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Literature
The Six Realms
Ordinary people are subject to rebirth, the involuntary birth that occurs "on impulse as part of a reactive cycle of action and its effects" when they die (Thurman, R.W. 88-89).  There are, however, several things that they can do to effect this involuntary process during their life.
Gyatso says that meditating on the sufferings of the beings in the Six Realms is a good start to changing negative emotions, because the meditator quickly realizes that they have no desire to be reborn in one of the lower realms.  Because of this, a person will work toward avoiding being reborn in one of these lower realms (173).
Thondup explains that the causes of birth in the Six Realms are based off six afflicting emotions: arrogance, jealousy, desire, ignorance, greed, and hatred, and that these are all rooted in self-grasping (171).  He adds that by changing these emotions into positive ones, you can change where you will be reborn by changing the "habitual patterns of yo
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Literature
Buddhism and Materialism
Why don't Tibetan Buddhists agree with the idea of materialism?
Tibetan Buddhists don't agree with the idea of materialism; rather, they have three mind/body models to explain life, dying/death, and rebirth.  The first reason for this is that there are many inconsistencies in the ideas of materialism.  The second is that there are delogs who have experienced the death process, then come back to tell about it.
Materialism is the idea that the mind and body are inseparable; once the body dies, the mind ceases to continue existing (Mackenzie 99).  The argument for materialism is presented firmly in the West, with many scientists arguing that the mind and body are the same, but they are ignoring evidence presented by many people from many different cultures that suggest there is a mind separate from the body.  Thurman begins his argument with simple scientific laws, pointing out that "in nature we never observe something becoming nothing" (R.W. 101).
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Literature
Buddhism and death
Why are ordinary Buddhists afraid of death?
Ordinary Buddhists are afraid of death primarily because they are afraid of rebirth, the involuntary birth that occurs "on impulse as part of a reactive cycle of action and its effects" into the lower realms of existence.  (Thurman, R.W. 88-89).  These lower realms, the                                                                                                               
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Literature
The Morrigan
The Morrígan in Modern Pagan Worship
Though she's an ancient Irish goddess, worship of the Morrígan has carried over into modern times, and she is worshipped by several sects of modern pagans, such as Wiccans and druids.  Feelings about the Morrígan are mixed, ranging from ideas about her as an Irish Kali (and therefore a loving mother) to her as an evil, bloodthirsty goddess who should be carefully worked with, if worked with at all.  There is, however, a growing interest in her: what she means in modern times, how she is worshipped, festivals relating to her, and rituals in which she's involved.  Modern pagans have many ideas about what her purpose is and how she works in their practice, and many fall back upon historical documents found in Ireland that directly refer to her.  These texts are limited, however, as the ancient Irish religion was primarily oral and very few practices are known today.  Because of this, others argue that i
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Mature content
I Am Your Server... :iconrinyavie:Rinyavie 1 0
Literature
Summer's End
Summer's End
The room was dark; the sun had just gone down not more than fifteen minutes ago, and we hadn't bothered to turn on any lights.  It fit the Halloween mood better, flame rather than fake light.  A single candle stood in each window, flickering shadows against the walls.  A circle of candles outlined the group of twenty, each of whom also held a candle in their hands.  They were focused heavily on their task, eyes closed and brows squinched, so much that they didn't even notice that I was paying more attention to what was going on around us rather than what we were supposed to be doing.  I could smell the roasting turkey in the oven, two hours behind schedule but still delicious, and the sounds of Loreena McKennitt's All Souls' Night.  The rest of the group was very intently trying to cast a circle while Renée led them, her voice powerfully commanding them to visualize balls of light coming from the center of their c
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Mature content
Untitled Villanelle :iconrinyavie:Rinyavie 0 3
Literature
April 1st, 2003
I walk downstairs; no I run
I have been away for far too long
And my heart desires to see
Your face, your eyes that shine
With love and the purest joy
At being alive.  I call your name,
It rolls off my tongue like candy
Smooth, sweet, something so
Familiar that it could never change
There is no answer.
I laugh; you are playing a game
And you will surprise me when
I have turned the corner, you
Will leap out at me, make me
Scream with fright, so that we
Can laugh together at the wonderful
Joke you have just played on me.
You always make me laugh.
I round the corner, I see you
Lying in your cage, your house, your
Refuge.  "Lazy" I call you, and you
Don't respond.  I go to wake you up,
Touch your fur, the color of a field of
Wheat, that spans into forever.
I have touched your corpse.
You lie there cold, as grass on a
Winter morning, when the ice is
Setting in.  You have transferred
That ice into my hand, a poison in
My veins that snakes it's way to n
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Literature
Win
Every Friday night I pulled a double shift volunteering at the county hospital, working from eight at night until four in the morning.  Then I'd go home, sleep for a few hours, and put in another five hours Saturday evening.  The weekend was the only time that was truly mine, and I could only imagine spending it with the stinging smell of antiseptic and vomit.  Lately I'd been living in my violet volunteer shirt; in the past week or so, I had been showing up at the hospital whenever I had a few free hours in my day, amounting nearly thirty hours of screaming infants with ear infections and passing out charts to men who were red in annoyance from waiting three hours to get treated for the burn mark where they'd accidentally grabbed their stove, or women clutching their legs because they fell when they tripped on the dog.
I almost didn't recognize Ujanda's mother, Janice, as I handed her a chart and told her to fill out all the highlighted parts.  
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Literature
Discouragement
When I applied for college, I put down on my application that I was considering being a theatre major.  Two months later I changed to an English major with a concentration in creative writing.  My father's response was, "So instead of a starving actress, you're going to become a starving writer?"
Since that day, I've forced myself to come to terms with his reasoning behind the comment.  My father is an accountant; he works magic with numbers and math.  He can't quite understand why I prefer to work magic with words and sentences.  It's as foreign a concept to him as quantum physics is to the average person.  
I admit that wanting to prove my father wrong isn't necessarily the best reason for sticking with writing, but thankfully it's only a secondary reason.  I've had to struggle a lot with various comments from outside sources.  But, as Stephen King said, "If you write, someone will try to make you feel lo
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Literature
Religious Tolerance
When I turned fourteen, I was confirmed by the Catholic Church.  One year later, I lost all faith in my religion.  A year after that, I began skipping church and lying to my parents about it.  One year later, I became a practicing pagan.  It took another year until I told my parents, and it wasn't really my choice to tell them.  These steps, beginning with apathy, were the beginning of what you could call a "life-changer."  Today I'm president of the Pagan Student Alliance on the Colorado State University campus, and connecting with people in a religion way.
Once a year, the school holds a "Meet Your Faith" day, when the religious organizations on campus set up booths and students can stop by to ask questions.  You get all types of people- the serious, the skeptical, those who are ready to believe that you want to sacrifice babies to your heathen gods.  After my second year doing this, I realized the people
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Literature
Ravenclaw vs. The Other Houses
Ravenclaw is the house that is known for its smarts.  But lately, there's been a lot of discussion about exactly what this means.  A lot of people see Ravenclaw as a smattering of all the other houses, and they're not wrong to think that.  But that's because all of the houses are, essentially, a smattering of each other.
First and foremost, the qualities that a Ravenclaw exhibits: knowledge.  Not just having knowledge, but wanting to learn.  Wanting to know.  Being curious.  And sometimes, not even that.  Sometimes, just having a natural ability to see the truth, to figure things out is all it takes.  But learning is the biggest priority on a Ravenclaw's agenda.  Let's compare this with other houses.
There are a lot of comments that Slytherins are just Ravenclaws with ambition.  Not true.  Yes, Slytherins are smart (with a few notable exceptions).  It's an a
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Literature
God's Curse
In moonlight soft as feathers
A single wingéd angel sings
About the death of Jesus
And where the next life will be
She hears it on the radio
Knows its loving tune
And feels it in her mind
But cannot in the heart
The angel tries to woo her
Win her heart for God
But somewhere else Lucifer calls
And this the song she sings
His heart melds with hers, is
As love the sweetest song
Her eyes glaze as she hears
And lets it fill her soul
She drops the knife
She drops the gun
She sets down the pills
Sets down the noose
She listens to the demon song
She enters its embrace
And as the sunlight streams the sky
She lives another day
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Literature
Ask Me No Questions
As by the sunset sat my wife and I
She turned to look as I gazed out to sea
And slipped her hand delicately in mine
And though she said naught a word, there was fear
Her eyes were teary, hollow, empty, sad
Her face was ruddy as the sky behind
The soul behind the fiery green
Was searching for an answer it couldn't find
"Do you love me?"  Her words, harsh as ice,
A dip in a frozen river at night.
Did she knew of my waning love of life
My mistress, my girlfriend, my new sunlight?
But no, she desired comfort, feared a lie
"Of course I do, until the day I die."
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Literature
Memory
Finn stands in the circle of trees, white bones that scrape the sky and cause it to bleed down, slowly at first, then more fiercely. The trees have no leaves, rather flames of red, orange, and blue that lick at the stars, begging them to play, to dance with earth, and one obliges with a flash of green.
Finn spreads his hands, which are alight with flame, flame he controls for it does not burn his palms. His face is masked, porcelain, white, as smooth as a lake of ice before the thaw, but his hair is more black than the raven on his shoulder, an angel of doom.
Finn once had fair hair, long before this dark change, and it was as long and flowing as the tender words of a sonnet. I remember waking beside him, waking beside my husband and feeling his hair tickle my nose.
The Morrigan, the dark raven, screeches from her pedestal, mocking my mistakes, my carelessness, my trust. She tells me I was a fool, for I trusted an avatar of Loki. She tells me I should have known better.
Finn sings to m
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Literature
Wicked
Every night he leaves the demon
Cries at how wicked
He is, and waits until he takes form
In the morning.  Today he is as twilight
And his body is a siren
Lithe and sensuously pale
As the sky is pale
He calls to the demon
But he cannot hold on, the siren
Appears full of terrible wicked
Delight, him weeping for the twilight
When he can take his true form
He longs for his true form
It is pockmarked and overly pale
But only when the twilight
Has fallen can the demon
return, and leave the wicked
In longing of the siren
She is deadly, the siren
Calling men to sign her form
And draw them into the wicked
Circle with her beautiful pale
Body.  They cannot see the demon
That is hiding until the twilight
And as the sun sets and twilight
Begins, he leaves the siren
And becomes once more the demon
He has changed his form
And shed the skin that is pale
He has left behind the wicked
But she is cunning, the wicked
And at the twilight
She fights to keep her pale skin
She fights to be
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Activity


deviantID

Rinyavie
Rin
Artist | Literature
United States
Current Residence: Fort Collins
Favourite genre of music: Opera and Light Rock
Favourite cartoon character: Tycho and Gabe from Penny Arcade
Personal Quote: Courage is simply another name for foolhardiness
Interests
Hooray! Well, I've been freaking busy, and with good reason.  The wedding is 47 days away.  I believe final count of invitations filled out will hit somewhere over 100, 80 of which were done in a flat six-hour power-addressing session by myself.

I realize I don't post here very often, so I'll update a bit on my life.  Obviously, the wedding is going fantastic.  Yay me there.  Other big things in my life:

Am recovering from nasty car accident I was in back in December.  Long story short, I was sideswiped by a car going 85 miles per hour as I was standing on the side of the road.  Had a broken arm, nasty head wound, and lots of bruising, but I'm doing good now.  My last doctor appointment is coming up in less than a week, and then I get to start insurance battles.

Because of the accident, I took a semester off of school and now can't graduate until this coming May.  I'm a bit pissed about that, but there's nothing I can really do about it.

I also started a pagan organization where I live, now called the Northern Colorado Covenant of the River.  We've got an extremely solid five members that have been going almost since the start, got rid of a few bad eggs, and are beginning to grow again.

And I do believe that's all the really important stuff.

Comments


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:iconvinyasa:
vinyasa Featured By Owner Nov 8, 2006
so many essays! :clap:
Let me read 'em one by one...
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:iconrubaiyat:
Rubaiyat Featured By Owner Nov 30, 2004
hellos. your livejournal led me here. I'm on your friends list.... but I'll let you guess who I am. ^_~ (if you find this).
Reply
:iconrinyavie:
Rinyavie Featured By Owner Nov 30, 2004   Writer
I'm gonna guess shadowboxspectr? *hides face* I'm so horrible at these games! :P
Reply
:iconrubaiyat:
Rubaiyat Featured By Owner Dec 1, 2004
ooh! she guesses well!

though my LEGAL identity still isn't here. Rathermore, my REAL one. =p
Reply
:iconjelliclecat:
jelliclecat Featured By Owner May 9, 2004
Thanks for the wacth! :D
Reply
:iconfret:
fret Featured By Owner May 6, 2004
Random Deviant Stop!
Reply
:iconjudin:
Judin Featured By Owner May 5, 2004  Student Writer
Wow, you are good. That dog is adorable and your poems are great! Thank you for befriending me!

:butterflytwo:
Reply
:iconrinyavie:
Rinyavie Featured By Owner May 5, 2004   Writer
Thanks!
Reply
:iconmyriadstars:
myriadstars Featured By Owner May 2, 2004   Photographer
thanks for the watch :heart:
Reply
:iconparadegritar:
paradegritar Featured By Owner Apr 22, 2004  Professional General Artist
thank you sooo much for your lovely comment on my angel praying... and of course for the favourite!! :heart:
Reply
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