QUOTE (Tapati @ Jul 30 2007, 09:18 PM)
In that case, all glories to Starhawk, Z. Budapest, Lunaea Weatherstone, Doreen Valiente, Scott Cunningham, Pema Chodron, Dianne Sylvan, Priscilla Cogan, Sophy Burnham, many friends and acquaintances who shared their own insight with me, and the good members of this forum who each have taught me something valuable. I am sure I cannot remember every book author who contributed to my present views and level of understanding so I offer all respects to every author I have been privileged to read the work of.
Last, but not least, I continue to treasure the positive things I learned from Srila Prabhupada and endeavor to look upon the rest with the understanding that we came from vastly different times and cultures. In that spirit I offer my respects.
From Python to Prostitute: Learning from the Guru in Each
Once upon a time there lived in the city of Mithila a prostitute
named Pingala. One night as usual, she decorated her beauty to
the utmost and waited outside her gate, intending to entice a
passerby to partake of her charms.
She imagined each successive man to be a wealthy client who would
give her plentiful money in return for her body. When many passed
by and did not stop, she became restless and lost all sleep,
impatiently going in and out of her door until it was well past
Her hope of earning money thus thwarted, she soon became
frustrated and her mouth went dry with dejection. Suddenly
however, the same despondency caused by her anxiety became the
cause of a happiness which she felt seeping through her body. Out
of this supreme emotion,
she sang an inspired song: Alas, do look at my delusion immense,
I am but a slave of the organs of sense.
Expecting fulfillment of desires did I cherish,
Men who are transitory and will but perish.
Ignoring my ever proximate eternal lover,
The indwelling soul I never did uncover.
Of true love wealth the One and only giver,
Instead I courted men who couldn't deliver.
Who cannot quench any desire became my lover,
Rather, only misery grief on me did they confer.
Selling myself uselessly afflicting my soul,
To lusty men, contemptible on the whole.
Pillared on crooked bones a shaky frame,
The human body is its famous name.
Stretched over with skin, nails and hair,
It has nine doors, regularly from where,
Pours out impurity stored inside there.
Now will I sell myself only for the price of god,
Sporting with him like Lakshmi and her lord.
Truly with me is happy Vishnu the Lord,
Perhaps of some past merit is this reward,
Inside my heart with vicious hope abroad.
He gave me disenchantment which is the sword,
Which cuts away asunder the attachment cord.
Thus giving voice to her emotion, Pingala, doing away with all
hope, closed her door, went to bed and slept peacefully.
Truly is it said: Asha hi paramam dukham,
Nairashyam paramam sukham. Hope indeed is misery greatest,
Hopelessness a bliss above the rest.
(Shrimad Bhagavata Purana: 11.8.44)
continued at ... Article of the Month - July 2007