A bodhisattva woman


A bodhisattva woman

You are a bodhisattva woman in the sleeping mind of Mióstenes. Compassionate woman in this materialistic world, of cold wars and vain feelings. World that destroys what he loves most, what he most desires, the family, the warmth of friendship. Disorganized world, which challenges, challenges tolerance and rationality. World that destroys the humanity of being, between faded faces, without freedom to fly. No freedom to fly and to think of a more just existence for all. In this fragile existential world, you have the opportunity to do something magical, imperceptible, to bring happiness to others, to change the course of their lives in samsara.
You will always be reborn as a beautiful lotus flower, in the six realms of existence, to help other beings to the perfect awakening to enlightenment.
Bodhisattva woman, you live with infinite gratitude to the Great Central Sun, in the eternal present, here and now. You live every moment, as if it were a piece of immortal life, being immensely grateful with the gifts of the universe, with the gifts of all living beings. If you share your happiness with others, the universe will send you the rainbow rays of your divine magic.
Human existence is a tonglen, a continuous giving and receiving. A sharing with others the continuous wheel of the suffering of samsara, and offer in return, love and compassion. It is the path of inner purification of pride, of desire, of attachments, of inner grasping. It is the path of white clouds towards immortality. It is the path of silver, of eternal smiles and warm hugs, between lights and neon shines, in the immense inner peace. It is the ethereal sky of the eternal rainbow of compassion. Compassion of your inner being, in a calm, peaceful and calm river. Compassion like serene waters, like a transparent lake of raindrops and fresh morning dew.
From dawn infinite love is born, and at dusk takes refuge in the warm winds of your southern desert. Southern desert of your sweet secret of captive love. Secret of a beautiful feeling, in supreme enlightenment. Perfect awakening, in the immaculate whiteness of the land of the snows. Feeling of pure and calm love, of candid, peaceful love, among petals of violet flowers, among warm existential roses. Hyaline butterfly, in this conceptual reality, in this existential realm, there is the beauty of your divine and immortal essence. White essence of silent chrysalis, which fights tirelessly against the indomitable winds of this arid desert. Chrysalis of intense ecstasy, between iridescent lights, overcoming the faint dark shadows of fear. Shadows of sacred trees, silvery white swans, between brief silences and hidden mysteries. Sacred ashoka trees, plagued by excessive fantasies, lurk your dreams in secret, under the divine stars of Bangalore, under the indigo skies of Kashmir. Bodhisattva woman, if you manage to reach the unreal border where enlightenment reigns, a great inner peace will be born in your soul, in all your inner being. It will give rise to a calm and intense feeling, like a lotus flower floating on a peaceful golden lagoon. A silent feeling, immersed in happiness and supreme freedom. Freedom to be able to fly towards the infinite universe, and to caress, with the southern wind, your sweet soul of immortality slightly iridescent.
Compassion of infinite bodhisattva, to be able to caress the soul of who loves you, the soul of who hates you and steals your entrails. Compassion to caress the runaway souls, who fly towards the etheric universe, with their white wings spread. Compassion to dig and illuminate with caresses, the soul of those who desire you, the soul of those who love you, like an iridescent butterfly, in your sweet flowery abode. Compassion of infinite bodhisattva, to caress with tenderness the smiles of my soul and your soul.
And your inner kingdom of Shambhala is the eternal silence, it is the art of internal magic in your flowery abode.
Free woman, mother courage, tender love of hearts, fight to achieve your dreams, like a river of fierce lions. Believe me, nobody will ever be able to forget your celestial songs, the constant struggle for your deep roots, between fine leaves and ashes of fire. Free woman, courage mother, when you reach the moksha, the perfect awakening, a state of sublime peace will fill your whole inner being; and the lotus flower of your ineffable heart will open its petals to the sun. Even if your life is difficult and you find thousands of obstacles in the way of the white clouds, stop for a moment, meditate on the silence of the sleeping verb.
And in the immensity of infinite silence, listen to the echo of your divine words. Words that emanate music from calm rivers, prayers of infinite loves and golden glitters.
And in the stillness of your hyaline wings, fold those forbidden eagle feathers, under prayers of passion red, under fervent red moons of love.
Free woman, mother courage: Listen to the words, the beautiful sounds that permeate the eternal silences. Listen to the captives silences, on the shore of the Dead Sea. Listen to how the wind blows towards the cliffs of the Sea of ​​Galilee. Listen to the old cries of the Essene people, the vibrant echoes, night after night, in the sea of ​​your dreams. Listen to your inner atman, the wisdom of eternal silence, under the descending heavens, under the immensity of the Supreme Being.
And among the beautiful children of longing, look for your ancestral roots asleep. Silent roots, flowers of orange blossoms and sleeping Essene hearts.
Mother, compassionate bodhisattva woman, dreams of bright neon lights, in the lost realm of Mustang. Dream of the blue sunsets, with the divine, pink and ocher lights, of the mythical kingdom of Shambhala. Live and dream, austerely, in the incessant wheel of samsara.
Mother courage, woman in love, sweet bodhisattva compassionate with all the beings of the universe, listen to the brief lethargy of captive silence. Listen to the brief whisper of an aspen curled into the blue sky. Sweet seed of compassionate bodhisattva, embrace the trunk of the millennial tree, of the sacred tree of Ashoka, under the silvery stars of Anantapur.
Free woman, mother courage you chose the kingdom of this existence, and the deep roots of your own silent earth.
Bodhisattva woman, you are Kafkian metamorphosis of illusory butterfly, white chrysalis in your infinite rebirth, in the path of karma, in the path of silver towards nirvana. You are transparent arrow, direct to the ineffable universe, looking for lights among the shadows, in the eternal present, here and now. You are the arrow of the soul, seeking solidarity, peace, gratitude and truth. Bodhisattva woman, you are direct arrow to the goddess Tara, seeking the immense wisdom of the celestial universe.
Mother, you are a wild gazelle, seeking your inner abode of freedom, among the drops of divine dew, among stars of words that whisper beautiful words.
Free woman, you seek to purify yourself of the attachments and internal attachments in your own human evolution. Mother courage, clear your silent path of roses with thorns, of stony stones, of walls and fences. And live free, in each murmur of the forest, in each musical trill of yellow goldfinches, eternally.
Listen to the silent echoes of silence on your old dormant harp. Listen to the clock of silent time, every brief moment is a sweet rainbow of life.
To all the fragile butterflies, to all the courage mothers, to all the women, my special memory, with love and affection, in these phrases that come from the deepest part of my heart and of my conscious being.
To the sleeping souls, to the innocent hearts, to the recumbent flowers, to the bright suns of the eternal unconscious.
To you mother, beautiful star of the seas: I love you in my silent nights, in my eternal constant silences! Mother, I love you forever! Mma thlit gori!

Maika Etxarri
Copyright poetic prose and photography

Acerca de palabrasdeluzypaz

Soy un espíritu libre poeta, enarbolando la bandera de la paz y libertad, en este universo existencial. Vivo en el eterno presente, aquí y ahora, bajo el poder del amor, sin la incertidumbre del mañana, sin la esclavitud del nuevo orden establecido mundial. Maika Etxarri Escritora, poeta, blogger y fotógrafa Autora del libro: La rosa del desierto
Esta entrada fue publicada en bodhisattva compasiva, Bodhisattva Compassiva, Bodhisattva compatissant, Bodhisattva woman, Bodhisattva's compassion, Budismo, compaixão de bodhisattva, Compaixão de infinito bodhisattva, compaixão do Bodhisattva, Compassion de bodhisattva, compassion of bodhisattva, Compassion of infinite bodhisattva, Compassionate Bodhisattva, compassionate bodhisattva woman, espíritu bodhisattva de infinita compasión, femme bodhisattva compatissante, mujer bodhisattva compasiva, Mulher Bodhisattva, Sin categoría. Guarda el enlace permanente.


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