It was small wonder, then, that he suddenly flung down his brush on the floor, said 'Bother!' and 'O blow!' and also 'Hang spring-cleaning!' and bolted out of the house without even waiting to put on his coat.
------------ Kenneth Grahame
Tuesday, December 06, 2011
Remember
...it's better to understand than to be understood. Ask again.
Ah, St. Francis and his prayer to his teacher, his maestro.
I remember hearing that St. Francis went through the ringer before finding this teacher. I remember that I had a vision of St. Francis feeding both the birds and the cats.
He was seeking help from his teacher, that he might seek not so much to be consoled as to console, that he might seek not so much to be loved as to love.
St. Francis was asking for help from his teacher. It was his understanding that he would be heard and understood. The student would be understood by his teacher who had the capacity to understand, and in turn the student would seek to practice understanding in his life. When he did not understand, he would ask again.
Of course, I can't help that I hear one of Bob Dylan's koans:
That's wonderful, am! It does something for me, unlocks some constriction in the chest, to say, "it's okay to be misunderstood: my job here is to understand." I suspect also it's the high road to making oneself understood, actually, but better not think about *that* one too much :-)
3 comments:
Listening.
Ah, St. Francis and his prayer to his teacher, his maestro.
I remember hearing that St. Francis went through the ringer before finding this teacher. I remember that I had a vision of St. Francis feeding both the birds and the cats.
He was seeking help from his teacher, that he might seek not so much to be consoled as to console, that he might seek not so much to be loved as to love.
St. Francis was asking for help from his teacher. It was his understanding that he would be heard and understood. The student would be understood by his teacher who had the capacity to understand, and in turn the student would seek to practice understanding in his life. When he did not understand, he would ask again.
Of course, I can't help that I hear one of Bob Dylan's koans:
"What's so bad about being misunderstood?"
Thanks for this today (-:
Hey, thanks, both of you.
That's wonderful, am! It does something for me, unlocks some constriction in the chest, to say, "it's okay to be misunderstood: my job here is to understand." I suspect also it's the high road to making oneself understood, actually, but better not think about *that* one too much :-)
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