There is a way between voice and presence where information flows.
In disciplined silence it opens.
With wandering talk it closes.
Let your love flow outward through the universe,To its height, its depth, its broad extent,A limitless love, without hatred or enmity.Then as you stand or walk,Sit or lie down,As long as you are awake,Strive for this with a one-pointed mind;Your life will bring heaven to earth.
What happens when your soul
begins to awaken
and your heart
and the cells of your body
to the great Journey of Love?
First there is wonderful laughter
and probably precious tears
and a hundred sweet promises
and those heroic vows
no one can ever keep.
But still God is delighted and amused
you once tried to be a saint.
What happens when your soul
begins to awake in this world
to our deep need to love
and serve the Friend?
Oh, the Beloved
will send you
one of his wonderful, wild companions –
Love all that has been created by God, both the whole and every grain of sand.
Love every leaf and every ray of light.
Love the beasts and the birds, love the plants,
love every separate fragment.
If you love each separate fragment,
you will understand the mystery
of the whole resting in God.
It could happen any time, tornado,
earthquake, Armageddon. It could happen.
Or sunshine, love, salvation.
It could, you know. That's why we wake
and look out -- no guarantees
in this life.
But some bonuses, like morning,
like right now, like noon,
For the first time in my life I saw the truth as it is set into song by so many poets, proclaimed as the final wisdom by so many thinkers. The truth - that Love is the ultimate and highest goal to which man can aspire. Then I grasped the meaning of the greatest secret that human poetry and human thought and belief have to impart: The salvation of man is through love and in love.
Run, my dear,
from anything that may not strengthen
your precious budding wings,
Run like hell, my dear,from anyone likely to put a sharp knifeinto the sacred, tender visionof your beautiful heart.We have a duty to befriendthose aspects of obediencethat stand outside of our houseand shout to our reason"oh please, oh pleasecome out and play!"For we have not come here to take prisoners,or to confine our wondrous spirits,But to experience ever and ever more deeplyour divine courage, freedom,and Light.
The first step in love is losing your head. After the petty ego you then give up your life and bear the calamity. With this behind you, proceed: polish the ego's rust from the mirror of your self
–Fakhr al-Din Iraqi
David and Sabrineh Fideler translations
Home again. But what was home?
The fish has vast ocean for home.
And man has timelessness and nowhere.
"I won't delude myself with the fallacy of home," he said to himself.
The four walls are a blanket I wrap around in,
in timelessness and nowhere, to go to sleep.
First find the immutable center where all movement takes birth. Just like a wheel turns round an axle, so must you be always at the axle in the center and not whirling at the periphery.
...Running after saints is merely another game to play. Remember yourself instead and watch your daily life relentlessly. Be earnest, and you shall not fail to break the bonds of inattention and imagination.
Pardon all runners,
All speechless, alien winds,
All mad waters.
Pardon their impulses,
Their wild attitudes,
Their young flights, their reticence.
When a message has no clothes on
How can it be spoken.
We do not “come into” this world;
we come out of it, as leaves from a tree.
As the ocean “waves,” the universe “peoples.”
Every individual is an expression of the whole realm of nature, a unique action of the total universe.This fact is rarely, if ever, experienced by most individuals.Even those who know it to be true in theory do not sense or feel it, but continue to be aware of themselves as isolated “egos” inside bags of skin.You didn’t come into this world.
You came out of it, like a wave from the ocean.You are not a stranger here.
Men, animals, trees, stars, they are all hieroglyphics.
When you see them you do not understand them.
You think they are really men, animals, trees, stars.
It is only years later that you understand.
There are infinite numbers of lines that join us to things. They are real lines. You can feel them. The most difficult part about the warrior’s way is to realize that the world is a feeling. When one is not-doing, one is feeling the world, and one feels the world through its lines.
–Don Juan/Carlos Castaneda
How surely gravity's law, strong as an ocean current,
takes hold of even the strongest thing and pulls it toward
the heart of the world.
Each thing - each stone, blossom, child - is held in place.Only we, in our arrogance, push out beyond what we belong tofor some empty freedom.
If we surrendered to earth's intelligencewe could rise up rooted, like trees.Instead we entangle ourselves in knots of our own makingand struggle, lonely and confused.
So, like children, we begin again to learn from the things,because they are in God's heart; they have never left him.This is what the things can teach us:to fall, patiently to trust our heaviness.
Even a bird must do that before he can fly.
–Rainer Maria RilkeAnita Barrows/Joanna Macy translation
It is the hand that lifts, but you say “I lift”.
The eyes see but you say, “I see”.
The nose smells, but you say, “I smell”.
All this is the power of the Self and yet you say, “I did it”.
That power belongs to God.
Who is this ego arrogating ‘I’?
He has no place in the palace, but once admitted inside, he
overrules the king and affirms his own existence.
After some enquiry, this ego’s existence is easily disproved.
Then the king once again affirms, “I am Reality.”
There is one thing about this condition – there is bliss.
If there are two, then there is pain.
Where there is One, there is bliss.
–Sri Siddharameshwar Maharaj
I was sad one day and went for a walk;I sat in a field.A rabbit noticed my condition and came near.It often does not take more than that to help at times -to just be close to creatures whoare so full of knowing,so full of lovethat they don't - chat,they just gaze with their marvelous understanding.
–St. John of the Cross
Love Poems from God
Daniel Ladinsky translation
The sadness I have caused any faceby letting a stray wordstrike it,any painI have caused you,what can I do to make us even?Demand a hundred fold of me - I'll pay it.During the day I hold my feet accountableto watch out for wondrous insects and their friends.Why would I want to bring horrorinto their extraordinaryworld?Magnetic fields draw us to Light;
they move our limbs and thoughts.But it is still dark;
if our hearts do not hold a lantern,we will stumble over each other,huddled beneath the sky
as we are.
You on a slave block
And the unreal bought
You. Now I keep coming to your owner
"This one is mine."
You often overhear us talking
And this can make your heart leap
I will not let sadness
I will gladly borrow all the gold
To get you
The Wind is ghosting around the house tonight
and as I lean against the door of sleep
I begin to think about the first person to dream,
how quiet he must have seemed the next morning
as the others stood around the fire
draped in the skins of animals
talking to each other only in vowels,
for this was long before the invention of consonants.
He might have gone off by himself to sit
on a rock and look into the mist of a lake
as he tried to tell himself what had happened,
how he had gone somewhere without going,
how he had put his arms around the neck
of a beast that the others could touch
only after they had killed it with stones,
how he felt its breath on his bare neck.
Then again, the first dream could have come
to a woman, though she would behave,
I suppose, much the same way,
moving off by herself to be alone near water,
except that the curve of her young shoulders
and the tilt of her downcast head
would make her appear to be terribly alone,
and if you were there to notice this,
you might have gone down as the first person
to ever fall in love with the sadness of another.
Looking back on how he arrived at this notion of finding one’s bliss, Campbell touches on the crucial difference between religious faith and secular spirituality:
I came to this idea of bliss because in Sanskrit, which is the great spiritual language of the world, there are three terms that represent the brink, the jumping-off place to the ocean of transcendence: Sat, Chit, Ananda. The word “Sat” means being. “Chit” means consciousness. “Ananda” means bliss or rapture. I thought, “I don’t know whether my consciousness is proper consciousness or not; I don’t know whether what I know of my being is my proper being or not; but I do know where my rapture is. So let me hang on to rapture, and that will bring me both my consciousness and my being.” I think it worked.
The religious people tell us we really won’t experience bliss until we die and go to heaven. But I believe in having as much as you can of this experience while you are still alive.
If you do follow your bliss you put yourself on a kind of track that has been there all the while, waiting for you, and the life that you ought to be living is the one you are living. When you can see that, you begin to meet people who are in the field of your bliss, and they open the doors to you. I say, follow your bliss and don’t be afraid, and doors will open where you didn’t know they were going to be.
Furthermore, we have not even to risk the adventure alone; for the heroes of all time have gone before us, the labyrinth is fully known; we have only to follow the thread of the hero-path.
And where we had thought to find an abomination, we shall find a god; where we had thought to slay another, we shall slay ourselves; where we had thought to travel outward, we shall come to the center of our own existence; where we had thought to be alone, we shall be with all the world.
–Maria Popova, Joseph Campbell
The room was suddenly rich and the great bay-window was
Spawning snow and pink roses against it
Soundlessly collateral and incompatible:
World is suddener than we fancy it.
World is crazier and more of it than we think,
Incorrigibly plural. I peel and portion
A tangerine and spit the pips and feel
The drunkenness of things being various.
And the fire flames with a bubbling sound for world
Is more spiteful and gay than one supposes -
On the tongue on the eyes on the ears in the palms of one's hands -
There is more than glass between the snow and the roses.