Archive for January, 1987


Thursday, January 1st, 1987
         I awoke on the subject of biting my fingers
         to find that I'd been nibbling them for several hours
         since midday when I'd thought, "OK, 1st day of '87
         and I haven't bitten them yet."
         I smiled at myself; these resolutions and siestas.
         Bhagwan's dictum to "watch the thing you want to drop"
         came to me and I reflected that I hadn't held the thought,
         I hadn't kept watching.  Then I wondered "how do you
         practice holding thoughts and I thought of meditation.
         Meditation is exercise for the mental muscles
         to tone them to hold a thought.
         Hence the mantras and the koans.
         Its the fruit of exercise that gives you the power.
         Power to remain awake on as many things
         as you have developed mental muscles to hold.
         And once you can hold what ever thought you wish,
         everything which CAN be changed,
         comes within your grasp.
                           01 Jan 1987

— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —


Friday, January 2nd, 1987
         T. Lobsang Rampa
         must have been shot
         by a spiritual cannon
         loaded with 1300 years
         of Tibetean intent.
         But, in the end,
         spectacular as his rise was,
         he came back to earth.
         For while others
         may give us velocity
         and direction
         we, alone, having nothing
         but mass and inertia
         and our own small flame
         of awareness
         to sustain the flight.
         The spiritual equivalent
         of the roller derby whip.
                     02 Jan 1987

— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —


Tuesday, January 6th, 1987
            Small worlds, dreams we're passing through,
            mist and light in broken time.
            I love you, and you love me,
            dreams are all we've come to see
            here against the surging tide,
            hearts and hopes are open wide,
            honest, now and then, and then, we've cried
            I know nothing stays the same
            love's an ever finer blade.
            Can't we find the light of love
            among the shifting scenes and pain?
            Time is passing here outside
            and I love this place we've made here inside.
                                       1-6 Jan 87
            - to the cadence of 'Love is comin' around again'
              by Joni Mitchell

— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —