death

There stands death, a bluish distillate

in a cup without a saucer.  Such a strange

place to find a cup: standing on

the back of a hand.  One recognizes clearly

the line along the glazed curve, where the handle

snapped.  Covered with dust.  And HOPE is written

across the side, in faded Gothic letters.

The man who was to drink out of that cup

read it aloud at breakfast, long ago.

What kind of beings are they then,

who finally must be scared away by poison?

Otherwise would they stay here? Would they keep

chewing so foolishly on their own frustration?

The hard present moment must be pulled

out of them, like a set of false teeth.  Then

they mumble.  They go on mumbling, mumbling...

O shooting star

that fell into my eyes and through my body -:

Not to forget you.  To endure.

~ Rainer Maria Rilke

from Uncollected Poems

translated by Stephen Mitchell

for freedom

.

.

As a bird soars high

In the free holding of the wind,

Clear of the certainty of ground,

Opening the imagination of wings

Into the grace of emptiness

To fulfill new voyagings,

May your life awaken

To the call of its freedom.

.

As the ocean absolves itself

Of the expectation of land,

Approaching only 

In the form of waves

That fill and pleat and fall

With such gradual elegance

As to make of the limit 

A sonorous threshold

Whose music echoes back along 

The give and strain of memory,

Thus may your heart know the patience

That can draw infinity from limitation.

.

As the embrace of the earth

Welcomes all we call death,

Taking deep into itself

The tight solitude of a seed,

Allowing it time 

To shed the grip of former form

And give way to a deeper generosity

That will one day send it forth,

A tree into springtime,

May all that holds you

Fall from its hungry ledge

Into the fecund surge of your heart.

.

~ John O'Donohue

from To Bless the Space Between Us

photo by Edan Chapman

.

on the mechanical activity of thought

.

We were talking of the importance of thought and yet of its

unimportance; of how thought has a great deal of action and within

its own field only limited freedom. We spoke of a state of mind

that is totally unconditioned. This morning we can go into this

question of conditioning; not only the superficial, cultural

conditioning, but also why conditioning takes place. We can

enquire about the quality of mind that is not conditioned, that has

gone beyond conditioning. We have to go into this matter very

deeply to find out what love is. And in understanding what love is,

perhaps we shall be able to comprehend the full significance of

death.

.

So, first we will find out whether the mind can be totally and

completely free of conditioning. It is fairly obvious how we are

superficially conditioned by the culture, the society, the

propaganda around us, and also by nationality, by a particular

religion, by education and through environmental influences. I

think it is fairly clear and fairly simple to see how most human

beings, of whatever country or race, are conditioned by the

particular culture or religion to which they belong. They are

moulded, held within a particular pattern. One can fairly easily put

aside such conditioning.

.

Then there is the deeper conditioning, such as an aggressive

attitude towards life. Aggression implies a sense of dominance, of

seeking power, possessions, prestige. One has to go very deeply to

be completely free of that, because it is very subtle, taking many

different forms. One may think one is not aggres- sive, but when

one has an ideal, an opinion, an evaluation, verbal and non-verbal,

there is a sense of assertiveness which gradually becomes

aggressive and violent. One can see this in oneself. Behind the very

word `aggression' though you may say it very gently - there is a

kick, there is a furtive, dominant, compulsive action which

becomes cruel and violent. That aggressive conditioning one has to

discover, whether one has derived it from the animal, or has

become aggressive in one's own self-assertive pleasure. Is one

aggressive in the total sense of that word, which means `stepping

forward'?

.

Another form of conditioning is that of comparison. One

compares oneself with what one thinks is noble or heroic, with

whit one would like to be, as opposed to what one is. The

comparative pursuit is a form of conditioning; again, it is

extraordinarily subtle. I compare myself with somebody who is a

little more intelligent or more beautiful physically. Secretly or

openly, there is a constant soliloquy, talking to oneself in terms of

comparison. Observe this in yourself. Where there is comparison

there is a form of aggression in the feeling of achievement; or,

when you cannot achieve, there is a sense of frustration and a

feeling of inferiority. From childhood we are educated to compare.

Our educational system is based on comparison, on the giving of

marks, on examinations. In comparing yourself with somebody

who is cleverer, there is envy, jealousy, and all the conflict that

ensues. Comparison implies measurement; I am measuring myself

against something I think is better or nobler.

.

One asks: `Can the mind ever be free of this social and cultural

conditioning, of the mind measuring and comparing, the

conditioning of fear and pleasure, of reward and punishment?' The

whole of our moral and religious structures are based on this. Why

is it that we are conditioned? We see the outward influences which

are conditioning us and the inward voluntary demand to be

conditioned. Why do we accept this conditioning? Why has the

mind allowed itself to be conditioned? What is the factor behind it

all? Why do I, born in a certain country and culture, calling myself

a Hindu, with all the superstition and tradition imposed by the

family, the society, accept such conditioning? What is the urge that

lies behind this? What is the factor that is constantly demanding

and acquiescing, yielding to or resisting this conditioning? One can

see that one wants to be safe and secure in the community which is

following a certain pattern. If one does not follow that pattern one

may lose one's job, be without money, not be regarded as a

respectable human being. There is a revolt against that, and that

revolt forms its own conditioning - which all the young people are

going through now. One must find out what is the urge that makes

one conform. Unless one discovers it for oneself, one will always

be conditioned one way or the other, positively or negatively. From

the moment one is born until one dies, the process goes on. One

may revolt against it, one may try to escape into another

conditioning, withdrawing into a monastery as do the people who

devote their life to contemplation, to philosophy, but it is the same

movement right through. What is the machinery that is in constant

movement, adjusting itself to various forms of conditioning?

Thought is everlastingly conditioned, because it is the response

of the past as memory. Thought is always mechanical; it falls very

easily into a pattern, into a groove, and then you consider you are

being tremendously active, whether you are confined to the

Communist groove, the Catholic groove, or whatever it is. It is the

easiest, the most mechanical thing to do - and we think we are

living! So although thought has a certain limited freedom in its

field, everything it does is mechanical. After all, to go to the moon

is quite mechanical, it is the outcome of the accumulated

knowledge of centuries. The pursuit of technical thinking takes you

to the moon, or under the sea and so on. The mind wants to follow

a groove, wants to be mechanical and that way there is safety,

security, there is no disturbance. To live mechanically is not only

encouraged by society, but also by each one of us, because that is

the easiest way to live.

.

So thought being a mechanical, repetitive pursuit, accepts any

form of conditioning which enables it to continue in its mechanical

activity. A philosopher invents a new theory, an economist a new

system, and we accept that groove and follow it. Our society, our

culture, our religious prompting, everything seems to function

mechanically; yet in that there is a certain sense of stimulation.

When you go to Mass, there is a certain excitement, emotion, and

that becomes the pattern. I do not know if this is something you

have ever tried - do it once and you will see the fun of it: take a

piece of stick or a stone, any odd piece with a little shape to it, put

it on the mantlepiece and put a flower beside it every morning.

Within a month you will see that it has become a habit, as a

religious symbol, and you have begun to identify yourself with

that.

.

Thought is the response of the past. If one has been taught

engineering as a profession, one adds to and adjusts that

knowledge, but one is set in that line; similarly if you are a doctor

and so on. Thought is somewhat free within a certain field, but it is

still within the limits of mechanical functioning. Do you see that,

not only verbally and intellectually, but actually? Are you as aware

of it as when you hear that train? Sound of passing train.)

Can the mind free itself from the habits it has cultivated, from

certain opinions, judgments, attitudes and values? Which means,

can the mind be free of thought? If this is not completely

understood, then the next thing which I am going to talk, about will

have no meaning. The understanding of this leads to the next

question, which is inevitable, if you go into it. If thought is

mechanical, if it inevitably conforms to the conditioning of the

mind, then what is love? Is love the product of thought? Is love

nurtured, cultivated by thought, dependent on thought?

What is love? - bearing in mind that the description is not the

described, the word is not the thing. Can the mind be free of the

mechanical activity of thought so as to find out what love is? For

most of us love is associated, or equated, with sex. That is a form

of conditioning. When you are enquiring into this really very

complex, intricate and extraordinarily beautiful thing, you must

find out how that word `sex' has conditioned the mind.

We say we will not kill - we will not go to Vietnam or some

other place to kill, but we do not mind killing animals. If you

yourself had to kill the animal which you eat, and saw the ugliness

of it, would you eat that animal? I doubt it very much. But you do

not mind the butcher killing it for you to eat; in that there is a great

deal of hypocrisy.

.

So one asks not only what love is, but also what is compassion.

In the Christian culture the animals have no soul, they are put on

earth by God for you to eat; that is the Christian conditioning. In

certain parts of India to kill is wrong, whether to kill a fly, an

animal or anything else. So they do not kill the least thing, they go

to the extreme of exaggeration; again, that is their conditioning.

And there are people who support antivivisection, yet wear

marvellous furs: such hypocrisy goes on!

.

What does it mean to be compassionate? Not merely verbally,

but actually to be compassionate? Is compassion a matter of habit,

of thought, a matter of the mechanical repetition of being kind,

polite, gentle, tender? Can the mind which is caught in the activity

of thought with its conditioning, its mechanical repetition, be

compassionate at all? It can talk about it, it can encourage social

reform, be kind to the poor heathen and so on; but is that

compassion? When thought dictates, when thought is active, can

there be any place for compassion? Compassion being action

without motive, without self-interest, without any sense of fear,

without any sense of pleasure.

.

So one asks: `Is love pleasure?, - sex is pleasure, of course. We

take pleasure in violence, we take pleasure in achievement, in

assertion, in aggression. Also we take pleasure in being somebody.

And all that is the product of thought, the product of measurement

- `I was that' and `I will be this'. Is pleasure, in the sense in which

we have been speaking, is that love? How can a mind which is

caught in habit, in measurement and comparison, know what love

is? One may say, love is this or that but that is all the product of

thought.

.

From that observation arises the question: what is death? What

does it mean, to die? It must be the most marvellous experience! It

must imply something that has completely come to an end. The

movement that has been set going the strife, struggle, turmoil, all

the despairs and frustrations - all that suddenly comes to in end.

The man who is trying to become famous, who is assertive, violent,

brutal - that activity is cut off! Have you noticed how anything that

continues psychologically becomes mechanical, repetitive. It is

only when psychological continuance comes to an end, that there is

something totally new - you can see this in yourself. Creation is not

the continuation of what is, or what was, but the ending of that.

So psychologically can one die? You understand my question?

Can one die to the known, die to what has been - not in order to

become something else - which is the ending of and the freedom

from the known? After all, that is what death is.

.

The physical organism will die, naturally; it has been abused,

kicked around, frustrated; it has eaten and drunk all kinds of things.

You know how you live and you go on that way till it dies. The

body, through accident, through old age, through some disease,

through the strain of constant emotional battle within and without,

becomes twisted, ugly, and it dies. There is self pity in this dying

and also pity for oneself when somebody else dies. When

somebody dies whom we consider we love, is there not in that

sorrow a great deal of care? For you are left alone, you are exposed

to yourself, you have nobody to rely on, nobody to give you

comfort. Our sorrow is tinged with this self-pity and fear and

naturally in this uncertainty one accepts every form of belief.

The whole of Asia believes in reincarnation, in being reborn in

another life. When you enquire what it is that is going to be born in

the next life, you come up against difficulties. What is it?

Yourself? What are you? a lot of words, a lot of opinions,

attachments to your possessions, to your furniture, to your

conditioning. Is all that, which you call the soul, going to be reborn

in the next life? Reincarnation implies that what you are today

determines what you will be again in the next life. Therefore

behave! - not tomorrow, but today, because what you do today you

are going to pay for in the next life. people who believe in

reincarnation do not bother about behavior;t all; it is just a matter

of belief, which has no value. Incarnate today, afresh not in the

next life! Change it now completely, change with great passion, let

the mind strip itself of everything, of every conditioning, every

knowledge, of everything it thinks is `right' - empty it. Then you

will know what dying means; and then you will know what love is.

For love is not something of the past, of thought, of culture; it is

not pleasure. A mind that has understood the whole movement of

thought becomes extraordinarily quiet, absolutely silent. That

silence is the beginning of the new.

.

Questioner: Sir, can love have an object?

.

Krishnamurti: Who is asking the question? Thought or love?

Love is not asking this question. When you love, you love! - you

do not ask, `Is there an object, or no object, is it personal or

impersonal?'. Oh, you do not know what is means, the beauty of it!

Our love, as it is, is such a trial; our relationship with each other is

such a conflict. Our love is based on your image of me and my

image of you. Look at it very carefully, at the relationship between

these two isolated images which say to each other, `We love'. The

images are the product of the past, of memories, memories of what

you said to me and I said to you; and this relationship between the

two images must inevitably be an isolating process. That is what

we call relationship. To be related means to be in contact not

merely physically which is not possible when there is an image,

when there is the self-isolating process of thought, which is the

`me', and the`you'. We say: `Has love an object? Or is love divine

or profane?, - you follow? Sir, when you love, you are neither

giving nor receiving.

.

Questioner: When one goes behind these words, `beauty' and

`love', don't all these divisions disappear?

Krishnamurti: Have you ever sat, not day-dreaming, but very

quietly, completely aware? In that awareness there is no

verbalization, no choice, no restraint or direction. When the body is

completely relaxed, have you noticed the silence that comes into

being? That requires a great deal of investigation, because our

minds are never still but endlessly chattering and therefore divided.

We divide living into fragments.

Can all this fragmentation come to an end? Knowing that

thought is responsible for this fragmentation, we ask: `Can thought

be completely silent yet respond when it is necessary, without

violence, objectively, sanely, rationally - still let this silence

pervade?' That is the only way: to find for oneself this quality of

the mind that has no fragments, that is not broken up as the `you'

and the `me'.

.

Questioner: Sir, is the killing of a fly on the same level as the

killing of an animal or a human being?

.

Krishnamurti: Where will you begin the comprehension of

killing? You say you will not go to war, kill a human being ( I do

not know if you say it or not, it is up to you), but you do not mind

taking sides your group and my group. You do not mind believing

in something and standing by what you believe. You do not mind

killing people with a word, with a gesture - and you will be careful

not to kill a fly! Some years ago the speaker was in a country

where Buddhism is the accepted religion. If you are a practising

Buddhist, it is one of the accepted principles not to kill. Two

people came to see the speaker and said, `We have a problem: we

do not want to kill. We are ardent Buddhists, we have been brought

up not to kill; but we like eggs and we do not want to kill a fertile

egg - so what are we to do?' You understand? Unless inwardly you

are very clear as to what killing implies - not only with a gun, but

by a word, by gesture, by division, by saying `my country', `your

country', `my God', `your God" there will inevitably be killing in

some form. Do not make a lot of ado about killing a fly and then go

and `kill' your neighbour with a word.

.

The speaker has never eaten meat in his life, does not know

what it tastes like even, and yet he puts on leather shoes. One his to

live,and although in your heart you do not want to kill anything,

hurt anybody - and you really mean it - yet you have to `kill' the

vegetable which you eat; for if you do not eat anything you come

very quickly to an end. One has to find out for oneself very clearly

without any choice, without any prejudice, one has to be highly

sensitive and intelligent and then let that intelligence act - not say,

`I will not kill flies', yet say something brutal about one's husband.

.

~ J. Krishnamurti

from a public talk in Saanen on July 28th 1970

.

Going Blind

.

.

She sat just like the others at the table.

But on second glance, she seemed to hold her cup

a little differently as she picked it up.

She smiled once.  It was almost painful.

.

And when they finished and it was time to stand

and slowly, as chance selected them, they left 

and moved through many rooms (they talked and laughed),

I saw her.  She was moving far behind

.

the others, absorbed, like someone who will soon 

have to sing before a large assembly; 

upon her eyes, which were radiant with joy,

light played as on the surface of a pool.

.

She followed slowly, taking a long time,

as though there were some obstacle in the way;

and yet: as though, once it was overcome,

she would be beyond all walking, and would fly.

.

~  Rainer Maria Rilke

from New Poems

translated by Stephen Mitchell

.

on the anniversary of my death

Every year without knowing it I have passed the day 

When the last fires will wave to me

And the silence will set out

Tireless traveler

Like the beam of a lightless star

Then I will no longer

Find myself in life as in a strange garment

Surprised at the earth

And the love of one woman

And the shamelessness of men

As today writing after three days of rain

Hearing the wren sing and the falling cease

And bowing not knowing to what

~ W.S. Merwin

light

Light cannot see inside things.

That is what the dark is for:

Minding the interior,

Nurturing the draw of growth

Through places where death

In its own way turns into life.

In the glare of neon times,

Let our eyes not be worn

By surfaces that shine

With hunger made attractive.

That our thoughts may be true light,

Finding their way into words

Which have the weight of shadow

To hold the layers of truth.

That we never place our trust

In minds claimed by empty light,

Where one-sided certainties

Are driven by false desire.

When we look into the heart,

May our eyes have the kindness

And reverence of candlelight.

That the searching of our minds

Be equal to the oblique

Crevices and corners where

The mystery continues to dwell,

Glimmering in fugitive light.

When we are confined inside

The dark house of suffering

That moonlight might find a window.

When we become false and lost

That the severe noon-light

Would cast our shadow clear.

When we love, that dawn-light

Would lighten our feet

Upon the waters.

As we grow old, that twilight

Would illuminate treasure

In the fields of memory.

And when we come to search for God,

Let us first be robed in night,

Put on the mind of morning

To feel the rush of light

Spread slowly inside

The color and stillness

Of a found word.

~ John O'Donohue (1956-2008)

from To Bless the Space Between Us

photo by Alan Schaller

The Lake Isle Of Innisfree

.

.

I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,

And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made:

Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee,

And live alone in the bee-loud glade.

.

And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,

Dropping from the veils of the mourning to where the cricket sings;

There midnight's all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,

And evening full of the linnet's wings.

.

I will arise and go now, for always night and day

I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;

While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey,

I hear it in the deep heart's core.

.

~ William Butler Yeats

find more at: http://www.online-literature.com

yeats portrait by John Singer Sargent - 1908

This poem was one of the first poems by Yeats. It was written when the author was young, twenty-five years old, and he was living in London. The isle of the poem really exists, and is situated in Ireland, in Lough Gill. There were two main reasons why the poet wrote these verses: firstly, he was a young Irish person who was living in London, a big city which is not in his country. Ireland is a country whose economy was based on the agriculture, so Yeats wants to return to this type of life, the life of his childhood, secondly, at that moment, Yeats knew of and read Thoreau and wanted to emulate him.

.

.

The Swan

.

.

This laboring through what is still undone,

as though, legs bound, we hobbled along the way,

is like the awkward walking of the swan.

.

And dying - to let go, no longer feel

the solid ground we stand on every day -

is like his anxious letting himself fall

.

into the water, which receives him gently

and which, as though with reverence and joy,

draws back past him in streams on either side;

while, infinitely silent and aware,

in his full majesty and ever more

indifferent, he condescends to glide.

.

~ Rainer Maria Rilke

from New Poems

translated by Stephen Mitchell

.

stand firm

.

I said to the wanting-creature inside me:

What is this river you want to cross?

There are no travelers on the river-road, and no road.

Do you see anyone moving about on that bank, or nesting?

.

There is no river at all, and no boat, and no boatman.

There is no tow rope either, and no one to pull it.

There is no ground, no sky, no time, no bank, no ford!

.

And there is no body, and no mind!

Do you believe there is some place that will make the

soul less thirsty?

In that great absence you will find nothing.

.

Be strong then, and enter into your own body;

there you have a solid place for your feet.

Think about it carefully!

Don't go off somewhere else!

.

Kabir says this: just throw away all thoughts of

imaginary things,

and stand firm in that which you are. 

.

~ Kabir

thanks to http://groups.yahoo.com/group/NDhighlights

.

When I was a boy...

.

When I was a boy 

a god would often rescue me 

from the shouting and violence of humans. 

Then, safe and well, I would play 

with the meadow flowers, 

and heaven's breezes 

would play with me. 

.

And as you delight the heart 

of plants, stretching their tender 

arms toward you, 

Father Helios, 

so you delighted my heart, 

and I was your beloved, 

holy Luna, just like Endymion!

.

All you faithful 

friendly gods! 

I wish you knew 

how my soul loved you!

.

Naturally I couldn't call you 

by name then, nor did you use 

mine, as humans do, as if 

they really knew each other.

.

But I was better acquainted with you 

than I ever was with humans. 

I knew the stillness of the Aether: 

I never understood the words of men.

.

The euphony of the rustling 

meadow was my education; 

among flowers I learned to love.

.

I grew up 

in the arms of the gods.

.

~ Friedrich Hölderlin

.

the joy that shapes dance

.

.

Sound and gesture are contemporary,

identical and indistinguishable...

Linked to its own past,

the gesture fills up with music

and becomes rounded,

like the universe...

The beauty of gesture

renders time visible.

.

~ Catherine David

.

Stillness,

 is the canvas 

against which movement 

can become beautiful.

.

~ John O'Donohue

from The Invisible Embrace, Beauty

.

How it Happens

 

 

 

The sky said I am watching

to see what you

can make out of nothing

I was looking up and I said

I thought you

were supposed to be doing that

the sky said Many

are clinging to that

I am giving you a chance

I was looking up and I said

I am the only chance I have

then the sky did not answer

and here we are

with our names for the days

the vast days that do not listen to us

 

 

 

~ W. S. Merwin

.

The Gazelle

.

Enchanted thing: how can two chosen words

ever attain the harmony of pure rhyme

that pulses through you as your body stirs?

Out of your forehead branch and lyre climb,

.

and all your features pass in simile,through

the songs of love whose words, as light as rose-

petals, rest on the face of someone who 

has put his book away and shut his eyes:

.

to see you: tensed, as it each leg were a gun

loaded with leaps, but  not fired while your neck

holds your head still, listening: as when,

.

while swimming in some isolated place,

a girl hears leaves rustle, and turns to look:

the forest pool reflected in her face.

.

~ Rainer Maria Rilke

from The Selected Poetry of Rainer Maria Rilke

edited and translated by Stephen Mitchell

.