Page of Air – Mind

Page of Air / Clouds - Mind

This is what happens when we forget that the mind is meant to be a servant, and start to allow it to run our lives. The head is filled with mechanisms, the mouth is ranting and raving, and the whole surrounding atmosphere is being polluted by this factory of arguments and opinions.

“But wait,” you say. “The mind is what makes us human, it’s the source of all progress, all great truths.” If you believe that, try an experiment: go into your room, shut the door, turn on a tape recorder, and give yourself total permission to say whatever is “on your mind.” If you really allow it to all come out, without any censorship or editing, you’ll be amazed at the amount of rubbish that comes spewing forth.

The Page of Clouds is telling you that somebody, somewhere, is stuck in a “head trip.” Take a look and make sure it isn’t you.

Osho’s Teachings

This is the situation of your head: I see cycle-handles and pedals and strange things that you have gathered from everywhere. Such a small head…and no space to live in! And that rubbish goes on moving in your head; your head goes on spinning and weaving – it keeps you occupied.

Just think what kind of thoughts go on inside your mind. One day just sit, close your doors, and write down for half an hour whatsoever is passing in your mind, and you will understand what I mean and you will be surprised what goes on inside your mind. It remains in the background, it is constantly there, it surrounds you like a cloud. With this cloud you cannot know reality; you cannot attain to spiritual perception.

This cloud has to be dropped. And it is just with your decision to drop it that it will disappear. You are clinging to it – the cloud is not interested in you, remember it.

Osho The Sun Rises in the Evening Chapter 9

 

A coat of quotes and passing poetry

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Beyond the place of action in its predictable causes, over the awnings of lofty judgemental pauses. Conserved of the senses until met upon reverential swoon, undeterred to inner light, the sheen un-jaded to childlike and sacred moody interludes. Redeemed to be viewed, like dusty letters in the keep of time discovered in a vintage assemble of memories entwined.sublime

Gratitude’s shine, in ever-glow and effervescent easy smiles, a providential find.

Enlightening the heart, unburdening the mind, a faith full of inner respect and esteem, warmth kindled to resurface resonantly bejewelled lines.

Talking to time, until.

Sublime.
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Sublime