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a meditationgeriathlete said Aug 15, 2006, 6:03 PM: |
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My prayer beads are strung on my life span. I am not allowed to skip a single bead: Sometimes the bead is a seed . Or a bone. Or jade. Or dry blood. Or semen. Or crystal. Or rotted wood. Or a sages relic. Or gold. Or glass. Or a prism. Or iron. Or clay. Or an eye. Or an egg. Or dung. Or a ball. Or a stone. Or a peach, Or a bullet. Or a bubble. Or lead. Or pure light. No matter what the next bead is, I must count it, Perform my daily austerities, Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Until repetition becomes endurance.
Deng Ming-Dao
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