Tag Archives: Rumi

How are things

I have a wing injury which has been difficult but little else in terms of trouble. I’ll show a picture later.

Work is alright. Its hard but not in a way that hurts my spirit. I’m not keeping up with many of my wellness goals from when I was off work. But I’m doing some of it and  making it okay.

Some things I just don’t want to talk about yet.

My head and heart are mostly in balance.  There have been hard things, as always, but I am mostly untroubled. My energy level is not what I would like but right now that’s because of the tendinitis in my shoulder. Today I got a cortisone shot.

We had such a wet June that frogs and their children are very happy. Even into July we still have lots of water in marginal habitat areas like ditches and seasonal marshlands. So, that’s good.

Someone, a patient, at work dies a few weeks ago and that was tough and a bit frustrating.

Here are some pictures I’ve found or taken:

parents divorce answered

Comic-con pamphlet

Transamerica spin

better add music- 

follow the money- I made this when GW was nominated, still current

That’s Annie, sleeping in the pot by the window.

01 Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young – Carry On

Boobie

look ma, no thumbs

all of the earth’s fresh water

1957-2012

Rumi- from here:

You are in love with me, I shall make you perplexed.
Do not build much, for I intend to have you in ruins. If you build two hundred houses in a manner that the bees do; I shall make you as homeless as a fly. If you are the mount Qaf in stability. I shall make you whirl like a millstone.

Now you’ve departed and gone to the Unseen-
On what strange ways you’ve gone from our world!
You shook your feathers and you broke the cage;
You flew away, far, to the soul’s own world.
You were a hawk, encaged by Mrs. World.
You heard the drum and flew to Where-no-place.
You were a nightingale among the owls-
The garden’s scent came; you went to the rose.
You suffered headache from these bitter dregs-
At last you went to the eternal tavern…
The rose flees from the autumn-daring rose
That you went on in the autumnal wind!
You fell like rain on the terrestrial roof,
Run here and there, escaping through the spout.
Be silent-there is no more pain of speaking:
You are protected by a loving friend!

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Announcement First, Then Truth

Announcement: The Mad Liberation by Moonlight radio program for this month is cancelled- pre-empted actually. Our radio station, KBOO (90.7 FM in Portland, OR, or at kboo.fm on your internet dial). The annual John Lennon Birthday Marathon is happening on Friday, 10/9/09; coinciding with John’s birthday. KBOO will be playing (and streaming) Lennon music from 9 pm Friday evening to 8 am Saturday morning, thereby taking our slot for October.

Sadly, this is the Harvest Moon, here in the US and it’s a doozy. Ah, but I don’t care. John L. deserves our respect if for no other reason than John Lennon – Working Class Hero. Or even this: John Lennon – Beatles Breakup Interview 1970.

We will be back on the air next month on the Friday night following the full-moon. Consult your looner calendar for showtimes (looks sorta like the dark night of November 6th at 1 am, or really the morning of 11/7 if you want to be picky; you don’t want to be picky do you??)

lunareclipsesequence

Truth

Lots of things are true. Maybe everything, depending on perspective. These are some sources of perspective I would like to share.

truuthy

First from my own personal spiritual tradition- the Society of Friends. Following are excerpts from a pamphlet by Thomas S. Brown, what we would call a “weighty Friend”. After the short excerpt is a complete download of the publication, free to share. I had to convert from PDF because, well, WordPress doesn’t seem to like PDF and the formatting becomes a bit jerky. Thomas Brown:

To know the Truth is not to accept it by an act of the

intellect, as a man may know the Greek alphabet, or as a

man may know his neighbor across the street. To know

the Truth is, rather, like the way in which man and wife

know each other, a life of wholly shared commitment, of

utter trust, of freedom from fear. Indeed, there is no

knowledge of the Truth where there is no commitment

which results in significant action, for the living root

produces living fruit after its own kind. We know the

presence of love, not by sighs and simpers, nor even by

desire, but by its power to lift men and women outside

themselves and to live beyond themselves. Honor is known

by honorable actions. Beauty is known by its creation among

us. Truth is not a group of intellectual concepts to be

manipulated at will like the symbols in mathematics or

the notes in music: Truth is living and life-giving, and those

who have welcomed the Truth have life.

This is crucial: it is not that we discover the Truth

and make it our own for our own purposes as men might

harness a mountain stream to light their houses or run

their machines. We are, rather, discovered by the Truth,

and are given power by the Truth to light our souls. We are

besieged by the Truth, who stands knocking at the door,

the Hound of Heaven, our Imperious Lover and Tyrannical

Servant, who would give us our hearts’ desire if we would

only throw our selfish desires away, and who longs to release

us from the folly of the “freedom of choice” we seem to think

so important even on matters of life and death.

Download: ThePersonalRelevanceOfTruth

Dalai_Lama_pointing (1)

Not exactly on the same page but an interesting find: Words of Truth by HH Dalai Lama. This is more of a prayer for Tibet and all others who suffer.  Excerpt follows:

               O Buddhas, Bodhisattvas, and disciples
                  of the past, present, and future:
                     Having remarkable qualities
                   immeasurably vast as the ocean,
               Who regard all helpless sentient beings
                         as your only child;
          Please consider the truth of my anguished pleas.
                                        
                                        
         Buddha's full teachings dispel the pain of worldly
                 existence and self-oriented peace;
   May they flourish, spreading prosperity and happiness through-
                      out this spacious world.
                  O holders of the Dharma: scholars
                     and realized practitioners;
            May your ten fold virtuous practice prevail.
                                        
                                        
                  Humble sentient beings, tormented
                    by sufferings without cease,
             Completely suppressed by seemingly endless
                and terribly intense, negative deeds,
          May all their fears from unbearable war, famine,
                      and disease be pacified,
       To freely breathe an ocean of happiness and well-being.
                  And particularly the pious people
          of the Land of Snows who, through various means,
            Are mercilessly destroyed by barbaric hordes
                      on the side of darkness,
           Kindly let the power of your compassion arise,
            To quickly stem the flow of blood and tears.
Download (with legal rights to share included): WORDS OF TRUTH
I apologize for the tiny font. Dagnabbit! 
I can't get the post editor to make 'em bigger. Get out your spectacles.
Rumi chimes in here:
Christian, Jew, Muslim, shaman, Zoroastrian, stone, ground, mountain, river, each has a secret way of being with the mystery, unique and not to be judged.
Cross_and_Crescent_of_light Everyone is so afraid of death, but the real sufis just laugh: 
nothing tyrannizes their hearts. What strikes the oyster shell 
does not damage the pearl.

If in thirst you drink water from a cup, you see God in it. 
Those who are not in love with God will see only their own faces in it.

He is a letter to everyone. You open it. It says, 'Live!'

In truth everything and everyone
Is a shadow of the Beloved,
And our seeking is His seeking
And our words are His words...
We search for Him here and there,
while looking right at Him.
Sitting by His side, we ask:
'O Beloved, where is the Beloved?'

God turns you from one feeling to another and teaches you 
by means of opposites, so that you will have two wings to fly - not one.

Remember, the entrance door to the sanctuary is inside you.
For more Rumi, go here: http://www.scribd.com/doc/18791792/THE-MATHNAWI-Book-1-2-RUMI or look around my blog.
magnetic_field
Miscellaneous Truth:
Peace and Nonviolence 01
text of above: peace
God offers to every mind its choice between truth and repose.  Take which you please - you can never have both.  ~Ralph Waldo Emerson

Ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you mad.  ~Aldous Huxley

Truth, like milk, arrives in the dark
But even so, wise dogs don't bark.
Only mongrels make it hard
For the milkman to come up the yard.
~Christopher Morley, Dogs Don't Bark at the Milkman

It is error alone which needs the support of government.  Truth can stand by itself.  ~Thomas Jefferson, Notes on Virginia

I never dreamed of being Shakespeare or Goethe, and I never expected to hold the great mirror of truth up before the world; I dreamed only of being a little pocket mirror, the sort that a woman can carry in her purse; one that reflects small blemishes, and some great beauties, when held close enough to the heart.  ~Peter Altenberg

The greatest enemy of any one of our truths may be the rest of our truths.  ~William James

Men ardently pursue truth, assuming it will be angels' bread when found.  ~W. MacNeile Dixon

There is no god higher than truth.  ~Mahatma Gandhi
Just for the heck of it:
A Century of Recorded Poetry, Vol 4, 32, Li-Young Lee - My Father, in Heaven, Is Reading Out Loud

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Filed under Dalai Lama, Free Audio Books, Friends, Mad Radio, mp3, Mystic Poetry, pictures, Rumi, Spirituality

Another day

Being out of work is tough. I’m sick of it. It’s hard to retain enthusiasm. It helps if I keep busy and stay on some kind of schedule.

Current schedule:

Get up with Julie when she goes to work (5:30 am), do Tai Chi

Go back to bed

Get up by 8 am, make coffee

(Every day involves a lot of monitoring of blood sugar, taking insulin, trying to eat exactly what I need to eat.)

Wake up the bird and entertain her

Brush teeth, etc.

Job hunt (mostly on-line)

(Sometimes I have interviews, I try to schedule them in the morning)

Meditate

Read if I have a book

Errands or walking- I usually have something to do that involves walking and riding the bus (e.g. banking, pharmacy, groceries) Today I’m just going for a walk- I’ll go up to the Springwater Corridor trail by my house:

Maybe I’ll go to the library- I’m out of books.

Some days I have Interactive Theater practice or events in the afternoon. Not today.

Oh- look! There’s a bunny!

(click for larger)

Sometimes I get depressed. I get stuck and can’t hardly make myself leave the house. When this happens, I make myself do something anyway. Sometimes I play guitar.

Yesterday I found a good job and spent a lot of time working on my application.

Breathe, breathe, breathe. Heart, lungs, muscles, bones. Live. Laugh. Walk. Read. Love. Cry.

Julie gets home and is usually so tired she falls asleep. I read more in the evening, maybe watch TV, play guitar, play on the internet (like this).

Which reminds me…

Like This
If anyone asks you
how the perfect satisfaction
of all our sexual wanting
will look, lift your face
and say,

Like this.

When someone mentions the gracefulness
of the nightsky, climb up on the roof
and dance and say,

Like this.

If anyone wants to know what “spirit” is,
or what “God’s fragrance” means,
lean your head toward him or her.
Keep your face there close.

Like this.

When someone quotes the old poetic image
about clouds gradually uncovering the moon,
slowly loosen knot by knot the strings
of your robe.

Like this.

If anyone wonders how Jesus raised the dead,
don’t try to explain the miracle.
Kiss me on the lips.

Like this. Like this.

When someone asks what it means
to “die for love,” point
here.

If someone asks how tall I am, frown
and measure with your fingers the space
between the creases on your forehead.

This tall.

The soul sometimes leaves the body, the returns.
When someone doesn’t believe that,
walk back into my house.

Like this.

When lovers moan,
they’re telling our story.

Like this.

I am a sky where spirits live.
Stare into this deepening blue,
while the breeze says a secret.

Like this.

When someone asks what there is to do,
light the candle in his hand.

Like this.

How did Joseph’s scent come to Jacob?

Huuuuu.

How did Jacob’s sight return?

Huuuu.

A little wind cleans the eyes.

Like this.

When Shams comes back from Tabriz,
he’ll put just his head around the edge
of the door to surprise us

Like this.

From ‘The Essential Rumi’, Translations
by Coleman Barks with John Moyne

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Filed under Mental health recovery, Mystic Poetry, personal story, pictures, poetry, Rumi, Sufi Poems, Uncategorized

I just got the internet turned back on today: Sufi Poetry Fest!

For some reason my ISP insists that I send them money regularly. Sometimes this conflicts with other priorities (such as eating, paying rent, etc.). I have also updated the music page- some new recordings, some remixed, some just monkeyed with; check it out.

Today mostly I wanted to share some Sufi poetry from various periods (717 CE to the 1300s) and from Persia to Turkey.

Farid ud Din Attar– a mystic poet who lived approximately 1119 -1230 CE. His best known work is Conference of the Birds, an elaborate allegory of the soul’s quest for reunion with God.

Intoxicated by the Wine of Love.
From each a mystic silence Love demands.
What do all seek so earnestly? ‘Tis Love.
What do they whisper to each other? Love.
Love is the subject of their inmost thoughts.
In Love no longer ‘thou’ and ‘I’ exist,
For Self has passed away in the Beloved.
Now will I draw aside the veil from Love,
And in the temple of mine inmost soul,
Behold the Friend; Incomparable Love.
He who would know the secret of both worlds,
Will find the secret of them both, is Love.

translation Margaret Smith -The Jawhar Al-Dhat

In the dead of night, a Sufi began to weep.
He said, “This world is like a closed coffin, in which
We are shut and in which, through our ignorance,
We spend our lives in folly and desolation.
When Death comes to open the lid of the coffin,
Each one who has wings will fly off to Eternity,
But those without will remain locked in the coffin.
So, my friends, before the lid of this coffin is taken off,
Do all you can to become a bird of the Way to God;
Do all you can to develop your wings and your feathers.”

translation by Andrew Harvey and Eryk Hanut – ‘Perfume of the Desert’

So long as we do not die to ourselves,
and so long as we identify with someone or something,
we shall never be free.
The spiritual way is not for those wrapped up in exterior life.

translation also by Margaret Smith

There’s always room for

Rumi:

The Jesus of your spirit is inside you now.
Ask that one for help, but don’t ask for body-things…

Don’t ask Moses for provisions
that you can get from Pharaoh.

Don’t worry so much about livelihood.
Your livelihood will turn out as it should.
Be constantly occupied instead
with listening to God.

Mathnawi II:450-454

Yunus Emre

He lived in what is now Turkey sometime from 1240-1241 to 1320-21 CE.

The drink sent down from Truth,
we drank it, glory be to God.
And we sailed over the Ocean of Power,
glory be to God.

Beyond those hills and oak woods,
beyond those vineyards and gardens,
we passed in health and joy, glory be to God.

We were dry, but we moistened.
We grew wings and became birds,
we married one another and flew,
glory be to God.

To whatever lands we came,
in whatever hearts, in all humanity,
we planted the meanings Taptuk taught us,
glory be to God.

Come here, let’s make peace,
let’s not be strangers to one another.
We have saddled the horse
and trained it, glory be to God.

We became a trickle that grew into a river.
We took flight and drove into the sea,
and then we overflowed, glory be to God.

We became servants at Taptuk’s door.
Poor Yunus, raw and tasteless,
finally got cooked, glory be to God.

translated by Kabir Helminski and Refik Algan – ‘The Drop That Became Sea’

Ask those who know,
what’s this soul within the flesh?
Reality’s own power.
What blood fills these veins?

Thought is an errand boy,
fear a mine of worries.
These sighs are love’s clothing.
Who is the Khan on the throne?

Give thanks for His unity.
He created when nothing existed.
And since we are actually nothing,
what are all of Solomon’s riches?

Ask Yunus and Taptuk
what the world means to them..
The world won’t last.
What are You? What am I?

translated by Kabir Helminski and Refik Algan – ‘The Drop That Became Sea’

We entered the house of realization,
we witnessed the body.

The whirling skies, the many-layered earth,
the seventy-thousand veils,
we found in the body.

The night and the day, the planets,
the words inscribed on the Holy Tablets,
the hill that Moses climbed, the Temple,
and Israfil’s trumpet, we observed in the body.
Torah, Psalms, Gospel, Quran-
what these books have to say,
we found in the body.

Everybody says these words of Yunus
are true. Truth is wherever you want it.
We found it all within the body.

translated by Kabir Helminski and Refik Algan – ‘The Drop That Became Sea’

Your love has wrested me away from me,
You’re the one I need, you’re the one I crave.
Day and night I burn, gripped by agony,
You’re the one I need, you’re the one I crave.

I find no great joy in being alive,
If I cease to exist, I would not grieve,
The only solace I have is your love,
You’re the one I need, you’re the one I crave.

Lovers yearn for you, but your love slays them,
At the bottom of the sea it lays them,
It has God’s images-it displays them;
You’re the one I need, you’re the one I crave.

Let me drink the wine of love sip by sip,
Like Mecnun, live in the hills in hardship,
Day and night, care for you holds me in its grip,
You’re the one I need, you’re the one I crave.

Even if, at the end, they make me die
And scatter my ashes up to the shy,
My pit would break into this outcry:
You’re the one I need, you’re the one I crave.

“Yunus Emre the mystic” is my name,
Each passing day fans and rouses my flame,
What I desire in both worlds in the same:
You’re the one I need, you’re the one I crave.

Rabi´a al-Adawiyya

was born in Basra around 717 CE. As a child, after the death of her parents, Rabi’a was sold into slavery. After years of service to her slavemaster, Rabi’a began to serve only the Beloved with her actions and thoughts. Since she was no longer useful to the slaveowner, Rabi’a was then set free to continue her devotion to the Beloved.

Rabi’a held that the true lover, whose consciousness is unwaveringly centered on the Beloved, is unattached to conditions such as pleasure or pain, not from sensory dullness but from ceaseless rapture in Divine Love.

Rabia was once asked, “How did you attain that which you have attained?”
“By often praying, ‘I take refuge in You, O God, from everything that distracts me from You, and from every obstacle that prevents me from reaching You.'”

I have two ways of loving You:
A selfish one
And another way that is worthy of You.
In my selfish love, I remember You and You alone.
In that other love, You lift the veil
And let me feast my eyes on Your Living Face.

Doorkeeper of the heart:versions of Rabia. Trans. Charles Upton

The source of my suffering and loneliness is deep in my heart.
This is a disease no doctor can cure.
Only Union with the Friend can cure it.

translation by Andrew Harvey and Eryk Hanut – ‘Perfume of the Desert’

I have made You the Companion of my heart.
But my body is available to those who desire its company,
And my body is friendly toward its guest,
But the Beloved of my heart is the guest of my soul.

translation by Andrew Harvey and Eryk Hanut – ‘Perfume of the Desert’

Brothers, my peace is in my aloneness.
My Beloved is alone with me there, always.
I have found nothing in all the worlds
That could match His love,
This love that harrows the sands of my desert.
If I come to die of desire
And my Beloved is still not satisfied,
I would live in eternal despair.

To abandon all that He has fashioned
And hold in the palm of my hand
Certain proof that He loves me—
That is the name and the goal of my search.

Andrew Harvey and Eryk Hanut – ‘Perfume of the Desert’

Sanai (1118-1152) (Abû’l-Majd Majdûd b. Adam Sanâ’î) is revered as one of the first great mystical poets of Persia. He produced many lyrical poems and a religious epic, The Walled Garden of Truth or the Enclosed Garden of Truth (The HADîQATU’ L-HAQîQAT).

Don’t speak of your suffering — He is speaking.
Don’t look for Him everywhere — He’s looking for you.

An ant’s foot touches a leaf, He senses it;
A pebble shifts in a streambed, He knows it.

If there’s a worm hidden deep in a rock,
He’ll know its body, tinier than an atom,

The sound of its praise, its secret ecstasy —
All this He knows by divine knowing.

He has given the tiniest worm its food;
He has opened to you the Way of the Holy Ones.

‘The Puzzle’

Someone who keeps aloof from suffering
is not a lover. I choose your love
above all else. As for wealth
if that comes, or goes, so be it.
Wealth and love inhabit separate worlds.

But as long as you live here inside me,
I cannot say that I am suffering.

translation by Coleman Barks – ‘Persian Poems’


‘The Way of the Holy Ones’

Don’t speak of your suffering — He is speaking.
Don’t look for Him everywhere — He’s looking for you.

An ant’s foot touches a leaf, He senses it;
A pebble shifts in a streambed, He knows it.

If there’s a worm hidden deep in a rock,
He’ll know its body, tinier than an atom,

The sound of its praise, its secret ecstasy —
All this He knows by divine knowing.

He has given the tiniest worm its food;
He has opened to you the Way of the Holy Ones.

translation by Andrew Harvey and Eryk Hanut – ‘Perfume of the Desert’

Those unable to grieve,
or to speak of their love,
or to be grateful, those
who can’t remember God
as the source of everything,

might be described as a vacant wind,
or a cold anvil, or a group
of frightened old people.

Say the Name. Moisten your tongue
with praise, and be the spring ground,
waking. Let your mouth be given
its gold-yellow stamen like the wild rose’s.

As you fill with wisdom,
and your heart with love,
there’s no more thirst.

There’s only unselfed patience
waiting on the doorsill, a silence
which doesn’t listen to advice
from people passing in the street.

translation by Coleman Barks

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Poetry Monday: Lao Tzu, Rumi, Tagore

Lao Tzu-

Labels

Labels
words, verbs and lines
serve to define
that which can be named
yet infinity cannot be charted
eternity cannot be corraled

uncircumferenced presence
centered everywhere, within without
cannot be defined
with the scribing of a line

bare of name
source of creation
bearing names
mothers gives birth

in the beginning one
from one to two
one becomes another
thus a mother

feeling separate
reaching outward
for union found within
reaching inward

union remains
movements still

freed of desire, fulfilled in Unity
filled with desire manifesting reality
form is defined
thought needs mind
letting go of thought
we move beyond space and time

no piece, know peace
these two are the same
through unfoldment
in appearance different

the secret Mystery
divergent unity
gateway doorway reality

***

Rumi:

    This World Which Is Made of Our Love for Emptiness

    Praise to the emptiness that blanks out existence. Existence:
    This place made from our love for that emptiness!

    Yet somehow comes emptiness,
    this existence goes.

    Praise to that happening, over and over!
    For years I pulled my own existence out of emptiness.

    Then one swoop, one swing of the arm,
    that work is over.

    Free of who I was, free of presence, free of dangerous fear, hope,
    free of mountainous wanting.

    The here-and-now mountain is a tiny piece of a piece of straw
    blown off into emptiness.

    These words I’m saying so much begin to lose meaning:
    Existence, emptiness, mountain, straw:

    Words and what they try to say swept
    out the window, down the slant of the roof.

    Un-named poem:

I died from minerality and became vegetable;

And From vegetativeness I died and became animal.

I died from animality and became man.

Then why fear disappearance through death?

Next time I shall die

Bringing forth wings and feathers like angels;

After that, soaring higher than angels –

What you cannot imagine,

I shall be that.

Ode 2180

From these depths depart towards heaven;
may your soul be happy, journey joyfully.
You have escaped from the city full of fear and trembling;
happily become a resident of the Abode of Security4 The Abode of Security seems to be an allusion to heaven which is sometimes called “the abode of peace” (dar-al salam) by Rumi as against “the abode of pride” (dar-al gorur) i.e., the world..
If the body’s image has gone, await the image-maker; if the
body is utterly ruined, become all soul.
If your face has become saffron pale through death, become a
dweller among tulip beds and Judas trees.
If the doors of repose have been barred to you, come, depart
by way of the roof and the ladder.
If you are alone from Friends and companions, by the help of
God become a saheb-qeran5 Saheb qeran is a person who is born under a happy conjunction of the planets. [lord of happy circumstance].
If you have been secluded from water and bread, like bread
become the food of the souls, and so become!

***

Tagore

Flower

Pluck this little flower and take it, delay not! I fear lest it

droop and drop into the dust.

I may not find a place in thy garland, but honour it with a touch of

pain from thy hand and pluck it. I fear lest the day end before I am

aware, and the time of offering go by.

Though its colour be not deep and its smell be faint, use this flower

in thy service and pluck it while there is time.

Fool

O Fool, try to carry thyself upon thy own shoulders!

O beggar, to come beg at thy own door!

Leave all thy burdens on his hands who can bear all,

and never look behind in regret.

Thy desire at once puts out the light from the lamp it touches with its breath.

It is unholy—take not thy gifts through its unclean hands.

Accept only what is offered by sacred love.

Leave This

Leave this chanting and singing and telling of beads!

Whom dost thou worship in this lonely dark corner of a temple with doors all shut?

Open thine eyes and see thy God is not before thee!

He is there where the tiller is tilling the hard ground

and where the pathmaker is breaking stones.

He is with them in sun and in shower,

and his garment is covered with dust.

Put off thy holy mantle and even like him come down on the dusty soil!

Deliverance?

Where is this deliverance to be found?

Our master himself has joyfully taken upon him the bonds of creation;

he is bound with us all for ever.

Come out of thy meditations and leave aside thy flowers and incense!

What harm is there if thy clothes become tattered and stained?

Meet him and stand by him in toil and in sweat of thy brow.

Journey Home

The time that my journey takes is long and the way of it long.

I came out on the chariot of the first gleam of light, and pursued my

voyage through the wildernesses of worlds leaving my track on many a star and planet.

It is the most distant course that comes nearest to thyself,

and that training is the most intricate which leads to the utter simplicity of a tune.

The traveler has to knock at every alien door to come to his own,

and one has to wander through all the outer worlds to reach the innermost shrine at the end.

My eyes strayed far and wide before I shut them and said `Here art thou!’

The question and the cry `Oh, where?’ melt into tears of a thousand

streams and deluge the world with the flood of the assurance `I am!’

Song Unsung

The song that I came to sing remains unsung to this day.

I have spent my days in stringing and in unstringing my instrument.

The time has not come true, the words have not been rightly set;

only there is the agony of wishing in my heart.

The blossom has not opened; only the wind is sighing by.

I have not seen his face, nor have I listened to his voice;

only I have heard his gentle footsteps from the road before my house.

The livelong day has passed in spreading his seat on the floor;

but the lamp has not been lit and I cannot ask him into my house.

I live in the hope of meeting with him; but this meeting is not yet.

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    Filed under Lao Tzu, poetry, Rumi, Spirituality, Tagore