Monday, September 30, 2024

once there was, and once there wasn’t

 





.




'once upon a time' in other languages: 

 

korean: “back when tigers used to smoke” (호랑이 담배 피우던 시절에) [x]

czech: “beyond seven mountain ranges, beyond seven rivers” (za sedmero horami a sedmero řekami)

georgian: “there was, and there was not, there was…” (იყო და არა იყო რა, იყო…)

hausa: “a story, a story. let it go, let it come.” [x]

romanian: “there once was, (as never before)… because if there wasn’t, it wouldn’t have been told” (A fost odată, ca niciodată că dacă n-ar fi fost, nu s-ar mai povesti…)

lithuanian: “beyond nine seas, beyond nine lagoons: (už devynių jūrų, už devynių marių)

catalan: “see it here that in that time in which beasts spoke and people were silent…” (vet aquí que en aquell temps que les bèsties parlaven i les persones callaven…) [x]

turkish: “Once there was, and once there wasn’t. In the long-distant days of yore, when haystacks winnowed sieves, when genies played jereed in the old bathhouse, [when] fleas were barbers, [when] camels were town criers, [and when] I softly rocked my baby grandmother to sleep in her creaking cradle, there was/lived, in an exotic land, far, far away, a/an…* (Bir varmış, bir yokmuş. Evvel zaman içinde, kalbur saman içinde, cinler cirit oynar iken eski hamam içinde, pireler berber [iken], develer tellal [iken], ben ninemin beşiğini tıngır mıngır sallar iken, uzak diyarların birinde…)



.



The language of birds is very ancient, and like other ancient modes of speech, very elliptical; little is said, but much is meant and understood. 


—Gilbert White
Letter XLIII, Selborne, 
9 September 1778

 

.




(all) creatures have territories ...

for some birds, their song is a fence.


—Wendell Berry 




.







Sunday, September 29, 2024

questions

 






.




All day I think about it, then at night I say it.
Where did I come from, and what am I supposed to be doing?
I have no idea.
My soul is from elsewhere, I’m sure of that,
and I intend to end up there.

This drunkenness began in some other tavern.
When I get back around to that place,
I’ll be completely sober. Meanwhile,
I’m like a bird from another continent, sitting in this aviary.
The day is coming when I fly off,
but who is it now in my ear who hears my voice?
Who says words with my mouth?
Who looks out with my eyes? What is the soul?
I cannot stop asking.
If I could taste one sip of an answer,
I could break out of this prison for drunks.
I didn’t come here of my own accord, and I can’t leave that way.
Whoever brought me here, will have to take me home.

This poetry. I never know what I’m going to say.
I don’t plan it.
When I’m outside the saying of it,
I get very quiet and rarely speak at all.



—Rumi
Coleman Barks version



.







Tear off the mask. Your face is glorious. —Rumi







.


It is easy to know the beauty of inhuman things, sea, storm and mountain; it is their soul and their meaning. Humanity has its lesser beauty, impure and painful; we have to harden our hearts to bear it.


—Robinson Jeffers
The World’s Wonders

 

.


You say ‘I’ and you are proud of this word. But greater than this — although you will not believe in it — is your body and its great intelligence, which does not say ‘I’ but performs ‘I’.


—Friedrich Nietzsche
Thus Spoke Zarathustra

 

.




The strength of a person’s spirit would then be measured by how much ‘truth’ he could tolerate, or more precisely, to what extent he needs to have it diluted, disguised, sweetened, muted, falsified.


—Friedrich Nietzsche
Beyond Good and Evil

 



People think that the world itself is overflowing with beauty,
but they forget that they are its cause.


—Friedrich Nietzsche
Twilight of the Idols




💗







no(thing

  






.



There is nothing to do. Just be. 
Do nothing. Be. 

No climbing mountains and sitting in caves. 
I do not even say: ‘be yourself’, since you do not know yourself. 

Just be. 

Having seen that you are neither the ‘outer’ world of perceivables,
nor the ‘inner’ world of thinkables, that you are neither body nor mind, 
just be.


—Sri Nisargadatta Maharaj



.






Saturday, September 28, 2024

soften now










Brick and mortar
And solid as the ground
But you're carrying too much
And slowly breaking down
Cannon fodder
And looking to escape
The heaviness of all your mistakes

Weighing down, don't let it weigh you down
You've been so hard on yourself
It's time to let things soften now
Weighing down, don't let it weigh you down
You've been so hard on yourself
It's time to let things soften now

You wish you weren't, but you're falling down again
It's been a hard road full of lessons
Feeling hungry and trapped in solitude
The way that we choose to look at things is an attitude
Looking at the skyline tonight I choose gratitude

Weighing down, don't let it wеigh you down
You've been so hard on yourself
It's time to lеt things soften now
Weighing down, don't let it weigh you down
You've been so hard on yourself
It's time to let things soften now

You've been so hard on yourself
It's time to let things soften now
I waited for you like you waited for me too
We didn't get it right, but wanted to

Weighing down, don't let it weigh you down
You've been so hard on yourself
It's time to let things soften now
Weighing down, don't let it weigh you down
You've been so hard on yourself
It's time to let things soften now

You've been so hard on yourself
That it's time to let things soften now


—Julian Taylor
Weighing Down




.






Save all your energies for breaking the wall your mind has built around you. —Nisargadatta

 






.




Some years ago, I was walking downtown San Francisco with a great friend and a learned Tibetan scholar. I asked him about one of the most striking ways that the Tibetans express the uniqueness of the human condition.

Imagine, they say, that deep in the vast ocean there swims a great and ancient turtle who surfaces for air once every hundred years. Imagine further that floating somewhere in the ocean is a single ox-yoke carried here and there by random waves and currents. What are the chances that when the turtle surfaces, his head will happen to emerge precisely through the center of the ox-yoke? That is how rare it is to be born as a human being!

In the middle of our conversation, I pointed to the crowds of men and women rushing by on the street and I gestured in a way to indicate not only them, but all the thousands and millions of people rushing around in the world. "Tell me, Lobsang," I said, "if it is so rare to be born a human being, how come there are so many people in the world?"

My friend slowed his pace and then stopped. He waited for a moment, taking in my question. I remember suddenly being able to hear, as though for the first time, the loud and frenetic traffic all around us. He looked at me and very quietly replied, "How many human beings do you see?”


—Jacob Needleman
Time and the Soul



.






each by 0ne

 






.




Stone by stone and step by step
And heart by heart and head by head
The beautiful days do pass

Thread by thread and leaf by leaf
And one by one and each by each
The days are beautiful and do not pass

Grain by grain and body by body
Side by side and hand by hand
Good will win the battle

Stone by grain and each by one
And hand by heart and head by heart
Love is as vast as the world.


—Robert Desnos
Todd Sanders version




.







Friday, September 27, 2024

life in two days









.




I wish that life should not be cheap, but sacred.

I wish the days to be as centuries, loaded, fragrant.


—Ralph Waldo Emerson




.
.







beauti(ful






.



You suppose that you are the lock on the door
But you are the key that opens it

It’s too bad that you want to be someone else

You don’t see your own face, your own beauty
Yet, no face is more beautiful than yours.


—Rumi

.






Thursday, September 26, 2024

every trust survives

 






.




I said it to you for the clouds
I said it to you for the tree of the sea
For each wave for the birds in the leaves
For the pebbles of sound
For familiar hands
For the eye that becomes landscape or face
And sleep returns it the heaven of its colour
For all that night drank
For the network of roads
For the open window for a bare forehead
I said it to you for your thoughts for your words
Every caress every trust survives.


—Paul Eluard



.







Wednesday, September 25, 2024

You are all things, and all things are your soul. —Conrad Aiken

   





.


 

Out of my deeper heart a bird rose and flew skyward.
Higher and higher did it rise, yet larger and larger did it grow.

At first it was but like a swallow, then a lark, then an eagle, then as vast as a spring cloud, and then it filled the starry heavens.
Out of my heart a bird flew skyward. And it waxed larger as it flew.
Yet it left not my heart.


—Kahlil Gibran


.

 

I am not this hair,

I am not this skin,

I am the soul that lives within.


—Rumi


.



I have inside me the winds, the deserts, the oceans, the stars, and everything created in the universe. 

We were all made by the same hand, and we have the same soul.


—Paulo Coelho
The Alchemist



.







Tuesday, September 24, 2024

a conversation between stones







.




Nouns are mainly designated as alive or dead, animate or inanimate. The word stone, akin, is animate. Stones are called grandfathers and grandmothers and are extremely important in Ojibwe philosophy. 

Once I began to think of stones as animate, I started to wonder whether I was picking up a stone or it was putting itself into my hand. Stones are not the same as they were to me in English. 

I can't write about a stone without considering it in Ojibwe and acknowledging that the Anishinabe universe began with a conversation between stones.


—Louise Erdich
Two Languages in Mind, but Just One in the Heart




.




When I began to listen to poetry, it’s when I began to listen to the stones, and I began to listen to what the clouds had to say, and I began to listen to other. And I think, most importantly for all of us, then you begin to learn to listen to the soul, the soul of yourself in here, which is also the soul of everyone else.


—Joy Harjo


.




If you are stone, be magnetic;

if a plant, be sensitive;

if you are human, be love.


—Victor Hugo
Les Miserables




.







all things sing you

 





.




The world is full of magic things, 
patiently waiting for our senses to grow sharper.


—W. B. Yeats




.


You come and go. 
The doors swing closed ever more gently, almost without a shudder. 
Of all those who move through the quiet houses, 
you are the quietest. 

We become so accustomed to you, we no longer look up when 
your shadow falls over the book we are reading and makes it glow. 
For all things sing you: at times we hear them more clearly. 

Often when I imagine you your wholeness cascades into many shapes. 
You run like a herd of luminous deer and I am dark, 
I am forest. 

You are a wheel at which I stand, whose dark spokes sometimes 
catch me up, revolve me nearer to the center. 

Then all the work I put my hand to 
widens from turn to turn. 


—Rainer Maria Rilke




.







Sunday, September 22, 2024

soul friend







.




In the Celtic tradition, there is a beautiful understanding of love and friendship. One of the fascinating ideas here is the idea of soul-love; the old Gaelic term for this is anam cara. Anam is the Gaelic word for soul and cara is the word for friend. So anam cara in the Celtic world was the “soul friend.”

In everyone’s life, there is a great need for an anam cara, a soul friend. In this love, you are understood as you are without mask or pretension. The superficial and functional lies and half-truths of social acquaintance fall away, you can be as you really are. Love allows understanding to dawn, and understanding is precious. 
Where you are understood, you are at home.

The anam cara experience opens a friendship that is not wounded or limited by separation or distance. Such friendship can remain alive even when the friends live far away from each other. Because they have broken through the barriers of persona and egoism to the soul level, the unity of their souls is not easily severed. When the soul is awakened, physical space is transfigured. 
Even across the distance, two friends can stay attuned to each other and continue to sense the flow of each other’s lives. With your anam cara you awaken the eternal.


—John O'Donohue




.






travelling together

   



 

.




If we are separated I will
try to wait for you
on your side of things

your side of the wall and the water
and of the light moving at its own speed
even on leaves that we have seen
I will wait on one side

while a side is there


—W.S. Merwin

 

.


 




Friday, September 20, 2024

in(visible

 





.



Consciousness is a system of how space feeds back on itself, which is a dynamic that could generate self-awareness.

In order to be self-aware, you have to have feedback.

Consciousness is a feedback between the external world and the internal world.  

That is fundamental to ALL things.


—Nassim Harmein



.








Thursday, September 19, 2024

what has been, is no(thing

 






.




The path to heaven lies through heaven,
and all the way to heaven is heaven.


—Catherine of Siena




.



The bird has no path; 
where the bird flies is the path.

The fish has no path in water;
wherever it swims is the path.


—The Upanishads 



.



Rather the flying bird, leaving no trace
Than the going beast
Marking the earth with his track.

The bird flies by and forgets
(As is only right). The beast
Where he no longer is
(And is therefore no use)
Marks that he was there before
(Which is also no use).

For to remember is to betray
Nature, since the nature of yesterday
Is not nature.
What has been, is nothing.
Remembering
Is failure to see.

Move on, bird, move on, teach me
To move on.


—Fernando Pessoa
Thomas Merton version



.







Wednesday, September 18, 2024

The moon is the earth’s conscience. —Søren Kierkegaard (1813-1855)

 






.



The moon, it turns out, is a great place for men. One-sixth gravity must be a lot of fun, and when Armstrong and Aldrin went into their bouncy little dance, like two happy children, it was a moment not only of triumph but of gaiety. 

The moon, on the other hand, is a poor place for flags. Ours looked stiff and awkward, trying to float on the breeze that does not blow. (There must be a lesson here somewhere.) It is traditional, of course, for explorers to plant the flag, but it struck us, as we watched with awe and admiration and pride, that our two fellows were universal men, not national men, and should have been equipped accordingly. 

Like every great river and every great sea, the moon belongs to none and belongs to all. It still holds the key to madness, still controls the tides that lap on shores everywhere, still guards the lovers who kiss in every land under no banner but the sky. What a pity that in our moment of triumph we did not forswear the familiar Iwo Jima scene and plant instead a device acceptable to all: a limp white handkerchief, perhaps, symbol of the common cold, which, like the moon, affects us all, unites us all.


—E. B. White
July 26, 1969

.



here i came to the very edge
where nothing at all needs saying,
everything is absorbed through weather and the sea,
and the moon swam back,
its rays all silvered,
and time and again the darkness would be broken
by the crash of a wave,
and every day on the balcony of the sea,
wings open, fire is born,
and everything is blue again like morning.


—Pablo Neruda


.






language without words

 


Lara Carlson





.



Sick of those who come with words, words but no language,
I make my way to the snow-covered island. 

Wilderness has no words. The unwritten pages
stretch out in all directions. 

I come across this line of deer-slots in the snow: a language,
language without words. 


—Tomas Tranströmer
March 1979, excerpt
Robin Robertson translation 



.



We wear clothes, and speak, and create civilizations, and believe we are more than wolves. 

But inside us there is a word we cannot pronounce and that is who we are. 


—Anthony Marra
A Constellation of Vital Phenomena, excerpt



.



Thinking of the stars night after night I begin to realize 
The stars are words 

and all the innumerable worlds in the Milky Way are words, 
and so is this world too. 

And I realize that no matter where I am, 
whether in a little room full of thought, 

or in this endless universe of stars and mountains, 
it’s all in my mind. 


—Jack Kerouac 
Lonesome Traveler 


.

 

 




if i were the moon

  






.



She kept a diary, in which she wrote impulsive thoughts.  
Seeing the moon in the sky, her own heart surcharged, 
she went and wrote:
 
If I were the moon, I know where I would fall down.’

—D. H. Lawrence 
The Rainbow


.







Tuesday, September 17, 2024

note to self

 






.



You often live behind a wall of doubt and fear. But if you look at this wall steadily, you will see that it is built entirely out of your imagination. 

How to broach it? You need not, simply reside in the 'I-am' and stop fiddling around with things that do not exist.


—Nisargadatta


.




If you understand, things are just as they are;

if you do not understand, things are just as they are.


―Zen Proverb




)







Monday, September 16, 2024

among the multitudes

  






.




When I confront a human being as my Thou and speak the basic word I-Thou to him, then he is no thing among things nor does he consist of things. 
He is no longer He or She, a dot in the world grid of space and time, nor a condition to be experienced and described, a loose bundle of named qualities. 

Neighborless and seamless, he is Thou and fills the firmament. Not as if there were nothing but he; but everything else lives in his light.

―Martin Buber



.



I am who I am.
A coincidence no less unthinkable
than any other. 
I could have different 
ancestors, after all. 
I could have fluttered 
from another nest 
or crawled bescaled 
from another tree. 

Nature's wardrobe 
holds a fair 
supply of costumes: 
Spider, seagull, fieldmouse. 
each fits perfectly right off 
and is dutifully worn 
into shreds. 

I didn't get a choice either, 
but I can't complain. 
I could have been someone 
much less separate, 
someone from an anthill, shoal, or buzzing swarm, 
an inch of landscape ruffled by the wind. 

Someone much less fortunate, 
bred for my fur 
or Christmas dinner, 
something swimming under a square of glass. 

A tree rooted to the ground 
as the fire draws near. 

A grass blade trampled by a stampede 
of incomprehensible events. 

A shady type whose darkness 
dazzled some.
What if I'd prompted only fear, 
Loathing, 
or pity? 

If I'd been born 
in the wrong tribe 
with all roads closed before me? 

Fate has been kind 
to me thus far. 

I might never have been given 
the memory of happy moments 

My yen for comparison 
might have been taken away. 

I might have been myself minus amazement, 
that is, 
someone completely different.


—Wislawa Szymborska
Among the Multitudes




.








i am that







.




Between two musical notes there exists another note, between two facts there exists another fact, between two grains of sand, no matter how close together they are, there exists an interval of space, there exists a sensing between sensing—in the interstices of primordial matter there is the mysterious, fiery line that is the world’s breathing, and the world’s continual breathing is what we hear and call silence.


—Clarice Lispector



.




I am the dream changing before your eyes. 
I am my body, a house for blood and breath. 
I am a man on earth and a god in heaven. 
While I travel the deserts in frail form, while I grow old and weep and die, I live always as a child inside the body of truth, a blue egg that rocks in the storm but never breaks. 
I sleep in peace in my mother’s lap, a child mesmerised by sunlight on the river. My soul is swallowed up by God.

Out of chaos came the light.

Out of the will came life.


—The Egyptian Book of the Dead