Hi T. I think you mistook the word searcher for the word seeker. Watch out for 'faux amis' (false friends in French). 

Is the searcher different from that which he/she searches? Won't its findings be thought projected? Can thought reach beyond itself? When thought observes its own process it comes to see its limitation and then, logically, comes to a standstill. Not to another conclusion. If it is a conclusion then it is just another production of thought.  The observation of the thought process reveals that thought is not the proper instrument. This ends the search but creates space for something unknown to manifest. Not that it will! Or, as amy says, once seen the necessity to keep the restless seeker alone, let That come to you if That will. Supremely free. 

There is more to nonviolence than just refrain from violence. Nonviolence stems from the philosophy of compassion which gets a person to understand that fundamentally all are one. Or, as J. Krishnamurti termed it : there is no other. So, the other is you, even though that other may not yet be conscious of the reciprocal and may act violently against you. His violence then is to be seen as a manifestation of that unconsciousness. But the moment one is aware, one's responsibility is to stand firm on the principle but not reciprocate the other's violence.
The will to dominate, to infringe on a weaker person's rights, such doing must be stopped. This by standing firm on the principle. But to fixate on anyone as an enemy only perpetuates the conflict and thus misses the mark which is to stop the wrong doing while leaving the door open to the doer so that he may eventually change his perspective. This is the compassionate answer.
The use of brutal force morally diminishes the doer. As do the transient goals, supremacy, dominance, that motivate his actions. No party, in the long run, can win over principles which are fundamentally just and speak to the human heart. This is what I understand from this interview of the Dalai Lama whose firm stand and intelligent response have gained  worldwide respect and affection.

 Great comment.The difference between Apatra and Gupta danam is very significant. Overprotective parents can do a lot of damage to their children when their giving is from attachment. This is commonly overlooked. I would like to know the meaning of Shraddha?

What need is there to categorise? Don't we know instantly when we give reluctantly and with some afterthought, and when we give in a limited way but with a clear intention? As for 'kingly' giving, has anyone given that kingly who did not first answer for himself the question: what would I give my life to? I feel this is the one important question that conditions all the rest if one can answer it whole-heartedly, without reserve. For all I know, those who have answered it do not think of theirs as a giving. They are happy to serve. Life is feeding them back their very generosity  without any need for them to measure up their commitment to some sort of scale.

I did'nt say such love did not exist. I said I was impressed by those who consistently experience it. I would not venture to participate in this forum if some such people had not left a strong imprint on me and had not made me aware of my radical insufficiency. 

 I remember a time when I was 'in love' with the works of the great writer and poet D.H. Lawrence, a time when I felt devastated at the sight of a wildly beautiful girl, because this was what in loveness actually was for me: devastating! And, apparently also, in some way, for the author of The Girl And The Gipsy. And what remains of this great fire today is but gratitude for the man who taught me the love of  the English language. No nostalgia whatsoever. And I see human in-loveness now as only the inspirer of good, great litterature, if one has the talent, or as a passion to be transmuted into something less fleeting, more encompassing yet no less vital. I must say I am impressed by some of the comments I just read. Because this transmutation is far from easy and something of the vitality inherent with the state of in loveness may be lost in the process. Whether transmuted  into art, or in the wondrous kind of love of a Jesus or the limitless compassion of a Buddha. The author seems right to say that these moments are moments when we reconnect with something vital which is always in danger of being forsaken.    

 I am not a scholar in Latin but the Latin word for danger is 'periculum' which gave 'pericoloso' in Italian, 'peril' in French and English. Another Latin word 'perire' means: to die, from 'per'/ through and 'ire'/ to go. There is no 'ex perieri'. The Latin word 'experiri' means: to try out. Also generally understood to mean: going through.
The result of experience is stored in the brain as memory which in turn conditions further experience and limits it. A danger too often ignored.

To more or less understand this passage I first have to be sensitive to its peculiar context and stay close to the words the poet uses. Otherwise I might end up generalizing or drifting away from what it actually says. The context is that of a young poet turning for guidance to the great man whose poetry he loves and admires. Maybe seeking a form of assurance that poetry is really his vocation.
It is not that the world, the outside, can determine our fate, confirm or infirm that vocation through either appraisal or criticism, answers his mentor. Before 'this steps forth out of us to other people' (who will reflect it) an all too important process has taken place if we are receptive to the 'unfamiliar presence' that manifests itself in moments of sadness, melancholy. As this is felt, this becomes part of our being and alters our fate.This is how discreetly 'the future enters us' (through the present moment) and 'it is necessary' that this presence, unfamiliar as it may be, be absorbed, becomes 'our innermost being' as it is the agent of transformation itself.  
So the making of a poet is in no way predictable from an outside perspective: 'the future stands still'. What we call fate owes nothing to the world outside but emerges from us long before the world can, in a way or other, reflect it. If we let infinite space move through us, we move in infinite space.

I have read this passage over and over and at this point I cannot grasp what the great poet is saying to his young friend. I have in stock another passage from Rainer Maria Rilke which struck me as very beautiful and insightful but I just don't have the key to this one. I will be on the look out for more inspiring comments.

I hear your question which is mine as well. It has been with me from the time I stumbled upon a truly intelligent and compassionate being, a great being. To such a man compassion means passion for all. As the word 'passion' implies, it is not something meek at all but something rather fierce like a fire within.  It has great inner strength and endures in the face of tremendous adversity. And through such a being you see  compassion walking hand in hand with intelligence, an intelligence far beyond the personal, an intelligence that perceives the cause of  suffering, that has insight into the very root of problems and is tremendously creative .   

At first sight, the author's extraordinarily civilized  weapons, compassion and insight, seem pathetically frail, laughably so, seen from the perspective of the barbarian powers. Those powers do not claim to be barbarian as such. They do not see themselves as malevolent and more often than not claim that their point of view is that of reality, of the inherent competitiveness of life itself. Although they have assimilated the concept of evolution, they think in terms of 'mechanical' darwinian evolution only and do not see that further evolution on this planet will be determined by man's conscious evolution. Even faced with the announced planetary disaster they will affirm, with a very  strange sort of faith, that life on earth will go on and that man's inventiveness alone is capable to work out miracles. This view point, although it manifests some spirit, is limited and geared to short term  action. These barbarian powers are not only found in the elites but also in the great number of so called simple people who rather thoughtlessly share these views. So at first sight it would seem that civilisation, in the highest sense, stands defeated.
 On second thought I think of the tremendous impact a few very determined spiritual activists have had in olden and  recent times and also in the present time, if one considers the Dalai Lama's extraordinary moral and spiritual combat, fought with the apparently frail weapons of compassion and insight. The key, I believe, is for such activists to be free of either hope or despair.   

The author is inviting us to be radically, absolutely still prior to seeking happiness, God or any kind of fulfillment for that matter. Is stillness then some sort of ideal state to be achieved as a means to an end? This is what the word ' cultivate' is generally understood to mean. It is not what I understand the author to actually say but rather that stillness is our true nature, not a state to be achieved but a state that naturally emerges once we stop seeking. Neither is he saying how to still the mind, indicating any sort of practice. What he is adamantly saying is just let go the mind, let it be still. Just do it then see what happens. The practice is: Just do it!  At least this is how I interpret this brief passage that doesn't say much about the relationship between stillness and perception but just invites us to try out being radically, absolutely still... for a change. Thank you Gangaji. 

A native, genuine gentleness is a very, very rare thing in a person. Most of us tend to be judgmental and opinionated and it takes a good deal of attention to our prejudices and a good deal of questioning to get to be a kinder person. And even so, it sometimes seems  impossible to change our native character for the best. It is easier to change one's perspectives, one's world views, easier to sit alone with oneself in relative silence than it is to change one's own 'damned' irritability in the face of circumstances, people, etc. So the abrupt question of a gentle person sitting in a waiting room can be very pertinent: who is he/she that is so irritable if not the observer that so persistently thinks himself different from that which he/she observes? Who reacts with irritation? Who thinks things should be different?  

Finally the 'good' doctor walked  briskly into  the waiting room and from the air of commiseration and undisguised contempt with which he greeted his patients I fully understood how the lady felt and how disquieting it was to be unassuming and defenseless in the  midst of a crowd of somebodies. 

I was sitting in the waiting room at an ophtalmologist's when a very shy and gentle looking lady entered. She seemed lost and asked me whether she should go and knock at the doctor's door or wait. I told her the custom was for the patient to wait for the doctor to come and fetch him or her, and we sat on in silence, I, rather impressed by her extraordinary timidity and gentleness. Then ,all of a sudden she asked me:' the observer is the observed, isn't it?' I was baffled that she would address such a question to a complete stranger, at such a time and in such a place. But she was so gentle and sincere that I heard me say, possibly out of compassion: 'Yes, the observer is the observed'. She looked relieved: 'You see, I feel so awkward, even with the simplest things'. I then must have said something like 'never mind that ' but I was curious to know why she had asked such a question and had trusted me with the answer? And after a few more exchanges I understood that she loved to paint gardens and that when she painted flowers and trees she felt she was what she painted and then felt unsure of being quite normal and how disquieting this could be.  

I have just listened to an extraordinary interview of Andrew Harvey titled The Death and the Birth. I warmly recommend it to all. ( sites: Jason Elijah/ Andrew Harvey or andrewharvey.net

The feeling that I have time is certainly something we most 'naturally' take for granted. Time is the factor that has us think of death as something far away. So that, unconsciously, one has dissociated life from death and doesn't see anymore how both relate to the present. Time-thought, as J.K. would say, to signify that time is thought and reversely: would there be a sense of time if I had no memory, no thought? And our action results from this thought-feeling that I have time. If I could contract that span that is supposed to separate life from death, that would arouse in me that sense of urgency that is often so terribly lacking in my every day experience and resulting action. Time acts as the greatest of our 'shock absorbers' as Mr.G. would say, and is cause of all procrastination.
Seeing that and yet not acutely feeling the imminence of death, can I consciously bring dying in my every day experience? (P.S.: no time, presently, to elaborate!)

I understand the author to say that, for as much as we have not experienced the full flow of the river, we all have some access to at least some of its tributaries. We are not completely deprived of patience, endurance, honesty, etc. We are not disconnected from the source as long as we don't give up effort. Not the selfish effort to improve ourselves but the effort to open up and live from the heart. This has to be the axis of our conscious effort. Just about what I needed to hear. Thank you.

Will you then share your interpretation?