how

How shall I hold on to my soul, so that
it does not touch yours? How shall I gently
lift it up over you on to other things?
I would so very much like to tuck it away
among long lost objects in the dark,
in some quiet, unknown place, somewhere
which remains motionless when your depths resound.

And yet everything which touches us, you and me,
takes us together like a single bow,
drawing out from two strings but one voice.
On which instrument are we strung?
And which violinist holds us in his hand?
O sweetest of songs.

~ Rainer Maria Rilke

from New Poems - 1907 

Rilke met Lou Andreas-Salomé in 1897. He was 22, she was 36.
 Their love story lasted until 1901 and turned into a friendship 
that only ended with Rilke’s death in 1926. 

Your being has been the door that allowed me to reach fresh air for the first time.

the ubiquity of the divine presence

Apocalypse does not point to a fiery Armageddon 

but to the fact that our ignorance and our complacency 

are coming to an end. 

Our divided, schizophrenic worldview,

with no mythology adequate to coordinate our conscious and unconscious — 

that is what is coming to an end. 

The exclusivism of there being only one way in which we can be saved, 

the idea that there is a single religious group 

that is in sole possession of the truth — 

that is the world as we know it that must pass away. 

What is the kingdom? 

It lies in our realization of the ubiquity of the divine presence 

in our neighbors, 

in our enemies, 

in all of us. 

~ Joseph Campbell 

[APOCALYPSE: from the Greek word 'apokalyptein', meaning "uncover, disclose, reveal". From apo- "from" + kalyptein "to cover, conceal"

For you, my friend, every day is an apocalypse. Every hour, every minute, every moment, the old is falling away, the known is burning itself up, and the new, the never-before-seen, is revealing itself, in all its freshness. Truly, every moment is the end of a world, the end of dreams, and the birth of the new. Seen in the light of truth, life is a constant apocalypse, a constant awakening to what is, yet the separate self, with its fear of the loss of the status quo and its clinging to form and belief, pushes 'apocalypse' into time, and even fixes it to a specific date. And when that date passes, the mechanism creates a new date. It has to. This has always been the case. It is the seeker in action. To the illusory self, the end of the world will always be 'nigh'. It's how it keeps its own illusion going. It loves the drama of it.

And all the while, this timeless, ever-present apocalypse has always been with us, sweetly singing its song of newness and unshakeable truth. Have a great Friday, no matter what happens. 

~ Jeff Foster

a succession of stillnesses

.

An ordinary mirror is silvered at the back but the window of the night train has darkness behind the glass. My face and the faces of other travelers were now mirrored on this darkness in a succession of stillnesses. Consider this, said the darkness: any motion at any speed is a succession of stillnesses; any section through an action will show just such a plane of stillness as this dark window in which your seeking face is mirrored. And in each plane of stillness is the moment of clarity that makes you responsible for what you do.

~ Russell Hoban
from The Medusa Frequency

the primacy and wonder of the dark

There is a touching innocence in the mystery of the human self.  

Even after thousands of years of experience and reflection, 

we still remain a mystery to ourselves...

there is something deeply unpredictable and unfathomable.

... Even when you approach your self tenderly 

with the candle of receptive and reverential seeing, 

all you achieve is a glimpse.  

There is something in the sacred darkness of the mind 

that does not trust the facility and quickness of light.

Darkness resists the name.  

Darkness knows the regions which the name 

can never reach or hold or dream.

  The dark must smile at the proud pretense of words 

to hold networks of identity and meaning, 

but the dark knows only too well the fragile surface on which words stand.  

Darkness keeps its secrets.

 

Light is diverse and plural: 

sunlight, moonlight, dusk, dawn, and twilight.  

The dark has only one name.  

There is something deep in us 

which implicitly recognizes the primacy and wonder of the dark.  

Perhaps this is why we instinctively insist on avoiding and ignoring its mysteries.

~ John O'Donohue

from Eternal Echoes

photo by Kathleen Connally

start with the little things

Start with little things.

Love the earth like a mole,
fur-near. Nearsighted,
hold close the clods,
their fine-print headlines.
Pat them with soft hands --

Like spades, but pink and loving; they
break rock, nudge giants aside,
affable plow.

Fields are to touch;
each day nuzzle your way.

Tomorrow the world.


—William Stafford
from The Way It Is
with thanks to Love is a Place

the heart's counting knows only one

In Sung China, 

two monks friends for sixty years

watch the geese pass.

Where are they going?

one tested the other, who couldn't say.

That moment's silence continues.

No one will study their friendship

in the koan-books of insight.

No one will remember their names.

I think of them sometimes,

standing, perplexed by sadness,

goose-down sewn into their quilted autumn robes.

Almost swallowed by the vastness of the mountains,

but not yet.

As the barely audible

geese are not yet swallowed;

as even we, my love, will not entirely be lost.

~ Jane Hirshfield

from Lives of the Heart

artist unknown from the Yuan Dynasty

hostess to my morethanme

the trick of finding what you didn't lose
(existing's tricky:but to live's a gift)
the teachable imposture of always
arriving at the place you never left

(and i refer to thinking)rests upon
a dismal misconception;namely that
some neither ape nor angel called a man
is measured by his quote eye cue unquote.

Much better than which, every woman who's
(despite the ultramachinations of
some loveless infraworld)a woman knows;
and certain men quite possibly may have

shall we say guessed?"
"we shall" quoth gifted she:
and played the hostess to my morethanme



~e.e.cummings
from Selected Poems

.

my beauty in you

I see my beauty in you. I become
a mirror that cannot close its eyes

to your longing. My eyes wet with
yours in the early light. My mind

every moment giving birth, always
conceiving, always in the ninth

month, always the come-point. How

do I stand this? We become these

words we say, a wailing sound moving

out into the air. These thousands of

worlds that rise from nowhere, how

does your face contain them? I'm

a fly in your honey, then closer, a

moth caught in flame's allure, then

empty sky stretched out in homage.

 ~ Jelaluddin Rumi

.

because loved, a pure beast came to be

This is the non-existent animal.
Not knowing that, they loved it, loved its ways,
its neck, its posture, loved its quiet gaze
down to the light within it, loved it all.

True, it was not. But, because loved, a pure
beast came to be. A space was kept, conceded.
And in that space, left blank for it, secure,
it gently raised its head and hardly needed

to be. They fed it on no kind of corn,
but always only with the right to be.
And on the beast such power this could confer,

its brow put forth new growth. A single horn.
White, it sought out a virgin's company -
and was inside the mirror and in her.





~ Rainer Maria Rilke

from Sonnets to Orpheus II, 4

 

 

 

 

 

 

listen

listen

hiding in this cage

of visible matter

is the invisible

lifebird

pay attention

to her

she is singing

your song

~ Kabir

Sushil Rao translation

I am a boat

I am a boat

without wind.

You were the wind.

Was that the direction I wanted to go?

Who cares about directions

with a wind like that!

translation by Robert Bly

It’s the dream we carry in secret

that something miraculous will happen,

that it must happen –

that time will open

that the heart will open

that doors will open

that the mountains will open

that springs will gush –

that the dream will open,

that one morning we will glide into

some little harbour we didn't know was there.

translation by Robin Fulton

.

~ Olav H. Hauge

(18 August 1908 – 23 May 1994)

a Norwegian, Mr. Hauge worked as a gardener in his own orchard

the teapot

.

That morning I heard water being poured into a teapot.

The sound was an ordinary, daily, cluffy sound.

but all at once, I knew you loved me.

An unheard-of-thing, love audible in water falling.

~ Robert Bly

from Talking into the Ear of a Donkey

Lewis Carroll

"But I don't want to go among mad people," Alice remarked.

"Oh, you can't help that," said the Cat:

 "we're all mad here. I'm mad. You're mad."

"How do you know I'm mad?" said Alice.

"You must be," said the Cat, 

"or you wouldn't have come here."

(Alice's Adventures in Wonderland) 

Charles Lutwidge Dodgson

"Who are YOU?" said the Caterpillar.

This was not an encouraging opening for a conversation. Alice replied, rather shyly, 

"I--I hardly know, sir, just at present-- 

at least I know who I WAS when I got up this morning, 

but I think I must have been changed several times since then."

(Alice's Adventures in Wonderland) 

drawings by Sir John Tenniel

Alice Liddell

" Well! I've often seen a cat without a grin," thought Alice; 

" but a grin without a cat! 

It's the most curious thing I ever saw in my life!"

(Alice's Adventures in Wonderland) 

Alice laughed. "There's no use trying," she said

 "one can't believe impossible things." 

"I daresay you haven't had much practice," said the Queen.

"When I was your age, I always did it for half-an-hour a day. 

Why, sometimes I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast." 

(Through the Looking Glass) 

"When I use a word," Humpty Dumpty said in rather a scornful tone, 

"it means just what I choose it to mean -- 

neither more nor less." 

"The question is," said Alice, 

"whether you can make words mean so many different things." 

"The question is," said Humpty Dumpty, 

"which is to be master - - 

that's all." 

(Through the Looking Glass) 

it is born

Here I came to the very edge 

where nothing at all needs saying,

everything is absorbed through weather and the sea,

and the moon swam back,

its rays all silvered,

and time and again the darkness would be broken

by the crash of a wave,

and every day on the balcony of the sea,

wings open, fire is born,

and everything is blue again like morning.

~ Pablo Neruda

from On the Blue Shores of Silence

something that waits and listens

There is something in every one of you that waits, listens for the sound of the genuine in yourself and if you cannot hear it, you will never find whatever it is for which you are searching and if you hear it and then do not follow it, it was better that you had never been born…

You are the only you that has ever lived; your idiom is the only idiom of its kind in all of existence and if you cannot hear the sound of the genuine in you, you will all of your life spend your days on the ends of strings that somebody else pulls…

There is in you something that waits and listens for the sound of the genuine in yourself and sometimes there is so much traffic going on in your minds, so many different kinds of signals, so many vast impulses floating through your organism that go back thousands of generations, long before you were even a thought in the mind of creation, and you are buffeted by these, and in the midst of all of this you have got to find out what your name is. Who are you? How does the sound of the genuine come through to you…

The sound of the genuine is flowing through you. Don’t be deceived and thrown off by all the noises that are a part even of your dreams, your ambitions, so that you don’t hear the sound of the genuine in you, because that is the only true guide that you will ever have, and if you don’t have that you don’t have a thing.

You may be famous. You may be whatever the other ideals are which are a part of this generation, but you know you don’t have the foggiest notion of who you are, where you are going, what you want. Cultivate the discipline of listening to the sound of the genuine in yourself

Now there is something in everybody that waits and listens for the sound of the genuine in other people. And it is so easy to say that anybody who looks like him or her, anybody who acts as this person acts, can’t hear any sound of the genuine. I must wait and listen for the sound of the genuine in you. I must wait. For if I cannot hear it, then in my scheme of things, you are not even present. And everybody wants to feel that everybody else knows that she is there.

I have a blind friend who just became blind after she was a grown woman. I asked her: “What is the greatest disaster that your blindness has brought to you?” She said, “When I go places where there are people, I have a feeling that nobody knows that I’m here. I can’t see any recognition, I can’t see… and if nobody knows that I’m here, it’s hard for me to know where I am.”

There is something that waits and listens for the sound of the genuine in your mother, in your father, in the people you can’t stand, and if you had the power you would wipe them out. But instinctively you know that if you wipe them out, you go with them. So you fight for your own life by finding some way to get along with them without killing them.

There is something in you that waits and listens for the sound of the genuine in other people. And if you can’t hear it, then you are reduced by that much. If I were to ask you what is the thing that you desire most in life this afternoon, you would say a lot of things off the top of your head, most of which you wouldn’t believe but you would think that you were saying the things that I thought you ought to think that you should say.

But I think that if you were stripped to whatever there is in you that is literal and irreducible, and you tried to answer that question, the answer may be something like this: I want to feel that I am thoroughly and completely understood so that now and then I can take my guard down and look out around me and not feel that I will be destroyed with my defenses down. I want to feel completely vulnerable, completely naked, completely exposed and absolutely secure.

This is what you look for in your children when you have them, this is what you look for in your husband if you get one. That I can run the risk of radical exposure and know that the eye that beholds my vulnerability will not step on me. That I can feel secure in my awareness of the active presence of my own idiom in me.

So as I live my life then, this is what I am trying to fulfill. It doesn’t matter whether I become a doctor, lawyer, housewife. I’m secure because I hear the sound of the genuine in myself and having learned to listen to that, I can become quiet enough, still enough, to hear the sound of the genuine in you.

Now if I hear the sound of the genuine in me, and if you hear the sound of the genuine in you, it is possible for me to go down in me and come up in you. So that when I look at myself through your eyes having made that pilgrimage, I see in me what you see in me and the wall that separates and divides will disappear and we will become one because the sound of the genuine makes the same music.

~ Howard Thurman

from a1980 commencement address at Spelman College

 with thanks to Mystic Meandering