Baba Quotes

Every man is a damn fool for at least five minutes every day; wisdom consists in not exceeding the limit.

War doesn't negate decency. It demands it, even more than in times of peace." - Baba

Don't Worry Be Happy

Hide from fate all you like,” Baba Yellowlegs said as they turned away. “But it shall soon find you!

Did we come all the way here for a book, Baba?” “Just one, my child. Just one.” “It must be a special book.” “All books are special, dear.

What I saw next stopped me dead in my tracks. Books. Not just one or two dozen, but hundreds of them. In crates. In piles on the floor. In bookcases that stretched from floor to ceiling and lined the entire room. I turned around and around in a slow circle, feeling as if I'd just stumbled into Ali Baba's cave. I was breathless, close to tears, and positively dizzy with greed.

In the end, we will conserve only what we love; we will love only what we understand and we will understand only what we are taught.

The world is always ruled by a maniac. - Baba Yaga

When you kill a man, you steal a life," Baba said. "You steal his wife's right to a husband, rob his children of a father. When you tell a lie, you steal someone's right to the truth. When you cheat, you steal the right to fairness. Do you see?

No amount of prayer or meditation can do what helping others can do.

I loved him in that moment, loved him more than I'd ever loved anyone, and I wanted to to tell them all that I was the snake in the grass, the monster in the lake. I wasn't worthy of this sacrifice; I was a liar, a cheat, a thief. And I would have told, except that a part of me was glad. Glad that this would all be over with soon. Baba would dismiss them, there would be some pain, but life would move on. I wanted that, to move on, to forget, to start with a clean slate. I wanted to be able to breathe again.

There, weeping, a tsarevna lies locked in a cell. And Master Grey Wolf serves her very well. There, in her mortar, sweeping beneath the skies, the demon Baba Yaga flies. There Tsar Koschei, he wastes away, poring over his pale gold.

Life is a song - sing it. Life is a game - play it. Life is a challenge - meet it. Life is a dream - realize it. Life is a sacrifice - offer it. Life is love - enjoy it.

Di ko alam kung paano ie-explain, pero, para sa akin, ang bag ng babae ay simbolo ng kanyang daigdig. The mere fact na nag-decide ang babae na yun ang laman at bigat ng bag niya, 'yun ang personal nyang mundo. Kaya niya dinala yun kasi yun ang kaya nyang dalhin. Anytime, anywhere. Nadadala niya yun from point A to point B. Pero kapag nakakita na ng lalake, dapat lalake na ang magpatuloy ng pagdadala from point B to point C? Kapag umalis ba ang babae mula sa kanyang bahay, aware siya na may lalakeng magbibitbit ng bag niya? I don't think so. Even without the guy, dadalhin pa rin naman ng babae yun kahit saan siya magpunta. Kaya ako, hinahayaan ko lang bitbitin ng babae ang kanyang bag. Gusto kong sabihin sa kanya na with or without me, or each other, tuloy lang ang pagbibitbit ng mundo, ng kani-kaniyang daigdig.

All my life, I [Pari] have lived like an aquarium fish in the safety of a glass tank, behind a barrier as impenetrable as it has been transparent. I have been free to observe the glimmering world on the other side, to picture myself in it, if I like. But I have always been contained, hemmed in, by the hard, unyielding confines of the existence that Baba has constructed for me, at first knowingly, when I was young, and now guilelessly, now that he is fading day by day. I think I have grown accustomed to the glass and am terrified that when it breaks, when I am alone, I will spill out into the wide open unknown and flop around, helpless, lost, gasping for breath.

Hassan and I fed from the same breasts. We took our first steps on the same lawn in the same yard. And, under the same roof, we spoke our first words. Mine was Baba. His was Amir. My name. Looking back on it now, I think the foundation for what happened in the winter of 1975 —and all that followed— was already laid in those first words.

Before you speak, ask yourself: Is it kind, is it necessary, is it true, does it improve the silence?

Let all beings in all the worlds be happy. Include this universal prayer in your prayers every day. This is my birthday message to you.

Baba Yaga: "... What are his powers" Mirror on the wall: "He reads

Apartmanın girişindeki lambayı sen mi kırdın Bülent?” “Hangisini?” “Otomatik yanan, sensörlü lamba.” “Hayır.” “Komşu görmüş, yalan söyleme. Süpürge sapıyla kırmışsın dün gece.” Önüme baktım. “Neden kırdın?” Cevap yok. “Hasta mısın evladım? Söyle bana, neyin var, neden kırdın lambayı, yapma böyle…” “Kırdımsa kırdım, ne olacak! Çok mu değerliymiş?” “Lamba senden değerli mi evladım, lambanın amına koyayım, lamba kim? Yöneticiye de dedim. Lambanızı sikeyim, kaç paraysa veririz. Sen değerlisin benim için.” “Beni görünce yanmıyordu baba.” “Nasıl ya?” “Görmezden geliyordu, yanmıyordu. Kaç sefer yok saydı beni.” “E beni görünce de yanmıyordu bazen, böyle el sallayacaksın havaya doğru, o zaman yanıyor.” “Hadi ya! Sahiden mi?” “Evet. Ucuzundan takmışlar. Bizimle bir alakası yok.” Babama sarıldım yıllar sonra.

Even if she hadn’t slaughtered Baba Yellowlegs, Manon would have killed her just for that spell she’d used to freeze her feet. Etching some foul spell with the man’s blood. And now she was going to die. Wind-Cleaver pressed against the queen’s blade. But Aelin held her ground and hissed, “I’m going to rip you to shreds.

If you would take the time to listen to them,” Baba repeats calmly, “then you would hear their stories. Their lives would add to yours, and stay with you forever.

I love everybody. Each one plays the role they have to play...

The book that I shall make people read is the book of the heart, which holds the key to the mystery of life

The greatest spiritual practice is to transform love into service

Love God and find him within - the only treasure worth finding.

IT’S BETTER TO SEE GOD IN EVERYTHING THAN TO TRY TO FIGURE IT OUT.

Bir elmanın bir meyve olduğu, bir babanın baba, bir savaşın savaş olduğu, bir gerçeğin gerçek olduğu, bir yalanın yalan olduğu, bir aşkın aşk olduğu, bir bıkmanın bıkma olduğu, bir başkaldırmanın başkaldırma olduğu, bir sessizliğin bir sessizlik olduğu, bir haksızlığın bir haksızlık olduğu, bir düzenin bir düzen ve bir evliliğin bir evlilik olduğu, olacağı günler gelecekti, inanıyordu Tante Rosa.

Pero ang babae (ang tao, for that matter), talian man ang katawan o suutan ng chastity belt, ay may uri ng kalayaang hindi mananakaw ng kahit sino; ang kalayaan niyang mag-isip.

- a verdade é ainda mais triste, Baba: não somos transparentes por não comer... nós somos transparentes porque somos pobres.

When you tell the children tales of the Baba Yaga on a cold winter’s night, you might remember to mention that whether or not the witch is wicked often depends on who is telling the story.

No, I mean to the other place. The next place. I don't think I'll make it. I don't think you'll find me there." . . . "Listen to me." Baba held on to his arm. "You could never be more wrong, Amar. We taught you one way, but there could be others. We don't even know, even we can only hope. How many names are there for God?" "Ninety-nine." "Some contradict each other, remember? Didn't you just say to me--what if this is meant to show us more? What if we are meant to look closer?" . . . "We will wait until you are allowed in," Baba said, as if to himself. "I will wait." Baba pointed at the sky, and Amar looked, past the stars and past the lighter patch of the Milky Way, past the moon, and maybe God was there and maybe God wasn't, but when Baba said to him, "I don't think He created us just to leave some of us behind," Amar believed him. Amar wanted to.

The end of education is character

Baba dropped the stack of food stamps on her desk. "Thank you but I don't want," Baba said. "I work always. In Afghanistan I work, in America I work. Thank you very much, Mrs. Dobbins, but I don't like it free money."...Baba walked out of the welfare office like a man cured of a tumor.

That’s exactly what I’ll do, I thought to myself. After dinner, I’m going to ask Big Brother to teach me how to read this map. With Aunt Baba still in Tianjin, there’s obviously nobody looking out for me. I’ll just have to find my own way.

Life is a song - sing it. Life is a game - play it. Life is a challenge - meet it. Life is a dream - realize it. Life is a sacrifice - offer it. ...Life is love - enjoy it. - Sai Baba

Uzaktaki sevilen, yosunlu deniz kokar. Rengi turkuvazdır. "Anne özlemi" fırından yeni çıkmış ev kurabiyesi kokar. Rengi yeşildir. "Baba özlemi" tütün kokar. Bu özlem deve tüyü rengindedir.

We can’t leave just like that.” Cat was appalled. “Where can we find you if we need you again?” [Baba Yaga] “You can’t. Listen, Little Drear, I hate saying good-byes. I have a good strategy for avoiding them.” “What’s that?” asked Anton. “I eat my guests.

The steel door of the incinerator went up and the muted hum of the eternal fire became a red roaring. The heat lunged out at them like a famished beast. Then Rahel's Ammu was fed to it. Her hair, her skin, her smile. Her voice. They way she used Kipling to love her children before putting them to bed: We be of one blood, though and I. Her goodnight kiss. The way she held their faces steady with one hand (squashed-cheeked, fish-mouthed) while she parted and combed their hair with the other. The way she held knickers out for Rahel to climb into. Left leg, right leg. All this was fed to the beast, and it was satisfied. She was their Ammu and their Baba and she had loved them Double.

My whole life, Mama and Baba celebrated two religions' worth of holidays—Christmas, Eid al-Fitr, Easter. It used to make me wonder whether the most important things we see in God are really in each other.

You must be a Lotus, unfolding its petals when the Sun rises in the sky, unaffected by the slush where it is born or even the water which sustains it.

Love is selflessness, Self is lovelessness.

I have no interest in prisioners or battling today,” Manon said. The Queen of Terrasen gave her a grin. “Good.” Manon turned away, barking at her Thirteen to get to their mounts. “I suppose,” the queen went on, “that makes you smarter than Baba Yellowlegs.” Manon stopped, staring straight ahead and seeing nothing of the grass or sky or tress. Asterin whirled. “What do you know of Baba Yellowlegs?” The queen gave a low chuckle, despite the warning growl from the Fae warrior. Slowly, Manon looked over her shoulder. The queen tugged apart the lapels of her tunic, revealing a necklace of thin scars as the wind shifted. The scent - iron and stone and pure hatred - hit Manon like a rock to the face. Every Iroonteeth witch knew the scent that forever lingered on those scars: Witch Killer.

I am a lover, and I deal in love. Sow flowers, So your surroundings become a garden. Don't sow thorns; for they will prick your feet. We are all one body, Whoever tortures another, wounds himself.

...What will the present chaos lead to? How will it all end? It can only end in one way. Mankind will be sick of it all....

Only a foolish woman leans heavily on a man's promises

True love is unconquer able and irresistable; and it goes on gathering power and spreading itself, until eventually it transforms everyone whom it touches. Meher Baba

We humans may not be powerful or magical," Baba added, holding me close. "But the stories we pass on to our children can be.

Holy crap!” he said. “That’s a big dog.” “Yes,” said Baba. “But a small dragon.

Baba Yaga: I've never heard of such a creature. What are his powers? Magic Mirror: He reads. He reads everything.

I throw my makeshift jai-namaz, my prayer rug, on the floor and I get on my knees, lower my forehead to the ground, my tears soaking through the sheet. I bow to the west. Then I remember I haven’t prayed for over fifteen years. I have long forgotten the words. But it doesn’t matter, I will utter those few words I still remember: La illaha ila Allah, Muhammad u rasul ullah. There’s no God but Allah, and Muhammad is his messenger. I see now that Baba was wrong, there’s a God, there always had been. I see Him here, in the eyes of the people in this [hospital] corridor of desperation. This is the real house of God, this is where those who have lost God will find Him, not the white masjid with its bright diamond lights, and towering minarets. There’s a God, there has to be, and now I will pray, I will pray that He forgive that I have neglected Him all of these years, forgive that I have betrayed, lied, and sinned with impunity only to turn to Him now in my hour of need, I pray that He is as merciful, benevolent, and gracious as His book says He is. [...] I hear a whimpering and realize it is mine, my lips are salty with the tears trickling down my face. I feel the eyes of everyone in this corridor on me and still I bow to the west. I pray. I pray that my sins have not caught up with me the way I'd always feared they would.

I know. I know. But he's always buried in those books or shuffling around the house like he's lost in some dream." "And?" "I wasn't like that." Baba sounded frustrated, almost angry. Rahim Khan laughed. "Children aren't colouring books. You don't get to fill them with your favourite colours.

So, sometimes it’s necessary to level the board. Sometimes when the bad guy keeps winning, the questions of right and wrong get a little cloudy. When that situation is created then it becomes necessary to do the right thing even if it’s technically the wrong thing or there’s no justice. And there are people that do that. The Baba Yaga’s of the world.

There is only one language, the language of the Heart. There is only one religion, the religion of Love.

Mastery in Servitude

Good company is important, it helps to cultivate good qualities.

The way I see it, the nineteenth century was a British century. The twenthieth century is an American century. I predict that the twenty-first century will be a Chinese century. The pendulum of history will swing from the ying ashes brought by the Cultural Revolution to the yang pheonix arising from its wreckage. Aunt Baba, pg 226. Year 1979

Life is a game...play it. Life is a challenge...meet it. Life is a dream...realize it. Life is a sacrifice...offer it. Life is love...enjoy it.

Can you become a man without becoming your father?

A real woman must always do the things she wants to do, and in her own time too. You must never allow yourself to be rushed into doing things you're not ready for.

One day I was driving down the farm track in the pickup,with two of the little boys, aged about four or five, sitting beside me. One of them turned to me conversationally and said, "Baba, don't worry. When you get old one day you'll be sitting here where we are, and we'll be driving you around!

When the sun rises and shines, Not all the lotus buds in the lakes and ponds bloom, Only those that are ready, do. The rest have to bide their time, But all are destined to bloom, All have to fulfill that destiny. There is no need to despair.

Hindi din ako nagpi-prisinta na dalhin ang gamit ng mga babae. Lalo na ang bitbitin ang kanilang shoulder bag. Hindi dahil ayokong isiping bading ako. Ang sa akin lang, nabuhat nga nila yung bag mula bahay hanggang school, tapos kapag nakakita ng lalake, bigla silang manghihina.

The invisibility in which we live next to one another is appalling, Kukla thought.

Love one another and help others to rise to the higher levels, simply by pouring out love. Love is infectious and the greatest healing energy.

Feed Everyone

Be simple and sincere.

Broken things can be fixed and healed. Nothing is too difficult or too dirty to clean.

Naughty children have to be protected. Even if it's just from themselves.

In the spirit of "I think, therefore I am," I'm just going to assume that I am in fact myself until proven otherwise.

Learn to speak what you feel, and act what you speak.

I proceed with caution, hiding myself as I go. If only I had a cardboard box, the ultimate stealth device.

If the partridge didn't call at the wrong moment, Neither the hunter nor the falcon would know of it. It follows from this point also, That everyone's voice betrays him.

You seek too much information and not enough transformation.

If you honour your mother, the Mother of the Universe will guard you against harm.

Do not get attached to worldly things and pursuits. Be in the world, but do not let the world be in you.

At times Maharajji’s behavior reminds me of a story Ramakrishna tells of a saint who asked a snake not to bite but to love everyone. The snake agreed. But then many people threw things at the snake. The saint found the snake all battered. “I didn’t say not to hiss,” said the saint.

Her mind still worked, her feet still moved, she could walk, though only with the help of a walker, but walk she did, and she was a human being who knew for certainty that beans are best in salad and that old age is a terrible calamity.

- оу! Тут говорять російською? Я теж знаю кілька слів! - Нєт!!! Але професора вже було не стримати. - Baba, vodka, ogurets! - видав астрофізик і, не чекаючи, поснив: - Кохана жінка, стакан віскі і стейк. Цьому мене навчив один російський інженер у Г'юстоні. Це все, що йому було потрібно у вихідні. - Технічно, ви абсолютно праві, - сказав я, не в змозі більше будь-що пояснювати.

There are very few things in the mind which eat up as much energy as worry. It is one of the most difficult things not to worry about anything. Worry is experienced when things go wrong, but in relation to past happenings it is idle merely to wish that they might have been otherwise. The frozen past is what it is, and no amount of worrying is going to make it other than what it has been. But the limited ego-mind identifies itself with its past, gets entangled with it and keeps alive the pangs of frustrated desires. Thus worry continues to grow into the mental life of man until the ego-mind is burdened by the past. Worry is also experienced in relation to the future when this future is expected to be disagreeable in some way. In this case it seeks to justify itself as a necessary part of the attempt to prepare for coping with the anticipated situations. But, things can never be helped merely by worrying. Besides, many of the things which are anticipated never turn up, or if they do occur, they turn out to be much more acceptable than they were expected to be. Worry is the product of feverish imagination working under the stimulus of desires. It is a living through of sufferings which are mostly our own creation. Worry has never done anyone any good, and it is very much worse than mere dissipation of psychic energy, for it substantially curtails the joy and fullness of life.

Keberkatan adalah hikmah yang sering hilang dalan usaha dan ikhtiar manusia

What matters is to live in the present, live now, for every moment is now. It is your thoughts and acts of the moment that create your future. The outline of your future path already exists, for you created its pattern by your past.

In Russian fairy tales, the narrative flows a little differently. In those stories, you won’t find a tale for Cinderella, one for Snow White, one for Rapunzel. Instead, a peculiar cast of characters recurs over and over, in nearly every story, performing different acts and suffering different sorrows, but remaining the same. Ivan the Fool. Yelena the Bright. Baba Yaga. Vasilisa the Brave. Koschei the Deathless.

His stories were filled with blood and darkness, horrors and terrors. Whenever Umm scolded him with a teasing smile, Baba would say that lies would take his little girl nowhere. That was also what he had said when he put a bow in Zafira's still-baby-soft hands and taught her how to loose an arrow. And so she was given the truth, even in the years when she would look upon everything with a veil of innocence.

Once a sadhu offered me some land that he had, so that I could have an ashram for fellow Westerners. I asked Maharajji about it. He said, “He wants to give you his attachment. It’s not a pure gift. If it were pure he’d just give it to you instead of talking about it.” (R.D.)

If I were to ask the famous Henry Ford to come over here and do what I tell him to do, would he do it? Never! But if I were to make a thousand-year-old corpse come alive before his eyes, he would jump at the chance to stay here and wash my clothes!

The phone rang. “Hauptmans’ mortuary,” I answered. “You stab ’em, we slab “em.” Baba Yaga was wearing off on me. “Hard-boiled is the best way to eat eggs,” said Baba Yaga. “But I’ve quit eating eggs—it upset my household. What did the boy-who-isn’t-a-boy have to say?” I decided I didn’t want to know what inspired the information about eggs.” “She hung up. I’d just replaced the handset when it rang again. “Yes?” I said. “I’m waiting for more cleverness,” Baba Yaga said. “Hauptman House of Horrors, don’t mind the screaming—we don’t. Something of the sort.” “Okay,” I said. “Hauptman House of Horrors—” “Sssss,” she said.

How strange, extraordinary, and joyful it was to her to think that her son - the little son, whose tiny limbs had faintly stirred within her twenty years ago, for whose sake she had so often quarreled with the count, who would spoil him, the little son, who had first learnt to say grusha, and then had learnt to say baba - that that son was now in a foreign land, in strange surroundings, a manly warrior, alone without help or guidance, doing there his proper manly work. All the world-wide experience of ages, proving that children do imperceptibly from the cradle grow up into men, did not exist for the countess. The growth of her son had been for her at every strage of his growth just as extraordinary as though millions of millions of men had not grown up in the same way. Just as, twenty years before, she could not believe that the little creature that was lying somewhere under her heart, would one day cry and learn to talk, now she could not believe that the same little creature could be that strong, brave man, that paragon of sons and of men that, judging by this letter, he was now.

About the New Life Meher Baba wrote: This New Life is endless, and even after my physical death it will be kept alive by those who live the life of complete renunciation of falsehood, lies, hatred, anger, greed and lust; and who, to accomplish all this, do no lustful actions, do no harm to anyone, do no backbiting, do not seek material possessions or power, who accept no homage, neither covet honor nor shun disgrace, and fear no one and nothing; by those who rely wholly and solely on God, and who love God purely for the sake of loving; who believe in the lovers of God and in the reality of Manifestation, and yet do not expect any spiritual or material reward; who do not let go the hand of Truth, and who, without being upset by calamities, bravely and wholeheartedly face all hardships with one hundred percent cheerfulness, and give no importance to caste, creed and religious ceremonies. This New Life will live by itself eternally, even if there is no one to live it.

Sow flowers to make a garden bloom around you, The thorns you sow will prick your own feet. Arrows shot at others Will return to hit you as they fall. You yourself will come to teeter on the lip Of a well dug to undermine another. Though you look at others with contempt, It's you whose body will be reduced to dust. Humanity is all one body; To torture another is simply to wound yourself. [...]Make your path straight now, by the bright light of day; For pitch darkness will come without warning.

sky. And the tiny stars. Amar shivered. “I don’t think I will make it,” Amar said. “I’m sorry.” “Of course you can’t come back inside, Amar—you can hardly sit up.” “No, I mean to the other place. The next place. I don’t think I’ll make it. I don’t think you’ll find me there.” He had left the path. His parents had given him a map, and directions, and he had abandoned it all. Now his heart was so ink-dark he could be lost and not know it, and not care, and never know how to find his way back. “Listen to me.” Baba held on to his arm. “You could never be more wrong, Amar. We taught you one way, but there could be others. We don’t even know, even we can only hope. How many names are there for God?” “Ninety-nine.” He knew all of this by heart. Didn’t that count for something? “And are they all the same kind of name?” “No.” “Some contradict each other, remember? Didn’t you just say to me—what if this is meant to show us more? What if we are meant to look closer?” Amar nodded. Wind rustled the leaves. He sniffled and wiped his nose on his shirtsleeve. “We will wait until you are allowed in,” Baba said, as if to himself. “I will wait.” Baba pointed at the sky, and Amar looked, past the stars and past the lighter patch of the Milky Way, past the moon, and maybe God was there and maybe God wasn’t, but when Baba said to him, “I don’t think He created us just to leave some of us behind,” Amar believed him. Amar wanted to.

Whatever talent a person has should be dedicated to the rest of humanity - indeed to all living beings. Therein lies fulfillment. All men are kin. They are of the same likeness, the same build, molded out of the same material, with the same divine essence in each. Service to man will help your divinity to blossom, for it will gladden your heart and make you feel that life has been worth while. Service to man is service to God, for He is in every man, and every living being, in every stone and stump. Offer your talents at the feet of God. Let every act be a flower, free from the creeping worms of envy and egoism and full of the fragrance of love and sacrifice.

A Wild Woman Is Not A Girlfriend. She Is A Relationship With Nature. But can you love me in the deep? In the dark? In the thick of it? Can you love me when I drink from the wrong bottle and slip through the crack in the floorboard? Can you love me when I’m bigger than you, when my presence blazes like the sun does, when it hurts to look directly at me? Can you love me then too? Can you love me under the starry sky, shaved and smooth, my skin like liquid moonlight? Can you love me when I am howling and furry, standing on my haunches, my lower lip stained with the blood of my last kill? When I call down the lightning, when the sidewalks are singed by the soles of my feet, can you still love me then? What happens when I freeze the land, and cause the dirt to harden over all the pomegranate seeds we’ve planted? Will you trust that Spring will return? Will you still believe me when I tell you I will become a raging river, and spill myself upon your dreams and call them to the surface of your life? Can you trust me, even though you cannot tame me? Can you love me, even though I am all that you fear and admire? Will you fear my shifting shape? Does it frighten you, when my eyes flash like your camera does? Do you fear they will capture your soul? Are you afraid to step into me? The meat-eating plants and flowers armed with poisonous darts are not in my jungle to stop you from coming. Not you. So do not worry. They belong to me, and I have invited you here. Stay to the path revealed in the moonlight and arrive safely to the hut of Baba Yaga: the wild old wise one… she will not lead you astray if you are pure of heart. You cannot be with the wild one if you fear the rumbling of the ground, the roar of a cascading river, the startling clap of thunder in the sky. If you want to be safe, go back to your tiny room — the night sky is not for you. If you want to be torn apart, come in. Be broken open and devoured. Be set ablaze in my fire. I will not leave you as you have come: well dressed, in finely-threaded sweaters that keep out the cold. I will leave you naked and biting. Leave you clawing at the sheets. Leave you surrounded by owls and hawks and flowers that only bloom when no one is watching. So, come to me, and be healed in the unbearable lightness and darkness of all that you are. There is nothing in you that can scare me. Nothing in you I will not use to make you great. A wild woman is not a girlfriend. She is a relationship with nature. She is the source of all your primal desires, and she is the wild whipping wind that uproots the poisonous corn stalks on your neatly tilled farm. She will plant pear trees in the wake of your disaster. She will see to it that you shall rise again. She is the lover who restores you to your own wild nature.

İnsan en az üç kişidir. Kendisi, olmak istediği kişi ve aradaki farkta yaşayan üçüncü. En sahicisi de bu üçüncüdür. Olmak istediğin kişiden kendini çıkardığında, aradaki farkta yaşayan kişidir en çok sana benzeyen. Ne kendin kadar huzursuz ne de olmak istediğin kişi kadar hayalidir o. Yine bu yüzden iki insanın birbirine âşık olması en az altı kişi arasında geçen bir hadisedir. Hangi kişiliğinin hangi kişiliğe, hangi parçanın hangi parçaya özlem duyduğunu çözemediğinde, içmeyi unuttuğun sigara parmaklarını yakana kadar karşı duvara bakarsın. Ve o zaman anlarsın hayatının uzun zamandır neden başka birinin hikâyesiymiş gibi gözükmeye başladığını. Sokak lambalarının ölgün ışıkları karanlık odalara vurduğunda, duvar saatinin tik taklarından başka ses yokken yanında, sanki bir tek sana açıklanmayan bir sır varmış gibi beklerken anlarsın aslında boşa beklediğini. Tünelde sana yol gösterecek rehberin, karanlıktan başka bir şey olmadığını anlarsın. Anne diye ağlayan çocukların aradığının çoğu zaman şefkatli bir baba olduğunu anlarsın. Çekip gitmek isterken görünmez bir elin seni nasıl durdurduğunu anlarsın. Kırk yaşında ama altmış gösteren adamlara daha dikkatli bakarsın o zaman. Kahvelerin dışarıyı göstermeyen isli camlarına. Berduşlara ve kör kedilere bakarsın. Gözbebekleri kaymış esrarkeşlere. Suyun üstüne çıkmış ölü balıklara. Havada asılı gibi duran yırtıcı kuşlara daha dikkatli bakarsın. Çabalarının sonuç vermediğini gören umutsuz insanların bakışlarıyla ancak o zaman buluşur bakışların. Bir yağmur çaktırmadan dindiğinde. Bir gün çenesi ağzının içine kaçmış dişsiz ihtiyarlardan birinin de sen olabileceğini bilirsin artık. Bir gece ansızın, yapayalnız ölmekten korkarken, cesedimi komşular mı bulacak yoksa sayım memurlarımı diye düşünürken hissedersin göğüs kafesinde her gün biraz daha büyüyen, kimsenin kapatamayacağı o boşluğu. Bir kokuya sarılma isteğini. Bir ömür gibi geçmiş zor, uzun günlerden sonra anlarsın ruhunu zehirleyen karmakarışık düşünceleri. Büyük heyecanlardan sonra çöken bitkinlikleri. Kimsenin bulutlara bakmadığı bir şehirde bir lafı döndürüp dolaştırmadan anlatmanın imkansızlığını. Belki de insanın ne anlatacağını bilemediğinde şair olduğunu anlarsın. Gözyaşların kurumadan gülmeye başlarsın o zaman. Çünkü bilirsin ki seni artık kimse kandıramaz kolay kolay. Mutsuz insanları kandırmak zordur çünkü. Hayata her zaman kuşkulu gözlerle bakan, mutsuz insanları kandırmak, herkes bilir bunu, çok ayıptır çünkü.

De repente me pregunto por qué tengo que contar esto, pero si uno empezara a preguntarse por qué hace todo lo que hace, si uno se preguntara solamente por qué acepta una invitación a cenar (ahora pasa una paloma, y me parece que un gorrión) o por qué cuando alguien nos ha contado un buen cuento, en seguida empieza como una cosquilla en el estómago y no se está tranquilo hasta entrar en la oficina de al lado y contar a su vez el cuento; recién entonces uno está bien, está contento y puede volverse a su trabajo. Que yo sepa nadie ha explicado esto, de manera que lo mejor es dejarse de pudores y contar, porque al fin y al cabo nadie se averguenza de respirar o de ponerse los zapatos; son cosas, que se hacen, y cuando pasa algo raro, cuando dentro del zapato encontramos una araña o al respirar se siente como un vidrio roto, entonces hay que contar lo que pasa, contarlo a los muchachos de la oficina o al médico. Ay, doctor, cada vez que respiro... Siempre contarlo, siempre quitarse esa cosquilla molesta del estómago.

Once I was chastising Maharajji for giving photos to people who were worldly and didn’t care about him. He said, “You don’t understand me. If I tell a man he is a great bhakta (devotee). I am planting a seed. If a person already has the seed planted and growing, why should I plant another?” I said, “You are telling these drunkards, liars, and dacoits that they are real bhaktas. They will just go home and carry on their old behaviors.” Maharajji said, “Some of them will remember what I said of them, and it will make them want to develop this quality in themselves. If ten out of a hundred are inspired in this way, it is a very good thing.

once there was a beautiful young panther who had a co-wife and a husband. Her name was Lara and she was unhappy because her husband and her co-wife were really in love; being nice to her was merely a duty panther society imposed on them. They had not even wanted to take her into their marriage as co-wife, since there were already perfectly happy. But she was an "extra" female in the group and that would not do. Her husband sometimes sniffed her breath and other emanations. He even, sometimes, made love to her. but whenever this happened, the co-wife, whose name was Lala, became upset. She and the husband, Baba, would argue, then fight, snarling and biting and whipping at each other's eyes with their tails. Pretty soon they'd become sick of this and would lie clutched in each other's paws, weeping. I am supposed to make love to her, Baba would say to Lala, his heartchosen mate. She is my wife just as you are. I did not plan things this way. This is the arrangement that came down to me. I know it, dearest, said Lala, through her tears. And this pain that I feel is what has come down to me. Surely it can't be right? These two sat on a rock in the forest and were miserable enough. But Lara, the unwanted, pregnant by now and ill, was devastated. Everyone knew she was unloved, and no other female panther wanted to share her own husband with her. Days went by when the only voice she heard was her inner one. Soon, she began to listen to it. Lara, it said, sit here, where the sun may kiss you. And she did. Lara, it said, lie here, where the moon can make love to you all night long. and she did. Lara, it said, one bright morning when she knew herself to have been well kissed and well loved: sit here on this stone and look at your beautiful self in the still waters of this stream. Calmed by the guidance offered by her inner voice, Lara sat down on the stone and leaned over the water. She took in her smooth, aubergine little snout, her delicate, pointed ears, her sleek, gleeming black fur. She was beautiful! And she was well kissed by the sun and well made love to by the moon. For one whole day, Lara was content. When her co-wife asked her fearfully why she was smiling, Lara only opened her mouth wider, in a grin. The poor co-wife ran trembling off and found their husband, Baba, and dragged him back to look at Lara. When Baba saw the smiling, well kissed, well made love to Lara, of course he could hardly wait to get his paws on her! He could tell she was in love with someone else, and this aroused all his passion. While Lala wept, Baba possessed Lara, who was looking over his shoulder at the moon. Each day it seemed to Lara that the Lara in the stream was the only Lara worth having - so beautiful, so well kissed, and so well made love to. And her inner voice assured her this was true. So, one hot day when she could not tolerate the shrieks and groans of Baba and Lala as they tried to tear each other's ears off because of her, Lara, who by now was quite indifferent to them both, leaned over and kissed her own serene reflection in the water, and held the kiss all the way to the bottom of the stream.

Beceriksiz ve korkak bir hayvandır. İnsan boyunda olanları bile vardır. İlk bakışta, dış görünüşüyle, insana benzer.Yalnız, pençeleri ve özellikle tırnakları çok zayıftır. Dik arazide, yokuş yukarı hiç tutunamaz. Yokuş aşağı, kayarak iner. (Bu arada sık sık düşer).Tüyleri yok denecek kadar azdır. Gözleri çok büyük olmakla birlikte, görme duygusu zayıftır. Bu nedenle tehlikeyi uzaktan göremez. Erkekleri, yalnız bırakıldıkları zaman acıklı sesler çıkarırlar.Dişilerini de aynı sesle çağırırlar. Genellikle başka hayvanların yuvalarında (onlar dayanabildikleri sürece) barınırlar. ya da terkedilmiş yuvalarda yaşarlar. Belirli bir aile düzenleri yoktur. Doğumdan sonra ana, baba ve yavrular ayrı yerlere giderler. Toplu olarak yaşamayı da bilmezler ve dış tehlikelere karşı birleştikleri görülmemiştir. Belirli bir beslenme düzenleri de yoktur. Başka hayvanlarla birlikte yaşarken onların getirdikleri yiyeceklerle geçinirler.Kendi başlarına kaldıkları zaman genellikle yemek yemeyi unuturlar. Bütün huyları taklit esasına dayandığı için, başka hayvanların yemek yediğini görmezlerse, acıktıklarını anlamazlar. (Bu sırada çok zayıf düştükleri için avlanmaları tavsiye edilmez). İçgüdüleri tam gelişmemiştir. Kendilerini korumayı bilmezler. Fakat -gene taklitçilikleri nedeniyle- başka hayvanların dövüşmesine özenerek kavgaya girdikleri olur. Şimdiye kadar hiçbir tutunamayanın bir kavgada başka bir hayvanı yendiği görülmemiştir. Bununla birlikte, hafızaları da zayıf olduğu için, sık sık kavga ettikleri, bazı tabiat bilginlerince gözlemlenmiştir. (Aynı bilginler, kavgacı tutunamaynların sayısının gittikçe azaldığını söylemektedirler).Din kitapları, bu hayvanları yemeyi yasaklamışsa da gizli olarak avlanmakta ve etleri kaçak olarak satılmaktadır. Tutunamayanları avlamak çok kolaydır. Anlayışlı bakışlarla süzerseniz hemen yaklaşırlar size. Ondan sonra tutup öldürmek işten bile değildir. İnsanlara zararlı bazı mikroplar taşıdıkları tespit edildiğinden, belediye sağlık müdürlüğü de tutunamayan kesimini yasak etmiştir. Yemekten sonra insanlarda görülen durgunluk, hafif sıkıntı, sebebi bilinmeyen vicdan azabı ve hiç yoktan kendini suçlama gibi duygulara sebep oldukları, hekimlerce ileri sürülmektedir. Fakat aynı hekimler, tutunamayanların bu mikropları, kasaplık hayvanlara da bulaştırdıklarını ve bu sıkıntılardan kurtulmanın ancak et yemekten vazgeçmekle sağlanabileceğini söylemektedirler.Hayvan terbiyecileri de tutunamayanlarla uzun süre uğraşmış ve bunları sirklerde çalıştırmak istemişlerdir. Fakat bu hayvanların, beceriksizlikleri nedeniyle hiçbir hüner öğrenemediklerini görünce vazgeçmişlerdir. Ayrıca birkaç sirkte halkın karşısına çıkarılan tutunamayanlar, onları güldürmek yerine mahzun etmişlerdir. (Halk gişelere saldırarak parasını geri istemiştir). Filden sonra, din duygusu en kuvvetli hayvan olarak bilinir. Öldükten sonra cennete gideceği bazı yazarlarca ileri sürülmektedir. Fakat toplu, ya da tek gittikleri her yerde hadise çıkardıkları için, bunun pek mümkün olmayacağı sanılmaktadır.Başları daima öne eğik gezdikleri için, çeşitli engellere takılırlar ve her tarafları yara bere içinde kalır. Onları bu durumda gören bazı yufka yürekli insanlar, tutunamayanları ev hayvanı olarak beslemeyi denemişlerdir. Fakat insanlar arasında barınmaları -ev düzenine uyamamaları nedeniyle- çok zor olmaktadır. Beklenmedik zamanlarda sahiplerine saldırmakta ve evden kovulunca da bir türlü gitmeyi bilmemektedirler. Evin kapısında günlerce,acıklı sesleriyle bağırarak ev sahibini canından bezdirmektedirler.(Bir keresinde, ev sahibi dayanamayıp kaçmışsa da,tutunamayan, sahibini kovalayarak, gittiği yerdedeonarahat vermemiştir

When Maharajji came out you never knew what to expect. He could do the same thing a week in a row until you’d think, “Well, he’ll come out at 8:00.” Then he might not come out all day, or he might just go into another room and close the door and be in there for two days. You had to learn to expect the unexpected. One day he came out and all he said all day long was “Thul-Thul, Nan-Nan,” repeating these words to himself like a mantra. Days went by like this and somebody finally said, “Maharajji, what are you saying?” And it turned out to be an old Behari dialect, and all it meant was “Too big, too big, too little, too little.” When he was finally asked why he was saying this, he said, “Oh, all you people, you all live in Thul-Thul, Nan-Nan; you live in the world of judgement. It’s always too big or too little.

Me quota ang pag-ibig. Sa bawat limang umiibig, isa lang ang magiging maligaya. Ang iba, iibig sa di sila iniibig. O iibig nang di natututo. O iibig na wala. O di iibig kailanman. Ang iba'y iibig sa maling panahon, umibig na noong 1980s, nakipagmartsa sa mga aktibista, pero ang taong nakatakda para sa kanya ay nabuhay noon pang 1930s, isang rebelde laban sa mga amerikano, matagal nang namatay. Kaya she keeps falling in love sa mga lalaking mas matatanda hinahanap sa kanila ang di mahanap na wala, hindi mapagtagpo ang kahapon at ang kasalukyan. May mga pusong pinaglalaruan. Nasa parehong building ng call center but they will never realize that they are on the same floor. Maski parang laging may strange force na humihila sa kanila para tumingin sa kabilang building. Kailanman ay di sila magtatagpo. Tanungin man siya ng boyfriend niya kung ano iyong lagi niyang tinitignan sa kabila ay di niya masasagot. At kailanman ay di niya malalaman dahil eventually ang lalaki ay lilipat sa ibang lugar, at siya, hanggang sa mamatay, di na niya malalaman kung sino nga iyong nasa kabila. Merong pinalad na nagkakilala, nagkaibigan at nagsama. Pero sa di malamang dahilan ay iniwan ng babae ang lalaki. Mabubuhay ang lalaki sa walang hanggang paghahanap. Mari-realize niya na ang pag-ibig ay laging paghahanap. Pero hindi niya kailanman mahahanap ang babae dahil ang totoong hindi niya mahanap ay ang kanyang sarili. Merong away nang away kapag magkasama pero hindi naman kaya ang makahiwalay. Merong nagmamahal lamang kapag nananakit. Meron relihiyon ang humaharang, o katayuan sa buhay, o mga magulang. Merong sila mismo ang gumagawa ng harang. Merong umiibig na habang nagtatagal ay lalong nawawalan ng IQ. Merong pag umibig ay napupundi ang 4 out of 5 senses, touch lang ang natitira. Merong ang tingin sa pag-ibig ay tali. Meron di makahakbang dahil sa pag-ibig at merong namang nakakalipad. Merong ang tingin sa pag-ibig ay hapunang walang sawsawan. Merong pag umibig ay nahaharap sa salamin, sarili ang sinasamba. Merong ang tingin sa pag-ibig ay parusa. Ang iba'y iibig sa hayop, dahil noong unang panahon ay mga hayop sila. Ang iba'y iibig sa mga bahay, kinikilig kapag hinahaplos ang barandilya, nalilibugan sa mga kisame, pinagnanasaan ang sahig. Patuloy silang mananakit sa mga babaing umiibig sa kanila dahil hindi nila kailanman malalaman ang puso nila ay gawa sa kahoy. Pero merong isa sa lima, harangan man ng kulog, ng ganid, ng lindol, ng teknolohiya, mahahanap niya ang kanyang mahal. Siya lang ang magiging maligaya.