detachment

She felt detached from all aspects of her life. She had no time anymore to feel. All that time she used to waste feeling, and analyzing her feelings, as if they were a matter of national significance.

What did I get in return? Coldness and emotional detachment. You are selfish and bitter and you wouldn__ know a good thing if it fell out of the sky at your feet.

Life is a combo of attachment and detachment. Love is the most natural thing and you are bound to get attached to persons, places and things. However, while getting attached so, you should know that all these attachments too have an expiry date. It's exactly at that point that the art of detachment helps. Persons, places and things are meant for specific periods in life after which you should know how to let go and embrace newer things. The world is beautiful and you should have belief in Him.

(John F.) Kennedy was an elitist and not a populist. He was enthralled by a certain British aristocratic view of politics in which an enlightened ruling class makes reasoned, rational decisions that are in the interest of the more emotional and easily manipulated masses.

Manifest plainness,Embrace simplicity,Reduce selfishness,Have few desires.

There are, of course, the people who revolve around themselves--but I agree with you, she's not one of that kind. She's totally uninterested in herself. And yet she's got a strong character--there must be something. I thought at first it was her art--but it isn't. I've never met anyone so detached from life. That's dangerous.''Dangerous? What do you mean?''Well, you see--it must mean an obsession of some kind, and obsessions are always dangerous.

There is a world of difference between the experienceof 'care' _ the wiping of a bottom, the bathing of a body: basicbiological obligations _ and the intimacy that makes us wantto live.

I should not mistake her calm probing for the absence of anger.

I used to think I was in love with Mia because she was in love with me. Now when I watch her strutting down the runway, twisting and flouncing the way her mother trained her, I know she's just a human coat hanger. A wired body I hold late at night and try to fit into.

A Sufi is one who is not bound by anything nor does he bind anything

I am alone. My heart beats only for myself. The strikers mean nothing to me. I have nothing in common with the mob, nor with individuals. I am a cold person. In the war I did not feel I was part of my company. We all lay in the same mud and waited for the same death. But I could think only about my own life and death. I would step over corpses and it oftened saddened me that I could feel no pain.

Detachment is a basic requirement for seeking enlightenment. Anyone or anything we are attached to has power to manipulate us although we all have freedom to choose.

Technologies of the soul tend to be simple, bodily, slow and related to the heart as much as the mind. Everything around us tells us we should be mechanically sophisticated, electronic, quick, and informational in our expressiveness - an exact antipode to the virtues of the soul. It is no wonder, then, that in an age of telecommunications - which, by the way, literally means "distant connections" - we suffer symptoms of the loss of soul. We are being urged from every side to become efficient rather than intimate.

As the twelfth-century Tibetian yogi Milarepa said when he heard of his student Gampopa's peak experiences, 'They are neither good nor bad. Keep meditating.'

The possessions themselves were not the problem, it was my relationship with possessing.

It was my letting go that gave me a better hold.

However, the serious seeker of detachment will have to embrace the Holy Trinity of Ss - Solitude, Stillness and Silence - and reject the new religion of Commotionism, which believes that the meaning of life is constant company, movement and noise.

The sight of the wall of water outside reassured me, giving me the idea that it made very little difference whether I stayed with her, or set out alone on my journey that had neither visible starting point nor destination. It didn't matter: since, however closely I became involved with another existence, my own world would always remain secret, inaccessible and shut-off; nobody would ever see me, except as a dim, changeable, wavering shadow, through its impenetrable, semi-opaque walls.