Monthly Archives: April 2007

Modest question

Posted on April 22, 2007 by niebla

What is my share in this world? What can I give it, and how am I engrained in it? – Leonard Blumfeld (© 2007) The author writes about this: “I carried this thought along on my walk this morning, forgot … Continue reading →

Posted in Life, Literature, Mysticism, Philosophy, Poetry, World | 1 Comment

You had a hundred billion chances and ways to have avoided today

Posted on April 20, 2007 by niebla

But you decided to spill my blood. You forced me into a corner and gave me only one option. The decision was yours. Now you have blood on your hands that will never wash off. No. You decided to spill … Continue reading →

Posted in Death, Despair, Life, Words | Leave a comment

Karma and amok

Posted on April 17, 2007 by niebla

No event is unrelated. All surface events are linked by karmic relationships at levels below the surface. Yesterday’s murder of 32 by a man at Virginia Tech might be a reason to think about the possible karmic meaning of such … Continue reading →

Posted in Death, Karma, Life, Literature, Mystery | Tagged , , , , , | Leave a comment

Diet and Heaven

Posted on April 15, 2007 by niebla

You can’t eat yourself into Heaven. While cooking together, my friend Mareike and I were talking about various diets and eating habits today. I told her about one particularly healthy sanitarium where you don’t get anything to drink with your … Continue reading →

Posted in Eden, Food, Life, Paradise, Satire, Words | Tagged , , , , , , | Leave a comment

What would Scardanelli do on a day like this

Posted on April 5, 2007 by niebla

He’d appreciate the sun for the sun And the cold for the cold, Putting on a cardigan without fuss He’d get into his jalopy (As windy as a flying carpet) And surf the streets Around Tübingen, Creeping up on the … Continue reading →

Posted in History, Imagination, Life, Literature, Nature, Poetry, Scardanelli | Leave a comment

From “Lover’s Gifts”

Posted on April 3, 2007 by niebla

39 There is a looker-on who sits behind my eyes. It seems he has seen things in ages and worlds beyond memory’s shore, and those forgotten sights glisten on the grass and shiver on the leaves. He has seen under … Continue reading →

Posted in History, Life, Literature, Poetry, Rabindranath Tagore | Tagged , , , , , | 2 Comments