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A wise man once said, “One close real friend is better than ten distant and estranged brothers.” Does true and unconditioned comradeship still exists in the 21st century? How different is real friendship from having casual friends or from “Facebook Friends”? Can this kind of lasting and profound friendship be found? How and where?
There are many kinds of friendships, some casual, some romantic, some are pleasant like flowers that bloom for a day or like a summer cloud, but some rare ones are as firm as an oak. These rare relationships do not depend on passing needs or on momentary interests.
In the wee hours of the morning, Emperor Akbar awoke to the sweet melodious singing of Haridas, guru of the celebrated singer of his court, Tansen. Haridas had been singing a dawn raga. Overwhelmed, Akbar inquired why Tansen was not able to sing like his guru Haridas. Tansen replied that there was one big difference between him and his teacher; while he sang for his lord Akbar, The Great, Haridas sang for the Lord of the universe – God.
In most ancient civilizations – like in an important number of faiths – we find the idea of reincarnation, the process that follows physical death. Modern occidental cultures consider death as the opposite of life, and in logical consequence reject death. Death is considered an aim , a disaster, and today most of us are afraid of death. In ancient times,
How would you define art? Usually, it is described as a form which is pleasing to the eyes. We call this form ‘beautiful’. Is beauty then related only to the sense of sight, motivated by the viewer’s feeling at the moment of viewing? Or is there such a thing as absolute Beauty, which is beyond subjective feelings of that moment, grasped by an inner sight, which remains beautiful, whether the viewer appreciates it or not; like a beautiful sunrise, or a lotus flower. Many religions speak of such Beauty as an eternal value, an archetype, one among many expressions of the principles of an objective unchanging reality, unbound by space and time, beyond the ever-changing subjective reality. If such absolute beauty exists, it becomes an aspect of reality, which unites despite differences in moods, fashion, culture, nationality, skin color, or gender.
The word ‘Permaculture’ was coined by Bill Mollison and David Holmgren in the 1970s to refer to the “consciously designed landscapes which mimic the patterns and relationships in nature, while yielding an abundance of food, fibre and energy for provision of local needs” [1]. What began as an ecological movement towards ‘Permanent Agriculture’, over time, evolved into something far more holistic and all encompassing; a set of principles and values of what it means to be conscious, contributing human beings and reviving a way of living that aims to develop interdependence and personal responsibility in every sphere of life.
A child’s journey to adulthood is often a mixed bag. It’s a time of learning and challenges. Skills and abilities are developed, as are likes and dislikes. He quickly learns the rules of the world that he lives in. And facing a new world for the first time, his simplest obstacles look like gigantic monsters. In these daunting encounters, heroes and their tales of magical and audacious adventures often play an important role. The “Super” men and women, become guardians, while dreams of magic lamps and genies make just about anything possible!
Extracts from an evening hosted by New Acropolis Culture Circle. Philanthropy can be a bridge between the ideal of fraternity and its material manifestation. Imagining a better world, with a greater sense of fraternity is intuitively appealing to many. Yet, to make a personal sacrifice in order to create that better world, is the choice that we make less often than is needed.
In this light, it is relevant to ask – what drives one to share with that urgent sense of duty? Does one need money and power to be a philanthropist? What is the relationship between our choices and our identity?
At some points in our lives, many of us face some nagging questions. What manifests is a sense of restlessness, a lack of real happiness and peace – despite the absence of any apparent reason for feeling so. Questions like, Am I doing what I should be doing? Do my actions have any meaning or purpose at all? What is my purpose?
How would you respond if at such moments, you got a direction like: “That which you seek is seeking you.” (1) Or if you hear with a transcendent clarity: “My soul is from elsewhere, I’m sure of that, and I intend to end up there.” (1) Would you not be inspired to pursue an investigation: What could be seeking me? Where has my soul come from? What direction takes me back to where I came from?
From an esoteric point of view, a ritual is dependent on the existence of the invisible dimension. This invisible dimension consists of a spiritual-mental aspect, which is the domain of the archetypes or ‘living idea-beings’ spoken of by the Platonists; and an ‘astral’ aspect, which is an intermediate world between spirit and matter, just as imagination is the link between the world of ideas and the physical world. In this view of things, the invisible world exists, the material world reflects. The visible is the shadow of the invisible.
For millennia, specific locations around the world have been regarded with fascination and sacredness. Despite all the materialistic opulence and grandeur of some of the most recent human architectural achievements, there remains something awe inspiring about many ancient structures that have stood their ground for thousands of years. For many, even the most grandiose five-star properties of Dubai look pale when compared to the magnificence of the Angkor Wat Temple Complex in Cambodia for instance.
When we look around our world today we see an evident change in the last 50 years. Since the post-war reconstruction era that drove mass industrialisation and development of the economies of Western Europe and America, the focus has gradually shifted to developing economies and the flow of wealth has started reaching the shores of lesser developed nations
“And how many years can some people exist
Before they’re allowed to be free?
Yes, and how many times can a man turn his head
And pretend that he just doesn’t see?
How many times must a man look up
Before he can see the sky?”
These lines from Bob Dylan’s song – Blowing in the Wind – flashed in my head as I put down another book written on Giordano Bruno, arguably one of the greatest philosophers from the 16th Century. The lines of the song and Giordano Bruno’s quest seem to echo each other – to urge humanity to look beyond the dark sheaths of ignorance, the petty disputes, divisions and one-upmanship, and to explore the true identity of what it means to be human, which is much more than the mode of survival that has become the focus of our ‘living’, today.
Between the Middle Ages in Europe when it was engulfed in darkness, and today where we admire the marvels of human creation, connectedness, technological advancement, and medical progress, have we really become smarter, happier, more loving and caring? Why does it feel that the last few hundred years of progress have largely been about attempts to master the everchanging outside, without ever addressing the real core of the problem? Have we even spent enough time to understand what the core is? Have we made progress towards finding out what our life is about and who we really are?
Many of us wish to change the world. But how can it be done?
First of all, it is obvious we are not just seeking to change the world – the world is changing anyhow, regardless of what we do. The ancient philosophers wisely stated that the only permanent thing in the world is change.
In reality, it is not change we seek, it is a certain, positive, change – a diversion of the river’s flow, an orientation towards a brighter future for humanity.
Second, none of us by ourselves can really make a meaningful impact.
Concerns about all sorts of issues are increasing around the world, survival is becoming more and more difficult in many countries, and confrontations for the most absurd reasons are on the rise, however important they may seem to those involved. Yet, in spite of all of this, there is a growing desire to achieve a better level of health.
Of course, this is not the case everywhere in the world. How can one desire good health when there is no food or water, when terrible epidemics strike with little apparent cause?
When we argued some years ago in our writings and lectures that a new Middle Ages was approaching, the prediction seemed exaggerated and almost fatalistic.
We also explained at the time that the repetition of historical cycles did not necessarily have to be seen as a calamity or regression, but as part of the natural course of life, which progresses gradually in a circular and spiral-shaped manner, touching similar points along the way, although at different levels of evolution.