Buddha.Prayer beads

[REVIEW] In fact, life does not have to “infinite envy of the Yangtze River”, do not “sorrow of my life to be Minds” Just like the rosary glide over the years, with a firm belief in the spirit of the harvest to Emotion in the heart of the natural peace of mind enough the!  Through monuments, temple pavilion walked, how many times in front of the temple stood, listening to monks chanting Buddhist chanting or lay disciples.With the ebony-colored prayer beads in their hands glide around in the hand between the thumb, dark light, incense-filled room, rosaries in their hands like a shining aura snake, every verse, every rhyme, reincarnation, like they spent a number of years impoverished dull.    Bell Drum, chanting meditation, with the plume of cigarette, twisting action years away in the sunset, ushered Rays, away days and nights, taking fame and fortune, croon in that every grain prayer beads are a good thing, a smile, a word phrase, or a breeze, a moon and insights.Then joy in a tiny beads yard gain, contentment.Harvesting a peaceful state of mind or derived from natural Conscience of an ethereal, down to obtain, ebony beads slide over each time a round is a good thing.    Once, read a story: a Buddhist monk, a man living in the mountains of temple.In a beautiful moonlit night, coming home to see the Zen master thief of nothing.Jackson said: “cold days.”Then the thief took off his coat draped over him, looking at the thief to leave the back, Jackson silently wish: I hope that I can send him to the moon.Night, moonlight illuminates Zen meditation beads naked twisting action to dawn.The next day, Jackson opened his eyes and saw his coat, folded up neatly, on the door.Since then, the thief pure and noble man, because he harvest moon, Jackson had been in relieving people of years of cultivation of Buddhism, a sight to behold.    After his father died, his mother is also in the hands of more than a string of prayer beads, each one round, has a delicate texture of wood, each one is immutable, fourteen rosary, I do not know that is the head, that is the end, in the Buddha the hands of the heart, with a belief, a pious, an obsession, a temperature-nourished, and capsules to complete their merit in this endless cycle until one day has lost its luster, it has become repair fruit.    For fruit, for joy, earth people think that only vested material, so we pursue fame and fortune, and for the monks, in one quiet day in the pursuit of fame and, step by step to complete their fruit, so Buddha.That between the finger across the rosary in the cycle of time, do not remember the dream dash, wake up when, in capsules through the years, in total relaxation find his own, to be purified in the mountains and in nature clean up.    Now, sometimes when I’m physically and mentally tired, I will pick up the mother’s rosary, chanting meditation is not alone in feeling the rosary dolphin fingers glide, naturally, not deliberately, not far-fetched, with the bottom of my heart for spiritual Wandering lost in the mundane and escorts.Think we go on the road every step of the budget, how much to give, how much loss due to geometrical.If the geometry, so more and more the probability of invasion of the brain, to deal with the daily hustle and bustle of downtown, the see foot of the road, and even lost his own.In fact, life does not have to “infinite envy of the Yangtze River”, do not “sorrow of my life to be Minds” Just like the rosary glide over the years, with a firm belief in the spirit of the harvest to Emotion in peace of mind in the natural heart is enough!    Rosary, the Buddha devoted all causal sentiment.

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