When death finally comes you will welcome it like an old friend, being aware of how dreamlike and impermanent the pheneomenal world really is.
Dilgo Khyentse RinpocheRead
Love and nonattachment are the basis of true generosity.
Interpretation
True generosity stems from love and the ability to remain unattached to outcomes.
This quote by Dilgo Khyentse Rinpoche emphasizes that genuine generosity arises from a place of love rather than obligation or attachment. When we are not attached to the results of our actions, we can give freely and selflessly, allowing our generosity to flourish unobstructed by expectations or conditions.
In practice
During a charity event, one might say this quote to inspire donations and volunteerism.
When death finally comes you will welcome it like an old friend, being aware of how dreamlike and impermanent the pheneomenal world really is.
Sentient beings, self and others, enemies and dear ones-all are made by thoughts. It is like seeing a rope and mistaking it for a snake. When we think that the rope is a snake, we are scared, but once we see that we are looking at a rope, our fear dissipates. We have been deluded by our thoughts. Likewise, mentally fabricating self and others, we generate attachment and aversion.
We live under threat from painful emotions: anger, desire, pride, jealousy and so on. Therefore we should always be ready to counter these with the appropriate antidote. True practitioners may be recognized by their unfailing mindfulness.
To go beyond samsara and nirvana, we will need _x000D_ the two wings of emptiness and compassion. _x000D_ From now on, let us use these two wings _x000D_ to fly fearlessly into the sky of the life to come.
To feel overflowing love and almost unbearable compassion for all living creatures is the best way to fulfil the wishes of all the Buddhas and Bodhisattvas. Even if for the moment you cannot actually help a sentient being in an external way, meditate on love and compassion constantly over the months and years until compassion is knit inseparably into the very fabric of your mind.
Life is fragile, like the dew hanging delicately on the grass, crystal drops that will be carried away on the first morning breeze.
In that house, you will find my heart. You must break in, Henri, and get it back for me.' Was she mad? We had been talking figuratively. Her heart was in her body like mine. I tried to explain this to her, but she took my hand and put it against her chest. Feel for yourself.
I am a writer who happens to love women. I am not a lesbian who happens to write.
You will not enter paradise until you have faith. And you will not complete your faith until you love one another.
So she thoroughly taught him that one cannot take pleasure without giving pleasure, and that every gesture, every caress, every touch, every glance, every last bit of the body has its secret, which brings happiness to the person who knows how to wake it. She taught him that after a celebration of love the lovers should not part without admiring each other, without being conquered or having conquered, so that neither is bleak or glutted or has the bad feeling of being used or misused.
Absence, like death, sets a seal on the image of those we love: we cannot realize the intervening changes which time may have effected.
There is a silence, the child of love, which expresses everything, and proclaims more loudly than the tongue is able to do.
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