“And do not his actions make each of them wish to retaliate, snatching all they can get out of the show? (The Big Book, p. 61 on the ego)
QUESTION ::: How have you kept your own ego from swallowing up and crushing everything and everyone around you, lately?
Ancient Fables: Pride has a Fall (1:47)
Blurry Lines – uncensored (4:32)
Black Holes and Worm Holes (2:44)
Cosmic Mist Meditation from Space (7:01)
Ancient Fables: Pride has A Fall
“Gorelal was a famous sculptor. His sculptures looked real ones. One day he saw a dream that after fifteen days, the demon of Death would come to take him. As a result, Gorelal prepared nine statues of himself and when on the 15th day he heard the Demon of Death coming, he took his place between the statues. The Demon was dand was astonished to see ten Gorelals instead of one. He rushed back to the God of death and told the matter.
The God of death got annoyed and set out to take Gorelal himself. Consequently, Gorelal was alert and stood motionless. The God of Death initially got perplexed. But he thought for a moment. He said, “Gorelal, these sculptures would have been perfect but for one mistake.” Unfortunately, Gorelal was unable to suffer the least blemish in his work. He came out and asked, “Where is the fault?” God of Death caught him and said, “HERE”. The statues were faultless but unfortunately, Gorelal was caught because of his pride.”
We Have Grown Jungles. :
From the dark ages
We have plodded a long long way
To the broad daylight
Of our civilization,
But we have deforested and denuded
Mountains, valleys and plains and
Blown away the glossy green grandeur.
But it bothers us not
For we have grown jungles
Inside our mind
With tall towering Egos
Spreading deep down self seeking roots.
And above, ill-gotten leafy roofs
Shutting out
The clear crystal light
Of heaven’s open sky.
And have filled the ground
With undergrowth and darkness
That camouflages poisonous snakes
Of corruption and shame,
And with treacherous swampy hollows
To abduct, outrage, murder
The beauty and majesty
Of our moral dignity,
The precious pride
Of a helpless humanity.
Has been become so immune
That he does not see the difference
Between Mud and Blood
On the patch of brown
He just crosses?
– Unknown author
