This one grew out of Dr. Jeff Brantley's "Yes" Practice.
This one speaks to the haunting strains of The International Silver String Submarine Band.
This one comes to us from the wall of the IMS Forest Refuge kitchen; it addresses the CDC suggestion that we wash our hands for at least 20 seconds to avoid spreading germs.
May all beings be free from peril.
May all beings be free from pain.
May all beings be free from sorrow.
May all beings live in harmony with their lives.
This one is for my Mom, who, if there's anything to what the Tibetans say about reincarnation, just might be a little, one-year-old baby as we speak.
This one, written in Google Spanish, is for the Lizard, who loves the Republic of Colombia.
This one speaks to the possibility of freedom from the Seven Deadly Sins.
This one is for Dr. Martin Luther King.
This one is for my Mom, who died in 2010, on the Feast of the Epiphany; in my heart, I picture her as a nineteen-year-old WAVE from Brockton with long, curly black hair.
May it unfold with grace and ease.
May you be gentle and kind,
strong and brave.
May you be happy and healthy,
safe and protected.
May you be free from suffering, and the causes of suffering;
free from fear, and the causes of fear;
free from grief, and the causes of grief.
And, at the end of your days,
may the air that you breathe
be as sweet as your
Snickerdoodles.
The four brahmavihāra practices cultivate loving-kindness, compassion, sympathetic joy and equanimity, powerful antidotes to the three poisons: attachment, aversion and ignorance.
May they be liberated from suffering,
and the causes of suffering.
May they never be separated from the happiness,
which is free from sorrow.
May they rest in equanimity,
free from attachment and aversion.
This one speaks to the death of our friend Andy Kessler, a man of rare grace and ease.
May you be free from suffering, and the causes of suffering;
free from fear, and the causes of fear;
free from grief, and the causes of grief.
And at the end of your days,
may the waves that you ride
be sweet...
and cool.
This one speaks to the unforgettable smell of Night Blooming Jasmines.
May you be free from suffering, and the causes of suffering;
free from fear, and the causes of fear;
free from grief, and the causes of grief.
And at the end of your days,
may the air that you breathe
be sweeter than
Night Blooming
Jasmine.
This one is sweet and simple, the essence of loving kindness.
This one is for all the Marines over in Iraq, who hold a special place in my heart.
May you be free from suffering, and the causes of suffering;
free from fear, and the causes of fear;
free from grief, and the causes of grief.
And, at the end of your days,
may the air that you breathe
be sweet...
and cool.
OoRah.
This one is for my Dad, who died in 1987, two days shy of Pearl Harbor Day; in my heart, I picture him as a freckle-faced farm boy from Louisiana with a full head of curly, black hair.
May it unfold with grace and ease.
May you be gentle and kind,
strong and brave.
May you be happy and healthy,
safe and protected.
May you be free from suffering, and the causes of suffering;
free from fear, and the causes of fear;
free from grief, and the causes of grief.
And, at the end of your days,
may the air that you breathe
be as sweet
as Tupelo
honey.