ENSINAMENTOS DO BUDA - Purifica a tua Mente

"O Buda disse:
-Como se purifica o ouro
através da queima, do
corte e da raspagem,
Os Monges e estudiosos devem aceitar a minha palavra,
Não por respeito (a mim),
Mas, sim, depois de analisá-la bem. 

Não se apóiem nos indivíduos. 
Apóiem-se nos ensinamentos.
Não se apóiem em palavras. 
Apóiem-se no sentido.
Não se apóiem no sentido relativo, e sim, no sentido absoluto.
Não se apóiem no conhecimento intelectual, e sim na Sabedoria.

Abandone todo ato prejudicial.
Pratique a virtude.
Subjuga tua mente.
Este é o ensinamento do Buda.

É difícil nascer como um ser humano, e também, viver como tal. 
Ainda mais difícil é ouvir sobre o Caminho.
Mais difícil ainda, é atingir o Despertar.

No entanto, o ensinamento é bem simples:

"Pare de fazer o mal. 
Aprende a fazer o bem. 

Conhece a ti mesmo. 
Purifique sua mente. 

Não faça mal a ninguém com palavras ou atos. 

Seja moderado com alimentos. 

Viva a solidão interior e busque a consciência mais profunda. 

Este é o Ensinamento do Buda."

-Thuk Je Che Tibet.

Photographic Essay: Brasil, Haiti & Africa - by world class photographer Marcelo Hein

Word-class photographer 

Marcelo Hein 

just did a fabulous 

Photographic essay with our students 

from Haiti & Africa. 

This job is part of the BRAND NEW

Non-Government Organization 

which we are founding: "Catchers of Dreams"

Enjoy!

Jean-Neptune Cavalier:

Cadet Patrickson:

African poet from Mali: ADAMA KONATE

RETROSPECTIVE - BLOG OF GOOD: Brazil, Haiti & Africa

Retrospectiva: Blog do Bem

Photographic Essay

PEACE - POEM BY ADAMA KONATE

PEACE

Poem by Adama Konate

Life is not easy under the incessant war.

I come from a war where I experienced death and misery

I think of my injuries, lying on my side.

On a bed bloody wet and sticky,

Tired of fighting, amazed by fate

And especially by the deads

In the conflict

I do not know if tomorrow I will still live...

And I tremble, to think that

Maybe, in the morning,

Because of the situation, so painful

They will tie my hands

And take my soul,

Leaving my body.

Huddled on the bed, in the moonless room

My dreams are awakened, and I can see the color of

Poppies, lined up in the place where I hid

That no one in the world knew.

I was invisible

And our redness mingled

When her sweetly, intoxicating scent calmed

My spirit and my scary fears.

The house rambled

I floated in the opium fragrance

I was no longer a desperate man.

So I headed, strong and proud, onwards

To penetrate the lines of an imaginary enemy...

But the struggle was useless.

I succumbed under the blows

Of their firm intention to kill me ...

My body was colder than the wind

And my bones, stripped,

Slowly broke.

Life was leaving ​​me

I recognized emptiness.

It was familiar to me, 

I was eager for it.

I spilled my blood on flowers and poppies

I closed my eyes in prayer

Unable to find the words...

I hope to get changed,

Take these torn clothes off

And wear warm and dry clothes

A warrior in a dream death.

It takes an Ocean so that you finally revives!

But when you put your foot on the other side,

You will find refuge in another world.

Unprecedented violence, atrocious madness...

There is no Peace without Justice.

Poet:

The black African child

The fatalistic poet from Mali

Adama Konate.

konate.adama88 @ yahoo.fr

Jimmy Santiago Baca: From Prisioner to Poet

Literature

Jimmy Santiago Baca, the 1989 Hispanic Heritage Award Honoree for Literature, unearthed a voracious passion for writing while serving time in a maximum security prison. 

He has devoted his post-prison life to sharing his experience and teaching his craft to others who are overcoming hardship.

Abandoned by his parents at the age of two, he lived with one of his grandmothers for several years, before being placed in an orphanage. 

He wound up living on the streets, and at the age of 21 he was convicted on charges of drug possession and incarcerated. 

He served six and a half years in prison, three of them in isolation, and having expressed a desire to go to school (the guards considered this dangerous), he was, for a time, put in the same area of the prison with the inmates on death row before he was released.

While in jail, an unusual transformation occurred: he embraced reading and writing. 

Jimmy was shaken by the voices of Pablo Neruda and Garcia Lorca, and made a choice that would alter his destiny forever. 

Instead of becoming a hardened criminal, he emerged from prison with his own poetic voice. 

During this time, Baca taught himself to read and write, and he began to compose poetry. He sold these poems to fellow inmates in exchange for cigarettes. 

A fellow inmate convinced him to submit some of his poems to the magazine Mother Jones, then edited by Denise Levertov. 

Levertov printed Baca's poems and began corresponding with him, eventually finding a publisher for his first book.

In 1979, the year after his release, he earned his GED.

Over the years, Jimmy’s work has matured from journal-like poems to revealing memoirs and poignant short stories. His themes include American Southwest barrios, addiction, injustice, community, love, and beyond. 

Black Mesa Poems (1986-89) was Jimmy’s first widely-published poetry collection. Martin & Meditations on the South Valley (1987), his highly-acclaimed long narrative poem, won the 1988 Before Columbus Foundation’s American Book Award. His 2001 memoir, A Place to Stand: The Making of a Poet won the prestigious International Award. 

His first short story collection, The Importance of a Piece of Paper, was published in 2004. 

Jimmy wrote the screenplay for the controversial 1993 Taylor Hackford film Bound by Honor (aka Blood in, Blood out). 

An International Poetry Slam champion, Jimmy’s other awards include the National Endowment of Poetry Award, Vogelstein Foundation Award, Berkeley Regents Award, Pushcart Prize, Southwest Book Award, and American Book Award.

As an essayist, editor, and foreword guest, Jimmy chooses authors and subjects which mirror his own journey from outsider to artist. 

For more than 25 years, he has conducted writing workshops in correctional facilities across the United States. 

In 2005, he founded Cedar Tree, Inc., a nonprofit organization that runs the Prison Literacy Project, which avails education and scholarships to inmates. 

A PBS documentary about the project is being produced. Jimmy is the 2006 recipient of the American Council on Education’s Cornelius P. Turner Award for outstanding public service achievement since earning a GED.

Extracted from:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jimmy_Santiago_Baca
http://www.hispanicheritage.org/hispanic_det.php?id=23


Poet Alejandro Murguía reads Jimmy Bacca's memoir:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AVZgYE8XLRc

"A PAZ" - POEMA DE ADAMA KONATE

Poema: A PAZ

A vida não é fácil na guerra incessante.

Venho de uma guerra onde experimentei a morte e a miséria

Penso em as minhas lesões, deitado sobre o flanco.

Em uma cama suja de sangue úmido e pegajoso,

Cansado de lutar, espantado com a sorte

E, especialmente, com as mortes

Do conflito

Não sei se amanhã eu viverei ainda...

E tremo, ao pensar que

Talvez de manhã,

Pela situação, tão dolorosa,

Eles virão, amarrar minhas mãos

E levar minha alma,

Deixando meu corpo.

Encolhido na cama, no quarto sem luar

Meus sonhos se despertam, e eu posso ver a cor

Das papoulas alinhadas, no lugar onde me escondia

Que ninguém no mundo conhecia.

Eu era invisível 

E nossas vermelhidões se misturavam

Quando, docemente, seu perfume inebriante acalmou

Meu espírito e meus medos assustadores.

Mas a casa divagava

Eu flutuava no ópio, na fragrância

Eu não era mais um homem desesperado.

Então eu me dirigia, forte e altivo, até o céu

Para penetrar nas linhas de um inimigo imaginário.

Mas a luta foi inútil.

Eu sucumbi sob os golpes

Do seu firme propósito em me matar ...

Meu corpo ficou mais frio que o vento

E meus ossos, descarnados,

Quebraram-se lentamente.

A vida me deixava

Eu reconheci o vazio.

Ele era familiar para mim, eu estava ávido.

Eu derramei meu sangue nas flores e papoulas

Fechei os olhos em oração

Sem conseguir encontrar as palavras...

Tenho a esperança de me trocar, 

Tirar estas vestes rasgadas

E vestir roupas quentes e secas 

Guerreiro em uma morte de sonho:

É preciso um Oceano para que, finalmente, tu revivas!

Mas, quando colocar o teu pé na outra margem,

Você encontrará refúgio em um outro mundo.

Violência inaudita, loucura atroz...

Não existe Paz sem Justiça.

Poeta:

A criança preta africana

O poeta fatalista do Mali

Adama Konate.

konate.adama88 @ yahoo.fr