Saturday, August 6, 2011

putting aside the things of the mind









.

Truth is not for those who are respectable, nor for those who desire self-extension, self-fulfillment. Truth is not for those who are seeking security, permanency; for the permanency they seek is merely the opposite of impermanency. Being caught in the net of time, they seek that which is permanent, but the permanent they seek is not the real because what they seek is the product of their thought. Therefore, a man who would discover reality must cease to seek -which does not mean that he must be contented with what is. On the contrary, a man who is intent upon the discovery of truth must be inwardly a complete revolutionary. He cannot belong to any class, to any nation, to any group or ideology, to any organized religion; for truth is not in the temple or the church, truth is not to be found in the things made by the hand or by the mind. Truth comes into being only when the things of the mind and of the hand are put aside, and that putting aside of the things of the mind and of the hand is not a matter of time. Truth comes to him who is free of time, who is not using time as a means of self-extension. Time means memory of yesterday, memory of your family, of your race, of your particular character, of the accumulation of your experience which makes up the 'me' and the 'mine'.




~ J. Krishnamurti
from The Book of Life
art by Dali



seek the unforeseen






Whoever cannot seek
the unforeseen sees nothing,
for the known way
is an impasse.


~ Heraclitus


Friday, August 5, 2011

Naomi Shihab Nye






.


.


Thursday, August 4, 2011

exclude nothing







.

We must assume our existence as broadly as we in any way can; 
everything, even the unheard-of, must be possible in it. 
That is at bottom the only courage that is demanded of us:
to have courage for the most strange, 
the most singular and the most inexplicable that we may encounter. 

That mankind has in this sense been cowardly has done life endless harm; 
the experiences that are called "visions," the whole so-called "spirit-world," 
death, all those things that are so closely akin to us, 
have by daily parrying been so crowded out of life 
that the senses with which we could have grasped them are atrophied. 

 But fear of the inexplicable has not alone impoverished the existence of the individual; 
the relationship between one human being and another has also been cramped by it, 
as though it had been lifted out of the riverbed of endless possibilities 
and set down in a fallow spot on the bank, to which nothing happens. 

For it is not inertia alone that is responsible for human relationships repeating themselves 
from case to case, indescribably monotonous and unrenewed: 
it is shyness before any sort of new, unforeseeable experience 
with which one does not think oneself able to cope. 

But only someone who is ready for everything, who excludes nothing, 
not even the most enigmatical, will live the relation to another as something alive 
and will himself draw exhaustively from his own existence. 
For if we think of this existence of the individual as a larger or smaller room,
 it appears evident that most people learn to know only a corner of their room, 
a place by the window, a strip of floor on which they walk up and down. 
Thus they have a certain security. 

And yet that dangerous insecurity is so much more human 
which drives the prisoners in Poe's stories to feel out the shapes of their horrible dungeons 
and not be strangers to the unspeakable terror of their abode. 
We, however, are not prisoners. 
No traps or snares are set about us, 
and there is nothing which should intimidate or worry us. 

We are set down in life as in the element to which we best correspond, 
and over and above this we have through thousands of years of accommodation 
become so like this life, that when we hold still we are, through a happy mimicry, 
scarcely to be distinguished from all that surrounds us. 

We have no reason to mistrust our world, for it is not against us. 
Has it terrors, they are our terrors; has it abysses, those abuses belong to us; 
are dangers at hand, we must try to love them. 

And if only we arrange our life according to that principle 
which counsels us that we must always hold to the difficult, 
then that which now still seems to us the most alien 
will become what we most trust and find most faithful. 

How should we be able to forget those ancient myths about dragons 
that at the last moment turn into princesses; 
perhaps all the dragons of our lives are princesses who are only waiting 
to see us once beautiful and brave. 
Perhaps everything terrible is in its deepest being 
something helpless that wants help from us. 





~ Rainer Maria Rilke


the hawk in his nest









.

It's all right if this suffering goes on for years. 
It's all right if the hawk never finds his own nest.
It's all right if we never receive the love we want. 

It's all right if we listen to the sitar for hours.
It doesn't matter how softly the musician plays.
Sooner or later the melody will say it all. 

It doesn't matter if we regret our crimes or not.
The mice will carry all our defeats into Asia,
And the Tuva throat-singers will tell the whole story. 

It's all right if we can't remain cheerful all day.
The task we have accepted is to go down
To renew our friendship with the ruined things. 

It's all right if people think we are idiots.
It's all right if we lie face down on the earth.
It's all right if we open the coffin and climb in. 

It's not our fault that things have gone wrong.
Let's agree it was Saturn and the other old men
Who have arranged these series of defeats for us.




~ Robert Bly
from Talking into the Ear of a Donkey


Thursday, July 28, 2011

the darkness that comes with every infinite fall







.

You see, I want a lot.
Perhaps I want everything:
the darkness that comes with every infinite fall
and the shivering blaze of every step up.

So many live on and want nothing
and are raised to the rank of prince
by the slippery ease of their light judgments.

But what you love to see are faces
that so work and feel thirst…

You have not grown old, and it is not too late
to dive into your increasing depths
where life calmly gives out its own secret.





~ Rainer Maria Rilke



Wednesday, July 27, 2011

maturity








.

A level of mental maturity is reached 
when nothing external is of any value 
and the heart is ready to relinquish all. 

Then the real has a chance and it grasps it. 
Delays, if any, are caused by the mind unwilling to see or to discard.


~ Nisargadatta Maharaj



Tuesday, July 26, 2011

silence and solitude








.

Trusting this more penumbral dimension brings us to new places in the human adventure. 
 But we have to let go in order to be; 
we have to stop forcing ourselves, 
or we will never enter our own belonging. 

 There is something ancient at work in us creating novelty. 
 In fact, you need very little in order to develop a real sense of your own spiritual individuality. 
 One of the things that is absolutely essential is silence, the other is solitude.




~ John O'Donohue
from Anam Cara



Monday, July 25, 2011

it depends on you







If in your heart you make
a manger for his birth,
then God will once again
become a child on earth.



~ Angelus Silesius



abundant heart




.
Because the pelicans circle and dive, the fish
Because the cows are fat, the rains
Because the tree is heavy with pears, the earth
Because the woman grows thin, the heart




~ Jane Hirshfield
from The Lives of the Heart



Sunday, July 24, 2011

heaven is only present






.
Hell is timely, for Hell is the thought
that Hell will go on, on and on, without end.
Heaven is only present, instantaneous and eternal,
a mayfly, a blue dayflower, a life entirely given,
complete forever in its hour.


~ Wendell Berry
from Leavings



silent in the moonlight





.
Silent in the moonlight, no beginning or end.
Alone, and not alone.  A man and a woman lie
On open ground, under an antelope robe.
They sleep under animal skin, looking up
At the old, clear stars.  How many years?
The robe thrown over them, rough
Where they sleep.  Outside, the moon, the plains
Silent in the moonlight, no beginning or end.




~ Robert Bly
from Talking into the Ear of a Donkey



Saturday, July 23, 2011

a sybil





.
Long before our time they called her old,
But she'd walk down the same road every day.
Her age became too much to say
In years — and, like a forest's, would be told 

In centuries. She comes to stand at dusk — 
Her spot each time the same — and to foretell.
She is a hollow, wrinkled husk,
Dark as a fire-gutted citadel. 

She has to turn her flock of talking loose
Or it will grow too crowded to relieve.
Flapping and screaming, words are flying all 

Around her. Then, returning home to roost,
They find a perch beneath her eyebrows' eaves,
And in that shadow wait for night to fall.




~ Rainer Maria Rilke
art by picasso

Friday, July 22, 2011

non-violence






.

Non-violence is perhaps the most exacting of all forms of struggle, 
not only because it demands first of all that one be ready to suffer evil 
and even face the threat of death without retaliation, 
but because it excludes mere transient self-interest, 
even political, from its considerations.





 ~ Thomas Merton

shark's teeth




.
Everything contains some
silence.  Noise gets
its zest from the
small shark's-tooth-
shaped fragments
of rest angled
in it. An hour
of city holds maybe
a minute of these
remnants of a time
when silence reigned,
compact and dangerous
as a shark.  Sometimes
a bit of a tail
or fin can still
be sensed in parks.


~ Kay Ryan
from The Best of It