stillness - and our thinking mind

~ Richard Rohr

the roof nail

A hundred boats are still looking for shore.

There is more in my hopes than I imagined.

The tiny roof nail lies on the ground, aching for the roof.

Some little bone in our foot is longing for heaven.

~ Robert Bly

from Talking into the Ear of a Donkey

art by picasso

plague of intolerance

A mass movement readily exploits the discontent and frustration
 of large segments of the population which for some reason or other
 cannot face the responsibility of being persons and standing
 on their own feet. But give these persons a movement to join, 
a cause to defend, and they will go to any extreme, stop at no crime, 
intoxicated as they are by the slogans that give them a pseudo-religious
 sense of transcending their own limitations. The member of a mass movement, 
afraid of his own isolation, and his own weakness as an individual,
 cannot face the task of discovering within himself the spiritual power 
and integrity which can be called forth only by love. Instead of this, 
he seeks a movement that will protect his weakness with a wall of anonymity
 and justify his acts by the sanction of collective glory and power.
 All the better if this is done out of hatred, for hatred is always easier 
and less subtle than love. It does not have to respect reality as love does.
It does not have to take account of individual cases. Its solutions are simple
 and easy. It makes its decisions by a simple glance at a face, a colored skin,
 a uniform. It identifies an enemy by an accent, an unfamiliar turn of speech,
 an appeal to concepts that are difficult to understand. 
He is something unfamiliar. This is not "ours." 
This must be brought into line - or destroyed.

Here is the great temptation of the modern age, this universal infection 
of fanaticism, this plague of intolerance, prejudice and hate
which flows from the crippled nature of man who is afraid of love
 and does not dare to be a person. It is against this temptation most of all
 that the Christian must labor with inexhaustible patience and love,
in silence, perhaps in repeated failure, seeking tirelessly to restore, 
wherever he can, and first of all in himself, the capacity of love 
and which makes man the living image of God.

~ Thomas Merton,

from Disputed Questions

reverence of approach

A reverence of approach awakens depth and enables us

 to be truly present where we are.  When we approach with reverence

 great things decide to approach us.  Our real life comes 

to the surface and its light awakens the concealed beauty in things.  

When we walk on the earth with reverence, 

beauty will decide to trust us.  The rushed heart and

 the arrogant mind lack the gentleness and patience 

to enter that embrace. 

 Beauty is mysterious, a slow presence who waits for the ready,

 expectant heart.  When the heart becomes attuned to her 

restrained glimmerings, it learns to recognize her intimations

 more frequently in places it would never have lingered before.

~ John O'Donohue

from Beauty, The Invisible Embrace

art by Van Gogh

 

far away

Keep far away.

You should never be here too much; be so far away that they can’t find you,

 they can’t get at you to shape, to mold.

Be so far away, like the mountains, like the unpolluted air;

 be so far away that you have no parents, no relations, no family, no country;

 be so far away that you don’t know even where you are.

Don’t let them find you; don’t come into contact with them too closely.

Keep far away where even you can’t find yourself; keep a distance 

which can never be crossed over; keep a passage open always 

through which no one can come.

Don’t shut the door for there is no door, only an open, endless passage;

 if you shut any door, they will be very close to you, then you are lost.

Keep far away where their breath can’t reach you

 and their breath travels very far and very deeply; 

don’t get contaminated by them, by their word, by their gesture,

 by their great knowledge; they have great knowledge

 but be far away from them where even you cannot find yourself.

For they are waiting for you, at every corner, in every house to shape you, 

to mold you, to tear you to pieces and then put you together in their own image.

Their gods, the little ones and the big ones, are the images of themselves,

 carved by their own mind or by their own hands.

They are waiting for you, the churchman and the Communist,

 the believer and the non-believer, for they are both the same;

 they think they are different but they are not for they both brainwash you, 

till you are of them, till you repeat their words, till you worship their saints,

 the ancient and the recent; they have armies for their gods 

and for their countries and they are experts in killing.

Keep far away but they are waiting for you, the educator and the businessman; 

one trains you for the others to conform to the demands of their society, 

which is a deadly thing.

They have a thing called society and family: these two are their real gods,

 the net in which you will be entangled.

They will make you into a scientist, into an engineer,

 into an expert of almost anything from cooking to architecture to philosophy.

Keep far, far away; they are waiting for you, the politician and the reformer;

 the one drags you down into the gutter and then the other reforms you; 

they juggle with words and you will be lost in their wilderness.

Keep far away; they are waiting for you, the experts in God and the bomb throwers: 

the one will convince you and the other show you how to kill;

 there are so many ways to find God and so many, many ways to kill.

But besides all these, there are hoards of others to tell you what to do 

and what not to do; keep away from all of them, 

so far away that you cannot find yourself or any other.

You too would like to play with all of them who are waiting for you 

but then the play becomes so complicated and entertaining that you will be lost.

You should never be here too much, 

be so far away that even you cannot find yourself.

They were all sitting in a row in the fairly well kept garden; 

they had on the light and they were eating and the big house was behind them. 

There was the scent of many flowers in the air and the breeze 

was coming from the restless sea. On that road there was hardly any car 

and your brain was utterly still and the movement of a flash was taking place. 

The meditation was the flash and that flash can only be in emptiness; 

the flash that opens the door into the unknown. 

That flash has no time but it’s only a fleeting second. 

You can never keep that flash any more than you can hold

the winds in your fists.




~ J. Krishnamurti
from his notebook

the voices

The rich and fortunate do well to keep silent,
for no one cares to know who and what they are.
But those in need must reveal themselves,
must say: I am blind,
or: I'm on the verge of going blind,
or: nothing goes well with me on earth,
or: I have a sickly child,
or: I have little to hold me together...

And chances are this is not nearly enough.

And because people try to ignore them as they
pass by them: these unfortunate ones have to sing!

And at times one hears some excellent singing!

Of course, people differ in their tastes: some would
prefer to listen to choirs of boy-castrati.

But God himself comes often and stays long,
when the castrati's singing disturbs Him.

~Rainer Maria Rilke

If you ask how much do I want

If you ask how much do I want,

I'll tell you that I want it all.

This morning, you and I

and all men

are flowing into the marvelous stream

of oneness.

Small pieces of imagination as we are.

we have come a long way to find ourselves

and for ourselves, in the dark, the illusion

of emancipation.

This morning, my brother is back from his

long adventure.

He kneels before the alter,

his eyes full of tears.

His soul is longing for a shore to set anchor at

(a yearning I once had).

Let him kneel there and weep.

Let him cry his heart out.

Let him have his refuge there for a thousand years,

enough to dry all his tears.

One night, I will come

and set fire to his shelter,

the small cottage on the hill.

My fire will destroy everything

and remove his only life raft after a shipwreck.

In the utmost anguish of his soul,

the shell will break.

The light of the burning hut will witness

his glorious deliverance.

I will wait for him

beside the burning cottage.

Tears will run down my cheeks.

I will be there to contemplate his new being.

And as I hold his hands in mine

and ask him how much he wants,

he will smile and say that he wants it all -

just as I did.

~ Thich Nhat Hanh

.

all of a sudden

All my life perplexed by truth and falsity, right and wrong;

Now amusing myself in the moonlight,

Laughing at the wind,

Listening to the song of birds -

So many years spent idly contemplating

The immense white layer on the mountains;

This winter, all of a sudden,

I see it for the first time as a snow-mountain.

~ Dogen

from The Zen Poetry of Dogen by Steven Heine

on a day when the wind is perfect

On a day

when the wind is perfect,

the sail just needs to open and the world is full of beauty.

Today is such a 

day.

My eyes are like the sun that makes promises;

the promise of life

that it always

keeps

each morning.

The living heart gives to us as does that luminous sphere,

both caress the earth with great

tenderness.

This is a breeze that can enter the soul.

This love I know plays a drum. Arms move around me;

who can contain their self before my beauty?

Peace is wonderful,

but ecstatic dance is more fun, and less narcissistic;

gregarious He makes our lips.

On a day when the wind is perfect,

the sail just needs to open

and the love starts.

Today is such

a day.

~ Rumi

from Love Poems From God: 
Twelve Sacred Voices from the East and West 

by Daniel Ladinsky

.

forgiving oneself

My brother used to ask the birds to forgive him; 

that sounds senseless but it is right; 

for all is like the ocean, all things flow and touch each other;

 a disturbance in one place is felt at the other end of the world. 

—Fyodor Dostoyevsky
from The Brothers Karamazov

art by Shiko Munakata

 

 

 

 

 

why does not the church tell you?

At last the time came for the bride

to be with Him.

Nothing all the other brides had ever known 

could have prepared me.

Only the beauty and light you cannot describe

has a place in His house.

I can touch God - yes - but not with anything I own,

not with anything I can identify with,

not with anything that

knows 

me.

Purity, have you ever contemplated that word?

I once beheld the root of the Immaculate

and it drew me into itself.

I looked at all through

His eyes.

Why does not my sacred church tell you:

God only sees

Himself.

~ St. John of the Cross

 from Love Poems from God

by Daniel Ladinsky

streaming

When the path ignites a soul,

there's no remaining in place.

The foot touches ground,

but not for long.

The way where love tells its secret

stays always in motion,

and there is no you there, and no reason.

The rider urges his horse to gallop,

and so doing, throws himself

under the flying hooves.

In love-unity there's no old or new.

Everything is nothing.

God alone is.

For lovers the phenomena-veil is very transparent,

and the delicate tracings on it cannot

be explained with language.

Clouds burn off as the sun rises,

and the love-world floods with light.

But cloud-water can be obscuring,

as well as useful.

There is an affection that covers the glory,

rather than dissolving into it.

It's a subtle difference,

like the change in Persian

from the word "friendship"

to the word "work."

That happens with just a dot

above or below the third letter.

There is a seeing of the beauty

of union that doesn't actively work

for the inner conversation.

Your hand and feet must move,

as a stream streams, working

as its Self, to get to the ocean.

Then there's no more mention

of the search.

Being famous, or being a disgrace,

who's ahead or behind, these considerations

are rocks and clogged places

that slow you. Be as naked as a wheat grain

out of its husk and sleek as Adam.

Don't ask for anything other

than the presence.

Don't speak of a "you"

apart from That.

A full container cannot be more full.

Be whole, and nothing.

~ Hakim Sanai

version by Coleman Barks

from  The Hand of Poetry: Five Mystic Poets of Persia, 

with Lectures by Inayat Khan

the "goal?"

The traveler who finds his road blocked by a river will use a raft to reach the opposite shore, but, this shore once reached, he will not carry the raft on his shoulders while continuing his journey.  He will abandon it as something which has become useless.

The raft represents the different kinds of methods, intellectual training or moral discipline, which are available as means to bring the seeker of liberation to the "other shore".  On this shore, both have lost their value; they bear no relation to the conditions existing on the "other shore" and, like the raft in the parable, they are only a useless burden.... 

"The country which is nowhere is the real home."

On the other hand, is there any traveler who makes a crossing?  

Is there a somebody who reaches the other shore?

If this was the case, this traveler would carry with him the "hither shore" into the "beyond", just as the dust on the soles of one's shoes is carried from one place to another.  The traveler would transform the "other bank" into "this bank" because here and there are in him, are him and that outside the mind which thinks "here" and "there" are no other "here" and "there".

To go beyond virtue and vice, opinions and beliefs is to go beyond the mental constructions which are built up by the mind, unceasingly, and to recognize, by transcendent insight, that they are void of reality.  It is also to recognize, by transcendent insight, that that which has been imagined as practicing virtue, surrendering to vice, as holding opinions and elaborating theories, as traveling towards a goal and reaching the goal, is nothing but an inconsistent phantom, devoid of reality. 

~ Alexandra David-Neel and Lama Yongden

from The Secret Oral Teachings in Tibetan Buddhist Sects

 

come in, my self

A certain person came to the Friend’s door

and knocked.

“Who’s there?”

“It’s me.”

The Friend answered, “Go away. There’s no place

for raw meat at this table.”

The individual went wandering for a year.

Nothing but the fire of separation

can change hypocrisy and ego. The person returned

completely cooked,

walked up and down in front of the Friend’s house,

gently knocked.

“Who is it?”

“You.”

“Please come in, my self,

there’s no place in this house for two.

The doubled end of the thread is not what goes through

the eye of the needle.

It’s a single-pointed, fined-down, thread end,

not a big ego-beast with baggage."

~ Rumi

excerpt taken from Two Friends

translation by coleman barks

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