Lotus Feet Quotes

Because people learn from their mistakes, Danger. Pain and failure are a natural part of life. It's kind of like a parent who watches their child fall down while learning to walk. Instead of coddling the child, you set them back on their feet and let them try again. They have to stumble before they can run. (Alexion) Do you really believe that we need to have our hearts ripped out? (Danger) A flower can't grow without rain. (Alexion) Too much rain and it drowns. (Danger) And yet the most beautiful of the lotus flowers are the ones that grow in the deepest mud. (Alexion)

॥दोहा॥ श्रीगुरु चरन सरोज रज, निज मनु मुकुरु सुधारि। बरनउँ रघुबर बिमल जसु, जो दायकु फल चारि॥ Doha With the dust of guru’s lotus feet having, I cleanse the mirror of my soul sparkling, Raghuvar’s spotless glory I be singing, The four fruits of life it ever is giving. - 303 -

Just as when we step into a mosque and its high open dome leads our minds up, up, to greater things, so a great carpet seeks to do the same under the feet. Such a carpet directs us to the magnificence of the infinite, veiled, yet never near, closer than the pulse of jugular, the sunburst that explodes at the center of a carpet signals this boundless radiance. Flowers and trees evoke the pleasures of paradise, and there is always a spot at the center of the carpet that brings calm to the heart. A single white lotus flower floats in a turquoise pool, and in this tiniest of details, there it is: a call to the best within, summoning us to the joy of union. In carpets, I now saw not just intricacies of nature and color, not just mastery of space, but a sign of the infinite design. In each pattern lay the work of a weaver of the world, complete and whole; and in each knot of daily existence lay mine.

नमस्तेशरण्येशिवेसानुकम्पे, नमस्तेजगद्व्यापिकेविश्वरूपे। नमस्तेजगद्वन्द्यपादारविन्दे, नमस्तेजगत्तारिणित्राहिदुर्गे॥१॥ She the refuge, peaceful and merciful undoubtedly, She pervades over all, is universal form certainly, Her lotus feet worshipped by universe – all Glory, On your appeal “Protect me Durga” saves entirely. - 458 -

Clear waters drift through the immensity of a tall forest. In front of me a huge river mouth receives the long wind. Deep ripples hold white sand and white fish swimming as in a void. I sprawl on a big rock, billows nourishing my humble body. I gargle with water and wash my feet. A fisherman pauses out on the surf. So many fish long for bait. I look only to the east with its lotus leaves.

I take the dust from the lotus feet of the guru to cleanse the mirror of my mind.” So begins a sacred ode to Hanuman.

Her shining tresses, divided in two parts, encircle the harmonious contour of her white and delicate cheeks, brilliant in their glow and freshness. Her ebony brows have the form and charm of the bow of Kama, the god of love, and beneath her long silken lashes the purest reflections and a celestial light swim, as in the sacred lakes of Himalaya, in the black pupils of her great clear eyes. Her teeth, fine, equal, and white, glitter between her smiling lips like dewdrops in a passion-flower's half-enveloped breast. Her delicately formed ears, her vermilion hands, her little feet, curved and tender as the lotus-bud, glitter with the brilliancy of the loveliest pearls of Ceylon, the most dazzling diamonds of Golconda. Her narrow and supple waist, which a hand may clasp around, sets forth the outline of her rounded figure and the beauty of her bosom, where youth in its flower displays the wealth of its treasures; and beneath the silken folds of her tunic she seems to have been modelled in pure silver by the godlike hand of Vicvarcarma, the immortal sculptor.

By the boat of knowledge we can safely and fearlessly come to the lotus feet of the Lord.

When a beautiful woman takes an idea firmly into her head, even if the walls are then thousand feet high, she cannot be prevented from carrying it out. But if she rejects it, yet it will be as though a thousand mountains kept you apart

That villainous crew- greed, infatuation, jealousy, arrogance, and pride haunts the mind only so long as the Divine does not take up His abode there. Attachment to the world is like a dark night fully advanced, which is so delightful to the owls of attraction and aversion; it abides in the heart of a creature only so long as the sun of the Lord’s glory does not shine there. Having seen Your lotus feet, O Rāma, I am now quite well and my grave fears have been set at rest. The threefold torments of mundane existence cease to have any effect on him who enjoys Your favor, my gracious lord. I am a demon vilest of nature and have never done any good act. Yet the Lord whose beauty even sages fail to perceive with their mindís eye has been pleased to clasp me to His bosom.

I will deck thee with trophies, garlands of my defeat. It is never in my power to escape unconquered. I surely know my pride will go to the wall, my life will burst its bonds in exceeding pain, and my empty heart will sob out in music like a hollow reed, and the stone will melt in tears. I surely know the hundred petals of a lotus will not remain closed for ever and the secret recess of its honey will be bared. From the blue sky an eye shall gaze upon me and summon me in silence. Nothing will be left for me, nothing whatever, and utter death shall I receive at thy feet.

Maybe I’m desensitized to real men. Maybe my expectations live between the pages of books involving heroes with ten-inch schlongs and magical tongues, performing grandeur gestures to sweep their heroines off their feet.

When one chants the Holy Names, listens to Krishna katha or just meditates on Krishna’s form, one’s body feels wellbeing, one’s mind becomes tranquil, one beholds beauty in the sky, nature, people, animals, insects—in everything. Vāsudeva sarvam iti, everything is Krishna. One feels the cooling touch of the breeze. One feels the golden warmth of the setting sun. In an orb of happiness, one reposes oneself at the lotus feet of the Lord like a honey bee.

When a beautiful woman takes an idea firmly into her head, even if the walls are then thousand feet high, she cannot be prevented from carrying it out. But if she rejects it, yet it will be as though a thousand mountains kept you apart.

The course of training of the yogī was divided into eight stages, reminding us of the eightfold path of Buddhism, but far less practical: (1) Self-control (yama), the practice of the five moral rules: non-violence, truthfulness, not stealing, chastity, and the avoidance of greed. (2) Observance (niyama), the regular and complete observance of the above five rules. (3) Posture (āsana), sitting in certain postures, difficult without practice, which are thought to be essential to meditation. The most famous of these is padmāsna, the “Lotus Posture”, in which the feet are placed on the opposite thighs, and in which gods and sages are commonly depicted. (4) Control of the Breath (prānāyāma), whereby the breath is held and controlled and the respiration forced into unusual rhythms, which are believed to be of great physical and spiritual value. (5) Restraint (pratyāhāra), whereby the sense organs are trained to take no note of their perceptions. (6) Steadying the Mind (dhāranā), by concentration on a single object, such as the tip of the nose, the navel, an icon, or a sacred symbol. (7) Meditation (dhyāna), when the object of concentration fills the whole mind. (8) Deep Meditation (samādhi), when the whole personality is temporarily dissolved.

Padma, My darling. I have told you countless times that all these rites and rituals are meaningless. I will show you what God is. Just Look into the eyes of your mother Padma, and what you see is God. Look into the heart of a noble man, and what you see is God. Look at the lotus feet of your teacher, and what you see is God. God, as we know, is just a manifestation of our innate insecurity and fear of mortality. I do bow down dutifully before all Gods, but I really do not expect much from anyone. As far as I am concerned, I am yet to see any God in this big, wide and cruel world, except in the eyes of my mother and in feet of my teachers.

Her shining tresses, divided in two parts, encircle the harmonious contour of her white and delicate cheeks, brilliant in their glow and freshness. Her ebony brows have the form and charm of the bow of Kama, the god of love, and beneath her long silken lashes the purest reflections and a celestial light swim, as in the sacred lakes of Himalaya, in the black pupils of her great clear eyes. Her teeth, fine, equal, and white, glitter between her smiling lips like dewdrops in a passion-flower’s half-enveloped breast. Her delicately formed ears, her vermilion hands, her little feet, curved and tender as the lotus-bud, glitter with the brilliancy of the loveliest pearls of Ceylon, the most dazzling diamonds of Golconda. Her narrow and supple waist, which a hand may clasp around, sets forth the outline of her rounded figure and the beauty of her bosom, where youth in its flower displays the wealth of its treasures; and beneath the silken folds of her tunic she seems to have been modelled in pure silver by the godlike hand of Vicvarcarma, the immortal sculptor.

She landed on a soft, yielding bed of- flowers? Startled, she sat up and gave a quick stretch before leaping to her feet. An overwhelming aroma of peonies and tangerines and lotus blossoms surrounded her. "Not what I expected," she murmured to herself, overcome by the beauty of this level. If not for ShiShi still stuck in the well, she would have stopped to take a better look at her surroundings.

How to dispense with Padma? How give up her ignorance and superstition, necessary counterweights to my miracle-laden omniscience? How to do without her paradoxical earthiness of spirit, which keeps—kept!—my feet on the ground? I have become, it seems to me, the apex of an isosceles triangle, supported equally by twin deities, the wild god of memory and the lotus-goddess of the present … but must I now become reconciled to the narrow one-dimensionality of a straight line?

Melissa turned back to the mirror and drew a breath; the girl she knew was gone. In her place was a woman in rustling green silk and emeralds, a woman who would turn heads at the ball. From the top of her powdered head to the soles of her silk shod feet, she was elegantly dressed and more than ready to attend the ball. The earrings fell from her ears in waterfalls of tiny emeralds and her necklace was a heavy engraved affair of gold, the emeralds in the scrolled settings large and dazzling. Green suited her it seemed.

Only the middle distance and what may be called the remoter foreground are strictly human. When we look very near or very far, man either vanishes altogether or loses his primacy. The astronomer looks even further afield than the Sung painter and sees even less of human life. At the other end of the scale the physicist, the chemist, the physiologist pursue the close-up – the cellular close-up, the molecular, the atomic and subatomic. Of that which, at twenty feet, even at arm’s length, looked and sounded like a human being no trace remains. Something analogous happens to the myopic artist and the happy lover. In the nuptial embrace personality is melted down; the individual (it is the recurrent theme of Lawrence’s poems and novels) ceases to be himself and becomes a part of the vast impersonal universe. And so it is with the artist who chooses to use his eyes at the near point. In his work humanity loses its importance, even disappears completely. Instead of men and women playing their fantastic tricks before high heaven, we are asked to consider the lilies, to meditate on the unearthly beauty of ‘mere things,’ when isolated from their utilitarian context and rendered as they are, in and for themselves. Alternatively (or, at an earlier stage of artistic development, exclusively), the nonhuman world of the near-point is rendered in patterns. These patterns are abstracted for the most part from leaves and flowers – the rose, the lotus, the acanthus, palm, papyrus – and are elaborated, with recurrences and variations, into something transportingly reminisce

A Rakshasi did not live here. A princess did. I was staring into the most dazzling garden I had ever seen. Cobblestone pathways meandered between rows of salmon-hued hibiscus, regal hollyhock, delicate impatiens, wild orchids, thorny rosebushes, and manicured shrubs starred with jasmine. Bunches of bougainvillea cascaded down the sides of the wall, draped across the stone like extravagant shawls. Magnolia trees, cotton-candy pink, were interspersed with coconut trees, which let in streaks of purplish light through their fanlike leaves. A rock-rimmed pond glistened in a corner of the garden, and lotus blossoms sprouting from green discs skimmed its surface. A snow white bird that looked like a peacock wove in and out through a grove of pomegranate trees, which were set aflame by clusters of deep orange blossoms. I had seen blue peacocks before, but never a white one. An Ashoka tree stood at one edge of the garden, as if on guard, near the door. A brief wind sent a cluster of red petals drifting down from its branches and settling on the ground at my feet. A flock of pale blue butterflies emerged from a bed of golden trumpet flowers and sailed up into the sky. In the center of this scene was a peach stucco cottage with green shutters and a thatched roof, quaint and idyllic as a dollhouse. A heavenly perfume drifted over the wall, intoxicating me- I wanted nothing more than to enter.

Hymn to Mercury : Continued 11. ... Seized with a sudden fancy for fresh meat, He in his sacred crib deposited The hollow lyre, and from the cavern sweet Rushed with great leaps up to the mountain's head, Revolving in his mind some subtle feat Of thievish craft, such as a swindler might Devise in the lone season of dun night. 12. Lo! the great Sun under the ocean's bed has Driven steeds and chariot—the child meanwhile strode O'er the Pierian mountains clothed in shadows, Where the immortal oxen of the God Are pastured in the flowering unmown meadows, And safely stalled in a remote abode.— The archer Argicide, elate and proud, Drove fifty from the herd, lowing aloud. 13. He drove them wandering o'er the sandy way, But, being ever mindful of his craft, Backward and forward drove he them astray, So that the tracks which seemed before, were aft; His sandals then he threw to the ocean spray, And for each foot he wrought a kind of raft Of tamarisk, and tamarisk-like sprigs, And bound them in a lump with withy twigs. 14. And on his feet he tied these sandals light, The trail of whose wide leaves might not betray His track; and then, a self-sufficing wight, Like a man hastening on some distant way, He from Pieria's mountain bent his flight; But an old man perceived the infant pass Down green Onchestus heaped like beds with grass. 15. The old man stood dressing his sunny vine: 'Halloo! old fellow with the crooked shoulder! You grub those stumps? before they will bear wine Methinks even you must grow a little older: Attend, I pray, to this advice of mine, As you would 'scape what might appal a bolder— Seeing, see not—and hearing, hear not—and— If you have understanding—understand.' 16. So saying, Hermes roused the oxen vast; O'er shadowy mountain and resounding dell, And flower-paven plains, great Hermes passed; Till the black night divine, which favouring fell Around his steps, grew gray, and morning fast Wakened the world to work, and from her cell Sea-strewn, the Pallantean Moon sublime Into her watch-tower just began to climb. 17. Now to Alpheus he had driven all The broad-foreheaded oxen of the Sun; They came unwearied to the lofty stall And to the water-troughs which ever run Through the fresh fields—and when with rushgrass tall, Lotus and all sweet herbage, every one Had pastured been, the great God made them move Towards the stall in a collected drove. 18. A mighty pile of wood the God then heaped, And having soon conceived the mystery Of fire, from two smooth laurel branches stripped The bark, and rubbed them in his palms;—on high Suddenly forth the burning vapour leaped And the divine child saw delightedly.— Mercury first found out for human weal Tinder-box, matches, fire-irons, flint and steel. 19. And fine dry logs and roots innumerous He gathered in a delve upon the ground— And kindled them—and instantaneous The strength of the fierce flame was breathed around: And whilst the might of glorious Vulcan thus Wrapped the great pile with glare and roaring sound, Hermes dragged forth two heifers, lowing loud, Close to the fire—such might was in the God. 20. And on the earth upon their backs he threw The panting beasts, and rolled them o'er and o'er, And bored their lives out. Without more ado He cut up fat and flesh, and down before The fire, on spits of wood he placed the two, Toasting their flesh and ribs, and all the gore Pursed in the bowels; and while this was done He stretched their hides over a craggy stone.

Just as it looks as though the sun moves round the earth, so ordinary language seems to invert the relations between signifiers and signifieds, or words and their meanings. In everyday speech, it seems as though the word is simply the obedient transmitter of the meaning. It is as though it evaporates into it. If language did not conceal its operations in this way, we might be so enraptured by its music that, like the Lotus Eaters, we would never get anything done - rather as for Nietzsche, if we were mindful of the appalling butchery which produced civilised humanity, we would never get out of bed. Ordinary language, like history for Nietzsche or the ego for Freud, operates by a kind of salutary amnesia or repression. Poetry is the kind of writing which stands this inversion of form and content, or signifier and signified, on its feet again. It makes it hard for us to brush aside the words to get at the meanings. It makes it clear that the signified is the result of a complex play of signifiers. And in doing so, it allows us to experience the very medium of our experience.

And for just a moment I had reached the point of ecstasy that I always wanted to reach, which was the complete step across chronological time into timeless shadows, and wonderment in the bleakness of the mortal realm, and the sensation of death kicking at my heels to move on, with a phantom dogging its own heels, and myself hurrying to a plank where all the angels dove off and flew into the holy void of uncreated emptiness, the potent and inconceivable radiancies shining in bright Mind Essence, innumerable lotus-lands falling open in the magic mothswarm of heaven. I could hear an indescribable seething roar which wasn't in my ear but everywhere and had nothing to do with sounds. I realized that I had died and been reborn numberless times but just didn't remember especially because the transitions from life to death and back to life are so ghostly easy, a magical action for naught, like falling asleep and waking up again a million times, the utter casualness and deep ignorance of it. I realized it was only because of the stability of the intrinsic Mind that these ripples of birth and death took place, like the action of wind on a sheet of pure, serene, mirror-like water. I felt sweet, swinging bliss, like a big shot of heroin in the mainline vein; like a gulp of wine late in the afternoon and it makes you shudder; my feet tingled.

And for just a moment I had reached the point of ecstasy that I always wanted to reach, which was the complete step across chronological time into timeless shadows, and wonderment in the bleakness of the mortal realm, and the sensation of death kicking at my heels to move on, with a phantom dogging its own heels, and myself hurrying to a plank where all the angels dove off and flew into the holy void of uncreated emptiness, the potent and inconceivable radiancies shining in bright Mind Essence, innumerable lotus-lands falling open in the magic mothswarm of heaven. I could hear an indescribable seething roar which wasn’t in my ear but everywhere and had nothing to do with sounds. I realized that I had died and been reborn numberless times but just didn’t remember especially because the transitions from life to death and back to life are so ghostly easy, a magical action for naught, like falling asleep and waking up again a million times, the utter casualness and deep ignorance of it. I realized it was only because of the stability of the intrinsic Mind that these ripples of birth and death took place, like the action of wind on a sheet of pure, serene, mirror-like water. I felt sweet, swinging bliss, like a big shot of heroin in the mainline vein; like a gulp of wine late in the afternoon and it makes you shudder; my feet tingled. I thought I was going to die the very next moment.

SERVANT. Have mercy upon your servant, my queen! QUEEN. The assembly is over and my servants are all gone. Why do you come at this late hour? SERVANT. When you have finished with others, that is my time. I come to ask what remains for your last servant to do. QUEEN. What can you expect when it is too late? SERVANT. Make me the gardener of your flower garden. QUEEN. What folly is this? SERVANT. I will give up my other work. I will throw my swords and lances down in the dust. Do not send me to distant courts; do not bid me undertake new conquests. But make me the gardener of your flower garden. QUEEN. What will your duties be? SERVANT. The service of your idle days. I will keep fresh the grassy path where you walk in the morning, where your feet will be greeted with praise at every step by the flowers eager for death. I will swing you in a swing among the branches of the saptaparna, where the early evening moon will struggle to kiss your skirt through the leaves. I will replenish with scented oil the lamp that burns by your bedside, and decorate your footstool with sandal and saffron paste in wondrous designs. QUEEN. What will you have for your reward? SERVANT. To be allowed to hold your little fists like tender lotus-buds and slip flower chains over your wrists; to tinge the soles of your feet with the red juice of ashoka petals and kiss away the speck of dust that may chance to linger there. QUEEN. Your prayers are granted, my servant, you will be the gardener of my flower garden.

And for just a moment I had reached the point of ecstasy that I always wanted to reach, which was the complete step across chronological time into timeless shadows, and wonderment in the bleakness of the mortal realm, and the sensation of death kicking at my heels to move on, with a phantom dogging its own heels, and myself hurrying to a plank where all the angels dove off and flew into the holy void of uncreated emptiness, the potent and inconceivable radiancies shining in bright Mind Essence, innumerable lotus-lands falling open in the magic mothswarm of heaven. I could hear an indescribable seething roar which wasn’t in my ear but everywhere and had nothing to do with sounds. I realized that I had died and been reborn numberless times but just didn’t remember especially because the transitions from life to death and back to life are so ghostly easy, a magical action for naught, like falling asleep and waking up again a million times, the utter casualness and deep ignorance of it. I realized it was only because of the stability of the intrinsic Mind that these ripples of birth and death took place, like the action of wind on a sheet of pure, serene, mirror-like water. I felt sweet, swinging bliss, like a big shot of heroin in the mainline vein; like a gulp of wine late in the afternoon and it makes you shudder; my feet tingled. I thought I was going to die the very next moment. But I didn’t die, and walked four miles and picked up ten long butts and took them back to Marylou’s hotel room and poured their tobacco in my old pipe and lit up. I was too young to know what had happened.

What is the value of the Gnani’s [the enlightened one’s] feet? It is a value that is immeasurable. The Gnani’s feet is one & the only solvent to dissolve egoism.

Also today when you sit down to eat your meal, no matter where you are, try to think about the many people who have made the meal possible.  See if you can engage in this activity while you eat slowly.  Let appreciation well up from within you as your taste buds are activated.  Think of the people who built your car with all of its complex components that work together to provide transportation.  Or think of the bus driver or train engineers.  Think of those who laid the roads or rails.  Think of the cashier who stands on their feet all day long ringing up purchases.  Think of the truck driver who delivered the merchandise to the store.  Think of the packagers.  Think of the farm laborers who make the food possible.  Think of those in oil producing countries who provide their natural resources and labor.  The list is almost endless.  I can imagine that by the end of the meal you still have not thought of all the countless labors, big and small, that made that meal possible.  Don’t forget to include your own labors as well.

The Lord’s beautiful face appeared to them like the inside of a blue lotus, and the Lord’s smile appeared to be a blossoming jasmine flower. After seeing the face of the Lord, the sages were fully satisfied, and when they wanted to see Him further, they looked upon the nails of His lotus feet, which resembled rubies. Thus they viewed the Lord’s transcendental body again and again, and so they finally achieved meditation on the Lord’s personal feature.

O Lord, we pray that You let us be born in any hellish condition of life, just as long as our hearts and minds are always engaged in the service of Your lotus feet, our words are made beautiful [by speaking of Your activities] just as tulasī leaves are beautified when offered unto Your lotus feet, and as long as our ears are always filled with the chanting of Your transcendental qualities.

These four devotees prayed to the Lord that although they might go to hell because they had cursed devotees, they might not forget the service of the Lord. The transcendental loving service of the Lord is performed in three ways – with the body, with the mind and with words. Here the sages pray that their words may always be engaged in glorifying the Supreme Lord. One may speak very nicely with ornamental language or one may be expert at controlled grammatical presentation, but if one’s words are not engaged in the service of the Lord, they have no flavor and no actual use. The example is given here of tulasī leaves. The tulasī leaf is very useful even from the medicinal or antiseptic point of view. It is considered sacred and is offered to the lotus feet of the Lord. The tulasī leaf has numerous good qualities, but if it were not offered to the lotus feet of the Lord, tulasī could not be of much value or importance. Similarly, one may speak very nicely from the rhetorical or grammatical point of view, which may be very much appreciated by a materialistic audience, but if one’s words are not offered to the service of the Lord, they are useless. The holes of the ears are very small and can be filled with any insignificant sound, so how can they receive as great a vibration as the glorification of the Lord? The answer is that the holes of the ears are like the sky. As the sky can never be filled up, the quality of the ear is such that one may go on pouring in vibrations of various kinds, yet it is capable of receiving more and more vibrations. A devotee is not afraid of going to hell if he has the opportunity to hear the glories of the Lord constantly. This is the advantage of chanting Hare Kṛṣṇa, Hare Kṛṣṇa, Kṛṣṇa Kṛṣṇa, Hare Hare/ Hare Rāma, Hare Rāma, Rāma Rāma, Hare Hare. One may be put in any condition, but God gives him the prerogative to chant Hare Kṛṣṇa. In any condition of life, if one goes on chanting he will never be unhappy.

Funny story… Brant’s not gay. I know this because our lips are locked together as we stumble up my pebbled walkway with frisky hands and clumsy feet.

And for just a moment I had reached the point of ecstasy that I always wanted to reach, which was the complete step across chronological time into timeless shadows, and wonderment in the bleakness of the mortal realm, and the sensation of death kicking at my heels to move on, with a phantom dogging its own heels, and myself hurrying to a plank where all the angels dove off and flew into the holy void of uncreated emptiness, the potent and inconceivable radiancies shining in bright Mind Essence, innumerable lotus-lands falling open in the magic mothswarm of heaven. I could hear an indescribable seething roar which wasn’t in my ear but everywhere and had nothing to do with sounds. I realized that I had died and been reborn numberless times but just didn’t remember especially because the transitions from life to death and back to life are so ghostly easy, a magical action for naught, like falling asleep and waking up again a million times, the utter casualness and deep ignorance of it. I realized it was only because of the stability of the intrinsic Mind that these ripples of birth and death took place, like the action of wind on a sheet of pure, serene, mirror-like water. I felt sweet, swinging bliss, like a big shot of heroin in the mainline vein; like a gulp of wine late in the afternoon and it makes you shudder; my feet tingled. I thought I was going to die the very next moment. But I didn’t die, and walked four miles and picked up ten long butts and took them back to Marylou’s hotel room and poured their tobacco in my old pipe and lit up. I was too young to know what had happened.

To be free from all material association means to cease completely from committing any further sins. To meditate upon the lotus feet of the Lord means to become free from the effects of all previous sins.

As the Chinese translation of the name Sukhāvatī suggests, it is a land of supreme joy. The Sanskrit is of similar meaning: “that which possesses ease and comfort.” Sukhāvatī is not subject to the sufferings that plague this world and, furthermore, it is a land of surpassed beauty. It is described as having seven tiers of balustrades, seven rows of nets, and seven rows of trees, all adorned with four jewels (gold, silver, lapsis lazuli, and crystal). There is a lake of the seven jewels (gold, silver, lapis lazuli, crystal, a kind of big shell [tridacna gigas], coral, and agate), filled with water having the eight virtues. The bottom of the lake is gold sand. On the four sides of the lake are stairs (galleries) made of the four jewels. Above are towers and palaces also adorned with the seven jewels. Above are towers and palaces also adorned with the seven jewels. In the lake bloom lotus flowers as large as chariot wheels. The blue lotus flowers emit a blue light, and the yellow, red, and white lotus flowers emit light of corresponding colors. They all give forth a sweet fragrance. The delightful sound of heavenly music can be hard, and in the morning, at noon, and in the evening mandārava flowers fall from the sky and gently pile up on the golden ground. Every morning the inhabitants of the Pure Land gather these flowers with the hems of their robes and make offerings of them to myriads of buddhas in other lands. At mealtime they return to their own land, where they take their meal and stroll around. There are many kinds of birds—swans, peacocks, parrots, sharikas, kalaviṅkas, and jīvaṃjīvakas, which sing with beautiful voices, proclaiming the teachings of the Buddha. When living beings hear this song, they think about the Buddha, Dharma (“law,” or his teachings), and Saṅgha (“community of believers”). When the gentle breezes blow, the rows of four-jeweled trees and jeweled nets give forth a gentle music, like a beautiful symphony. In this land dwell Amitābha Buddha and his two attendants, the bodhisattvas Avalokitśvara and Mahāsthāmaprāpta. At their feet are those virtuous beings who have been reborn in that land because of their ardent faith. All, however, are male; women of deep faith are reborn here with male bodies. The female sex, considered inferior and unfortunate, has no place in Sukhāvatī. All people, says Śākyamuni, should ardently wish for rebirth in that land and become the companions of the most virtuous of all beings. People cannot hope for rebirth there just by performing a few good deeds, however. If living beings meditate eagerly upon the name of Amitābha for even one day with an undisturbed mind, Amitābha and his holy retinue will appear before them to receive them at the end of Life. They will enter the Pure Land with unperturbed hearts.

Under the Gage’s feet, the earth shuddered softly as a cat dreaming.

We were just…playing a game. Twister. You know, with the colorful dots and weird yoga poses? Crazy fun.” “Twister?” My frown deepens. “I assumed you were having sex.” Gabe’s mouth shapes into an O as his eyebrows raise, his feet shuffling back and forth like he’s uncomfortable. “Right. We did that, too. After Twister.

They found the guy, Syd. They found the bastard who took him.” “Oh my God. Is he alive?” A frown creases between Oliver’s eyes as he rises to his feet. We stare at each other as Gabe replies, “No. They found him with his head bashed in.

Bhakti, love of God, is the only essential thing. One kind of bhakti has a motive behind it. Again, there is a motiveless love, pure devotion, a love of God that seeks no return. Keshab Sen and the members of the Brāhmo Samāj didn’t know about motiveless love. In this love there is no desire; it is nothing but pure love of the Lotus Feet of God. “There is another kind of love, known as urjhitā bhakti, an ecstatic love of God that overflows, as it were. When it is awakened, the devotee ‘laughs and weeps and dances and sings’. Chaitanyadeva is an example of this love. Rāma said to Lakshmana, ‘Brother, if anywhere you see the manifestation of urjhitā bhakti, know for certain that I am there.

This is not the only surviving clue that the Khmers were in close intellectual touch with the kings and scholars of southern India. Indravarman I’s chief Brahmin, Sivasoma, claimed to have studied under ‘Shankara, the nectar of whose lotus feet is lapped by the bee-like tongues of all scholars’, possibly a reference to the great eighth-century south Indian Hindu revivalist, Adi Shankara. This would seem to indicate that Khmer scholars were travelling to study Hindu scriptures and Indic philosophy in India itself.82

Krishna: Wheresoever her twin feet fall, A lotus-flower uplifts them: Wheresoever her body passes swaying, There is the lightning's undulation! Surpassing radiance that I beheld, Has made her seat amidst my heart: Wheresoever her eyes are opened, There are water-lilies seen! Wheresoever her light laugh rings, There very nectar sours in envy: Wheresoever fall her sidelong glances, Fly the myriads of Madan's arrows!

Just like a dependent child, he's fully dependent on the father. So father knows how to raise him to be a perfect man. He knows what is his necessities. Similarly, we have to give up to the care of Kṛṣṇa, without any condition. That is perfection of life. That is perfection of life. So sometimes Kṛṣṇa favors a devotee when He is in doubts, "Whether this or that? This or that?" So sometimes He takes away the sources of his material opulence and gives him shelter under His own lotus feet.

the intelligent practitioner of yoga should aspire for nothing else but to cross over the ocean of nescience by worshiping the Personality of Godhead and to see the lotus feet of the Lord. The Lord is so kind, however, that even today persons whose brain substance is spoiled are given the benediction to become cats, dogs or hogs and enjoy material happiness from sex life and sense gratification. The Lord confirms this benediction in Bhagavad-gītā: “Whatever a person aspires to receive from Me, I offer him as he desires.

baranau raghubara bimala jasu ° jo dåyaku phala cåri. Polishing the mirror of my mind with the pollen dust of ›r∂ Guruís lotus-feet. I hereby proceed to narrate unblemished glory of ›r∂ Råma, the bestower of fourfold accomplishments (Dharma, Artha, Kåma and Mok¶a

When one prays to an image of Lord Krishna, it reaches the 'relative'. If one bows down here (at the lotus feet of the Gnani Purush), then it reaches one's own Self (Atma) directly. This is because the vitaraag One (One free from all attachment and abhorrence) does not accept it, does He? It is always such that, wherever there is darshan of both the 'relative' and the 'real', there indeed lies liberation (moksha).

At the beginning of meditation the objects of the senses appear before the aspirant. But when the meditation becomes deep, they no longer bother him. They are left outside. How many things I saw during meditation! I vividly perceived before me a heap of rupees, a shawl, a plate of sweets, and two women with rings in their noses. ’What do you want?’ I asked my mind. ’Do you want to enjoy any of these things?’ ’No,’ replied the mind, ’I don’t want any of them. I don’t want anything but the Lotus Feet of God.

Sit down in the lotus position used for meditation. Close your eyes and focus on your breathing. Relax your body and your senses. As you enter a state of mindfulness, take a blindfold and obstruct your vision. Rise to your feet and gently shake your arms and legs to loosen them up and awaken your archetypal energy. Starting from the core, release physical energy to shake away the cords and barriers that hold you down to the physical world. Imagine slow, sinuous movements that start from your torso and work towards your hands and feet. Release these energies by flicking your wrists and ankles to allow them to exit your system. Keep going until you feel yourself free, light, and released from the influence of the perceivable world.

greatest enemy of the living entity. If one neglects it or gives it a chance, it will grow more and more powerful and will become victorious. Although it is not factual, it is very strong. It covers the constitutional position of the soul. O King, please try to conquer this mind by the weapon of service to the lotus feet of the spiritual master and of the Supreme Personality of Godhead. Do this with great care.

If there was one thing she had realized over the past few weeks, one thing that had become an epiphany in the past few hours, it was that this man would never have killed her. As silent as he remained, Morana knew it wasn’t because he didn’t feel anything. It was because he felt too much and no matter what, she vowed, watching him at her feet, that she would ride it out with him. She had found something immensely precious in their world, a diamond in the coals, a lotus in the mud. And she vowed to cherish it, cherish him, as he deserved. He needed time to open up, to trust her not to abandon him someday, and she would give that to him. He had earned that.

It is the easiest thing to know God. Lay your head at the lotus feet of the Divine. And just become naught.

मेघस्यास्मिन्नतिनिपुणता बुद्धिभावः कवीनां नत्वार्यायाश्चरणकमलं कालिदासश्चकार The cloud is very skilled in this and the poets have a sense of intelligence Kalidasa bowed at the lotus feet of Arya

The other toes wrap around the bottoms of my feet, clutching the other side near the heels, as if trying to squeeze the mess of bones and flesh back up my legs. My soles are smaller than my palms. A pair of perfect lotus feet.

Maybe I’m desensitized to real men. Maybe my expectations live between the pages of books involving heroes with ten-inch schlongs and magical tongues, performing grandeur gestures to sweep their heroines off their feet. All I get are stalkers and guys named Milton. Oh, well. I’m totally cool living in my fantasy world, dying a crazy cat lady.

Live in the world but, in order to realize God, hold fast to His Lotus Feet with one hand and with the other do your duties. When you get a respite from your duties, cling to God’s Lotus Feet with both hands—live in solitude and meditate on Him and serve Him ceaselessly.

The source and destination of a soul is the lotus feet.

All worship and spiritual discipline are directed to one end alone, namely, to get rid of worldly attachment. The more you meditate on God, the less you will be attached to the trifling things of the world. The more you love the Lotus Feet of God, the less you will crave the things of the world or pay heed to creature comforts. You will look on another man’s wife as your mother and regard your own wife as your companion in spiritual life.

The night was silent, dreadfully silent. But it was a silence that roared in my ears. At a distance across the lake stood the Shankaracharya Hill, symbolizing our inner vitality — the volcanic vitality that has now cooled inside the rock that bears the name of the great recreator of Indian cultural unity and who, like a Colossus, strode in the tenth century from Kanyakumari, "the lotus feet of the Divine Mother," to Kashmir, "the crown of India," and ascended this hill to pray at the little Shiva temple that came into existence between 2629 B.C. and 2564 B.C. and then proceeded to consecrate the Holy Cave of Amarnath. Did this symbol of our innate strength have any meaning for our leadership of the day? Did it realize that India today required a new welding force — another cultural renaissance, another social and moral vision, which should stand like a Shankara's rock against the forces of decline and disintegration?

The main rectangular swimming pool ran perpendicular to the house, which you wouldn't know because it was almost completely covered in a cloud of white. I walked closer, stunned at the beautiful lotus and water lily blooms floating beneath my feet. A glass aisle was laid across the center. You felt like you were walking---or sitting--- in a Monet painting. Complementary flowers lined the sides of the aisles, with chairs extending on either side of the now-concealed pool deck. I had no idea what wizardry kept the central flowers from floating freely, but my sister would walk down the aisle above a lush bed of white blossoms. Beside it, the ornamental gardens had been tented for the reception. Cedric had managed to integrate the existing stone sculptures (French, Greek, and Italian antiques, of course) into the design. Tables dotted the scene, covered in custom cream linens with Italian lace overlays. Cut crystal stemware and antique silverware donned each place setting and would sparkle later that evening from the glow cast down from the crystal chandeliers overhead. And the flowers. The all-white flowers also created a table-runner effect that filled the entire length of each table and spilled over and down the sides. A backdrop and stage had been erected at the end opposite the house, then covered in a cascade of white peonies and roses and mirrored by florals draped around the doorframes and windows of the back of our house. It was an enchanted garden, rivaling that of a royal wedding.

The Gage held his fury, though it cost him. He turned his back on the Many-Legged Truth. He did not turn to regard it (he did not need to turn to regard it) as its gears and pulleys cranked up before the turning of the wind, and it locked feet released, and it accelerated smoothly, step by step away.

You must do ‘this’ as well as ‘that’. Do your duties in the world, and also fix your mind on the Lotus Feet of the Lord. Read books of devotion like the Bhāgavata or the life of Chaitanya when you are alone and have nothing else to do.

You won’t grow up until you learn that all human beings betray each other and that we are going to be let down even by those we most trust. Especially by those we most trust.’ I didn’t like this, but it had the ring of truth. And I didn’t like that, either. ‘If we put human beings on pedestals, their clay feet are going to give way and they are going to come crashing down, and unless we get out of the way, they’ll crush us.’ And I didn’t get out of the way.

Then the five hundred arhats before the Buddha, having received this assurance, were ecstatic with joy. Immediately they got up from their seats, went before the Buddha, prostrated themselves at the Buddha’s feet, repented of their errors, and rebuked themselves, saying: “World-Honored One, we always thought we had attained final extinction already. Now we know we were foolish. Why? Because, while we were capable of reaching the wisdom of the Tathagata, we were content with lesser wisdom.

What worry have I for my maintenance, if Hari Vishvambhara is the supporter of all? If this were not so, then for supporting the life of the baby, how would the mother’s breasts be filled with milk? Thinking this every moment, O lord of the Yadus, O husband of Lakshmi, only your lotus feet I serve always and spend my time as prearranged by fate.

WHY IS TODAY SPECIAL IN HINDUISM? Today is the day (as per Hindu calendar) that Abhirami Bhattar prayed to Parashakti and manifest Amavasya (new moon day) as full moon day (Poornima) Subramaniya Iyer, who was then known as Abhirami Bhattar, was an ardent devotee of Devi Parashakti from the village that was famous for its Shiva temple, called Amritaghateswarar-Abirami Temple, Thirukkadaiyur. Once when the Maratha rule, king Serfoji I visited the Thirukkadavur temple on the day of the new moon (Amavasya). On noticing the peculiar behaviour of Subramaniya Iyer who was a temple priest, he inquired the other priests about the individual. One of them remarked that he was a madman while another rejected this categorization explaining to the king that Subramaniya Iyer was only an ardent devotee of Goddess Abhirami. Seeking to know the truth himself, Serfoji approached the priest and asked him what day of the month it was. Whether it was a full-moon day(Poornima) or a new-moon day(Amavasy). At that moment, Subramaniya Iyer was doing the Tithi Nithya Aaradhana in the SriChakra Navaavarana krama and was worshipping the Devi as Poornima Tithi. Subramaniya Iyer who could see nothing else but the shining luminant form of the Goddess before him answered that it was a full-moon day (Poornima) while it was in fact a new-moon day(Amavasya). The king rode off informing the former that he would have his head cut off if the moon did not appear on the sky in the night. A huge fire was lit and Subramaniya Iyer was erected on a platform supported by a hundred ropes. He sat upon the platform and prayed to the Goddess Abhirami to save him. The ropes were cut off, one after another in succession on completion of each verse of his prayer. These hymns form the Abhirami Anthadhi. On completion of the 79th hymn, the Goddess Abhirami manifested herself before him and threw her earring over the sky such that it shone with bright light upon the horizon. The area around the temple sparkled with bright light. Overcome with ecstasy, Subramaniya Iyer composed 21 more verses in praise of the Goddess. The king repented his mistake and immediately cancelled the punishment he had given to Subramaniya Iyer. He also bestowed upon the latter the title of Abirami Pattar or "priest of Goddess Abhirami". There are a hundred stanzas plus a காப்பு (Kāppu, protection) verse for lord Ganesha and a final பயன் (Payaṉ, outcome), thus a total of 102 stanzas that are included in Abhirami Anthadhi. The author praises Abhirami as his own mother, regrets his mistakes, speaks of the divine play of mother and father Paramashiva, and her simplicity & mercy. It is believed that recitation of each stanza will result in the specific achievement of the devotees. Here is one of the famous stanzas of Abhirami Anthadhi: " மணியே, மணியின் ஒளியே, ஒளிரும் அணி புனைந்த அணியே, அணியும் அணிக்கு அழகே, அணுகாதவர்க்குப் பிணியே, பிணிக்கு மருந்தே, அமரர் பெரு விருந்தே. பணியேன், ஒருவரை நின் பத்ம பாதம் பணிந்தபின்னே." - செய்யுள் 24 " Maṇiyē, maṇiyiṉ oḷiyē, oḷirum aṇi puṉainta aṇiyē, aṇiyum aṇikku aḻakē, aṇukātavarkkup piṇiyē, piṇikku maruntē, amarar peru viruntē.- Paṇiyēṉ, oruvarai niṉ patma pātam paṇintapiṉṉē." - stanza 24 Pearl like you are, You who are the reddish aura of the pearl! You are like the pearl studded chain who adds beauty to the chain, You are pain to those who do not fall at your feet while the panacea for pains of those who fall at your feet, the nectar of Gods, After worshipping at thine lotus feet, Will I bow before any other, Now and now after. The beauty of Abhirami Anthathi: காப்பு starts as ″தார் அமர் கொன்றையும்...″ and பயன் ends as ″... தீங்கு இல்லையே″ (தாயே)

Hist! Something stirred in the hazel bush near her. Can I describe little Annabelle's amazement at finding in the bush a palace and a tall and dark-faced fairy before it? "I am Amunophis, the Lily of Ethiopia," said the strange creature. "And I come to the children of the Seventh Veil." She was black and regal, and her voice was soft and low and gentle like the Niger on a summer evening. Her dress was the wing of the sacred beetle, and whenever the wind stirred it played the dreamiest of music. Her feet were bound with golden sandals, and on her head was a crown of lotus leaves. "And you're a fairy?" gasped Annabelle. "Yes, I am a fairy, just as you wished me to be. I live in the tall grass many, many miles

The word ‘Prabhupada’ is a term of the utmost reverence in Vedic religious circles, and it signifies a great saint even among saints. The word actually has two meanings: first, one at whose feet (pada) there are many prabhus (a term meaning ‘master,’ which the disciples of a guru use in addressing each other). The second meaning is one who is always found at the lotus feet of Krishna (the Supreme Master).

In summary, the flute song of Sri Kṛṣṇa, expressed as the Brahma-gayatri, is engaging us in the service of Vrsabhanunandini, Sri Radha. The Gayatri mantra will incite us and inspire us to surrender to Srimati Radhika, accept Her order, and engage in Her eternal loving service. In other words, the divine service of the lotus feet of Srimati Radharani is the ultimate meaning of the Brahma-gayatri.” (SE, adapted) With thoughts like these and implicit faith in the spiritual efficacy of the Brahma-gayatri the worshiper should approach the Lord with this “prayer of prayers.” Only then will the heart be truly attuned to receive the divine wisdom. The blissful thoughts thus aroused will permeate through the heart, purge one of all sins, and enable one to know God and love Him. One will become free from ignorance, the illusion of maya, and the cycle of birth and death.

Here is a seven-step process you can use to develop the practice of deep breathing on a daily basis: Determine a time of day to practice deep breathing, preferably after a daily habit you perform consistently, like brushing your teeth. Morning is always a good time to practice, as it sets the tone for your day. However, you may find you want to take a break in the middle of the day, as things get more hectic during your workday. Before bed is another good time, as it promotes a restful state before sleep. Select a setting for your breathing practice in a quiet space where you won’t be distracted or interrupted. Turn off your phone, computer, and any other device that might disturb you. Set a timer for 10 minutes. Sit on the floor with a pillow in a meditative position, like the lotus position, or in a chair with your spine straight and feet planted on the floor. Let your hands rest gently in your lap. Inhale slowly through your nose until your lungs are filled to capacity, allowing your stomach to push out on the inhalation. At the end of the inhalation, pause for a count of two.

I often went to see Śrīla Bhaktisiddhānta Sarasvatī, and naturally bowed at his lotus feet whenever I did. Yet at one point I considered, “I am the great Maharaja of Burdwan. Among all the highly respectable people in Bengali society, none is more famous or respected than I. Who is this sadhu in comparison to me? Why should I prostrate before him? Next time I won't, and I'll watch how he reacts.” On my next visit I barged in on him and blurted, “I've something to say to you.” But before I could speak further, my head automatically went down to the floor in front of him. I was unable to wait to see his response to my rudeness.2

we've seen that our suffering is connected with the suffering of our ancestors, our loved ones, and with the planet itself, so we know our happiness is not an individual matter. If we are able to breathe happily, we can invite our ancestors to enjoy breathing in with our lungs. If we are able to enjoy walking, we can invite our ancestors to walk with our feet.

For with the ordering and immobilizing of feet, legs, hands, arms, trunk, and head in the traditional lotus posture,9 with the regulation of the breath, the methodical stilling of the thoughts and unification of the mind through special modes of concentration, with the development of control over the emotions and strengthening of the will, and with the cultivation of a profound silence in the deepest recesses of the mind—in other words, through the practice of zazen—there are established the optimum preconditions for looking into the heart-mind and discovering there the true nature of existence.

The Personality of Godhead, Hari, also fulfills the desires of His surrendered devotee. One has to surrender unto the lotus feet of the Personality of Godhead, Hari, or Kṛṣṇa, in order to achieve real success. Devotional service, or engagement in Kṛṣṇa consciousness, is the direct method, and all other methods, although recommended, are indirect. In this Age of Kali the direct method is especially more feasible than the indirect because people are short-living, their intelligence is poor, and they are poverty-stricken and embarrassed by so many miserable disturbances. Lord Caitanya, therefore, has given the greatest boon: in this age one simply has to chant the holy name of God to attain perfection in spiritual life.

Prahlāda Mahārāja requested Lord Nṛsiṁhadeva to deliver his sinful father, who had so many times offended the lotus feet of the Lord. The Lord replied that in a family where a Vaiṣṇava like Prahlāda is born, not only his father but his father’s father and their fathers – up to the fourteenth father back – are all automatically delivered. The conclusion, therefore, is that Kṛṣṇa consciousness is the sum total of all good work for the family, for society and for all living entities. In the Caitanya-caritāmṛta, the author says that a person fully conversant with Kṛṣṇa consciousness does not perform any rituals because he knows that simply by serving Kṛṣṇa in full Kṛṣṇa consciousness all rituals are automatically performed.

My dear Lordships! What is the use of constructing hundreds and thousands of pompously opulent temples, worshiping thousands and millions of grandiosely ornamented Deities, distributing umteenzillions of books, (mis)managing millions and billions of bucks, filling billions and trillions of bellies, and congregating a society of hundreds of thousands of semi-conscious squabbling neophytes, if even one soul amidst the menagerie could not ultimately achieve the supremely privileged maid-service of the treasures of Your lotus feet as You endlessly enjoy Your transcendental nikunja-lilas in Your eternally resplendent realm of Vraja-dhama?

Gouranga is compassion incarnate, O Sri Gourachandra, torrent of rasa, for what fault am I denied? You were Nanda's child indeed, you played the flute, mellow tune on lips, you appeared radiant at Nadiya, to redeem sentient beings. Only I was denied, why? Your name, which redeems the wretched, is hummed around your lotus feet by nectar-craving, honey bee-like devotees I, a naive sinner, a parched, pining skylark take refuge at your feet, O Gouranga. - Shija Laiobi

Gouranga is compassion incarnate, O Sri Gourachandra, torrent of rasa, for what fault am I denied? You were Nanda's child indeed, you played the flute, mellow tune on lips, you appeared radiant at Nadiya, to redeem sentient beings. Only I was denied, why? Your name, which redeems the wretched, is hummed around your lotus feet by nectar-craving, honey bee-like devotees I, a naive sinner, a parched, pining skylark take refuge at your feet, O Gouranga. - Shija Laiobi” ― Arundhati Subramaniam

There is no other path for delivering the jīvas (anayāya) than taking shelter of Caitanya’s lotus feet in order to enter the spiritual world, after giving up the material world.