Frau Mayer

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Part of a conversation i had with a young man.

The answer is do what you love with people you love.
Then the healing takes place, and growth ensues.

It does not matter what.

Behind a bar, cleaning, cooking, running a flower-shop, wash corpses before burials, be a doctor or street sweeper.

It all in the how you are doing it.

Forget so called high status jobs.
That is done.
Its not satisfying if you dont love it.
Your work is not a means, your work should be the goal.

True wealth has nothing to do with either status or money.
Its all about doing what is meaningful to you and others.

Every occupation is the road or way to deep insight in life and the world.
There are no simple jobs.
All meaningful work is a way to 'enlightenment'.

For the development of our awareness and wisdom, being a cashier at the Billa is just as good as being a brain surgeon.

Here in the hospital I am truly as great full to the woman who comes in with a smile and cleans the floor, as i am to the doctor who comes in and asks with honest interest how I am.

Neither of them can function without the other.

Cleaning in a hospital without doctors is meaningless.
Being a doctor in a filthy place does not work.

On the economic level they are as important.
I am not talking salary.
That is the communist fallacy.
If the cleaner drops a bucked, he mops up the water, problem solved.
If the doctor drops the bucked his patients die.
These are incomparable responsibilities.

But cleaner is happy he is not responsible for my life, and the doctor he is not responsible for cleaning my spilled p*e from the floor.

-Tang Li

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Bright Be The Place Of Thy Soul!

Bright be the place of thy soul!
No lovelier spirit than thine
E'er burst from its mortal control
In the orbs of the blessed to shine.

On earth thou wert all but divine,
As thy soul shall immortally be;
And our sorrow may cease to repine,
When we know that thy God is with thee.

Light be the turf of thy tomb!
May its verdure like emeralds be:
There should not be the shadow of gloom
In aught that reminds us of thee.

Young flowers and an evergreen tree
May spring from the spot of thy rest:
But nor cypress nor yew let us see;
For why should we mourn for the blest?

- George Gordon Byron [1788-1824]