Death carries off a man busy picking flowers with an besotted mind, like a great flood does a sleeping village.
Gautama BuddhaRead
Thoughtfulness is the way to deathlessness, thoughtlessness the way to death. The thoughtful do not die: the thoughtless are as if dead already.
Interpretation
Being thoughtful leads to a lasting legacy, while thoughtlessness results in a hollow existence.
This quote by Gautama Buddha emphasizes the importance of mindfulness and consideration in one's actions and thoughts. It suggests that a life filled with thoughtfulness contributes to one's spiritual immortality and leaves a positive impact, while living without awareness and thought makes life feel empty and ultimately leads to a metaphorical death in terms of significance and meaning.
In practice
During a meditation retreat, the facilitator quoted Buddha to encourage participants to practice mindfulness.
Death carries off a man busy picking flowers with an besotted mind, like a great flood does a sleeping village.
A kind man who makes good use of wealth is rightly said to possess a great treasure; but the miser who hoards up his riches will have no profit.
There are having flowers in Spring, breezes in Summer, moon in Autumn, snows in Winter. If there is nothing worrying over you, it will be the best seasons at all times.
Make an island of yourself, make yourself your refuge; there is no other refuge. Make truth your island, make truth your refuge; there is no other refuge.
When a wise man is advised of his errors, he will reflect on and improve his conduct. When his misconduct is pointed out, a foolish man will not only disregard the advice but rather repeat the same error.
The tongue like a sharp knife ... Kills without drawing blood.
We have to recognize that sin is a fact, not a defect; sin is red-handed mutiny against God. Either God or sin must die in my life...If sin rules in me, God's life in me will be killed; if God rules in me, sin in me will be killed.
In my opinion, there is no aspect of reality beyond the reach of the human mind.
Reality doesnβt impress me. I only believe in intoxication, in ecstasy, and when ordinary life shackles me. I escape, one way or another. No more walls.
Boredom rests upon the nothingness that winds its way through existence; its giddiness, like that which comes from gazing down into an infinite abyss, is infinite.
If Henry Miller often sounded like a village idiot, it is because, like Whitman, he was the rest of the village as well.
The history of empires is the record of human misery; the history of the sciences is that of the greatness and happiness of mankind.
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