Dragonball Z Yaoi Blog

Jnana Yoga. Swami Vivekananda.

The Path of Knowledge.

While there is death, and again submit the question: "Is death the end of all things that are so attached, as if they were the most real of realities, the most substantial of all substances? ".

Then there is the desire to be happy. We are all behind something that makes us happy. We continued our mad race in the outer world of the senses.

There is another position: seeking an explanation, look real, the real find in the midst of this eternally changing and evanescent world.

is a highly significant fact that all religions, without explanation, hold that man is a degeneration of what was, whether that envelop the mythological words, or a clear philosophical language, and even the beautiful images poetry.

In the same tree there are two birds, one in the cup, the other on a lower branch. The cup is calm, silent, majestic, immersed in his own glory. The lower branch, pecking sweet and bitter fruits by turns, and jumps from branch to branch, is happy and miserable by turns. After some time, the bird eats a fruit branches exceptionally and this bitter dislike. Then looks up and sees the other bird, with its beautiful golden feathers, not eating or sweet or bitter fruits that are not happy nor unhappy, but is very calm, centered on his ego, seeing nothing more than your Yo. The lower bird envy this condition, but soon forgets and returns to pick the fruits. Do not take long to eat another exceptionally bitter fruit, which makes him feel very unhappy, and again raised his eyes and tries to approach the bird from the tree. Forget about it again, but spent time looking up again. That happens again and again until it comes very close to the beautiful bird and sees the light reflected from the plumage playing with his own body; then feel a change and seems to melt. Is closer, and everything that surrounds it melts and finally understand this wonderful change. The bird was just a shade lower, apparently pointless, a reflection of the top bird. He was, essentially, the top bird. Pecking sweet and bitter fruit, and that bird than that was happy and unhappy in turn, was a vain illusion, a dream. All the while the real bird was up, calm and quiet, glorious and majestic, beyond pain, beyond grief.