11
O Amor é a Lei de Deus.
Mirdad advinhara uma inimizade entre dois companheiros, pede a harpa e canta o hino da nova arca
Mirdad: Amor é a Lei de Deus. Viveis para que aprendais a amar. Amais para que aprendais a viver. Nenhuma outra lição é exigida do homem.
E que é amar, senão aquele que ama absorver o amado de modo que os dois sejam um?
A quem ou a quê devemos amar?Podemos escolher certa folha da Árvore da Vida e despejar sobre ela todo o nosso coração? E o ramo que produziu essa folha? E a haste que sustenta esse ramo? E a casca que protege essa haste? E as raízes que alimentam a casca, os ramos e as folhas? E o solo que envolve as raízes? E o sol, o mar e o ar que fertilizam o solo?
Se uma pequena folha merece vosso amor, quanto mais o merecerá a árvore toda! O amor que corta uma fração do todo antecipadamente se condena ap sofrimento.
Direis: "Mas há muitas e muitas folhas em uma única árvore: umas são sadias, outras são doentes; umas são belas, outras, feias, algumas são gigantes, outras são anãs. Como poderemos deixar de escolher?"
E dir-vos-ei: da palidez do doente provém a vitalidade do sadio. E dir-vos-ei ainda mais, que a fealdade é a paleta, a tinta e o pincel da beleza; e que o anão não seria anão se não tivesse dado parte de sua estatuta ao gigante.
Vós sois a árvore da vida. Cuidado para não dividirdes a vós mesmos! Não ponhais um fruto contra outro fruto, uma folha contra outra folha, um ramo contra outro ramo; nem ponhais o ramo contra as raízes, ou a árvore contra a terra-mãe; é exatamente isso que fazeis quando amais uma parte mais do que o restante, ou com exclusão do restante.
Vós sois a árvore da vida. Vossas raízes estão em toda a parte. Vossos ramos e folhas estão em toda a parte. Vossos frutos estão em todas as bocas. Sejam quais forem os frutos dessa árvore; sejam quais forem seus ramos e folhas; sejam quais forem suas raízes, serão vossos frutos; serão serão vossas folhas e ramos; serão vossas raízes. Se quiserdes que a que a árvore dê frutos doces e aromáticos, se a desejardes sempre forte e verde, cuidai d seiva com que alimentais suas raízes.
O Amor é a seiva da vida. O ódio é o pus da morte. Mas o Amor, tal como o sangue, precisa não encontrar obstáculos para circular nas veias. Reprimi o movimento do sangue, e ele se tornará uma ameça, uma praga. E que é o ódio senão Amor reprimido ou Amor retido, tornando-se um veneno tanto para quem alimenta como para o alimentado, tanto para quem odeia como para quem é odiado?
Uma folha amarela em vossa árvore da vida é somente uma folha à qual faltou Amor. Não culpeis a folha amarela.
Um ramo ressequido é somente um ramo faminto de amor. Não culpeis o ramo ressequido.
Uma fruta podre é somente uma fruta que foi amamentada com ódio. Não culpeis a fruta podre. Culpaiamtrs vosso coraão cego e egoísta que repartiu a seiva da vida a uns poucos e negou-a a muitos, negando-a assim a si próprio.
Não há outro amor possível senão o amor a si próprio. Nenhum ser é real, senão aquele que abrange o Todo. Eis por que Deus é Amor; porque Deus se ama a si mesmo.
Se o Amor vos faz sofrer , é porque ainda não encontrastes vosso próprio ser, nem achastes ainda a chave de ouro do Amor, pois ae amais um ser efêmero, vosso amor é efêmero.
O amor do homem e da mulher não é Amor. É algo muito diferente. O amor dos pais pelos filhos ê tão-somente o limiar do sagrado templo do Amor. Enquanto cada homem não amar a todas as mulheres, e vice-versa; enquanto cada criança não for filho de todos os pais e de todas as mães, e vice-versa, deixai que os homens se gabem das carnes e ossos que se apegam a outras carnes e ossos, mas jamais deis isto o sagrado nome de Amor. Será blasfêmia.
Não tereis um único amigo enquanto vos considerardes inimigo ainda que seja de um único homem. Como pode o coração que abriga inimizade ser refúgio seguro para a amizade?
Não conhecereis a alegria do Amor enquanto houvrr ódio no coração. Se alimentásseis com a seiva da vida todas as coisas, menos um pequenino verme, esse pequenino verme sozinho tornaria amarga vossa vida, pous quando amais alguém ou alguma coisa, em realidade somente amais a vós próprios. Do mesmo modo, quando odiais alguém ou alguma coisa, em verdade odiais a vós mesmos, pois quem ou aquilo que odiais está inseparadamente ligado àquilo ou quem amais, como o verso e o reverso da mesma moeda. Se quiserdes ser honestos com vós mesmos tereis de amar aqueles e aquilo a quem ou a que odiais e aqueles e aquilo que vos odeia, antes de amardes o que amais e o que vos ama.
O Amor não é do que o pão e a água; mais do que a luz e o ar.
Que ningu se orgulhe de amar. Deveis respirar o Amor tão natural e livremente como respirais o ar para dentro e para fora de vossos pulmões, pois o Amor não precisa de ninguém que o exalte. O Amor exaltará o coração que considerar digno de si.
Não espereis recompensa do Amor. O Amor é, em si mesmo, recompensa suficiente para o Amor, assim como o ódio é, em si mesmo, castigo bastante para o ódio.
Não peçais contas ao Amor, pois o Amor não presta contas senão a si mesmo.
O Amor não empresta nem pede emprestado; o Amor não compra nem vende;as quando dá, ele dá-se todo inteiro; e quando toma, toma tudo. E seu dar-se é tomar. Conseqüentemente é o mesmo, hoje, amanhã e sempre.
Assim como um poderoso rio que se esvazia no mar é reabastecido pelo mar, assim deveis esbaziar-vos no Amor para que sejais para sempre enchidos de Amor.
A lagoa que retém o presente que o mar lhe dá, torna-se uma lagoa de água estagnada.
Não há "mais" nem "menos" no Amor. No momento em que tentardes graduar e medir o Amor, ele desaparecerá, deixando só amargas recordações.
Nem há "agora" nem "depois", ou "aqui" e "acolá" no Amor.
Todas as estações são estações do Amor. Todos os locais são próprios para seren habitados pelo Amor.
O Amor não conhece fronteiras nem obstáculos. Um amor cuja ação é impedida por qualquer obstáculo não merece o nome de Amor. Sempre vos ouço dizer que o Amor é cego, no sentido de que não vê defeitos naquele que é amado. Essa espécie de cegueira é o máximo de visão.
Oxalá fôsseis sempre tão cegos que não encontrásseis faltas em coisa alguma!
Não! É claro e penetrante o olhar do Amor. Por isso ele não vê faltas. Quando o Amor houver purificado vossa visão, não vereis jamais nada que não seja digno de vosso Amor. Só uma vista despojada de Amor, um olho faltoso, está sempre ocupado em encontrar faltas, e quaisquer faltas que econtre, serão suas próprias faltas.
O Amor integra. O ódio desintegra. Esta imensa e pesada massa de terra e de pedra, a que dais o nome de Pico do Altar, voaria rapidamente para todos os lados, se não fosse conservada unida pela mão do Amor. Mesmo vosso corpo, perecível como parece ser, resistiria à desintegração, se amásseis com a mesma intensidade cada uma das células que o constituem.
O Amor é paz cheia de melodias da vida. O ódio é a guerra ansiosa pelos satânicos golpes da morte.
Que preferis: o Amor para gozardes a paz eterna, ou o ódio para estardes sempre em guerra?
Toda a terra está viva em vós. O Céu r suas hostes estão vivos em vós. Amai, pois, a terra e todos ps seus habitantes, se amais a vós mesmos.
Amai o Céu e todos os seus habitantes, se amais a vós mesmos.
Por que odeias Naronda, Abimar?
Naronda: Todos chocaram-se com a súbita mudança no tom de voz e nos pensamentos do Mestre, enquanto Abimar e eu ficávamos mudos com a referência tão direta a um desetendimento que havia entre nós e que cuidadosamente escondíamos de todos, não tendo motivos para crer que alguém disto suspeitasse. Todos olharam estarrecidos para nós ambos e ficaram à espera da resposta de Abimar.
Abimar: ( Olhando para mimcom expressão reprovadora) você contou algo ao Mestre, Naronda?
Naronda: Quando Abimar disse "ao Mestre", o coração saltou-me de alegria no peito. Havia sido exatamente em torno dessa Palavra que nos havíamos desentendido muito tempo antes de Mirdad haver-se revelado; dizendo eu que ele era um mestre que tinha vindo para ensinar-nos, e Abimar insistindo em que era um homem vulgar.
Mirdad: Não olhes para Naronda com desconfiança, Abimar, pois ele não é culpado de tua culpa.
Abimar: Quem vos contou, então? Podeis, também, ler o que está na mente dos homens?
Mirdad: Mirdad não precisa de espiões nem de intérpretes. Se tu amasses Mirdad como ele te ama, facilmente lerias o que lhe vai na mente e no coração.
Abimar: Perdoai a um cego e surdo, Mestre. Abri-me os olhos e os ouvidos, pois estou ansioso por ver e ouvir.
Mirdad: Só o Amor faz prodígios. Se queres ver, deixa que o Amor tome conta da pupila dos olhos. Se queres ouvir, deixa que o Amor tome posse dos tímpanos dos ouvidos.
Abimar: Não odiar não é amar, Abimar. O Amor é uma força ativa; a não que ela guie todas as tuas ações e todos os teus passos, não poderás encontrar teu caminho; a não ser que ela satisfaça todos os teus desejos e todos os teus pensamentos serão canções fúnebres em teus dias.
Agora meu coração é uma harpa e sinto-me disposto a cantar; onde está tua harpa, Zamora?
Zamora: Quereis que eu vá buscá-la, Mestre?
Mirdad: Vai, Zamora.
Naronda: Zamora logo se levantou e foi buscar a harpa. Os demais entreolhavam-se, e, admirados, mantinham-se em silêncio.
Ao voltar Zamora com a harpa, o Mestre, gentilmente, tomou-a de suas mãos e, curvando-se sobre ela, ternamente afinou corda por corda; logo depois começou a tocar e a cantar:
Mirdad:
Deus é o comandante; navega, minha Arca!
Mesmo que o Inferno desate suas fúrias
Sobre os vivos e os mortos,
E transforme a terra en chumbo derretido,
Varrendo dos céus todos os indícios,
Deus é o comandante; navega, minha Arca!
O amor é a bússola; desliza, minha Arca!
Vai para o Norte e para o Sul,
Para o Oeste e para o Leste,
E reparte com todos a fortuna de teu cofre.
A tempestade levar-te-á em sua crista,
Comomum farol para os navegantes nas trevas.
O Amor é tua bússola; desliza, minha Arca!
A Fé é a tua âncora; viaja, minha Arca!
Pode o trovão ribombar, e o corisco o céu riscar,
Podem as montanhas tremer e desmoronar, e o coração do homem enfraquecer tanto
Que se esqueça da centelha sagrada,
A fé é tua âncora; viaja, minha Arca!
Naronda: O Mestre terminou de cantar e curvou-se sobre a harpa, qual mãe se curva, amorosa, sobre o filho que está amamentando, e, embora suas cordas já não tremessem, a harpa continuava a vibrar: "Deus é o comandante; navega, minha Arca!" E embora os lábios do Mestre estivessem fechados, sua voz continuou reverberando durante algum tempo, através do Ninho e flutuando em ondas pelos picos das montanhas até as colinas, e no vale, lá embaixo; até o incansável mar, lá embaixo; até a abóbada azul, lá em cima.
Havia uma chuva de estrelas e um arco-íris naquela voz. Havia tremores e furacões, de mistura com brisas cantantes e rouxinóis embriagados de canções. Havia mares revoltos e abrumados por neblinas macias. Parecia como se toda a criação estivesse ouvindo, com alegre gratidão.
Parecia, ainda, que as Montanhas Alvas, com o Pico do Altar no centro, tivessem sido subitamente separadas da terra e estivessem flutuando no espaço, majestosas, poderosas e conscientes de seu destino.
Durante os três dias que se seguiram o Mestre não dirigiu palavra a ninguém.
Lectorium Rosicrucianum
11
Love is the Law of God .
Mirdad advinhara an enmity between two companions , asks the harp and sings the anthem of new cabinet
Mirdad : Love is the Law of God . You live so that you learn to love . You love so that you learn to live . No other lesson is required of Man .
And what is love , but he who loves absorb the beloved so that the two are one?
Who or what should we love ? Can choose the right leaf of the Tree of Life and pour upon it all our heart ? And the branch that produced this sheet ? And the rod that supports this branch ? And the shell that protects this rod ? And the roots that feed the bark , branches and leaves ? And the soil surrounding the roots ? And the sun , the sea and the air that fertilize the soil ?
If a small sheet deserve your love, the more merit the whole tree! The love that cuts a fraction of the whole advance condemns ap suffering.
You will say : " But there are lots and lots of leaves on a single tree : . Some are healthy , some are sick, some are beautiful , others ugly , some are giants , some are dwarfs How could we not choose? "
And I will tell you : the paleness of the patient 's vitality comes from sound . And I will tell you further , that ugliness is the palette , ink and brush of beauty , and the dwarf would not dwarf had not given a statutory part of the giant.
You are the tree of life . Careful not dividirdes yourselves ! Do not bring a fruit against another fruit, a leaf against another leaf, a branch against another branch , nor ponhais the branch against the roots , or the tree against the homeland , this is exactly what you do when you love one part more than the remaining or exclusion of the rest.
You are the tree of life . Your roots are everywhere . Your branches and leaves are everywhere . Thy fruits are in every mouth . Whatever the fruits of this tree are , whatever their branches and leaves , whatever their roots , they are your fruits , roots will be yours; your leaves and branches will be . If you would like to see the tree give sweets or fruits , are always strong and green, you desire to take heed d sap that Forage roots .
Love is the sap of life . Hatred is the pus of death . But Love, such as blood , need not be obstacles to circulate in the veins . Repress the movement of blood , and he becomes a threat , a plague . And what is hate but Love repressed or withheld love, becoming a poison that feeds both as to the fed, both for those who hate as to who is hated ?
A yellow leaf on your tree of life is only one sheet to which lacked love. Blame not the yellow leaf .
A withered bough is only a hungry bunch of love. Blame not the withered bough .
A rotten fruit is a fruit that was only breastfed with hatred. Blame not the rotten fruit . Culpaiamtrs your blind and selfish coraão which divided the sap of life to a few and denied to many, thus denying it to himself .
No other love can only love himself . No being is real , but one that covers the whole. That is why God is love , for God is love yourself .
If you love makes you suffer , it is because you have not you found your own being , nor achastes still the golden key of love , because you love to and a being ephemeral, your love is ephemeral .
The love of man and woman is not Love. It is something very different . The love of parents for their children is merely the threshold of the sacred Temple of Love. While each man does not love all women , and vice versa , while each child is not a child of all parents and all mothers , and vice versa , let men gabem meat and bones cling to other meat and bones , but it will never bear the sacred name of love. Is blasphemy.
You will not have a single friend you regard you as an enemy that is still a single man. How can the heart that harbors enmity be safe haven for friendship ?
Do not know the joy of love while houvrr hatred in his heart . If alimentásseis with the sap of life all things except a tiny worm , this little worm alone would make your life bitter , pous when you love someone or something , in reality only you love yourselves . Similarly , when you hate someone or something , in fact you hate yourself , for who or what you hate inseparadamente is linked to what or who you love , as the obverse and reverse of the same coin. If you would be honest with yourselves and you will have to love those to whom or what you hate and those who and what he hates you, before you love what you love and who loves you .
Love is nothing more than bread and water , more than light and air.
That nobody is proud to love . You must breathe Love as naturally and freely as you breathe air in and out of your lungs , for Love does not need anyone to praise him . Love exalt the heart that consider themselves worthy .
Do not expect a reward of Love. Love is , in itself , sufficient to reward the love as well as hate is , in itself , enough punishment for hate .
Exact no accounts to Love , for Love is accountable only to itself .
Love does not lend or borrow ; Love neither buys nor sells , gives them when he gives up all around , and when you take , take it all. And if you give your take. Therefore it is the same today, tomorrow and always .
Like a mighty river that empties into the sea is replenished by the sea , so must esbaziar you that you may be in love forever filled with Love.
The pond that retains the gift that gives you the sea , becomes a pond of stagnant water .
There is no " more " or "less " in love. The moment you attempt to measure the graduate and Love , it will disappear , leaving only bitter memories .
Nor is there "now " or " later " or " here " and " there " in love.
All stations are stations of Love . All locations are suitable for seren inhabited by Love.
Love knows no boundaries or barriers . A love whose action is prevented by any obstacle does not deserve the name of Love . Whenever you hear say that Love is blind in the sense that he sees defects in what is loved . This kind of blindness is as much vision.
Would that ye were not always so blind encontrásseis faults in something!
Not ! Of course , penetrating gaze of Love. So he sees no faults . When Love purified there your vision , will see never anything that is not worthy of your love. One view stripped of Love , a faulty eye is always busy in finding faults , and any faults that econtre will be their own fault .
Love integrates . Hate disintegrates . This huge and heavy mass of earth and stone, you give the name of the Peak Altar , fly rapidly on all sides , if not kept together by the hand of Love. Even your body, perishable as it seems , resist disintegration if you loved with the same intensity each of the cells that constitute it.
Love is full of melodies of life alone. Hate is the eager war for satanic death blows .
What preferis : Love gozardes for eternal peace , or hate to stand forever at war ?
The whole earth is alive in you . Heaven r his hosts are alive in you . Love , therefore, the earth and all its inhabitants ps if you love yourselves .
Love the sky and all its inhabitants , whether you love yourselves .
Why hate Naronda , Abimar ?
Naronda : All clashed with the sudden change in tone of voice and thoughts of the Master , while Abimar and I were dumb with direct reference as a desetendimento that was between us and carefully hid from everyone, having no reason to believe someone suspected of it . Everyone looked stunned for us both and were waiting for the response Abimar .
Abimar : ( Looking mimcom disapproving expression) you said something to the Master, Naronda ?
Naronda : When Abimar said " Master ," the heart leaped for joy me in the chest . Was precisely around this Word that we had become tangled long before Mirdad be proved ; telling me he was a teacher who had come to teach us , and Abimar insisting that it was an ordinary man .
Mirdad : Do not look askance Naronda , Abimar because he is not guilty of thy guilt.
Abimar : Who told you so ? You may also read what is in the minds of men ?
Mirdad : Mirdad not need spies or interpreters . If you amasses Mirdad as he loves you , easily Lerias what 's on your mind and heart .
Abimar : Forgive a blind and deaf , Master . I opened my eyes and ears , for I am anxious to see and hear .
Mirdad : Only Love does wonders . If you want to see , let Love take account of the pupil of the eye . If you want to hear , let Love stake eardrums ears .
Abimar : No hate is not love , Abimar . Love is an active force , not it guide all your actions and your every move , you can not find your way , unless it satisfies all your wishes and all your thoughts are funeral songs in your days .
Now my heart is a harp and I am willing to sing , where is thy harp, Zamora ?
Zamora : You want me to go get it , Master ?
Mirdad , Go Zamora .
Naronda : Zamora then rose and fetched the harp . The others looked at one another up , and admired , kept silent .
Back Zamora with the harp , the Master gently took it from his hands and , bending over it , tenderly tuned rope lanyard and soon after began to play and sing :
Mirdad :
God is the master; browsing, my Ark!
Even if hell unleashing their rage
About the living and the dead ,
And turn the land en molten lead ,
Sweeping the skies all the evidence ,
God is the master; browsing, my Ark!
Love is the compass ; slides , my Ark!
Go to the North and to the South
To the West and to the East ,
And shares with all the fortune of your safe.
The storm will take you on its crest,
Comomum beacon for mariners in darkness .
Love is your compass ; slides , my Ark!
Faith is your anchor; travels , my Ark!
Can the rumbling thunder, and the sky Twinkle scratching ,
Can the mountains shake and crumble , and the heart of man weaken both
They forget the sacred spark ,
Faith is your anchor; travels , my Ark!
Naronda : The Master finished singing and bent over the harp , which bends mother , loving , about the son who is breastfeeding , and although its no longer trembling strings , harp continued to vibrate : " God is the master; browsing, my Ark! " And although the Master's lips were closed , his voice reverberating continued for some time , through the nest floating on waves and the peaks of the mountains to the hills and the valley below , to the relentless sea, down , until the vault blue up there .
There was a rain of stars and a rainbow that voice . There were tremors and hurricanes , mixed with breezes and singing drunken songs of nightingales . There were rough seas and abrumados by soft mist . It seemed as if all creation was listening , with joyful gratitude.
It seemed also that the Alvas Mountains , with the peak of the altar in the center , had been suddenly removed from the land and were floating in space , majestic , powerful and aware of his fate .
During the three days that followed the Master not sent word to anyone
Lectorium Rosicrucianum
11
Love is the Law of God .
Mirdad advinhara an enmity between two companions , asks the harp and sings the anthem of new cabinet
Mirdad : Love is the Law of God . You live so that you learn to love . You love so that you learn to live . No other lesson is required of Man .
And what is love , but he who loves absorb the beloved so that the two are one?
Who or what should we love ? Can choose the right leaf of the Tree of Life and pour upon it all our heart ? And the branch that produced this sheet ? And the rod that supports this branch ? And the shell that protects this rod ? And the roots that feed the bark , branches and leaves ? And the soil surrounding the roots ? And the sun , the sea and the air that fertilize the soil ?
If a small sheet deserve your love, the more merit the whole tree! The love that cuts a fraction of the whole advance condemns ap suffering.
You will say : " But there are lots and lots of leaves on a single tree : . Some are healthy , some are sick, some are beautiful , others ugly , some are giants , some are dwarfs How could we not choose? "
And I will tell you : the paleness of the patient 's vitality comes from sound . And I will tell you further , that ugliness is the palette , ink and brush of beauty , and the dwarf would not dwarf had not given a statutory part of the giant.
You are the tree of life . Careful not dividirdes yourselves ! Do not bring a fruit against another fruit, a leaf against another leaf, a branch against another branch , nor ponhais the branch against the roots , or the tree against the homeland , this is exactly what you do when you love one part more than the remaining or exclusion of the rest.
You are the tree of life . Your roots are everywhere . Your branches and leaves are everywhere . Thy fruits are in every mouth . Whatever the fruits of this tree are , whatever their branches and leaves , whatever their roots , they are your fruits , roots will be yours; your leaves and branches will be . If you would like to see the tree give sweets or fruits , are always strong and green, you desire to take heed d sap that Forage roots .
Love is the sap of life . Hatred is the pus of death . But Love, such as blood , need not be obstacles to circulate in the veins . Repress the movement of blood , and he becomes a threat , a plague . And what is hate but Love repressed or withheld love, becoming a poison that feeds both as to the fed, both for those who hate as to who is hated ?
A yellow leaf on your tree of life is only one sheet to which lacked love. Blame not the yellow leaf .
A withered bough is only a hungry bunch of love. Blame not the withered bough .
A rotten fruit is a fruit that was only breastfed with hatred. Blame not the rotten fruit . Culpaiamtrs your blind and selfish coraão which divided the sap of life to a few and denied to many, thus denying it to himself .
No other love can only love himself . No being is real , but one that covers the whole. That is why God is love , for God is love yourself .
If you love makes you suffer , it is because you have not you found your own being , nor achastes still the golden key of love , because you love to and a being ephemeral, your love is ephemeral .
The love of man and woman is not Love. It is something very different . The love of parents for their children is merely the threshold of the sacred Temple of Love. While each man does not love all women , and vice versa , while each child is not a child of all parents and all mothers , and vice versa , let men gabem meat and bones cling to other meat and bones , but it will never bear the sacred name of love. Is blasphemy.
You will not have a single friend you regard you as an enemy that is still a single man. How can the heart that harbors enmity be safe haven for friendship ?
Do not know the joy of love while houvrr hatred in his heart . If alimentásseis with the sap of life all things except a tiny worm , this little worm alone would make your life bitter , pous when you love someone or something , in reality only you love yourselves . Similarly , when you hate someone or something , in fact you hate yourself , for who or what you hate inseparadamente is linked to what or who you love , as the obverse and reverse of the same coin. If you would be honest with yourselves and you will have to love those to whom or what you hate and those who and what he hates you, before you love what you love and who loves you .
Love is nothing more than bread and water , more than light and air.
That nobody is proud to love . You must breathe Love as naturally and freely as you breathe air in and out of your lungs , for Love does not need anyone to praise him . Love exalt the heart that consider themselves worthy .
Do not expect a reward of Love. Love is , in itself , sufficient to reward the love as well as hate is , in itself , enough punishment for hate .
Exact no accounts to Love , for Love is accountable only to itself .
Love does not lend or borrow ; Love neither buys nor sells , gives them when he gives up all around , and when you take , take it all. And if you give your take. Therefore it is the same today, tomorrow and always .
Like a mighty river that empties into the sea is replenished by the sea , so must esbaziar you that you may be in love forever filled with Love.
The pond that retains the gift that gives you the sea , becomes a pond of stagnant water .
There is no " more " or "less " in love. The moment you attempt to measure the graduate and Love , it will disappear , leaving only bitter memories .
Nor is there "now " or " later " or " here " and " there " in love.
All stations are stations of Love . All locations are suitable for seren inhabited by Love.
Love knows no boundaries or barriers . A love whose action is prevented by any obstacle does not deserve the name of Love . Whenever you hear say that Love is blind in the sense that he sees defects in what is loved . This kind of blindness is as much vision.
Would that ye were not always so blind encontrásseis faults in something!
Not ! Of course , penetrating gaze of Love. So he sees no faults . When Love purified there your vision , will see never anything that is not worthy of your love. One view stripped of Love , a faulty eye is always busy in finding faults , and any faults that econtre will be their own fault .
Love integrates . Hate disintegrates . This huge and heavy mass of earth and stone, you give the name of the Peak Altar , fly rapidly on all sides , if not kept together by the hand of Love. Even your body, perishable as it seems , resist disintegration if you loved with the same intensity each of the cells that constitute it.
Love is full of melodies of life alone. Hate is the eager war for satanic death blows .
What preferis : Love gozardes for eternal peace , or hate to stand forever at war ?
The whole earth is alive in you . Heaven r his hosts are alive in you . Love , therefore, the earth and all its inhabitants ps if you love yourselves .
Love the sky and all its inhabitants , whether you love yourselves .
Why hate Naronda , Abimar ?
Naronda : All clashed with the sudden change in tone of voice and thoughts of the Master , while Abimar and I were dumb with direct reference as a desetendimento that was between us and carefully hid from everyone, having no reason to believe someone suspected of it . Everyone looked stunned for us both and were waiting for the response Abimar .
Abimar : ( Looking mimcom disapproving expression) you said something to the Master, Naronda ?
Naronda : When Abimar said " Master ," the heart leaped for joy me in the chest . Was precisely around this Word that we had become tangled long before Mirdad be proved ; telling me he was a teacher who had come to teach us , and Abimar insisting that it was an ordinary man .
Mirdad : Do not look askance Naronda , Abimar because he is not guilty of thy guilt.
Abimar : Who told you so ? You may also read what is in the minds of men ?
Mirdad : Mirdad not need spies or interpreters . If you amasses Mirdad as he loves you , easily Lerias what 's on your mind and heart .
Abimar : Forgive a blind and deaf , Master . I opened my eyes and ears , for I am anxious to see and hear .
Mirdad : Only Love does wonders . If you want to see , let Love take account of the pupil of the eye . If you want to hear , let Love stake eardrums ears .
Abimar : No hate is not love , Abimar . Love is an active force , not it guide all your actions and your every move , you can not find your way , unless it satisfies all your wishes and all your thoughts are funeral songs in your days .
Now my heart is a harp and I am willing to sing , where is thy harp, Zamora ?
Zamora : You want me to go get it , Master ?
Mirdad , Go Zamora .
Naronda : Zamora then rose and fetched the harp . The others looked at one another up , and admired , kept silent .
Back Zamora with the harp , the Master gently took it from his hands and , bending over it , tenderly tuned rope lanyard and soon after began to play and sing :
Mirdad :
God is the master; browsing, my Ark!
Even if hell unleashing their rage
About the living and the dead ,
And turn the land en molten lead ,
Sweeping the skies all the evidence ,
God is the master; browsing, my Ark!
Love is the compass ; slides , my Ark!
Go to the North and to the South
To the West and to the East ,
And shares with all the fortune of your safe.
The storm will take you on its crest,
Comomum beacon for mariners in darkness .
Love is your compass ; slides , my Ark!
Faith is your anchor; travels , my Ark!
Can the rumbling thunder, and the sky Twinkle scratching ,
Can the mountains shake and crumble , and the heart of man weaken both
They forget the sacred spark ,
Faith is your anchor; travels , my Ark!
Naronda : The Master finished singing and bent over the harp , which bends mother , loving , about the son who is breastfeeding , and although its no longer trembling strings , harp continued to vibrate : " God is the master; browsing, my Ark! " And although the Master's lips were closed , his voice reverberating continued for some time , through the nest floating on waves and the peaks of the mountains to the hills and the valley below , to the relentless sea, down , until the vault blue up there .
There was a rain of stars and a rainbow that voice . There were tremors and hurricanes , mixed with breezes and singing drunken songs of nightingales . There were rough seas and abrumados by soft mist . It seemed as if all creation was listening , with joyful gratitude.
It seemed also that the Alvas Mountains , with the peak of the altar in the center , had been suddenly removed from the land and were floating in space , majestic , powerful and aware of his fate .
During the three days that followed the Master not sent word to anyone
