Yoga – The Art of Living

Life is a Poem.

Life is an Art, an ever on going practice.

And the Hatha Yoga part on the mat is just the beginning.

I think that would be the most important lesson that I learnt from this intensive last couple of months. Here at the  Agama Yoga Finca San Pedro

Every smile, every advice that you give, every joke that you crack is a performance. Every human heart connection. Everytime you give up and surrender. Everytime you stand up and move on

It`s an art if this great people move on how you let them go. And if you celebrate what is the cake you make.  How do you hug them.before you maybe see so many of them never or not for very long again. How do you stay open in your heart and centered in your presenece in the storm of  this change.

What kind of commitments are you able to make to become the character you decided to become. What can you drop? And what skills can you learn? Can you surrender to the divine stream. And can you keep your head on the bright surface where sunshine is piercing your heart with golden light in the middle of a grey and rainy day.

Do you decide stand up out of the crowd and get on the rocky path to significance but not because of you but as a necessarry gift to others.

Can you resist the traps of pleasure but not because you denie yourself, but becaus you know that just bliss can liberate you truly. And can you remember in the face of pure hapiness the divine and go further or do you need to suffer to remember.

In the begining of everything great there is resistence, then there is urge and there this the breaking of damm of creation. And its flooding your whole life.

Every seed has to be planted not just mentioned. Every efford has to be made to break out of the cocoon of lethargie and the illusion just seeing that there is nothing greater then what you can percieve tight now.

You have to start to have this longing again. To wake up out the invisible dream cartoon.

You have to develop the urge to dive deeper, to fly higher then whatever you can imagine right now.

There waits a mysterious adventure an unsolved riddle in the very question of your existence quite in front of your door.

Patient in Silence. Untill you break the magic spell. And ask the final Questions.

„Who Am I“ and prepare your horse with the „What Am I here for“

It`s to obvious in daily life to ask this questions. And with the ticking of the clock to persistent to ignore.

And by every act of kindness, every daring burning art you perform, and every divine bliss you experience you answer this question. Deeper and even deeper.

Do you have the courage toreally  believe in Love, the Divine and Heroism?

What candle can you light the heart of others?

What part of your actions remains if you vanish into Eternety?

 

 

 

 

IF

 Rudyard Kipling

 

 

 

 

 

 

If

Rudyard Kipling

If you can keep your head when all about you
 Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
  But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
  Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
  And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;
  If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
  And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
  Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
  And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make a heap of all your winnings
  And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
  And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
  To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
  Except the Will which says to them: “Hold on!”

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
  Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
  If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
  With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
  And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!

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