Saturday, July 29, 2017

I live my life in growing orbits





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I live my life in growing orbits
which move out over the things of the world.
Perhaps I can never achieve the last,
but that will be my attempt.

I am circling around God, around the ancient tower
and have been circling for a thousand years
and I still do not know if I am a falcon, a storm
or a great song.

 

–Rainer Maria Rilke
The Book of Hours, excerpt
Robert Bly translation



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Friday, July 21, 2017

summer plain, excerpt







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We have seen so much.

Reality has almost used us up ...


–Tomas Tranströmer
Windows and Stones



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Thursday, July 20, 2017

Description Without Place





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In a description hollowed out of hollow-bright,
The artificer of subjects still half night.

It matters, because everything we say
Of the past is description without place, a cast

Of the imagination, made in sounds;
And because what we say of the future must portend,

Be alive with its own seemings, seeming to be
Like rubies reddened by rubies reddening.


–Wallace Stevens
closing lines to section V



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Wednesday, July 19, 2017

one rule






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The sky
Is a suspended blue ocean.
The stars are the fish
That swim.

The planets are the white whales
I sometimes hitch a ride on,
And the sun and all light
Have forever fused themselves
Into my heart and upon
My skin.

There is only one rule
On this Wild Playground,
For every sign Hafiz has ever seen
Reads the same.

They all say,
"Have fun, my dear; my dear, have fun,
In the Beloved's Divine
Game,

O, in the Beloved's
Wonderful Game."


–Hafiz 
Daniel Ladinsky version




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Wednesday, July 12, 2017

not to worry





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Happiness consists in realizing it is all a great strange dream.

—Jack Kerouac




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Tuesday, July 4, 2017

enough





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If you expect any benefits from your search, material, mental or spiritual, you have missed the point. 
Truth gives no advantage. It gives no higher status, no power over others; all you get is truth and freedom from the false.


–Nisargadatta Maharaj



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Monday, July 3, 2017

bees )






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You voluble, Velvety Vehement fellows
That play on your Flying and Musical cellos,
All goldenly Girdled you Serenade clover,
Each artist in Bass but a Bibulous rover!

You passionate, Powdery Pastoral bandits,
Who gave you your Roaming and Rollicking mandates?
Come out of my Foxglove; come Out of my roses
You bees with the Plushy and Plausible noses!

–Norman Rowland Gale



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