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10 Essential Tips to Find That Perfect Corporate Gift

Your regarded customers, steadfast clients and stunning representatives are your most significant resource. The correct blessing picked with care and consideration will fortify connections, regardless of whether to remunerate accomplishment or commend achievement. Why settle for a conventional blessing when you can dazzle with the phenomenal?

I have assembled the fundamental tips to locate that corporate blessing.

Simply read on

1) Must Always Select A Quality Gift

As a matter of first importance, you should choose a blessing that you would be glad to put your organization name on. Your client and customers are destined to accept your blessing as an impression of how you view and worth relationship with them.

On the off chance that your initial introduction taking a gander at the blessing, is floating towards it being modest or normally accessible stuff, odds are that they will see precisely the same way.

2) Always and Always Check Corporate Policies

In all honesty, numerous associat…

Everything Is Burning

Every Thought...

Week 34: The Fire Sermon

Now and then I feel compelled to rewrite an established text, as here with The Fire Sermon: a translation, though I do not know the language; a restatement, yet I want to make it my own.


08/19:

  TWL, Lines 307-311: Augustine, Buddha and Jesus

  307     To Carthage then I came
  308     Burning   burning   burning   burning

  309     O Lord Thou pluckest me out
  310     O Lord Thou pluckest

  311     burning

307. CARTHAGE, literally “new city,” second home of Queen Dido and the site of her tragic affair with Aeneus (see Virgil, Aeneid (note 92), was for St. Augustine a new world.  See Augustine, Confessions (398 AD) 3.1.1, as cited by Eliot (translation not identified).

Eliot: “V. St. Augustine’s Confessions: ‘to Carthage then I came, where a cauldron of unholy loves sang all about mine ears.’”

See also Confessions 10.16.25 (tr. E. B. Pusey, 1838):

  “For thus do I remember Carthage, thus all places where I have been, thus men's faces whom I have seen, and things reported by the other senses; thus the health or sickness of the body.”

Augustine, born in Thagaste, North Africa, in what is now Algeria, first moved to Carthage, now in neighboring Tunisia, for schooling at the age of 16.  From the start he struggled between  his faith and the hedonistic lifestyle of the “subverters” he saw all around him.  See Confessions 3.3.6.  See also Confessions 8.7.17:

  “But I wretched, most wretched, in the very commencement of my early youth, had begged chastity of Thee, and said, ‘Give me chastity and continency, only not yet.’  For I feared lest Thou shouldest hear me soon, and soon cure me of the disease of concupiscence, which I wished to have satisfied, rather than extinguished.”

At the age of 19, Augustine returned to Thagaste to teach, and while there he became greatly disturbed at the death of a close friend (compare Eliot’s loss of his friend Jean Verdenal, note 42), causing him to return to Carthage two years later.

Augustine converted to Christianity relatively late in life, at the age of 34, after being especially moved by a random passage from Romans 13:13-14 (see Confessions 8.12.29):

  “Not in rioting and drunkenness, not in chambering and wantonness, not in strife and envying, but put on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make no provision for the flesh to fulfill the lusts thereof.”

See also Confessions 10.6.8-9, and compare this to Eliot’s tour of the classical elements (notes 0.5, 26):

  “This is it which I love when I love my God.  And what is this?  I asked the earth, and it answered me, ‘I am not He’; and whatsoever are in it confessed the same. I asked the sea and the deeps, and the living creeping things, and they answered, ‘We are not thy God, seek above us.’ I asked the moving air; and the whole air with his inhabitants answered, ‘Anaximenes was deceived, I am not God.’ I asked the heavens, sun, moon, stars, ‘Nor (say they) are we the God whom thou seekest.’ And I replied unto all the things which encompass the door of my flesh: ‘Ye have told me of my God, that ye are not He; tell me something of Him.’ And they cried out with a loud voice, ‘He made us.’”

Finally, see Confessions 10.27.38:

  “Too late loved I Thee, O Thou Beauty of ancient days, yet ever new! too late I loved Thee! And behold, Thou wert within, and I abroad, and there I searched for Thee; deformed I, plunging amid those fair forms which Thou hadst made. Thou wert with me, but I was not with Thee. Things held me far from Thee, which, unless they were in Thee, were not at all. Thou calledst, and shoutedst, and burstest my deafness. Thou flashedst, shonest, and scatteredst my blindness. Thou breathedst odours, and I drew in breath and panted for Thee. I tasted, and hunger and thirst. Thou touchedst me, and I burned for Thy peace.”

308. BURNING: Following the image of Augustine’s cauldron (note 307), see Shakespeare, Macbeth 4.1.10-11 for the witches’ chorus:

  “Double, Double toil and trouble:
  Fire, burn; and cauldron, bubble.”

See also the witches call of “‘Tis time, tis time,” at note 141.

For another reference to burning, see Joyce, Ulysses (note 111).

THE FIRE SERMON: Eliot: “The complete text of the Buddha's Fire Sermon, (which corresponds in importance to the Sermon on the Mount) from which these words are taken, will be found translated in the late Henry Clarke Warren's Buddhism in Translation (Harvard Oriental Series). Mr. Warren was one of the great pioneers of Buddhist studies in the Occident.”
The Fire Sermon is a central Buddhist text. See Siddhartha Gautama Buddha, Adittapariyaya Sutta, Samyutta Nikaya 35.28 (483 BCE, tr. Warren, 1896)):

  “The eye, O priests, is on fire; forms are on fire; eye-consciousness is on fire; impressions received by the eye are on fire; and whatever sensation, pleasant, unpleasant, or indifferent,  originates in dependence on impressions received by the eye, that also is on fire. And with what are these on fire? With the fire of passions, say I, with the fire of hatred, with the fire of infatuation, with birth, old age, death, sorrow, lamentation, misery, grief, and despair are they on fire.

  ...Perceiving this, O priests, the learned and noble disciple conceives an aversion for the eye, conceives an aversion for forms, an aversion for eye-consciousness, an aversion for the impressions received by the eye; and whatever sensation, pleasant, unpleasant, or indifferent, originates in dependence on impressions received by the eye.

  ...And in conceiving this aversion, he becomes divested of passion, and by the absence of passion he becomes free, and when he is free he becomes aware that he is free; and he knows that rebirth is exhausted, that he has lived the holy life, that he has done what it behooved him to do, and that he is no more for this world.”

THE EYE, throughout this poem, is veiled or averted: it fails (line 39), is forbidden (line 54), fixes on the feet (line 65), hides behind wings (line 81), presses lidless (line 138), weeps (line 182), turns upward from the desk (line 216) and is covered, then opened (lines 360-363).  See also note 219 for the spectrum of perceptiveness in this poem.

311. PLUCKED OUT: Eliot: “From St. Augustine's Confessions again. The collocation of these two representatives of eastern and western asceticism, as the culmination of this part of the poem, is not an accident.”

See Confessions (note 307) 10.34.53:

  “And I, though I speak and see this, entangle my steps with these outward beauties; but Thou pluckest me out, O Lord, Thou pluckest me out; because Thy loving-kindness is before my eyes. For I am taken miserably, and Thou pluckest me out mercifully;  sometimes not perceiving it, when I had but lightly lighted upon them; otherwhiles with pain, because I had stuck fast in them.”

Augustine’s reference to being plucked out mercifully comes from Psalm 25:15:

  “Mine eyes are ever toward the Lord; for he shall pluck my feet out of the net.”

But for a different kind of plucking, see Matthew 5:29:

  “And if thy right eye offend thee, pluck it out, and cast it from thee: for it is profitable for thee that one of thy members should perish, and not that thy whole body should be cast into hell.”

THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT, the source for this merciless plucking, turns everything around.  At Eliot’s own prompting, compare the ascetic representations (note 309) of Buddha’s Fire Sermon and St. Augustine’s Confessions with the  “corresponding importance “ (note 308) of Jesus’s Sermon on the Mount, his most extensively preserved public speech delivered at the beginning of his ministry, not long after he had been tested in the wilderness.  The Sermon includes many well known lessons, such as the Beatitudes, the Lord’s Prayer and the salt and light metaphors; see Matthew 5: 13, 14:
 
  “Ye are the salt of the earth... Ye are the light of the world”

...but also some harsh morality checks.  Following the above eye plucking passage, which spoke the one whose eye wanders lustfully towards adultery, consider this extension to the “eye” passage on how to react to the evil of others, at Matthew 5: 38-39:

  “Ye have heard that it hath been said, An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth: But I say unto you, That ye resist not evil: but whosoever shall smite thee on thy right cheek, turn to him the other also.”  There is also a stern turn of both the eye and the light metaphors at Matthew 6: 22-23:

  “The light of the body is the eye: if therefore thine eye be single, thy whole body shall be full of light. But if thine eye be evil, thy whole body shall be full of darkness.  If therefore the light that is in thee be darkness, how great is that darkness!”

Compare Beaumont and Fletcher, Philaster (note 28):

  “Preach to birds and beasts
  What woman is, and help to save them from you;
  How heaven is in your eyes, but in your hearts
  More hell than hell has
  ...How all the good you have is but a shadow,
  I' the morning with you, and at night behind you
  Past and forgotten.”
 
This refers back to lines 27-29: “...Your shadow at morning striding behind you / Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you.”

See also line 41: “looking into the heart of light, the silence.”

The Sermon on the Mount concludes at Matthew 7: 26-27:

  “And every one that heareth these sayings of mine, and doeth them not, shall be likened unto a foolish man, which built his house upon the sand: And the rain descended, and the floods came, and the winds blew, and beat upon that house; and it fell: and great was the fall of it.”


08/20:

  The Fire Sermon

  by Siddhartha Gautama Buddha (my own translation)

  Everything is burning, holy ones.
  And what is everything?
  The eye, holy ones, is on fire;
  the forms that pass it by are on fire;
  the eye’s own awareness is on fire;
  the impressions it receives are on fire,
  and every sensation spawned
  by the need for those impressions:
  all pleasure, pain and numbness is on fire.

  And how does the fire burn?
  With the fires of passion:
  passion burns the eye, holy ones,
  with fires of hate and lust
  and fires of delusion,
  fires of birth and age, death and sorrow,
  fires of crying and suffering,
  grieving and despairing:
  the eye with all its passions is on fire.

  And not only the eye, holy ones,
  but the ear is on fire and all that can be heard
  is burning;
  the nose is on fire and all that can be smelled
  is burning;
  the tongue is on fire and all that can be tasted
  is burning;
  the body is on fire and all that can be touched
  is burning.  And sensing this, holy ones,
  the wise and honorable disciple
  learns to turn away:
  he turns away from the eye
  turns away from the forms,
  turns away from awareness,
  from impressions
  and from every sensation spawned
  by the need for those impressions,
  turns away from all that is
  pleasant, painful or numb;

  he learns to turn away
  from the ear and from what it hears,
  from the nose and from what it smells,
  from the tongue and from what it tastes,
  from the body and from all that it can touch;

  he learns to turn away from the mind
  and from ideas,
  from the mind’s awareness,
  from impressions
  and from the sensations spawned
  by the need for those impressions;
  he turns away from all that is
  pleasant, painful or numb.

  And by turning away, holy ones,
  the disciple gives up all passions,
  and when he leaves the fires of passion he is free:
  and being free he knows that he is free:
  he knows his birth is finally exhausted,
  his holy life lived, his duty done,
  and finally, holy ones,
  he is no more for this world.


8/21:
  
  Argument

  from Walled Gardens

  But what about this intellectual exercise of mine,
  stirring up the dust and shifting with the wind?
  If I can’t find my way to God unless God shows
  the way, there can be no mindless praise,
  but what about this praiseless mind of mine?
 
  And what about intelligence? The premise of creation,
  the covet of my soul is the core of my design,
  yet it’s nothing but a word, only one of many spoken,
  and it’s keeping me in place. I’m sworn to intelligence,
  another soldier standing at the gate.
  If love is perfected by love reciprocated,
  why must my intelligence be tethered to the ground?
  My mind, my very soul, is confounded and bewildered,
  beholden to the mind over mine.


08/22:
  
  Polishing the Mirror

  from Walled Gardens

  In time
      we are no longer
  testing the arguments
  that our experience
  will somehow
      make us stronger
  as if each pang of hunger
  itself were sustenance,
  as if the circumstance
  of age could
      make us younger.
 
  No more this
      vain pretending
  our skin gets tougher when
  we feel reality
      burn like the sun.
  We are born to suffer and
  bear our mortality;
  there will be
      no happy ending
  before this
      day is done.

 But this too
      is from the sun:
  a secondary fire cast
  from rippling waters,
  a flashing picture
  of the waters’ movement
      brushed upon the wall,
  and you start to see that
  everything is a mirror
  of a higher power
      of aboriginal light;

  But this too
      is from the sun:
  the bent reflection
  of passing souls
  on a dagger’s face
  whose verging angle
  and sharpened edge
      turn angels into devils,
  and you let your dagger
  talk to you, but it
  never tells you
  what is true
      or what is false.

 In time
      all secondary
  images turn to gray,
  stealing the light of day
  and leaving
      ordinary
  impressions on the mirror
  of our mortality,
  yet we may never see
  a time when
      truth shines clearer.
 
  No more this
      disregarding
  what keeps our darkened hearts
  strong: each determined beat
      comes from the sun,
  and every spark imparts
  the sun’s eternity
  of truth that
      keeps on burning
  after the
      day is done.

  And this too
      is from the sun.


08/23:
  
  Turning To The Sun

  from Walled Gardens

  My heart is but a mirror in the fog
  of my own hypocrisy; my very soul
  is stained by the rust of doubt and unbelief,
  and the fog won’t lift and the rust won’t go away.
 
  God knows I’ve tried to make this mirror shine
  but all I have is spit and vinegar,
  a sprayer of hate and a rag of hostility,
  and the fog won’t lift and the rust won’t go away.

  “Faith,” I’m told, “will make your mirror shine:
  faith and the unstained virtue of your creed.”
  And so I turn my mirror to the sun
  and through the darkness I begin to pray:
  “Create in me a clean heart, O God,
  renew my spirit, help my unbelief

  ...that the fog would lift and the rust would go away.”


08/24:
  
  The Sun, Continued

  from Walled Gardens

  But if I hold my mirror to the sun,
  I can’t pretend the two of these are one
  and same: although the image of the sun
  is in the mirror, it is not the sun
  itself; likewise the mirror itself is one
  thing and the image is another. One
  may never know a thing about the sun
  and still reflect its light, just as the sun
  may shine its rays of light on everyone
  but never be diminished. I am one
  who looks through cloudy skies, and I am one
  whose eyes are sometimes clouded, so the sun
  and what I would perceive are not the same;
  whatever else, the sun is not to blame.


08/25:
  
  Moleskin 4.6: My Life As A Kid


Don’s sister, his only sibling, lived with her husband halfway between our old townhome and our old apartment. Their daughter, an only child, was the apple of her uncle’s eye. The balance of his attention was sure to change in the years ahead, but I wasn’t sensing it that summer. All I saw was an old habit-worn bachelor stubbornly set in his ways, and whatever care he had for kids and family was obscured by caricature. He kept stacks of Playboys in a basement file cabinet. He had regular poker nights with the guys. He brandished a heavy sassage accent and gave my mother a monosyllabic nickname. He showed a humorous type-A charm to everyone in the rooms he entered —everyone, that is, except for kids. As if to prove the point, he kept a W. C. Fields poster on one of the walls of his house long after stepsons intruded, telling us in the clearest terms: “I never met a kid I liked.” Our new cousin, it seems, had been an exception, but we were given the rule.

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