gatito

Personally, I prefer women with teeth, who know how and when to use them effectively and efficiently.

Which is a tragedy, because she should be known and respected by both men and women.

As I sometimes do it myself, I'm not really in a position to criticise him. However, I appreciate your advice and I'll refrain from doing it again myself in future.

I tend to steer clear of all "Anglo-Saxon" women myself as a rule of thumb, having learned the hard way. Continental European women don't have the same "issues" IMO/IME, perhaps because boys are better educated. However, there are always exceptions to every generalised rule of thumb.

I realise that you habitually like to edit your comments but perhaps follow your own advice before offering any to me and going to the trouble of pressing the post button?

Nothing to fear from women if you treat them with respect. If not, God himself will not protect you from their wrath.

Like Lillith...?

Yes. As I said, you seem to have learned from your previous stupid conduct. Keep up the good work...

Perhaps you should have thought about that when you instigated and fueled the Mopai War? Still, better late than never. At least now you appear to be attempting to make amends.

Be careful of what you seek (or invoke) - because it will surely find you. There is a parable about someone who decided to hunt tigers. Unfortunately, the tiger which s/he found was a (wo)maneater.

I met a traveller from an antique land Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand, Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown, And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command, Tell that its sculptor well those passions read Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things, The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed: And on the pedestal these words appear: 'My name is Ozymandias, king of kings: Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!' Nothing beside remains. Round the decay Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare The lone and level sands stretch far away.

QED. Thanks.

Assumption is the mother of all fuckwits... I learned ZZ from the video and the book. More than a decade later I walked into his public class and (after testing) I was given access to indoor teachings, to which some of his disciples do not have access. Furthermore, I know that you've never seen Lam demonstrating his Tai Chi form, so you're certainly in no position to judge, even if your judgement was worth the paper it's written on... As far as @freeform is concerned, I wonder if, like you, he's prepared to disgrace not only himself but also all of his teachers and their lineages by disrespecting Lam Kam Chuen and his lineage on a public forum (or even privately)? Hope I've made myself clear now?

You will struggle to learn from the book in isolation, as it was published as an adjunct to a 10 part TV series. Here's part 1: From here you can locate the other 9 parts easily. You've certainly rushed the learning process, as you could easily spend a couple of years building a solid foundation by practicing just the 8 Brocades, the warmups/cooldowns and the first two positions. These first 2 positions are demonstrated in videos 1, 2 and 3. You'll find all of the 8 Brocades demonstrated over the course of the 10 part series of videos. Incidentally, I've been taught by Sifu Lam both in in his public classes and in private and I can assure you that it's entirely possible to distance learn using the videos and the book although, you may struggle because of your level of comprehension of the language. One other vital point - Lam style ZZ is NOT considered to be meditation (by Sifu Lam). Do not attempt to meditate while practicing; it's actually better to watch TV. If you attend his classes, you'll be corrected instantly if you drop into meditation either accidentally or deliberately.

White noise, a flowing river and some types of music will all work effectively as objects. Pink noise is sometimes considered superior to white noise as it's less jarring.

From what Dawg wrote, he was certainly not Enlightened. That's blatantly obvious to anyone who actually is Enlightened. Just out of curiosity, if anyone here imagines that they're Enlightened, you could PM me with Dawg's tell, which would jump out like a ton of bricks dropping next to you if you are actually Enlightened. I'll post the (anonymised) results, if any...

Which book? The Way of Energy?

Four great gates has the city of Damascus And four Great Wardens, on their spears reclining, All day long stand like tall stone men And sleep on the towers when the moon is shining. This is the song of the East Gate Warden When he locks the great gate and smokes in his garden. Postern of Fate, the Desert Gate, Disaster's Cavern, Fort of Fear, The Portal of Baghdad am I, and Doorway of Diarbekir. The Persian Dawn with new desires may net the flushing mountain spires: But my gaunt buttress still rejects the suppliance of those mellow fires. Pass not beneath, O Caravan, or pass not singing. Have you heard That silence where the birds are dead yet something pipeth like a bird? Pass not beneath! Men say there blows in stony deserts still a rose But with no scarlet to her leaf—and from whose heart no perfume flows. Wilt thou bloom red where she buds pale, thy sister rose? Wilt thou not fail When noonday flashes like a flail? Leave nightingale the caravan! Pass then, pass all! "Baghdad!" ye cry, and down the billows of blue sky Ye beat the bell that beats to hell, and who shall thrust you back? Not I. The Sun who flashes through the head and paints the shadows green and red, The Sun shall eat thy fleshless dead, O Caravan, O Caravan! And one who licks his lips for thirst with fevered eyes shall face in fear The palms that wave, the streams that burst, his last mirage, O Caravan! And one—the bird-voiced Singing-man—shall fall behind thee, Caravan! And God shall meet him in the night, and he shall sing as best he can. And one the Bedouin shall slay, and one, sand-stricken on the way Go dark and blind; and one shall say—"How lonely is the Caravan!" Pass out beneath, O Caravan, Doom's Caravan, Death's Caravan! I had not told ye, fools, so much, save that I heard your Singing-man. This was sung by the West Gate's keeper When heaven's hollow dome grew deeper. I am the gate toward the sea: O sailor men, pass out from me! I hear you high in Lebanon, singing the marvels of the sea. The dragon-green, the luminous, the dark, the serpent-haunted sea, The snow-besprinkled wine of earth, the white-and-blue-flower foaming sea. Beyond the sea are towns with towers, carved with lions and lily flowers, And not a soul in all those lonely streets to while away the hours. Beyond the towns, an isle where, bound, a naked giant bites the ground: The shadow of a monstrous wing looms on his back: and still no sound. Beyond the isle a rock that screams like madmen shouting in their dreams, From whose dark issues night and day blood crashes in a thousand streams. Beyond the rock is Restful Bay, where no wind breathes or ripple stirs, And there on Roman ships, they say, stand rows of metal mariners. Beyond the bay in utmost West old Solomon the Jewish King Sits with his beard upon his breast, and grips and guards his magic ring: And when that ring is stolen, he will rise in outraged majesty, And take the World upon his back, and fling the World beyond the sea. This is the song of the North Gate's master, Who singeth fast, but drinketh faster. I am the gay Aleppo Gate: a dawn, a dawn and thou art there: Eat not thy heart with fear and care, O brother of the beast we hate! Thou hast not many miles to tread, nor other foes than fleas to dread; Homs shall behold thy morning meal and Hama see thee safe in bed. Take to Aleppo filigrane, and take them paste of apricots, And coffee tables botched with pearl, and little beaten brassware pots: And thou shalt sell thy wares for thrice the Damascene retailers' price, And buy a fat Armenian slave who smelleth odorous and nice. Some men of noble stock were made: some glory in the murder-blade; Some praise a Science or an Art, but I like honorable Trade! Sell them the rotten, buy the ripe! Their heads are weak; their pockets burn. Aleppo men are mighty fools. Salaam Aleikum! Safe return! This is the song of the South Gate Holder, A silver man, but his song is older. I am the Gate that fears no fall: the Mihrab of Damascus wall, The bridge of booming Sinai: the Arch of Allah all in all. O spiritual pilgrim rise: the night has grown her single horn: The voices of the souls unborn are half adream with Paradise. To Mecca thou hast turned in prayer with aching heart and eyes that burn: Ah Hajji, wither wilt thou turn when thou art there, when thou art there? God be thy guide from camp to camp: God be thy shade from well to well; God grant beneath the desert stars thou hear the Prophet's camel bell. And God shall make thy body pure, and give thee knowledge to endure This ghost-life's piercing phantom-pain, and bring thee out to Life again. And God shall make thy soul a Glass where eighteen thousand aeons pass. And thou shalt see the gleaming Worlds as men see dew upon the grass. And sons of Islam, it may be that thou shalt learn at journey's end Who walks thy garden eve on eve, and bows his head, and calls thee Friend. allpoetry.com/The-Gates-of-Damascus

Exactly! Furthermore, most of them then immediately fall into the guru trap and then fuckup not only themselves but also others.

Just delete the posts that you dont wish to host.

Does it really matter?

You can do that in a PPF.

In a way that's true because Enlightenment is timeless. However, unless someone's actually Enlightened, they'll never get that point because it's entirely beyond words and intellect, which is why these sorts of neoadvaita/classical advaita statements are generally counterproductive. To Self-realise Enlightenment, it's generally only necessary to meditate properly for 6-24 months. Following that realisation (Enlightenment) begins the infinitely more complicated task of integrating this first-hand knowledge into everyday life to discover the reality of Liberation.