Serenity Buddha

Solitude

noreply@blogger.com (Barry) — Tue, 29 Mar 2011 02:21:00 +0000

Sometimes we put walls up not to keep others out, but to see who cares enough to break them down.

Morning on the pond

noreply@blogger.com (Barry) — Sun, 04 Apr 2010 03:47:00 +0000

In the Morning

noreply@blogger.com (Barry) — Sun, 04 Apr 2010 03:45:00 +0000

Wild Violets

noreply@blogger.com (Barry) — Sun, 04 Apr 2010 03:35:00 +0000

A new Beginning

noreply@blogger.com (Barry) — Wed, 27 Jan 2010 03:12:00 +0000

The sky is the daily bread of the eyes. - Ralph Waldo Emerson

Wisdom

noreply@blogger.com (Barry) — Mon, 26 Oct 2009 21:41:00 +0000

"The only true law is that which leads to freedom," Jonathan said. "There is no other."

Forest Flowers

noreply@blogger.com (Barry) — Sat, 17 Oct 2009 18:12:00 +0000

Bread feeds the body, indeed, but flowers feed also the soul. -The Koran

My Muse.

noreply@blogger.com (Barry) — Fri, 09 Oct 2009 19:53:00 +0000

I have awaited her return for quite some time now.

It's funny how she always seems to follow a rainy day or change of season.

I am delighted she has returned.

What will she bring this time?

Untroubled for the moment.

noreply@blogger.com (Barry) — Sun, 07 Jun 2009 02:05:00 +0000

And they Danced on the breeze of the ocean.

I would believe only in a God that knows how to dance. ~Friedrich Nietzsche

Running to stand Still

noreply@blogger.com (Barry) — Sun, 24 May 2009 00:40:00 +0000

The Road Not Taken

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveler, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim,

Because it was grassy and wanted wear;

Though as for that the passing there

Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I kept the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,

I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and

I-I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.

"Robert Frost"

Come and Rest awhile

noreply@blogger.com (Barry) — Sun, 10 May 2009 15:40:00 +0000

DADDY'S EMPTY CHAIR

A man's daughter had asked the local minister
to come and pray with her father.
When the minister arrived,
he found the man lying in bed with his head
propped up on two pillows..
An empty chair sat beside his bed.
The minister assumed that the old fellow
had been informed of his visit.
'I guess you were expecting me, he said.
'No, who are you?' said the father.
The minister told him his name and then remarked,
'I saw the empty chair and I figured you knew
I was going to show up.'
'Oh yeah, the chair,' said the bedridden man.
'Would you mind closing the door?'
Puzzled, the minister shut the door.
'I have never told anyone this,
not even my daughter,' said the man.
'But all of my life I have never
known how to pray.
At church I used to hear the pastor talk about prayer,
but it went right over my head.'
I abandoned any attempt at prayer,'
the old man continued, '
until one day four years ago, my best friend said to me,
'Johnny, prayer is just a simple matter
of having a conversation with Jesus.
Here is what I suggest.
'Sit down in a chair;
place an empty chair in front of you,
and in faith see Jesus on the chair.
It's not spooky because he promised,
'I will be with you always'.
'Then just speak to him in the same way
you're doing with me right now.'
'So, I tried it and I've liked it so much
that I do it a couple of hours every day.
I'm careful though. If my daughter saw me talking
to an empty chair, she'd either have a nervous breakdown
or send me off to the funny farm.'
The minister was deeply moved by the story and
encouraged the old man to continue on the journey.
Then he prayed with him, anointed him with oil,
and returned to the church.
Two nights later the daughter called
to tell the minister that her daddy
had died that afternoon.
Did he die in peace?' he asked.
Yes, when I left the house about two o'clock,
he called me over to his bedside,
told me he loved me and kissed me on the cheek.
When I got back from the store an hour later,
I found him .
But there was something strange about his death.
Apparently, just before Daddy died,
he leaned over and rested his head on the chair
beside the bed. What do you make of that?'
The minister wiped a tear from his eye and said,
'I wish we could all go like that.'
Prayer is one of the best free gifts we receive.
I asked God for water, He gave me an ocean.*
I asked God for a flower, He gave me a garden.*
I asked God for a friend, He gave me all of YOU...
If God brings you to it, He will bring you through it..

Happy moments, praise God.
Difficult moments, seek God.
Quiet moments, worship God
Painful moments, trust God.
Every moment, thank God.

Making a Diffence

noreply@blogger.com (Barry) — Sun, 10 May 2009 15:36:00 +0000

Letters from Teddy
There is a story many years ago of an elementary teacher. Her name was Mrs. Thompson. And as she stood in front of her 5th grade class on her very first day of school, she told the children a lie. Like most teachers, she looked at her students and said that she loved them all the same. But that was impossible, because there in the front row, slumped in his seat, was a little boy named Teddy Stoddard.
Mrs. Thompson had watched Teddy the year before and noticed that he didn't play well with the other children, that his clothes were messy and that he constantly needed a bath. And Teddy could be unpleasant. It got to the point where Mrs. Thompson would actually take delight in marking his papers with a broad red pen, making bold X's and then putting a big "F" at the top of his papers.
At the school where Mrs. Thompson taught, she was required to review each child's past records and she put Teddy's off until last. However, when she reviewed his file, she was in for a surprise. Teddy's first grade teacher wrote, "Teddy is a bright child with a ready laugh. He does his work neatly and has good manners... he is a joy to be around." His second grade teacher wrote, "Teddy is an excellent student, well liked by his classmates, but he is troubled because his mother has a terminal illness and life at home must be a struggle." His third grade teacher wrote, "His mother's death has been hard on him. He tries to do his best but his father doesn't show much interest and his home life will soon affect him if some steps aren't taken." Teddy's fourth grade teacher wrote, "Teddy is withdrawn and doesn't show much interest in school. He doesn't have many friends and sometimes sleeps in class."
By now, Mrs. Thompson realized the problem and she was ashamed of herself. She felt even worse when her students brought her Christmas presents, wrapped in beautiful ribbons and bright paper, except for Teddy's. His present which was clumsily wrapped in the heavy, brown paper that he got from a grocery bag. Mrs. Thompson took pains to open it in the middle of the other presents. Some of the children started to laugh when she found a rhinestone bracelet with some of the stones missing, and a bottle that was one quarter full of perfume. But she stifled the children's laughter when she exclaimed how pretty the bracelet was, putting it on, and dabbing some of the perfume on her wrist. Teddy Stoddard stayed after school that day just long enough to say, Mrs. Thompson, today you smelled just like my Mom used to." After the children left she cried for at least an hour.
On that very day, she quit teaching reading, and writing, and arithmetic. Instead, she began to teach children. Mrs. Thompson paid particular attention to Teddy. As she worked with him, his mind seemed to come alive. The more she encouraged him, the faster he responded. By the end of the year, Teddy had become one of the smartest children in the class and, despite her lie that she would love all the children the same, Teddy became one her "teacher's pets."
A year later, she found a note under her door, from Teddy, telling her that she was still the best teacher he ever had in his whole life. Six years went by before she got another note from Teddy. He then wrote that he had finished high school, third in his class, and she was still the best teacher he ever had in his whole life. Four years after that, she got another letter, saying that while things had been tough at times, he'd stayed in school, had stuck with it, and would soon graduate from college with the highest of honors. He assured Mrs. Thompson that she was still the best and favorite teacher he ever had in his whole life. Then four more years passed and yet another letter came. This time he explained that after he got his bachelor's degree, he decided to go a little further. The letter explained that she was still the best and favorite teacher he ever had. But now his name was a little longer-the letter was signed, Theodore F. Stoddard, M.D.
The story doesn't end there. You see, there was yet another letter that spring. Teddy said he'd met this girl and was going to be married. He explained that his father had died a couple of years ago and he was wondering if Mrs. Thompson might agree to sit in the place at the wedding that was usually reserved for the mother of the groom. Of course, Mrs. Thompson did. And guess what? She wore that bracelet, the one with several rhinestones missing. And she made sure she was wearing the perfume that Teddy remembered his mother wearing on their last Christmas together. They hugged each other, and Dr. Stoddard whispered in Mrs. Thompson's ear, "Thank you Mrs. Thompson for believing in me. Thank you so much for making me feel important and showing me that I could make a difference." Mrs. Thompson, with tears in her eyes, whispered back. She said, "Teddy, you have it all wrong. You were the one who taught me that I could make a difference. I didn't know how to teach until I met you."

Rooms with a view

noreply@blogger.com (Barry) — Wed, 08 Apr 2009 03:00:00 +0000

To find the universal elements enough; to find the air and the water exhilarating; to be refreshed by a morning walk or an evening saunter... to be thrilled by the stars at night; to be elated over a bird's nest or a wildflower in spring - these are some of the rewards of the simple life. ~John Burroughs

Discover

noreply@blogger.com (Barry) — Tue, 31 Mar 2009 03:22:00 +0000

Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn't do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover. -Mark Twain

Restoration

noreply@blogger.com (Barry) — Sun, 29 Mar 2009 16:57:00 +0000

Someone may have stolen your dream when it was young and fresh and you were innocent. Anger is natural. Grief is appropriate. Healing is mandatory. Restoration is possible -Jane Rubietta

Red Azalea

noreply@blogger.com (Barry) — Sat, 21 Mar 2009 03:40:00 +0000

Thanks for taking the time to view my blog. Comments are appreciated. Just click on the link below. Thanks, Barry

In the Garden

noreply@blogger.com (Barry) — Tue, 17 Mar 2009 08:00:00 +0000

Mind at Peace
When the mind is at peace,
the world too is at peace.
Nothing real, nothing absent.
Not holding on to reality,
not getting stuck in the void,
you are neither holy or wise, just
an ordinary fellow who has completed his work.
P'ang Yün (龐蘊 Hõ Un) (The Enlightened Heart 34)

Pisces Dream

noreply@blogger.com (Barry) — Tue, 17 Mar 2009 02:36:00 +0000

"Then said Almitra, "Speak to us of Love."
"And he raised his head and looked upon the people, and there fell a stillness upon them. And with a great voice he said: When love beckons to you follow him, Though his ways are hard and steep. And when his wings enfold you yield to him, Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you. And when he speaks to you believe in him, Though his voice may shatter your dreams as the north wind lays waste the garden. For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you. Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning. Even as he ascends to your height and caresses your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun, So shall he descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth. Like sheaves of corn he gathers you unto himself. He threshes you to make you naked. He sifts you to free you from your husks. He grinds you to whiteness. He kneads you until you are pliant; And then he assigns you to his sacred fire, that you may become sacred bread for God's sacred feast. All these things shall love do unto you that you may know thesecrets of your heart, and in that knowledge become a fragment of Life's heart. But if in your fear you would seek only love's peace and love's pleasure, Then it is better for you that you cover your nakedness and pass out of love's threshing-floor, Into the seasonless world where you shall laugh, but not all of your laughter, and weep, but not all of your tears. Love gives naught but itself and takes naught but from itself. Love possesses not nor would it be possessed; For love is sufficient unto love. When you love you should not say, "God is in my heart," but rather,"I am in the heart of God."And think not you can direct the course of love, if it finds you worthy, directs your course. Love has no other desire but to fulfill itself. But if you love and must needs have desires, let these be your desires: To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night. To know the pain of too much tenderness. To be wounded by your own understanding of love; And to bleed willingly and joyfully. To wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving; To rest at the noon hour and meditate love's ecstasy; To return home at eventide with gratitude, And then to sleep with a prayer for the beloved in your heart and a song of praise upon your lips." -Kahlil Gibran

Choices

noreply@blogger.com (Barry) — Mon, 16 Mar 2009 13:28:00 +0000

The place where you are.....The place where life happens is the place where you are. The place where you build success and achievement is the place where you are. You cannot change the places where you came from, and you've not yet arrived at the places you'll be. The place where you are is the only place where you can think and act and make life happen in the way you intend. If you spend your time wishing you were someplace else, then you lose the opportunity to get there. Instead, see the power and the possibilities of the place where you are, and tap into the real value of what you now have. If you fill the place where you are with worry, frustration, anxiety or anger, you put needless limitations on what you can do. Instead, fill this moment, this set of circumstances with joy, love, gratitude and enthusiasm for the positive possibilities. Give the best that you can to the place where you are. For your world is determined not by what you hope to do on some distant someday, but by how you live right here and now. This is the place where you are. Live it for all that it is.- Ralph Marston

After the rain.

noreply@blogger.com (Barry) — Mon, 16 Mar 2009 13:24:00 +0000

I love the outdoors after it rains. It is as if God washes away the old to make way for the new.

Spring Flowers

noreply@blogger.com (Barry) — Sun, 15 Mar 2009 14:24:00 +0000

Back in the day

noreply@blogger.com (Barry) — Sun, 08 Mar 2009 03:07:00 +0000

Sunset

noreply@blogger.com (Barry) — Thu, 05 Mar 2009 03:02:00 +0000

Sunset March 4, 2009

I've been scouting out areas for sunset photos. This is the best location so far. So many places have power lines or signs in the way.

Re-post from Aminus3 Photoblog of mine.

noreply@blogger.com (Barry) — Tue, 03 Mar 2009 15:46:00 +0000

In the Mist
Looking down the line.

noreply@blogger.com (Barry) — Sun, 01 Mar 2009 00:10:00 +0000

View thru Golden Glass.
Flowers for my sweety Kathryn! :)

Lavendar in Springtime bloom.

Pine Pollen Buds! Are you ready for Spring?