The Unknown
Ivan M. Granger October 29th, 2008
Build up a tolerance for the unknown.
How can you be at home in the immense, mysterious,
and formless Self,
when you are only at ease with what the mind has defined?
Archive for October, 2008
Mahmud Shabistari - The Mirror
Ivan M. Granger October 29th, 2008
The Mirror (from The Secret Rose Garden)
by Mahmud Shabistari
English version by Florence Lederer
Your eye has not strength enough
to gaze at the burning sun,
but you can see its burning light
by watching its reflection
mirrored in the water.
So the reflection of Absolute Being
can be viewed in the mirror of Not-Being,
for nonexistence, being opposite Reality,
instantly catches its reflection.
Know the world from end to end is a mirror;
in each atom a hundred suns are concealed.
If you pierce the heart of a single drop of water,
from it will flow a hundred clear oceans;
if you look intently at each speck of dust,
in it you will see a thousand beings.
A gnat in its limbs is like an elephant;
in name a drop of water resembles the Nile.
In the heart of a barleycorn is stored a hundred harvests.
Within a millet-seed a world exists.
In an insects wing is an ocean of life.
A heaven is concealed in the pupil of an eye.
The core at the center of the heart is small,
yet the Lord of both worlds will enter there.
— from The Secret Rose Garden: Mahmud Shabistari, Translated by Florence Lederer / Edited by David Fideler
/ Photo by striatic /
More on light… and reflection.
Know the world from end to end is a mirror;
in each atom a hundred suns are concealed.
Whether we know it or not, as we walk through each day we shine.
We contain universes and infinities.
The core at the center of the heart is small,
yet the Lord of both worlds will enter there.
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Mahmud Shabistari
Iran/Per (1250? - 1340) Timeline |
Shabistari’s Secret Rose Garden (the Gulistan-i Raz, which can also be translated as The Rose Garden of Mystery) is considered to be one of the greatest works of Persian Sufism.
Mahmud Shabistari lived in Persia (Iran) during the time of the Mongol invasions of the region. It was a time of massacres and religious sectarianism. Yet it is also during this time that the Golden Age of Persian Sufism emerged.
In the Secret Rose Garden, Shabistari expresses a viewpoint of Sufi realization similar to the perspective of the great Sufi philosopher Ibn Arabi, but expressed through the rich Persian poetic tradition.
The value of Shabistari’s work was recognized almost immediately. Many commentaries on the work by other Sufi mystics soon began to appear. The Secret Rose Garden quickly was regarded as one of the central works of Sufism.
The same ways
Ivan M. Granger October 27th, 2008
Why walk the same ways
as everyone else
when so much of this magical existence
is uncharted and unknown?
Dariya - Who can describe the Source of the universe
Ivan M. Granger October 27th, 2008
Who can describe the Source of the universe,
by Dariya
English version by K. N. Upadhyaya
Who can describe the Source of the universe,
Containing this world, the underworld and clusters
of galaxies manifested in higher regions?
The One whose luster, like a luminous gem,
illumines the universe,
Which poet can comprehend and follow
the pattern of His manifestations?
It is the Merciful Lord
who bestowed His grace on me,
And I could see the glory
of His entire manifestations.
The play of love of the Limitless Primal Being,
I did see in entirety.
This is an inaccessible and unfathomable Divine Wonder,
How can any poet give its description?
— from Dariya Sahib: Saint of Bihar, Translated by K. N. Upadhyaya
/ Photo by Knick! /
As the days grow shorter and darker (for those of us in the northern hemisphere), I thought we should take a moment to celebrate Diwali or Deepavali, India’s celebration of Light…
The One whose luster, like a luminous gem,
illumines the universe…
Light is one of the primary metaphors in sacred poetry, suggesting the Divine not framed within a mental concept. But for genuine mystics, this light is directly experienced.
This sense of light is more than a brightness one might experience on a sunny afternoon. This light is perceived as being a living radiance that permeates everything, everywhere, always. This light is immediately understood to be the true source of all things, the foundation on which the physicality of the material world is built.
The sense of boundaries and separation, long taken for granted by the mind as the fundamental nature of existence, suddenly seems illusory, for this light shines through all people and things. It has no edges, and the light of one is the light of another.
This light is recognized as your own Self, while simultaneously being the Self of all others. Since this light is you and, at the same time, it radiates within all, the question arises: How can there be separation? conflict? loss?
The play of love of the Limitless Primal Being,
I did see in entirety.
This is the light of the true mystics.
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Dariya
India (1634 - 1780) Timeline |
Video - Hyperpoetical Journey / Kahlil Gibran
Ivan M. Granger October 27th, 2008
A poem by Kahlil Gibran. An astronomical vision of self and God. A journey inward and outward…
Aiming for…
Ivan M. Granger October 24th, 2008
If you’re not aiming for complete enlightenment,
well, what’s the point?
Henry Vaughan - The Morning Watch
Ivan M. Granger October 24th, 2008
The Morning Watch
by Henry Vaughan
O joys! Infinite sweetness! with what flowers
And shoots of glory, my soul breaks and buds!
All the long hours
Of night and rest,
Through the still shrouds
Of sleep, and clouds,
This dew fell on my breast ;
O how it bloods,
And spirits all my earth! hark! in what rings,
And hymning circulations the quick world
Awakes, and sings!
The rising winds,
And falling springs,
Birds, beasts, all things
Adore Him in their kinds.
Thus all is hurl’d
In sacred hymns and order ; the great chime
And symphony of Nature. Prayer is
The world in tune,
A spirit-voice,
And vocal joys,
Whose echo is heaven’s bliss.
O let me climb
When I lie down! The pious soul by night
Is like a clouded star, whose beams, though said
To shed their light
Under some cloud,
Yet are above,
And shine and move
Beyond that misty shroud.
So in my bed,
That curtain’d grave, though sleep, like ashes, hide
My lamp and life, both shall in Thee abide.
— from Henry Vaughan: The Complete Poems, by Henry Vaughan
/ Photo by particlem /
This poem by Henry Vaughan is an excellent example in English of a mystic’s ecstatic utterances.
There are so many phrases and lines here that can be repeated again and again to draw the awareness into remembrance of the ecstatic state within each of us…
Here’s a hint to start you off: If you’re struggling to really connect with this poem, read it out loud. Feel its rhyme and syncopation drawing you more deeply in. A poem like this can’t fully be savored until it is spoken and tasted by the tongue.
O joys! Infinite sweetness! with what flowers
And shoots of glory, my soul breaks and buds!
There is a specific experience referred to when Vaughan writes “This dew fell on my breast; / O how it bloods…” In states of mystical ecstasy, there is often a sensation of drinking a subtle, divinely sweet liquid. Many saints and mystics refer to this ’substance’ metaphorically as ‘wine.’ But, in alchemy and other esoteric traditions, it is sometimes called “dew,” for it descends secretly from heaven and marks the coming of dawn, enlightenment. This “dew” when it descends, and when we drink it, settles upon the heart (”my breast”) and warms it, giving new life to the heart, causing it to awaken and feel (”O how it bloods”) and expand in ways inconceivable before.
Vaughan gives us a wondrous segment in the middle of this poem that describes the “symphony of Nature,” a swirling vision of the living world awakening and filled with activity, and it is all a living prayer: “Birds, beasts, all things / Adore Him in their kinds / Thus all is hurl’d / In sacred hymns and order…” (And what a great line to remember: “Prayer is / The world in tune.”) This is the vision of unity embodied in the natural world, but it is also a vision of unity within himself, a vision we can also see within our own selves. Again, there is a touch of European alchemical thought here. The elements, the animals, all of nature, are recognized as being within each of us. Normally we struggle through life feeling as if those aspects of ourselves are disjointed, separate, in conflict. But in the startling vision of divine ecstasy, we are shown that the great drama of those elemental forces within us is part of a rich, unified symphony. We see the natural world as a living unity, and we see the forces that comprise ourselves too as a living unity — and then we open to the vision of heaven and earth as a living unity, as well.
The closing image of the “pious soul” being like a “clouded star” is an important metaphor to pay attention to. Vaughan is reminding us that the soul is always — always — unhindered awareness and bliss. Even if those “stars” seem obscured “Under some cloud” of limited awareness, that only affects the earthbound awareness that looks up. But a cloud is no limitation to our natural perfection, for our “souls,” our true selves “Yet are above, / And shine and move / Beyond that misty shroud…” Even death (”The curtain’d grave”) may try to hide our light, but it only manages to obscure it from those who can’t see beyond earthly sight.
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Henry Vaughan
Wales (1621 - 1695) Timeline |
Better to know
Ivan M. Granger October 22nd, 2008
Always better to know
than to believe
Basava - The pot is a God
Ivan M. Granger October 22nd, 2008
The pot is a God. The winnowing
by Basava
English version by A. K. Ramanujan
The pot is a God. The winnowing
fan is a God. The stone in the
street is a God. The comb is a
God. The bowstring is also a
God. The bushel is a God and the
spouted cup is a God.
Gods, gods, there are so many
there’s no place left
for a foot.
There is only
one God. He is our Lord
of the Meeting Rivers.
— from Speaking of Siva, by A K Ramanujan
/ Photo by Chor Ip /
I love this poem. I first found it in Georg Feuerstein’s mammoth book on the Yoga Tradition, and then later in A. K. Ramanujan’s Speaking of Siva. It’s one of those simple, yet powerful poems that rings in the back of my mind.
Gods, gods, there are so many
there’s no place left
for a foot.
Makes you want to take every step carefully.
Turns each walk into a prayer. The placing of each foot on the ground, the touching of every object becomes divine contact.
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Basava
India (1134 - 1196) Timeline |
Basava, sometimes referred to reverently as Basavanna or Basaveshwara, was a twelfth century devotee of Shiva and early organizer of the Virasaiva Lingayata sect in the Kannada-speaking regions of southern India.
The Virasaivas were a Shiva bhakti movement that rejected the elaborate ritualism and strict caste system of orthodox Hinduism which favored the wealthy, and instead emphasized direct mystical experience available to all through deep devotion to God. In this sense, the Virasaiva movement was a mystical protestant movement that also asserted social equality and justice for the poor. As Lingayatas they worship Shiva in the form of a linga, the stone symbol that represents God as creative generator of the universe or, more deeply, as a representation of the Formless taking form.
Basavanna was orphaned at a young age but adopted by a wealthy family with political connections. He received a good education but rejected a life of comfort and prestige to become a wandering ascetic dedicated to Shiva.
He received enlightenment at a sacred meeting of rivers. This is why all of Basavanna’s poems include a reference to Shiva as “the lord of the meeting rivers.” This also has a deeper, esoteric meaning relating to the subtle energies awakened in the yogi’s awareness.
However, he soon was given a divine command to return to worldly life. Basavanna initially resisted, but eventually yielded and returned to his adopted family. Before long he attained high political office while, simultaneously, forming the new populist mystical movement of Virasaivas into a coherent, egalitarian community. This community fostered many other great poet-saints, including Akka Mahadevi and Allama Prabhu.
This utopian community began to be seen as a threat to the orthodox religious and political forces, however, and they used the marriage between an outcaste man and a brahmin woman within the community as an excuse to kill several of its members. Basavanna urged a non-violent response, but the reflex for revenge was too strong among some of the community’s members. In the tense aftermath, the community couldn’t safely hold together and its members went in different directions.
Basavanna once again left politics and returned to his focus on the inner spiritual life.
Agnostic
Ivan M. Granger October 20th, 2008
Regardless of belief,
everyone is an agnostic
until gnosis.
Farid ud-Din Attar - Mysticism
Ivan M. Granger October 20th, 2008
Mysticism
by Farid ud-Din Attar
English version by Coleman Barks
The sun can only be seen by the light
of the sun. The more a man or woman knows,
the greater the bewilderment, the closer
to the sun the more dazzled, until a point
is reached where one no longer is.
A mystic knows without knowledge, without
intuition or information, without contemplation
or description or revelation. Mystics
are not themselves. They do not exist
in selves. They move as they are moved,
talk as words come, see with sight
that enters their eyes. I met a woman
once and asked her where love had led her.
“Fool, there’s no destination to arrive at.
Loved one and lover and love are infinite.”
— from The Hand of Poetry: Five Mystic Poets of Persia, with Lectures by Inayat Khan, Translated by Coleman Barks
/ Photo by Eyebags /
“The sun can only be seen by the light / of the sun.” The sun here is, of course, a reference to God. But then, what does it mean to say that God can only be seen by the light of God?
One doesn’t perceive God as a separate, objectified reality. There is no place ‘outside’ of God to stand in order to observe God as something exterior. In fact, there is no eye in the common sense that can view God.
The only way to see God is by the “light” of God. That is, instead of looking, looking everywhere, we must stop looking and notice the divine radiance already present, right here, right now. We are drawn to that radiant presence, growing closer to it until we are “dazzled” — confounded by the scintillating wholeness that is beyond the mind’s ability to conceptualize.
Entering the radiance more deeply, we are finally swallowed by it “until a point / is reached where one no longer is.” “Mystics / are not themselves. They do not exist / in selves.” The little self that imagines itself as a being separate from others and the world around it no longer exists in the fluid unity of this radiance that fills and connects everything.
At that point there is only the “light of the sun”, only divine radiance, within and without — everywhere! When the light is recognized as being all-pervading, nothing separate or left out, that is when the Divine is truly witnessed in wholeness and unity.
But have we gotten anywhere? No, that implies we have left one place or state of awareness and entered another, which is still a sense of separation. Instead, we have recognized the unlimited nature of Reality. And we are individual (but not separate) points of awareness within that wholeness. “There’s no destination to arrive at. / Loved one and lover and love are infinite.”
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Farid ud-Din Attar
Iran/Per (1120? - 1220?) Timeline |
Gabriel Rosenstock - I create silences
Ivan M. Granger October 17th, 2008
(33) I create silences (from Uttering Her Name)
by Gabriel Rosenstock
Dar Óma
I create silences
wherever I go
in silence You come to me
I close my eyes and ears
to worlds
my lips
if people ask for directions
I point to the gibbous moon
when asked how I am
I smile the cusp of an eclipse
should someone ask the time
they’ll see in my eyes
it is Dar Óma time
to pray
and to praise
all of creation
is getting in the mood
insects flit silently
movement
but no rustle from trees
I cannot hear my heartbeat
in a distant land
You move noiselessly
sunlight briefly strokes the haggard face of a mountain
a hare cocks his ears
You listen
/ Photo by motumboe /
I figured I’d round out the week with another contemporary voice, the Irish poet Gabriel Rosenstock.
I keep rereading that opening phrase…
I create silences
wherever I go
This poem evokes for me twilight, that magical stillpoint between day and night. Movement and life flows, but the world is somehow still beneath the quietly flowing surface. The Goddess moves through creation, noiselessly. With Her, we all become silent witnesses.
they’ll see in my eyes
it is Dar Óma time
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Gabriel Rosenstock
Ireland (1949 - ) |
Maps
Ivan M. Granger October 15th, 2008
Understand about sacred texts:
A map doesn’t mean anything
if you don’t make the journey.
David Whyte - All the True Vows
Ivan M. Granger October 15th, 2008
All the True Vows
by David Whyte
All the true vows
are secret vows
the ones we speak out loud
are the ones we break.
There is only one life
you can call your own
and a thousand others
you can call by any name you want.
Hold to the truth you make
every day with your own body,
don’t turn your face away.
Hold to your own truth
at the center of the image
you were born with.
Those who do not understand
their destiny will never understand
the friends they have made
nor the work they have chosen
nor the one life that waits
beyond all the others.
By the lake in the wood
in the shadows
you can
whisper that truth
to the quiet reflection
you see in the water.
Whatever you hear from
the water, remember,
it wants you to carry
the sound of its truth on your lips.
Remember,
in this place
no one can hear you
and out of the silence
you can make a promise
it will kill you to break,
that way you’ll find
what is real and what is not.
I know what I am saying.
Time almost forsook me
and I looked again.
Seeing my reflection
I broke a promise
and spoke
for the first time
after all these years
in my own voice,
before it was too late
to turn my face again.
“All the True Vows” from The House of Belonging by David Whyte. Copyright © 1997, 2004 by David Whyte. Used by permission of the author and Many Rivers Press (www.davidwhyte.com) All rights reserved.
/ Photo by jenny downing /
Discovering the poetry of David Whyte was one of those catalysts in my life that inspired me to look more deeply into poetry…
I read this poem by David Whyte as a meditation on the alienation most people feel from their own lives. Too often we aren’t really present in our own lives. “There is only one life / you can call your own…”
He is saying that something powerful, even sacred, occurs when we stop contorting ourselves to reach for the lives that are not our own. When we settle into ourselves, when we start to actually live our own lives, embody our own lives, we not only begin to really experience life deeply for the first time, we start to tap into “the one life that waits / beyond all others.”
Living this way, we find our true face, our true reflection.
I especially like the ending verses: “Seeing my reflection / I broke a promise / and spoke / for the first time / after all these years // in my own voice.”
To rediscover our own voice, our true voice which has been socialized back into the shadows of our awareness, we have to break an old agreement, a “promise.” We must decide to no longer identify with the roles and expectations set up for us by family, friends, and our own past actions. Finally dropping all of those masks, we discover our true face, our “reflection.” Then, “for the first time,” we can finally speak in our own voice.
Worth reading more than once…
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David Whyte
US (1955 - ) |
Ivan M. Granger - Holy Ground
Ivan M. Granger October 13th, 2008
Holy Ground
by Ivan M. Granger
Let the vision
of the vastness
you are
leave you
in glorious
ruins.
Pilgrims will come
to imagine
the grand temple
that once stood,
not realizing
the wreck
made this empty plain
holy ground.
/ Photo by Mendhak /
It’s been several months since I last featured one of my own poems. So I thought I’d slip one in today.
Rather that bury this brief poem with lots of commentary, I thought I’d plant a few questions instead:
- Who or what is really left in ruins?
- Why are those ruins “glorious”?
- Why an “empty plain”? What is it that is empty?
- Most importantly, why is it that the ruins, the “wreck,” make this holy ground, rather than some “grand temple”?
Don’t spend too much time trying to answer these questions intellectually. Just let the questions simmer, and see what sort of answers naturally bubble up to the surface.
We had a rainy, overcast weekend here in Colorado. Time to wrap yourself in a warm sweater, hold cold hands around a hot cup of tea, and enjoy some melancholy musings…
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Ivan M. Granger
US (1969 - ) |
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