve más viejo, ay, ellos fueron idos. Yo no sé si niñez es un espacio de tiempo fijo, pero creo que siempre viviré adentro, y cuando me soy ido, nunca me seré ido. La niñez me dio mi vida y por sus experimentos y aprende, me enseñó qué belleza era, y la sencillez y la pureza. Me enseñó a apuntar para la pureza en pensó, para proponerse lograr en la edad adulta lo que era natural en mí como un niño. Me hace pregunto la madurez………Our only pain is forgetting that we are God. Meditate and think: "Who are we?" We could not be this physical body -- Impossible! How can you use earth to make a human being? After some thinking, you will know that we are God, Buddhas, living in this world; then we'll have no more pain. It doesn't matter even if we have pain. Since we are God, a Buddha, we can take suffering without any problem; and we can live peacefully under any situation, and accept anything. Why should we mind since we are God? - Master Ching Hai'Green plants use the sun's energy to split the water molecule. They make sugar and oxygen from water, and carbon diioxide. This is the basis of life on earth.' "What we are today comes from our thoughts of yesterday, and our present thoughts build our life of tomorrow: Our life is the creation of our mind."Buddha Peace has its victories no less than war, but it doesn'thave as many monuments to unveil. Refrain from what is evil, cultivate what is good, completely purify your mind, this is the Buddhas teachingWhen we die we leave everything behind, especially this body we have cherished so much and relied upon so blindly and tried so hard to keep alive. But our minds are no more dependable than our bodies. Just look at your mind for a few minutes. You will see that it is just like a flea, constantly hopping to and fro. You will see thoughts arise without any reason, without any connection. Swept along by the chaos of every moment, we are the victims of the fickleness of our mind. If this is the only state of consciousneww we are familiar with, then to rely on our minds at the moment of death is an absurd gamble. Sogyal Rinpoche Those who, either now or after I am dead, shall rely upon themselves only and not look for assistance to any one besides themselves, it is they who shall reach the very topmost height.” ~Buddha Mind cannot see itself-Subject and object cannot be dual; Therefore, to see the mindYou must look and probe with the eye of wisdom.When probed and examined analyticallyWith such analytic investigationThe mind is like the wick of a lampIllumined only through its own radiance.-Milarepa, "Drinking the Mountain Stream: Songs of Tibet’s Beloved Saint"As a wave,Seething and foaming,Is only waterSo all creation,Streaming out of the Self,Is only the Self.Consider a piece of cloth.It is only threads!So all creation,When you look closely,Is only the Self.With every breath I take today,I vow to be awake;And every step I take,I vow to take with a grateful heart--So I may see with eyes of loveinto the hearts of all I meetThe Self cannot be known through studyOf the scriptures, nor through the intellect,Nor through hearing learned discourses.The Self can be attained only by thoseWhom the Self chooses. Verily unto themDoes the Self reveal himself.-Katha UpanishadThe Fragrance of the Rose (Words)The disciples were absorbed in a discussion of Lao-tzu’s dictum:Those who know do not say;Those who say do not know.When the master entered,They asked him what the words meant.Said the master, "Which of you knows the fragrance of a rose?"All of them indicated that they knew.Then he said, "put it into words."All of them were silent.~ from Anthony deMello, One Minute Wisdom