Seven of Fire - Stress
How many people do you know who, just when they were completely overloaded, with too many projects, too many “balls in the air”, have suddenly come down with the flu, or taken a fall and ended up on crutches? That’s just the sort of “bad timing” the little monkey with the pin in his hand is about to impose on the “one-man-band” pictured here! The quality of stress represented by this card visits all of us at times, but perfectionists are particularly vulnerable to it. We create it ourselves, with the idea that without us nothing will happen–especially in the way we want it to! Well, what makes you think you’re so special? Do you think the sun won’t rise in the morning unless you personally set the alarm? Go for a walk, buy some flowers, and fix yourself a spaghetti dinner–anything ‘unimportant’ will do. Just put yourself out of that monkey’s reach!
Osho’s Teachings
All private goals are neurotic. The essential man comes to know, to feel, “I am not separate from the whole, and there is no need to seek and search for any destiny on my own. Things are happening, the world is moving–call it God…he is doing things. They are happening of their own accord. There is no need for me to make any struggle, any effort; there is no need for me to fight for anything. I can relax and be.” The essential man is not a doer. The accidental man is a doer. The accidental man is, of course, then in anxiety, tension, stress, anguish, continuously sitting on a volcano. It can erupt any moment, because he lives in a world of uncertainty and believes as if it is certain. This creates tension in his be-ing: he knows deep down that nothing is certain.
Osho A Sudden Clash of Thunder Chapter 3
A coat of quotes and passing poetry
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"And as the seed waits eagerly watching for its flower and fruit.
Anxious its little soul looks out into the clear expanse
To see if hungry winds are abroad with their invisible array ;
So Man looks out in tree, and herb, and fish, and bird, and beast.
Collecting up the scattered portions of his immortal body.
Into the elemental forms of everything that grows.
He tries the sullen North wind, riding on its angry furrows,
The sultry South when the sun rises, and the angry East,
When the sun sets, and the clods harden, and the cattle stand,
Drooping, and the birds hide in their silent nests.
He stores his thoughts.
As in store-houses in his memory. He regulates the forms.
Of all beneath and all above, and in the gentle West Reposes where the sun's heat dwells.
He rises to the sun,
And to the planets of the night, and to the stars that gild.
The zodiacs, and the stars that sullen stand to North and South,
He touches the remotest pole, and in the centre weeps That Man should labour and sorrow, and learn and forget, and return.
To the dark valley whence he came, and begin his
labours anew."
"Artwork and Poetry | William Blake