Wednesday, February 27, 2019

away from the restless mind







By intentionally quieting our restless minds and calling a temporary
halt to the random noise - inner and outer - to which we are subject,
we create an environment conducive to the manifestation of silence.
Welling up from within, this silence subtly engulfs us, drowning out
all the noise of existence.


When constantly engaged at the forefront of our minds, our awareness
restlessly flutters about from thought to thought, sensation to
sensation, thus pushing out silence. The effort required to break
through the surface waves of the mind forges an inward path
to the deepest levels of silence. When deliberately sustained....this
inner drilling displaces the obfuscatory debris that clutters the mind
with a matrix of noise. When all mental ruminations are at last
exhausted, genuine silence emerges.


But, many prefer the comfort of noise, the bustling of crowds, the
constant engagement of new thoughts and interesting repartee.
To embrace silence means splicing off a certain arena of the
familiar and venturing into uncharted territories. While one
may fruitfully participate in communal spiritual activities, quite
often the deeper stages of this voyage are undertaken by oneself.
To keep the mind occupied with external concerns is to point the
inner compass in an outward direction. This is the most subtle trap
to which the feeble mind continually succumbs. For to interact
constantly with the objects of the senses is to eclipse entirely the
realm of silence, which is first experienced within. When
repeatedly accessed, the decibel level of true silence will deafen
the resolute mystic.


Ever elusive yet all pervading, silence is known by those who take
the leap. The adventuresome hiker seeks areas untrampled by the
masses. The successful inner voyager treks to the precipice, and
then, having encountered the Unknowable, brazenly discards map and
compass and boldly treads onward. The yearning heart echoes the
cry that seized the Psalmist:
"Be still and know that I am God." 




John Roger Barrie
Excerpt from Parabola
with thanks to Mystic Meandering
 
 
 

Sunday, February 24, 2019

sky inside you








It is a strange awakening to find the sky inside you
and beneath you
and above you
and all around you
so that your spirit is one with the sky,
and all is positive night.




~ Thomas Merton
from  Sign of Jonas



buried in the grave of custom








In my short experience of human life, the outward obstacles, if there were any such, have not been living men, but the institutions of the dead. It is grateful to make one’s way through this latest generation as through dewy grass. Men are as innocent as the morning to the unsuspicious… I love man-kind, but I hate the institutions of the dead un-kind. Men execute nothing so faithfully as the wills of the dead, to the last codicil and letter. They rule this world, and the living are but they're executors.

Herein is the tragedy; that men doing outrage to their proper natures, even those called wise and good, lend themselves to perform the office of inferior and brutal ones. Hence come war and slavery in; and what else may not come in by this opening? But certainly there are modes by which a man may put bread into his mouth which will not prejudice him as a companion and neighbor.

All men are partially buried in the grave of custom, and of some we see only the crown of the head above ground. Better are the physically dead, for they more lively rot. Even virtue is no longer such if it be stagnant. A man’s life should be constantly as fresh as this river. It should be the same channel, but a new water every instant.




~ Henry Davi
d Thoreau
from A Week on the Concord and Merrimack Rivers
with thanks to brainpickings 


Friday, February 22, 2019

that is my medicine


.
.



When the wind blows
that is my medicine

When it rains
that is my medicine

When it hails
that is my medicine

When it becomes clear after a storm
that is my medicine


.
~ Holy Woman Poem


.

Thursday, February 21, 2019

teachings









~  Richard Rohr



every pore









Love came and emptied me of self,
every vein and every pore,
made into a container to be filled by the Beloved.
Of me, only a name is left,
the rest is You my Friend, my Beloved.



~ Abu-Said Abil-Kheir
 



nonverbal articulation








Music opens a path into the realm of silence. Music reveals the human soul in stark “nakedness,” as it were, without the customary linguistic draperies.

The nature of music variously [has] been understood … as nonverbal articulation of weal and woe, as wordless expression of man’s intrinsic dynamism of self-realization, a process understood as man’s journey toward ethical personhood, as the manifestation of man’s will in its aspects, as love.

Music articulates the inner dynamism of man’s existential self, which is music’s “prime matter” (so to speak), and both share a particular characteristic — both move in time.

Since music articulates the immediacy of man’s basic existential dynamism in an immediate way, the listener as well is addressed and challenged on that profound level where man’s self-realization takes place. In this existential depth of the listener, far below the level of expressible judgments, there echoes — in identical immediacy — the same vibration articulated in the audible music.

We now realize why and to what extent music plays a role in man’s formation and perfection… beyond any conscious efforts toward formation, teaching, or education.


~ Josef Pieper
with thanks to Brain Pickings



a rainy night





A steady stream of almost silent rain
drops on every roof and windowsill
and stretches like a veil
deep over the darkness of the land.
It trickles and tumbles in the wind
with no movement of its own and yet alive.

The fields draw near the clouds.
Even heaven bows to the solid ground.
A rhythmic, subtle song sates the space,
swells, sways, and soaks the night in sorrow
as if a lone violin were delving deep
into dark, secret yearnings
transforming fiery torment into tone
while touching here and there a homeless heart,
which found no words
for its deep longings.

What neither words nor music could express
the wind and rain intone with quiet strength.
They fill the rainy night with a tender lullaby
and the steady rhythms of this song
sustain and cradle and appease
all unheard struggles, all unhealed pain.





~ Hermann Hesse
from Seasons of the Soul
art by Utamaro




Wednesday, February 20, 2019

clearer and clearer








The Chinese and the Greeks were arguing as to who were the better artists.

The King said, "We'll settle this matter with a debate."

This Chinese began talking,
but the Greeks wouldn't say anything.
They left.

The Chinese suggested then that they each be given a room to work 
on with their artistry, two rooms facing each other and divided by a curtain. 

The Chinese asked the King for a hundred colors, all the variations,
and each morning they came to where the dyes were kept and took them all.

The Greeks took no colors.
"They are not part of our work."

They went to their room and began cleaning and polishing the walls.
All day every day they made those walls as pure and clear as an open sky.

There is a way that leads from all-colors to colorlessness.
Know that the magnificent variety of the clouds and the weather comes
from the total simplicity of the sun and the moon.

The Chinese finished,and they were so happy.
They beat the drums in the joy of completion.

The King entered their room, astonished by the gorgeous color and detail.

The Greeks then pulled the curtain dividing the rooms.
The Chinese figures and images shimmeringly reflected
on the clear Greek walls.  They lived there, even more
beautifully, and always changing in the light.

The Greek art is the Sufi way.
They don't study books of philosophical thought.

They make their loving clearer and clearer.
No wantings, no anger. In that purity
they receive and reflect the images of every moment, 
from here, from the stars, from the void.

They take them in
as though they were seeing
with the Lighted Clarity
that sees them.



~ Rumi
from Mathnawi, 1, 3462-3485, 3499
version by Coleman Barks

 

Tuesday, February 19, 2019

Tao Te Ching







 
 
~ Lao Tzu

memories






The country seems bigger, for you can see through the bare trees. There are times when the woods is absolutely still and quiet. The house holds warmth. A wet snow comes in the night and covers the ground and clings to the trees, making the whole world white. For a while in the morning the world is perfect and beautiful. You think you will never forget.

You think you will never forget any of this, you will remember it always just the way it was. But you can't remember it the way it was. To know it, you have to be living in the presence of it right as it is happening. It can return only by surprise. Speaking of these things tells you that there are no words for them that are equal to them or that can restore them to your mind. And so you have a life that you are living only now, now and now and now, gone before you can speak of it, and you must be thankful for living day by day, moment by moment, in this presence.

But you have a life too that you remember. It stays with you. You have lived a life in the breath and pulse and living light of the present, and your memories of it, remember now, are of a different life in a different world and time. When you remember the past, you are not remembering it as it was. You are remembering it as it is. It is a vision or a dream, present with you in the present, alive with you in the only time you are alive.




~ Wendell Berry




let it go




let it go - the
smashed word broken
open vow or
the oath cracked length
wise - let it go it
was sworn to
go

let them go - the
truthful liars and
the false fair friends
and the boths and
neithers - you must let them go they
were born
to go

let all go - the
big small middling
tall bigger really
the biggest and all
things - let all go
dear

so comes love



~ e.e. cummings
photo by ansel adams



Saturday, February 16, 2019

peace in schools









~ Caverly Morgan

Friday, February 15, 2019

if I should fall behind








~ Bruce Springsteen

Saturday, February 9, 2019

love is active


.

love never exists 
as a fact 

it is a verb 
and you can do 
all things 
with or without it 

it is nature 
in action 
being true 
to itself 
without even 
a thought



~ Benjamin Dean
.