Monthly Archives: October 2008

Warrior of Light – Issue no. 184 – The Sixth Cardinal Virtue: Courage

According to the dictionary: from the Latin cor: heart; firmness of spirit, energy before danger; intrepidness; cheerfulness; bravery; perseverance.

For Jesus Christ: You are the salt of the earth; but if the salt has lost its savor, what shall it be salted with? It is no longer good for anything but to be thrown away and trodden under the foot of men. You are the light of the world; a city that is et on a hill cannot be hidden. Neither do men light a candle and put it under a bushel, but on a candlestick, and it gives light to all that are in the house. (Matthew 5:13-15)

In the heat of the fight: Yesterday I had the courage to fight. Today I shall have the courage to win. (Bernadette Devlin, Catholic political activist in Northern Ireland)

Among the priests in the desert: a group of monks from the monastery of Sceta — among them the great Abbot Nicerius — were walking in the Egyptian desert when a lion appeared before them. Terrified, they all began to run.

Years later, when Nicerius was on his death bed, one of the monks remarked:

“Abbot, do you remember the day we met the lion? That was the only time I saw you afraid.”

“But I was not afraid of the lion.”

“Then why did you run like all the rest of us?”

“I thought it better to run away from a lion one afternoon than to spend the rest of my life running away from vanity.”

In a speech: These great masses will have turned their backs on the grave insult to human dignity which described some as masters and others as servants, and transformed each into a predator whose survival depended on the destruction of the other. Thus shall we live, because we will have created a society which recognises that all people are born equal, with each entitled in equal measure to life, liberty, prosperity, human rights and good governance. Such a society should never allow again that there should be prisoners of conscience nor that any person’s human rights should be violated. (Nelson Mandela, who for 28 years was a prisoner of conscience, on receiving the Nobel Peace Prize, 10/12/1993)

In the face of absolute evil: Two rabbis are trying by every possible means to bring spiritual comfort to Jews in Nazi Germany. For a whole year, though scared to death, they deceive the Gestapo (the secret police) and perform religious ceremonies in various communities.

They are finally arrested. One of them, terrified at what could happen from then on, does not stop praying. The other spends the whole day sleeping.

“Why do you sleep?” asks the fearful rabbi. “Aren’t you afraid? Don’t you realize what can happen to us?”

“I was afraid up to the moment we were arrested. Now that I’m imprisoned, what good does it do to be afraid? The time for fear is over; now it’s time for courage to face our fate.”

On a beach: What’s all around you? There’s no happiness, no courage, just terror on this beautiful sunset. The terror of being alone, the terror of the dark that fills the imagination with demons, the terror of doing something that isn’t in the handbook of good behavior, the terror of God’s judgment, the terror of men’s comments, the terror of risking and losing, the terror of winning and having to live with envy, the terror of loving and being rejected, the terror of asking for a raise, accepting an invitation, going to unknown places, not managing to speak a foreign language, not being able to impress others, growing old, dying, being noticed on account of your defects, not being noticed for your qualities, not being noticed either for your defects or qualities. (The Devil and Miss Prym, 1998)

According to a wise man: Courage is shown in acts, not in words; it is not bluffing, arrogance, or madness. A courageous man is the one who dares to do what he finds is right, and bears the consequences of his acts — whether they are political, social or individual.

A man can obey others for two reasons: for fear of being punished, or for love. Obedience that comes from love of others is a thousand times stronger than fear of punishment. (Mahatma Ghandi, 1869–1948)

http://paulocoelhoblog.com/warrioroflight
http://www.warriorofthelight.com/engl/index.html

You Suffered More Than You Know … (poetic-prose)

Don’t think I was meddling because I
Saw more than the others. Everything about
You seemed transparent really, and each part
You thought was hidden appeared to me as
A book longing to be thumbed through-

What was I to do?

If you truly believed you were
Hiding your heart ~ you weren’t.
I didn’t purpose to see more than I had,
– Or make mention of it – but when the portal
Opened and light fell on a heart held captive; I was
Touched in a place normally reserved for weddings
Or baby showers. Of course, then, after you realized
How clearly I saw what you thought was hidden; you
Groaned and turned away from me. Trying to cram
Your heart back into a box; you asked me to keep
The secret and not say a word to anyone-

What was this place you had
Fashioned from your TRAGEDIES?

Musty chambers blemished from too many failures;
An unattended bedchamber replete
With bouquets of wilted flowers;
Frayed carpeting;
Curled wallpaper;
Cups brimming over
With anguished tears;
Letters of love, addressed
TO YOU, (written by your own hand)
Crumpled in tight balls and dispersed
Throughout the room. Downhearted; I
Knew this ewer called YOU was in need
Of an understanding soul

Asking if I could come
Closer to see better; you
Softened and showed me
A headstone where I might
Enter into your secret places.
From trembling eyes cleansing
Tears flowed, – an ablutionary ritual –
Each drop plunging into the hidden berths
Of skeletons long held in contempt. You shook
Abandoned as sorrow poured from your reddened eyes.
Misunderstandings, like rivers, surged past rocks and
Fallen trees; emotional barrens once bursting ripe
With the fetor of unfulfilled yearnings dissolved
Under the disembogue of an honest
Emotional climax-

Afterwards … reaching out with strong hands;
I tenderly bosomed the emptiness that remained,
And then pulled you into the fortress of my heart

Less Than White

Soft and sweet. A foot the size of my hand making an impression of itself on my lap. A red impression. Smile. A smile upon the child’s face, not that I could tell. Sticky fingers across my eyes, so I shut them and smile back.

Wake up.

‘Wake up.’

‘Yes I know.’ I say.

One room centred towards a balcony. Dry more than clean. The balcony unreachable, for now. The whole room coated in the smell of hot cotton. I look at my hands and they’re fine. Not a sign of chaffing nor a laceration to speak of.

‘Yes, but who are you speaking to?’ I said

‘Me.’ I answered with a smile.

No more smiling. It’s morning.

From the hallway comes the sound of steps. Trembling in apologetically is the outline of the child I’d seen many a time prior. The dark scares it but the sight of my smile encourages it to stand still and place its head into its hands. If I was going to smother it now would be my chance. I reach for my pillow but the child sits on it. Strange.

‘Weren’t you just in front of me?’

‘I don’t know what you mean.’ replies the child, now gazing in interest to his right side, legs crossed upon the pillow.

‘Well it’s just that, just now, just this instance, you were more like two yards in front of me.’

‘I couldn’t see myself getting smothered.’

‘In fact, child, you wouldn’t have seen it. I suppose I should apologise for my manners though.’

The child lets his head drop to one side and catches it with his hand. Another smile. Not the same I’d been wearing some minutes before. Before I could figure it out the child makes its way to the balcony before pausing against the solitary glass window.

‘Again, I am sorry. I am a Sod in the morning.’ I chuckle.

I assume the child isn’t listening as he stares across the room from the window, almost hiding from something inevitable. However, it replies ‘Oh come now, you’re being silly. One apology is quite enough. Besides, it’s a touch redundant apologising for something you’d do again given the chance. I wouldn’t apologise for something I intend to carry on with. That said, I can’t account for myself regarding what’s been and what is to be. You can weigh your past up against your future and seek a victor. But I’ve found mine both triumphant. I couldn’t honestly tell which I prefer. Hold on.’ The child retires from his gaze and employs a whole new expression. His eyes close gently for the first time since my own met his.

‘I didn’t mean to startle you with my abruptness, but I think I’ve found something.’

‘Don’t be so absurd.’ I start. ‘There’s nothing in here to find.’

‘I’ve found a vibration against this window. Are we moving?’

Annoyed. This child is boring me. Perhaps I should smother it now and be done with it.

‘I said, are we moving?’

‘No! Alright. No. I’ve told you more than a few times now that we’re not moving.’

‘You’re lying on two counts.’

‘Lying?’ I spit.

‘You haven’t mentioned that before and more importantly, we are moving. Shame on you.’

‘Shame on you, more like! Despicable child. I ought to smother you.’

‘You ought not to. It’s not a nice affair that. You’d probably regret it. And when we think about it, in this moving room with evasive balcony, if I were to be smothered I couldn’t tell you what I’ve found.’

‘You’ve already told me.’ I reply victoriously.

‘Ah. But I haven’t told you which vibration I found. Come here.’

I haven’t ever been close to the balcony. It’s so white out there, beyond it. Not to say that it’s not white in the room, but there’s a veneer about it that remains inviting, welcoming. A glance at the balcony is enough to tell me that I must find some excuse. I can’t make it to the balcony, not now, not after all I’ve said. What with this smothering business. Who needs a vibration anyway? After all, it’s morning and the balcony is no place for a half-naked man of my age.

‘I’m sorry, it would be inappropriate to come anywhere near you. You might be a girl. It’s already unreasonable of you to come in here, to a mans bedroom, where he sleeps, when you may well be a girl.’

‘I see your reasoning. But I’m not a girl.’

‘You don’t sound like a boy.’

‘Neither do you.’

‘Because I’m a man.’

‘Precisely.’

‘Oh stop playing games with me. You’ll have me scratching my face off.’

‘Who gives a Fuck?’

Insolent little child. I run over and crash my pillow into its face which doesn’t make a sound in itself, but sends the back of his skull crushing into the window which makes quite the deafening racket. I push the pillow – fists gripped tight – hard and around its little head. The child doesn’t kick at all. I feel the sweat dripping on my head, tickling me, but I smell the child’s pain and think nothing of the discomfort the sweat brings me, even though I long for the dryness my room once brought me. Suddenly a voice from the other side of the pillow.

‘My legs aren’t kicking a bit. I always assumed they’d kick.’

I pull the pillow away in horror. To my delight the child is motionless. Last words. It was a boys voice that time, I’m sure of it. No need to worry about what others may have heard transpire then. I couldn’t do with him next-door and her two-doors-down informing others, my family, my students, that a strange girl was in my room with me.

Of course, the room was moving, but I couldn’t exactly admit that, not then. It was none of the child’s business. What a smart young chap he was though. I pull him onto my lap. I laugh at some of the things he said as I look at the smile upon his face. No time for that now. High time I inspected this ‘vibration’ business.

Instantly the left side of my temple tickles. Early this morning the sky was white, though less than white. Now I send my eyes out into the green sky and see what I hadn’t seen through this balcony before. I can’t help but miss the child. Perhaps because he was right. No wonder he felt content and comfortable enough to berate me in my own home. At least he felt as I do now, when he was smothered. Benign, giving and morose all at the same time. I displace my cheek and it slides down the window pane at a rate slow enough not to concern me. Far from it. I go with it. What a journey, I think. Smiles. Forget benign, I’ve misjudged this. That I can see clearly now. It’s euphoria, this window. I can see all that I needed to see and it’s all because of these wonderful vibrations from this moving room.

IntraBeing

A thousand lives later,

here we are again

separated by the blue veil between dimensions

touching only on the translucent side of dreams.

 

Through the ages,

I have whirled with dervish mystics;

I have drunk the blood of Christ;

I have even pillaged with pirates,

but no passion has filled me

like you.

 

I want to be reborn where you are;

I implore you,

where will you be?

I’ll meet you there.

I’ll meet you in the Renaissance;

I’ll meet you post-Armageddon.

 

I’ll meet you in a still lake’s reflection,

in the eyes of a child,

in the quiet of a frozen landscape,

in the light of a ghost star,

or at the tip of a poet’s pen.

 

I’ll meet you on a battlefield,

in the echo of a scream,

in Dante’s infernal thoughts,

or on the seventh terrace of purgatory

where I will gladly burn to ashes

that I might feel you again.

 

Matters not whether we’re thieves or clergy;

Matters not whether we’re one or two,

or fragrant racemes of the same vine –

our awareness shall transcend any state of being.

 

If only we can cross this cosmic threshold,

we will find one another –

be drawn unto each other

in a Divine reunion

driven from within.

 

And the Universe itself will sigh.

 

© 2008

 

 

Why no Harry Potter or Stephanie Meyer?

Dear Readers,

We’ve received countless searches at PublicLiterature.org for current bestselling books. Unfortunately, we can’t place the full text of these books online (that would not only be illegal but immoral). We are trying to contact the author or publishing company for frequently requested books. We would like to post snippets or multiple chapters if possible. Some common searches we’ve received are:

While we have a few participating NY Times Bestsellers, it is very difficult negotiate with publishing houses during the busy launch of a new book. The other interesting trend we notice is searches for books that have not yet made their way to public domain. Some of these examples are below. I would suggest patience…

  • Clockwork Orange
  • Of Mice and Men
  • 1984
  • Lord of the Flies

For further information on copyright laws in the US, see Public Domain by Wikipedia. Sorry, but at the moment we can only offer books in the public domain and works from contributors. We are working with publishing houses to bring more current book samples to our readers (look for an announcement in the next week or so).

Thanks everyone!

Ryan

Warrior Of Light online: The fifth cardinal virtue: Justice

According to the dictionary: from the Latin justitias: conformity with the law; act of giving to each what belongs to them; equity; group of magistrates and the people who work with them.

According to Jesus Christ: You have heard that they were told, ‘An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth.’ But I tell you not to resist injury, but if anyone strikes you on your right cheek, turn the other to him too. (Matthew 5: 38-39)

At another moment of the Gospel: And Jesus went into the Temple of God and drove out all who were buying and selling things in it, and he upset the money-changers’ tables and the pigeon-dealers’ seats. (Matthew, 21:12)

According to Bankei: during one of Zen master Bankei’s classes, a pupil was caught stealing. All the disciples demanded he be expelled, but Bankei did nothing. The following week, the pupil stole again. The others, irritated, demanded that the thief be punished.

“How wise you all are,” said Bankei. “You know what is right and wrong, and you can study anywhere you like. But this poor brother — who does not know what is right or wrong — has only me to teach him. And I shall go on doing that.” A flood of tears purified the thief’s face; the desire to steal had disappeared.

Letter from a man condemned to death: Death row is the arena where the politics of Power, Retribution and Violence are applied to a man using concrete and steel. Until this man turns into steel and concrete. And yet, although steel can be hard, it is still capable of being flexible, and although the heart can turn to concrete, it is still capable of beating. (Justin Fuller, executed in Texas on 24/08/2006)

During the Spanish Inquisition: In the 15th century the Inquisitor priests went from town to town gathering the inhabitants together in the main square. After a sermon was preached, they would choose at random six or seven people who were then interrogated about the life of their neighbors; in every case, these people always accused someone, for fear of being considered heretics.

In the application of justice: “Hell is Iraq” (answer given by Saddam Hussein, when one of his executors shouted “Go to hell!” on 29/12/2006).

At the tea ceremony: We see evil in others because we know evil through our own behavior. We never pardon those who wound us because we feel that we would never be pardoned. We tell others the painful truth because we want to hide it from ourselves. We take refuge in pride so that no-one can see how fragile we are. That is why, whenever you are judging your brother, bear in mind that it is you who are on trial. (Okakura Kakuso, The Book of Tea, 1904)

Looking for proof: Despite being inefficient as a means of proof and method of investigation, for centuries torture was the juridical method to discover the truth of facts. (Paulo Sérgio Pinheiro, Professor of Political Science)

According to the tutor of the King of Persia: When he was young, Cosroes (later on Cosroes I) had a master who managed to make him an outstanding student in all the subjects he learned. One afternoon, for no apparent reason, the master punished him very severely.

Years later, Cosroes succeeded to the throne. One of the first measures he took was to send for his childhood master and demand an explanation for the injustice he had committed.

“Why did you punish me without my having deserved it?” he asked.

“When I saw your intelligence, I realized right away that you would inherit your father’s throne,” answered the master. “And so I decided to show you how injustice is capable of marking a man for the rest of his life. I hope that you will never chastise anyone without reason.”

http://paulocoelhoblog.com/warrioroflight
http://www.warriorofthelight.com

easter

in this dream
I’m looking at an old family photo
25-year-old black + white
mother father brother + me
the classic easter pose in the yard
outside grandpa + grandma’s house
my focus is on my dad
he’s so young
younger than I am now
and he looks so scared!

I feel compassion + tenderness for this
frightened young man who took on too much
a family he was ill-prepared to handle.

I know some of his fear
I feel it myself in my own life every day
the fear of being a bad father
the fear of being a father too soon
the fear of losing my life + my dreams to
the demands of a wife + a child
he has good reason to be afraid
he looks lonely
no one’s taught him how to do this
nobody’s backing him up.

I feel his loneliness + his fear for the first time
not in my head but in my heart + my gut
I’m surprised to feel such thorough compassion for him
as he was at that time
I’m so used to hating the man I knew as my father
angry insensitive frightening hateful cruel
I don’t feel comfortable identifying with
this man I’ve cast as my personal demon.

this dream frightens me because I’m afraid I’m like him
but it also encourages me
it tells me that
maybe I’m beginning to see him as a person
instead of a demon
maybe I’m beginning to let go of him at last.

_____________________

Excerpted from Iron Man Family Outing: Poems about Transition into a More Conscious Manhood by Rick Belden. Copyright © 1990, 2008 by Rick Belden.