barn's burnt down -- now I can see the moon. - Mizuta Masahide

 

Amor Fati

(love of fate)

The time is now past when accidents could befall me; 

and what could now fall to my lot

 which would not already be my own!

~ Nietzsche

from Thus Spake Zarathustra

...

It is said that before entering the sea

A river trembles with fear.

She looks back at the path she has travelled,

from the peaks of the mountains, 

the long winding road crossing forests and villages.

And in front of her, she sees an ocean so vast, 

that to enter there seems nothing more than to disappear forever.

But there is no other way.

The river can not go back.

Nobody can go back.

To go back is impossible in existence.

The river needs to take the risk of entering the ocean

 because only then will fear disappear

 because that’s where the river will know

 it’s not about disappearing into the ocean,

 but of becoming the ocean.

~ Khalil Gibran

pain and healing

And a woman spoke, saying, Tell us of Pain.
And he said:

Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding.
Even as the stone of the fruit must break, that its heart may stand in the sun, 
so must you know pain.
And could you keep your heart in wonder at the daily miracles of your life, 
your pain would not seem less wondrous than your joy;
And you would accept the seasons of your heart, 
even as you have always accepted the seasons that pass over your fields.
And you would watch with serenity through the winters of your grief.

Much of your pain is self-chosen,
It is the bitter potion by which the physician within you heals your sick self.
Therefore trust the physician, and drink his remedy in silence and tranquility:
For his hand, though heavy and hard, is guided by the tender hand of the Unseen,
And the cup he brings, though it burn your lips, 
has been fashioned of the clay which the Potter has moistened 
with His own sacred tears.

~ Kahlil Gibran

from The Prophet

 art by Sean Lewis

sighs from the deep sea of affection

I am dotted silver threads dropped from heaven 

By the gods. Nature then takes me, to adorn 

Her fields and valleys. 

I am beautiful pearls, plucked from the 

Crown of Ishtar by the daughter of Dawn 

To embellish the gardens. 

When I cry the hills laugh; 

When I humble myself the flowers rejoice; 

When I bow, all things are elated. 

The field and the cloud are lovers 

And between them I am a messenger of mercy. 

I quench the thirst of one; 

I cure the ailment of the other. 

The voice of thunder declares my arrival; 

The rainbow announces my departure. 

I am like earthly life, which begins at 

The feet of the mad elements and ends 

Under the upraised wings of death. 

I emerge from the heard of the sea 

Soar with the breeze. When I see a field in 

Need, I descend and embrace the flowers and 

The trees in a million little ways. 

I touch gently at the windows with my 

Soft fingers, and my announcement is a 

Welcome song. All can hear, but only 

The sensitive can understand. 

The heat in the air gives birth to me, 

But in turn I kill it, 

As woman overcomes man with 

The strength she takes from him. 

I am the sigh of the sea; 

The laughter of the field; 

The tears of heaven. 

So with love - 

Sighs from the deep sea of affection; 

Laughter from the colorful field of the spirit; 

Tears from the endless heaven of memories.

~ Kahlil Gibran

from Tears and Laughter

out of my deeper heart

Out of my deeper heart a bird rose and flew skyward.

Higher and higher did it rise, yet larger and larger did it grow.

At first it was but like a swallow, then a lark, then an eagle,
 then as vast as a spring cloud, and then it filled the starry heavens.

Out of my heart a bird flew skyward. 
And it waxed larger as it flew. 
 Yet it left not my heart.

~ Kahlil Gibran

from The Forerunner, His Parables and Poems

art by  Shel Waldman

the river of silence

 

You would know the secret of death.

 But how shall you find it unless you seek it in the heart of life?

 The owl whose night-bound eyes are blind unto the day 

cannot unveil the mystery of light. 

If you would indeed behold the spirit of death,

open your heart wide unto the body of life.

 For life and death are one, 

even as the river and the sea are one.

In the depth of your hopes and desires lies your silent knowledge of the beyond; 

And like seeds dreaming beneath the snow your heart dreams of spring.

 Trust the dreams, for in them is hidden the gate to eternity. 

Your fear of death is but the trembling of the shepherd 

when he stands before the king whose hand is to be laid upon him in honour.

 Is the shepherd not joyful beneath his trembling, 

that he shall wear the mark of the king?

Yet is he not more mindful of his trembling?

For what is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and to melt into the sun? 

And what is it to cease breathing, but to free the breath

 from its restless tides, that it may rise and expand

 and seek God unencumbered?

Only when you drink from the river of silence shall you indeed sing. 

And when you have reached the mountain top, then you shall begin to climb. 

And when the earth shall claim your limbs,

 then shall you truly dance.

~ Kahlil Gibran

from The Prophet

fear - disappearing and becomming

 

It is said that before entering the sea

A river trembles with fear.

She looks back at the path she has travelled,

from the peaks of the mountains, 

the long winding road crossing forests and villages.

And in front of her,

 she sees an ocean so vast,

 that to enter

 there seems nothing more than to disappear forever.

But there is no other way.

The river can not go back.

Nobody can go back.

To go back is impossible in existence.

The river needs to take the risk 

of entering the ocean 

because only then will fear disappear 

because that’s where the river will know 

it’s not about disappearing

 into the ocean, but of becoming the ocean.

~ Kahlil Gibran

image by Timisu

let the spirit move your lips and direct your tongue

You talk when you cease to be at peace with your thoughts;

And when you can no longer dwell in the solitude of your heart

you live in your lips, and sound is a diversion and a pastime.

And in much of your talking, thinking is half murdered.

For thought is a bird of space, that in a cage of words

may indeed unfold its wings but cannot fly.

There are those among you who seek the talkative

through fear of being alone.

The silence of aloneness reveals to their eyes

their naked selves and they would escape.

And there are those who talk, and without knowledge

or forethought reveal a truth which they themselves do not understand.

And there are those who have the truth within them,

but they tell it not in words.

In the bosom of such as these

the spirit dwells in rhythmic silence.

~ Kahlil Gibran

from The Prophet

art by Andrea Dezsö

with thanks to The Marginalian 

by Maria Popova

of crime and punishment

 

 

Then one of the judges of the city stood forth and said,

 Speak to us of Crime and Punishment. 

 

 And he answered, saying: It is when your spirit goes wandering upon the wind, 

 That you, alone and unguarded, commit a wrong unto others and therefore unto yourself.

 

 And for that wrong committed must you knock and wait a while 

unheeded at the gate of the blessed. Like the ocean is your god-self;

 It remains for ever undefiled. And like the ether it lifts but the winged.

 

 Even like the sun is your god-self; It knows not the ways of the mole

 nor seeks it the holes of the serpent. But your god-self dwells not alone in your being. 

 

 Much in you is still man, and much in you is not yet man, 

But a shapeless pigmy that walks asleep in the mist searching for its own awakening.

 And of the man in you would I now speak. For it is he and not your god-self 

nor the pygmy in the mist, that knows crime and the punishment of crime.


Oftentimes have I heard you speak
of one who commits a wrong as though
he were not one of you…
but a stranger unto you
and an intruder upon your world…

But I say that even as the holy and the righteous
cannot rise beyond the highest
which is in each one of you,
So the wicked and the weak
cannot fall lower than the lowest
which is in you also…

And as a single leaf turns not yellow
but with the silent knowledge of the whole tree,
So the wrong-doer cannot do wrong
without the hidden will of you all…

Like a procession you walk together towards your god-self. 

 You are the way and the wayfarers. And when one of you falls down

 he falls for those behind him, a caution against the stumbling stone.

 

 Ay, and he falls for those ahead of him, who though faster and surer of foot, 

yet removed not the stumbling stone. And this also, though the word

lie heavy upon your hearts: The murdered is not unaccountable for his own murder,

 And the robbed is not blameless in being robbed. The righteous is not innocent 

of the deeds of the wicked, And the white-handed is not clean in the doings of the felon.

 

 Yea, the guilty is oftentimes the victim of the injured,

 And still more often the condemned is the burden bearer for the guiltless and unblamed. 

 You cannot separate the just from the unjust and the good from the wicked;

 For they stand together before the face of the sun even as the black thread

 and the white are woven together. And when the black thread breaks

 the weaver shall look into the whole cloth, and he shall examine the loom also. 

 

 If any of you would bring to judgement the unfaithful wife, 

Let him also weigh the heart of her husband in scales, and measure his soul

 with measurements. And let him who would lash the offender look 

unto the spirit of the offended. And if any of you would punish 

in the name of righteousness and lay the ax unto the evil tree,

 let him see to its roots; And verily he will find the roots of the good 

and the bad, the fruitful and the fruitless, all entwined together in the silent heart

 of the earth.

 

 And you judges who would be just, What judgement pronounce you upon him

 who though honest in the flesh yet is the thief in spirit? What penalty

 lay you upon him who slays in the flesh yet is himself slain in the spirit? 

 And how prosecute you him who in action is a deceiver and an oppressor, 

Yet who also is aggrieved and outraged? And how shall you punish 

those whose remorse is already greater than their misdeeds? 

 

 Is not remorse the justice which is administered by that very law

 which you would fain serve? Yet you cannot lay remorse upon the innocent 

nor lift it from the heart of the guilty. Unbidden shall it call in the night, 

that men may wake and gaze upon themselves. And you who would understand justice,

 how shall you unless you look upon all deeds in the fullness of light? 

 

Only then shall you know that the erect and the fallen

 are but one man standing in twilight between the night of his pigmy-self 

and the day of his god-self, And that the corner-stone of the temple

 is not higher than the lowest stone in its foundation. 

 

 

~ Kahlil Gibran

 from The Prophet

with thanks to love is a place

self-knowledge

 

 

 

And a man said, Speak to us of Self-Knowledge.

And he answered saying:

Your hearts know in silence the secrets of the days and the nights.

But your ears thirst for the sound of your heart’s knowledge.

You would know in words that which you have always known in thought.

You would touch with your fingers the naked body of your dreams.

And it is well you should.

The hidden well-spring of your soul must needs rise and run murmuring to the sea;

And the treasure of your infinite depths would be revealed to your eyes.

But let there be no scales to weigh your unknown treasure;

And seek not the depths of your knowledge with staff or sounding line.

For self is a sea boundless and measureless.

Say not, “I have found the truth,” but rather, “I have found a truth.”

Say not, “I have found the path of the soul.” Say rather, “I have met the soul walking upon my path.”

For the soul walks upon all paths.

The soul walks not upon a line, neither does it grow like a reed.

The soul unfolds itself, like a lotus of countless petals.

 

 

 

~ Kahlil Gibran

from The Prophet

art by Picasso

 

 

 

 

mother

 

 

 

 

 The most beautiful word on the lips of mankind is the word “Mother,”
and the most beautiful call is the call of “My mother.”
It is a word full of hope and love,
a sweet and kind word coming from the depths of the heart.

The mother is everything –
she is our consolation in sorrow,
our hope in misery, and our strength in weakness.
She is the source of love, mercy, sympathy, and forgiveness….

Everything in nature bespeaks the mother.
The sun is the mother of earth and gives it its nourishment of heart;
it never leaves the universe at night until it has put the earth to sleep
to the song of the sea and the hymn of birds and brooks.

And this earth is the mother of trees and flowers.
It produces them, nurses them, and weans them.
The trees and flowers become kind mothers of their great fruits and seeds.
And the mother, the prototype of all existence,
is the eternal spirit, full of beauty and love.

 

 



 ~ Kahlil  Gibran

talk

You talk when you cease to be at peace with your thoughts;
And when you can no longer dwell in the solitude of your heart

 you live in your lips, and sound is a diversion and a pastime.
And in much of your talking, thinking is half murdered.
For thought is a bird of space, that in a cage of words may indeed

 unfold its wings but cannot fly.

There are those among you who seek the talkative through fear of being alone.
The silence of aloneness reveals to their eyes their naked selves 

and they would escape.

And there are those who talk, and without knowledge or forethought

 reveal a truth which they themselves do not understand.
And there are those who have the truth within them, but they tell it not in words.
In the bosom of such as these the spirit dwells in rhythmic silence.

When you meet your friend on the roadside

or in the marketplace, let the spirit in

you move your lips and direct your tongue.

Let the voice within your voice speak to the

ear of his ear...

~ Kahlil Gibran

from The Prophet

 

the madman

.

You ask me how I became a madman.  It happened thus:  
One day, long before many gods were born,  I woke from a deep sleep
 and found all my masks were stolen, - the seven masks I have fashioned
 and worn in seven lives, - I ran maskless through the crowded streets shouting,
 "Thieves, thieves, and cursed thieves."

Men and women laughed at me and some ran to their houses in fear of me.

And when I reached the market place, a youth standing on a house-top cried,
 "He is a madman."  I looked up to behold him; the sun kissed my own naked face for the first time.  For the first time the sun kissed my own naked face and my soul was inflamed with love for the sun, and I wanted my masks no more.  And as if in a trance I cried, "Blessed, blessed are the thieves who stole my masks."

Thus I became a madman.

And I have found both freedom and safety in my madness;  
the freedom of loneliness and the safety from being understood,
 for those who understand us enslave something in us.

But let me not be too proud of my safety. 
 Even a Thief in jail is safe from another thief.

~ Kahlil Gibran

from The Madman his Parables and Poems

art Ludwig Kirchner

my fulfillment

.

In the ancient days, when the first quiver of speech came to my lips,
 I ascended the holy mountain and spoke unto God, saying,
 "Master, I am thy slave,  Thy hidden will is my law and 
I shall obey thee for ever more."  

But God made no answer, and like a mighty tempest passed away.

And after a thousand years I ascended the holy mountain 
and again spoke unto God, saying, "Creator, I am thy creation. 

 Out of clay hast thou fashioned me and to thee I owe mine all."

And God made no answer, but like a thousand swift wings passed away.

And after a thousand years I climbed the holy mountain 
and spoke unto God again, saying, "Father, I am thy son. 
 In pity and love thou hast given me birth, and through love 
and worship I shall inherit thy kingdom."

And God made no answer, and like the mist that veils the distant hills he passed away.

And after a thousand years I climbed the sacred mountain
 and again spoke to God, saying, " my God, my aim and my fulfillment;
 I am thy yesterday and thou art my tomorrow,  I am thy root in the earth
 and thou art my flower in the sky, and together we grow before the face of the sun."

Then God leaned over me, and in my ears whispered words of sweetness,
 and even as the sea that enfoldeth a brook that runneth down to her,
 he enfolded me.

And when I descended to the valleys and the plains God was there also.

~ Kahlil Gibran

from Poems, Parables and Drawings

the solitude of the other

 art by Ralf Winkler

I hold this to be the highest task of a bond between two people: 

that each should stand guard over the solitude of the other.

 For, if it lies in the nature of indifference and of the crowd to recognize no solitude,

 then love and friendship are there for the purpose of continually providing

 the opportunity for solitude. And only those are the true sharings

 which rhythmically interrupt periods of deep isolation...

All companionship can consist only in the strengthening of two neighboring solitudes,

 whereas everything that one is wont to call giving oneself is by nature 

harmful to companionship: for when a person abandons himself, 

he is no longer anything, and when two people both give themselves up

 in order to come close to each other, there is no longer

 any ground beneath them...

once the realization is accepted that even between the closest human beings

 infinite distances continue to exist, a wonderful living side by side can grow up,

 if they succeed in loving the distance between them which makes it possible

 for each to see the other whole and against a wide sky!


~ Rainer Maria Rilke
from Rilke on Love and Other Difficulties:
 Translations and Considerations

Let there be spaces in your togetherness,
And let the winds of the heavens dance between you.

Love one another but make not a bond of love:
Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls.
Fill each other’s cup but drink not from one cup.
Give one another of your bread but eat not from the same loaf.
Sing and dance together and be joyous, but let each one of you be alone,
Even as the strings of a lute are alone though they quiver with the same music.

Give your hearts, but not into each other’s keeping.
For only the hand of Life can contain your hearts.
And stand together, yet not too near together:
For the pillars of the temple stand apart,
And the oak tree and the cypress grow not

 in each other’s shadow.

 ~ Kahlil Gibran

from The Prophet
 

 art by Odilon Redon

on giving

You give but little when you give of your possessions.
It is when you give of yourself that you truly give.
For what are your possessions but things you keep and guard for fear you may need them tomorrow?
And tomorrow, what shall tomorrow bring to the over-prudent dog burying bones in the trackless sand as he follows the pilgrims to the holy city?
And what is fear of need but need itself?
Is not dread of thirst when your well is full, the thirst that is unquenchable?

There are those who give little of the much which they have--and they give it for recognition and their hidden desire makes their gifts unwholesome.
And there are those who have little and give it all.
These are the believers in life and the bounty of life, and their coffer is never empty.
There are those who give with joy, and that joy is their reward.
And there are those who give with pain, and that pain is their baptism.
And there are those who give and know not pain in giving, nor do they seek joy, nor give with mindfulness of virtue;
They give as in yonder valley the myrtle breathes its fragrance into space.
Through the hands of such as these God speaks, and from behind their eyes He smiles upon the earth.

It is well to give when asked, but it is better to give unasked, through understanding;
And to the open-handed the search for one who shall receive is joy greater than giving.
And is there aught you would withhold?
All you have shall some day be given;
Therefore give now, that the season of giving may be yours and not your inheritors'.

You often say, "I would give, but only to the deserving."
The trees in your orchard say not so, nor the flocks in your pasture.
They give that they may live, for to withhold is to perish.
Surely he who is worthy to receive his days and his nights, is worthy of all else from you.
And he who has deserved to drink from the ocean of life deserves to fill his cup from your little stream.
And what desert greater shall there be, than that which lies in the courage and the confidence, nay the charity, of receiving?
And who are you that men should rend their bosom and unveil their pride, that you may see their worth naked and their pride unabashed?
See first that you yourself deserve to be a giver, and an instrument of giving.
For in truth it is life that gives unto life while you, who deem yourself a giver, are but a witness.

And you receivers... and you are all receivers... assume no weight of gratitude, lest you lay a yoke upon yourself and upon him who gives.
Rather rise together with the giver on his gifts as on wings;
For to be overmindful of your debt, is to doubt his generosity who has the freehearted earth for mother, and God for father.

~ Kahlil Gibran

identity and safety

You ask me how I became a madman.  It happened thus:  One day, long before many gods were born,  I woke from a deep sleep and found all my masks were stolen, - the seven masks I have fashioned and worn in seven lives, - I ran mask-less through the crowded streets shouting, "Thieves, thieves, and cursed thieves."

Men and women laughed at me and some ran to their houses in fear of me.

And when I reached the market place, a youth standing on a house-top cried, "He is a madman."  I looked up to behold him; the sun kissed my own naked face for the first time.  For the first time the sun kissed my own naked face and my soul was inflamed with love for the sun, and I wanted my masks no more.  And as if in a trance I cried, "Blessed, blessed are the thieves who stole my masks."

Thus I became a madman.

And I have found both freedom and safety in my madness;  the freedom of loneliness and the safety from being understood, for those who understand us enslave something in us.

But let me not be too proud of my safety.  Even a Thief in jail is safe from another thief.

~ Kahlil Gibran

from The Madman his Parables and Poems
art by Leonardo da Vinci

my friend

My friend, I am not what I seem. 

Seeming is but a garment I wear - 

a care-worn garment that protects me from thy questionings and thee from my negligence.

The "I" in me, my friend, dwells in the house of silence, 

and therein it shall remain for ever more, unperceived, unapproachable.

When thou sayest, "The wind bloweth eastward,"  

I say, "Aye it doth blow eastward";  

for I would not have thee know that my mind doth not dwell upon the wind but upon the sea.

Thou canst not understand my seafaring thoughts, 

nor would I have thee understand.  

I would be at sea alone.

When it is day with thee, my friend, it is night with me; 

yet even then I speak of the noontide that dances upon the hills 

and of the purple shadow that steals its way across the valley;

 for thou canst not hear the songs of my darkness nor see my wings beating against the stars - 

and I fain would not have thee hear or see.  

I would be with night alone.

When thou ascendest to thy Heaven I descend to my Hell 

- even then thou callest to me across the unbridgeable gulf, " My companion, my comrade," 

- for I would not have thee see my Hell.  

The flame would burn thy eyesight and the smoke would crowd thy nostrils.  

And I love my Hell too well to have thee visit it.  

I would be in Hell alone.

Thou lovest Truth and Beauty and Righteousness; 

and I for thy sake say it is well and seemly to love these things.  

But in my heart I laugh at thy love.  

Yet I would not have thee see my laughter.  

I would laugh alone.

My friend, thou art good and cautious and wise; nay, thou art perfect 

- and I, too, speak with thee wisely and cautiously.  

And yet I am mad.  But I mask my madness. 

I would be mad alone.

My friend, thou art not my friend, 

but how shall I make thee understand?  

My path is not thy path, 

yet together we walk, hand in hand.

~  Kahlil Gibran

from Poems Parables and Drawings

.

half-knowledge

Four frogs sat upon a log that lay floating on the edge of a river. 
 Suddenly the log was caught by the current and swept slowly down the stream.  
The frogs were delighted and absorbed, for never before had they sailed.

At length the first frog spoke, and said, "This is indeed 
a most marvelous log.  It moves as if alive.  
No such log was ever known before."

Then the second frog spoke, and said, "Nay, my friend, 
the log is like other logs, and does not move. 
 It is the river, that is walking to the sea, and carries us and the log with it."

And the third frog spoke, and said, " It is neither the log 
nor the river that moves.  The moving is in our thinking.  
For without thought nothing moves."

And the three frogs began to wrangle about what was really moving.  
The quarrel grew hotter and louder, but they could not agree.

Then they turned to the fourth frog, who up to this time had been listening 
attentively but holding his peace, and they asked his opinion.

And the fourth frog said, "Each of you is right, and none of you is wrong.  
The moving is in the log and the water and our thinking also."

And the three frogs became very angry, for none of them 
was willing to admit that his was not the whole truth,
 and that the other two were not wholly wrong.

Then the strange thing happened.  The three frogs got together 
and pushed the fourth frog off the log into the river.

~ Kahlil Gibran

from Poems, Parables and Drawings

beyond my solitude

Beyond my solitude is another solitude, 
and to him who dwells therein, 
my aloneness is a crowded market-place and my silence a confusion of sounds.

Too young am I and too restless to seek that above-solitude.  
The voices of yonder valley still hold my ears, 
and its shadows bar my way and I cannot go.

Beyond these hills is a grove of enchantment and to him who dwells therein, 
my peace is but a whirlwind and my enchantment an illusion.

To young am I and too riotous to seek that sacred grove.  
The taste of blood is clinging in my mouth, 
and the bow and the arrows of my fathers yet linger in my hand and I cannot go.

Beyond this burdened self lives my freer self; and to him, 
my dreams are a battle fought in twilight and my desires, the rattling of bones.

Too young am I and too outraged to be my freer self.

And how shall I become my freer self unless I slay my burdened selves, 
or unless all men become free?

How shall my leaves fly singing upon the wind unless my roots shall wither in the dark?

How shall the eagle in me soar against the sun until my fledglings leave the nest 
which I with my own beak have built for them?

~ Kahlil Gibran

from Poems, Parables and Drawings

the stone of the fruit must break

And a woman spoke, saying, Tell us of Pain. 

And he said: Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding.

Even as the stone of the fruit must break, 

that its heart may stand in the sun, 

so must you know pain. 

And could you keep your heart in wonder at the daily miracles of your life, 

your pain would not seem less wondrous than your joy; 

And you would accept the seasons of your heart, 

even as you have always accepted the seasons that pass over your fields. 

And you would watch with serenity through the winters of your grief. 

Much of your pain is self-chosen. 

It is the bitter potion by which the physician within you heals your sick self. 

Therefore trust the physician, and drink his remedy in silence and tranquility: 

For his hand, though heavy and hard,is guided by the tender hand of the Unseen, 

And the cup he brings, though it burn your lips, has been fashioned of the clay 

which the Potter has moistened with His own sacred tears.

~ Kahlil Gibran

from The Prophet