the nature of thoughts

 

Rupert Spira

silently if,out of not knowable

.

silently if,out of not knowable

night's utmost nothing,wanders a little guess

(only which is this world)more my life does

not leap than with the mystery your smile

sings or if(spiralling as luminous

they climb oblivion)voices who are dreams,

less into heaven certainly earth swims

than each my deeper death becomes your kiss

losing through you what seemed myself,i find

selves unimaginably mine;beyond

sorrow's own joys and hoping's very fears

yours is the light by which my spirit's born:

yours is the darkness of my soul's return

-you are my sun,my moon,and all my stars

~ e.e.cummings

the dark night of the soul (excerpt)

 

In the delicious night,

In privacy, where no one saw me,

Nor did I see one thing,

I had no light or guide

But the fire that burned inside my chest.

.

That fire showed me

The way more clearly that the blaze of noon

To where, waiting for me,

Was the One I knew so well,

In that place where no one ever is.

.

I stood still; I forgot who I was,

My face leaning against Him,

Everything stopped, abandoned me,

My being was gone, forgotten

Among the white lilies.

.

~ Saint John of the Cross

a blessing

.

May the light of your soul guide you.

May the light of your soul bless the work you do 
with the secret love and warmth of your heart.

May you see in what you do the beauty of your own soul.

May the sacredness of your work bring healing, light, 
and renewal to those who work with you 
and to those who see and receive your work.

May your work never weary you.

May it release within you wellsprings of refreshment,
 inspiration, and excitement.

May you be present in what you do.

May you never become lost in the bland absences.

May the day never burden.

May dawn find you awake and alert, 
approaching your new day with dreams, possibilities, and promises.

May evening find you gracious and fulfilled.

May you go into the night blessed, sheltered. and protected.

May your soul calm, console, and renew you.

.

~ John O'Donohue

(John said, "the soul is not in the body;
 rather the body is to be found in the soul.)

.

insecurity and violence

Nothing real can be threatened.
Nothing unreal exists.

Herein lies the peace of God.


~ from the introduction to a course in miracles

The major cause of violence, I think, 

is that each one of us is inwardly, psychologically, 

seeking security. 

In each one of us the urge for psychological security

 that inward sense of being safe -projects the demand, 

the outward demand, for security. 

Inwardly each one of us wants to be secure, sure, certain. 

That is why we have all these marriage laws; 

in order that we may possess a woman, or a man,

 and so be secure in our relationship.

 If that relationship is attacked we become violent, 

which is the psychological demand, the inward demand,

to be certain of our relationship to everything.

 But there is no such thing as certainty, security, in any relationship. 

Inwardly, psychologically, we should like to be secure,

 but there is no such thing as permanent security.

So all these are the contributory causes of the violence that is prevalent, 

rampaging, throughout the world. I think anybody who has observed, 

even if only a little, what is going on in the world, 

and especially in this unfortunate country, can also, 

without a great deal of intellectual study, 

observe and find out in himself those things which,

 projected outwardly, are the causes of this extraordinary brutality, 

callousness, indifference, violence.

~ J. Krishnamurti

from The Book of Life

thirst and ... mirage

The appearance of water in a mirage persists after the fact

 that it is a mirage has dawned on us. 

So it is with the world. 

Though knowing it to be unreal,

 it continues to manifest - 

but we do not try to satisfy our thirst

 with the water of the mirage. 

As soon as one knows that it is a mirage, 

one gives it up as useless and does not run after it to get water. 

~ Ramana Maharshi

daydreaming

I believe that the root of evil,

in everybody perhaps,

but, certainly in those whom

affliction has touched,

is daydreaming.

It is the sole consolation,

the unique resource of the afflicted;

the one solace that helps them bear

the fearful burden to time;

and a very innocent one,

besides being indispensable.

So how could it be possible to renounce it?

It has only one disadvantage,

which is that it is unreal.

To renounce it for the love of truth

is really to abandon all one's possessions

in a mad excess of love and follow Him

who is the personification of Truth.

And it is really to bear the cross;

because time is the cross.

In all its forms without exception,

daydreaming is falsehood.

It excludes love. Love is real.

~ Simone Weil

from for lovers of god everywhere

poems of the Christian mystics

by roger housden

art by picasso

.

  Daydreaming - not the activity of having thoughts, 
but allowing one's attention to get lost in them -
 is an obstacle to presence, an obstacle to love 
which exists only in presence, an obstacle to
 our embrace of the fullness of life,  and to 
contemplative practices in all traditions..

.

the tree of love

....

I said to God, “Let me love you.”

And he replied, “Which part?”

“All of you, all of you.” I said.

“Dear” God spoke, “You are as a mouse wanting to impregnate

a tiger who is not even in heat. It is a feat way

beyond your courage and strength.

You would run from me

if I removed my

mask.”

I said to God again,

“Beloved I need to love you – every aspect, every pore.”

And this time God said,

“There is a hideous blemish on my body,

though it is such an infinitesimal part of my Being-

could you kiss that if it were revealed?”

“I will try, Lord, I will try.”

And then God said,

“That blemish is all the hatred and

cruelty in this

world.”

~  Saint Thomas Aquinas

from Love Poems from God, by Daniel Ladinsky

abandon

.

.

The rain has stopped,

the clouds have drifted away,

and the weather is clear again.

If your heart is pure,

then all things in your world are pure.

Abandon this fleeting world,

abandon yourself,

then the moon and the flowers

will guide you along the way.

.

~ Ryokan

photo by  Hideyuki Katagiri

.

the voice under all silences

being to timelessness as it's to time,

love did no more begin than love will end;

where nothing is to breathe to stroll to swim

love is the air the ocean and the land

(do lovers suffer?all divinities

proudly descending put on deathful flesh:

are lovers glad?only their smallest joy's

a universe emerging from a wish)

love is the voice under all silences,

the hope which has no opposite in fear;

the strength so strong mere force is feebleness:

the truth more first than sun more last than star

-do lovers love?why then to heaven with hell.

Whatever sages say and fools,all's well

~ e.e.cummings
photo by Eliot Porter

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

greet yourself in your thousand other forms

Leave the familiar for a while.

Let your senses and bodies stretch out

Like a welcomed season

Onto the meadows and shores and hills.

Open up to the Roof.

Make a new water-mark on your excitement

And love.

Like a blooming night flower,

Bestow your vital fragrance of happiness

And giving

Upon our intimate assembly.

Change rooms in your mind for a day.

All the hemispheres in existence

Lie beside an equator

In your heart.

Greet Yourself

In your thousand other forms

As you mount the hidden tide and travel

Back home.

All the hemispheres in heaven

Are sitting around a fire

Chatting

While stitching themselves together

Into the Great Circle inside of

You.

.

~ Hafiz

few are willing

To deliver oneself up,

to hand oneself over,

entrust oneself completely to the silence

of a wide landscape of woods and hills,

or sea and desert; to sit still while

the sun comes up over the land

and fills its silences with light.

...few are willing to belong completely

to such silence, to let it soak into their bones,

to breathe nothing but silence, to feed

on silence, and to turn the very substance of their life

into a living and vigilant silence.

~ Thomas Merton

from Thoughts in Solitude

life which makes us strangers

 

life is other, always there,

further off, beyond you and

beyond me, always on the horizon,

life which unlives us and makes us strangers,

that invents our face and wears it away

...

I heard my blood, singing in its prison,

and the sea sang with a murmur of light,

one by one the walls gave way,

all of the doors were broken down,

and the sun came bursting through my forehead,

it tore apart my closed lids,

cut loose my being from its wrappers,

and pulled me out of myself to wake me

from this animal sleep and its centuries of stone

~ Octavio Paz

from Sunstone/Piedra De Sol

for the Lobaria, Usnea, Witches Hair, Map Lichen, Beard Lichen, Ground Lichen, Shield Lichen

Back then, what did I know?

The names of subway lines, buses.

How long it took to walk twenty blocks.

Uptown and downtown.

Not north, not south, not you.

When I saw you, later, seaweed reefed in the air,

you were gray-green, incomprehensible, old.

What you clung to, hung from: old.

Trees looking half-dead, stones.

Marriage of fungi and algae,

chemists of air,

changers of nitrogen-unusable into nitrogen-usable.

Like those nameless ones

who kept painting, shaping, engraving

unseen, unread, unremembered.

Not caring if they were no good, if they were past it.

Rock wools, water fans, earth scale, mouse ears, dust,

ash-of-the-woods.

Transformers unvalued, uncounted.

Cell by cell, word by word, making a world they could live in

~ Jane Hirshfield

from Come, Thief