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Books by James Swartz
ISAVASYA UPANISHAD
Knowledge of Truth (Tattva Bodh)
Self Knowledge (Atma Bodh)
Crown Jewell of Discrimnation
Meditation Inquiry Into the Self
The Mystery Beyond the Trinity
Experience And Knowledge
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Epub (for IPAD & tablets)
Mobi (for Kindle)
Reflections on Relationships
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Epub (for IPAD & tablets)
Mobi (for Kindle)
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Pay postage and it's yours. Email swartz.jb@ gmail.com with your address and send $5 cash to James Swartz, 1919 SE 31st Ave Portland, Oregon 97214. Limited number available.
From MEDITATION, INQUIRY INTO THE SELF
By James Swartz
The business of life is the business of happiness. Because we feel limited with respect to happiness, everyone is fully engaged every minute trying to attain happiness. When I take a job, fall in love, read a book, eat a meal, go to the dentist, pray or meditate, I expect the activity and/or its results to make me feel better than I do at the moment. No matter how good I feel I can always imagine a state of greater happiness. If I am miserable, my actions will be calculated to remove or lessen the misery, a situation I view as an increase in happiness. When a better state is inconceivable, I refrain from activities that might compromise it. The world’s tropical beaches are packed with people flat on their backs, not moving a muscle.
Everything is done for the sake of happiness. Some accumulate money, not necessarily for itself, but for the happiness it supposedly brings. Others seek happiness in life threatening sports because they produce a high, an aliveness beyond the normal state. We ingest chemicals, pills, drink and drugs to change our state of mind for the better. Belief in God is not intended to make one miserable. Nobody gets married to suffer.
At first glance happiness seems to be the result of activities. I jog, garden, meditate or ski and feel happy. But if happiness were in an activity, the activity should produce happiness for anyone who performed it. Giving away millions makes philanthropists happy. Letting go of a dime is anathema to a miser. A granny who knits for fun will not take pleasure in bungee jumping.
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From MYSTIC BY DEFAULT
By James Swartz
I cannot begin to count the times I blew into town hoping to meet a glorious destiny, only to encounter my own very limited self sitting in the corner of a crummy vermin-infested cafe in an overpopulated third-world country sipping bitter tea and resentfully observing thoughts as dark as the natives marching across my consciousness.
Although wanted to believe that my suffering was profoundly romantic, it was hopelessly banal. I experienced homesickness, longed for the touch of a woman, worried over dwindling resources, struggled with my addictions and suffered the gratuitous vanity that my greatness had yet to receive its due from an indifferent and capricious world.
Superficially I was as strong, confident and clever as I could hope to be, but I questioned everything, a practice not conducive to happiness. I was quickly coming to the conclusion that the puzzle of my being would not be solved by lonely introspection or a life of adventurous distractions. I needed help.
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