Archive for June, 2009

John of the Cross - I Came Into the Unknown

Ivan M. Granger June 29th, 2009

I Came Into the Unknown
by John of the Cross

English version by Willis Barnstone

I came into the unknown
and stayed there unknowing
rising beyond all science.

I did not know the door
but when I found the way,
unknowing where I was,
I learned enormous things,
but what I felt I cannot say,
for I remained unknowing,
rising beyond all science.

It was the perfect realm
of holiness and peace.
In deepest solitude
I found the narrow way:
a secret giving such release
that I was stunned and stammering,
rising beyond all science.

I was so far inside,
so dazed and far away
my senses were released
from feelings of my own.
My mind had found a surer way:
a knowledge of unknowing,
rising beyond all science.

And he who does arrive
collapses as in sleep,
for all he knew before
now seems a lowly thing,
and so his knowledge grows so deep
that he remains unknowing,
rising beyond all science.

The higher he ascends
the darker is the wood;
it is the shadowy cloud
that clarified the night,
and so the one who understood
remains always unknowing,
rising beyond all science.

This knowledge by unknowing
is such a soaring force
that scholars argue long
but never leave the ground.
Their knowledge always fails the source:
to understand unknowing,
rising beyond all science.

This knowledge is supreme
crossing a blazing height;
though formal reason tries
it crumbles in the dark,
but one who would control the night
by knowledge of unknowing
will rise beyond all science.

And if you wish to hear:
the highest science leads
to an ecstatic feeling
of the most holy Being;
and from his mercy comes his deed:
to let us stay unknowing,
rising beyond all science.

— from To Touch the Sky: Poems of Mystical, Spiritual & Metaphysical Light, Translated by Willis Barnstone


/ Photo by oddsock /

In this poem, St. John of the Cross continually contrasts unknowing with “science.” And he emphasizes that it is the unknowing that is superior.

Don’t misunderstand, he is not advocating ignorance! He is talking about the mystical idea of “unknowing,” the state in which all thoughts and concepts and mental filters have been set aside, the state in which you rise above the elaborate constructions of the logical mind (”formal reason”) and come to rest in pure awareness (”a knowledge of unknowing”). He is contrasting true knowing with the mere accumulation of data.

The data of the logical mind is always dependent on the validation of the senses, but John of the Cross declares, “I was so far inside… my senses were released…” This state of supreme “unknowing” isn’t so much a state of perception, which is the drawing in and sorting of exterior awareness; instead, it is the completely internalized awareness of Being that has nothing to do with the senses. This is a “surer way” of recognizing the fundamental Reality.

“Rising beyond all science” ultimately leads “to an ecstatic feeling / of the most holy Being.” This is “the perfect realm / of holiness and peace,” free from the conceptual filters we normally place on our awareness. “In deepest solitude / I found the narrow way: / a secret giving such release…” In this state, one experiences “solitude” or supreme unity, requiring nothing outside itself to be whole and itself. And this solitude reveals the “narrow way;” the solitude is itself the way — “narrow” in that it is difficult to achieve when lost in the normal busyness of the chattering mind, and a “way” because it draws the scattered awareness to “rise” upward and ultimately settle, unified, into the heart.

A delightful poem that confounds the intellect while inviting the wider awareness to reach beyond self-imposed boundaries, “rising beyond all science” to discover the ever-present “perfect realm / of holiness and peace…”

John of the Cross, John of the Cross poetry, Christian poetry John of the Cross

Spain (1542 - 1591) Timeline
Christian : Catholic

More poetry by John of the Cross

Stephen Levine - In the realm of the passing away (Michael Jackson Tribute)

Ivan M. Granger June 26th, 2009

In the realm of the passing away
by Stephen Levine

This is the realm of the passing away. All that
exists does not for long.
      Whatever comes into this world never stops sliding
toward the edge of eternity.
      Form arises from formlessness and passes back,
arising and dissolving in a few dance steps between
creation and destruction.
      We are born passing away.
      Seedlings and deadfall all face forward.
      Earthworms eat what remains.
      We sing not for that which dies but for that which
never dies.

— from Breaking the Drought: Visions of Grace, by Stephen Levine


/ Photo by tipoyock /

Whatever comes into this world never stops sliding
toward the edge of eternity.

Yesterday was a strange day of famous deaths. I woke up and found out that Ed McMahon had died the day before. Then I heard about Farrah Fawcett’s passing. In the afternoon, checking out friends’ comments on Facebook, I started to see messages about “Michael” and “Thriller.” Were they saying that Michael Jackson had died too? A few searches on the Internet, and I found out that, yes, Michael Jackson had unexpectedly died. To add to that, I then was told that the actor Jeff Goldblum had died by falling off a cliff, only to find out later that he had been injured but did not die.

Now, I can’t say I felt a really strong personal connection to these famous figures, but by the end of the day I could feel the world’s shock, especially over Michael Jackson’s death. It would seem strange not to mention such a significant death in today’s email.

In his personal life, Michael Jackson seemed eccentric and haunted, and accusations raised troubling questions. But frankly I don’t know enough about the private man to comment or pass judgment. His genius as a singer and dancer can’t be denied, however. I remember his performance at the Motown awards, singing “Billie Jean” wearing a single sequined glove, and sliding a smooth moonwalk across the stage. A revolution exploded in music and dance at that very moment, the repercussions of which are still reverberating through pop culture today.

Michael Jackson is one of those rare figures, like Bob Marley, Elvis, John Lennon, a defining figure for the entire world. There is a reason that we call the ultra famous “stars.” They are like the planets in astrology; they embody for the world a certain archetypal energy. But that makes normal human relationships next to impossible for these people. We relate to the archetypal aura and not the person. Culture bearers are adored by millions and intimate with none.

This archetypal role they play is also why their deaths are so traumatic to the world. Archetypes are, by their nature, eternal energies of the soul. So when a person embodying a particular archetype dies, the world feels a rupture, the planetary psyche feels disoriented and fragmented. How can that which we instinctively know to be eternal disappear from our midst? But what really happens is that the archetypal energy is released, returned back to each of us. Having seen it enacted outside of ourselves, we are again reminded to look within ourselves for those same qualities.

So, today, sing! Hooo! And dance! Maybe try a moonwalk in socks across the kitchen floor…

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Whole and undivided

Ivan M. Granger June 26th, 2009

Mental concepts are an attempt to slice reality into
neat parcels, giving an artificial sense of control.
God is that whole reality, undivided.

Mahmud Shabistari - The Beloved Guest

Ivan M. Granger June 24th, 2009

The Beloved Guest (from The Secret Rose Garden)
by Mahmud Shabistari

English version by Florence Lederer

Cast away your existence entirely,
for it is nothing but weeds and refuse.
Go, clear out your heart’s chamber;
arrange it as the abiding-place of the Beloved.
When you go forth, He will come in,
and to you, with self discarded,
He will unveil His beauty.

— from The Secret Rose Garden: Mahmud Shabistari, Translated by Florence Lederer / Edited by David Fideler


/ Photo by Powderruns /

Again and again the great mystics and saints remind us to “cast away your existence entirely.” This is expressed in many ways in the various world traditions: to die in order to live, to lose yourself in order to be found.

Why all this morbid insistence in every tradition on self-negation? It is important to understand which “self” is being negated. The self that must be “cast away,” “discarded” is the false self, the little self, the ego .

Until the ego self is truly dropped, it rules your perception of reality like a miser. That ego has a secret it desperately must hide from your everyday awareness: it doesn’t really exist. At best you could say the ego is like a tension in the psyche, but it isn’t a real thing in and of itself.

So long as a person believes in the reality of that phantom ego, so long as he or she identifies with that nagging cramp of the “me”-sense, then seeing its inherent unreality is inconceivable, terrifying. The absence of ego is mistakenly assumed to be the death of self. Recoiling in fear, the psyche reflexively limits your perception of everything around you, crippling the consciousness, all in order to perpetuate the illusion of the ego and so protect you against “death.” The result, however, is that the simple truth remains hidden: The ego does not exist, and you are not the ego; you will survive the loss of ego.

The way out of this trap is to — with deep love, infinite patience, elegant balance, and unshakable determination — loosen the ego’s bindings until it falls away naturally.

When you accomplish that, you’ll stand in mute amazement. For, when the ego “you” has left, “when you go forth,” the Divine One “will come in,” and “unveil His beauty” to you. And, although that radiant beauty reveals itself to be everywhere, it is also recognized as contentedly abiding in the “heart’s chamber.”

Mahmud Shabistari

Iran/Per (1250? - 1340) Timeline
Muslim / Sufi

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Inhabit each step

Ivan M. Granger June 24th, 2009

Dream big! Journey far!
But inhabit each step
…with joy!

Civivakkiyar - Silence

Ivan M. Granger June 22nd, 2009

Silence, unmoved and rising
by Civivakkiyar

English version by Kamil V. Zvelebil

Silence, unmoved and rising,
Silence, unmoved and sheltering,
Silence, unmoved and permanent,
Silence, unmoved and brilliant,
Silence, broad and immense like the Ganga,
Silence, unmoved and increasing,
Silence, white and shining like the Moon,
Silence, the Essence of Siva.

— from The Poets of the Powers: Freedom, Magic, and Renewal, Translated by Kamil V. Zvelebil


/ Photo by Prabhu B /

This poem has a wonderful rhythm and repetition. A chant. Sound evoking silence. Silence, broad and immense…

Civivakkiyar

India (9th Century) Timeline
Yoga / Hindu : Shaivite (Shiva)

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Music: Tabla & Taiko

Ivan M. Granger June 22nd, 2009

The great tabla player, Zakir Hussain, accompanied by Japanese taiko drums. Hope you enjoy.

Masks

Ivan M. Granger June 22nd, 2009

Even our masks reveal us.

Li-Young Lee - From Blossoms

Ivan M. Granger June 19th, 2009

From Blossoms
by Li-Young Lee

From blossoms comes
this brown paper bag of peaches
we bought from the boy
at the bend in the road where we turned toward
signs painted Peaches.

From laden boughs, from hands,
from sweet fellowship in the bins,
comes nectar at the roadside, succulent
peaches we devour, dusty skin and all,
comes the familiar dust of summer, dust we eat.

O, to take what we love inside,
to carry within us an orchard, to eat
not only the skin, but the shade,
not only the sugar, but the days, to hold
the fruit in our hands, adore it, then bite into
the round jubilance of peach.

There are days we live
as if death were nowhere
in the background; from joy
to joy to joy, from wing to wing,
from blossom to blossom to
impossible blossom, to sweet impossible blossom.

— from Rose, by Li-Young Lee


/ Photo by ellievanhoutte /

The slow, circling dance of the year… and this weekend is the summer solstice, the day we catch the sun’s most brilliant smile.

A day of light. A day of fullness. A day of ripeness… and of sweet peaches still dusty from the orchard.

Li-Young Lee, Li-Young Lee poetry, Secular or Eclectic poetry Li-Young Lee

US (1957 - )
Secular or Eclectic

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Hand everything over

Ivan M. Granger June 19th, 2009

Enough deals and half-measures!

Hand everything over
to that divine ember
burning in your chest!

Constantine P. Cavafy - Ithaca

Ivan M. Granger June 17th, 2009

Ithaca
by Constantine P. Cavafy

When you set out on your journey to Ithaca,
pray that the road is long,
full of adventure, full of knowledge.
The Lestrygonians and the Cyclops,
the angry Poseidon — do not fear them:
You will never find such as these on your path,
if your thoughts remain lofty, if a fine
emotion touches your spirit and your body.
The Lestrygonians and the Cyclops,
the fierce Poseidon you will never encounter,
if you do not carry them within your soul,
if your soul does not set them up before you.

Pray that the road is long.
That the summer mornings are many, when,
with such pleasure, with such joy
you will enter ports seen for the first time;
stop at Phoenician markets,
and purchase fine merchandise,
mother-of-pearl and coral, amber, and ebony,
and sensual perfumes of all kinds,
as many sensual perfumes as you can;
visit many Egyptian cities,
to learn and learn from scholars.

Always keep Ithaca on your mind.
To arrive there is your ultimate goal.
But do not hurry the voyage at all.
It is better to let it last for many years;
and to anchor at the island when you are old,
rich with all you have gained on the way,
not expecting that Ithaca will offer you riches.

Ithaca has given you the beautiful voyage.
Without her you would have never set out on the road.
She has nothing more to give you.

And if you find her poor, Ithaca has not deceived you.
Wise as you have become, with so much experience,
you must already have understood what these Ithacas mean.

— from C. P. Cavafy: Collected Poems, by Constantine P. Cavafy / Translated by Edmund Keely


/ Photo by Wolfgang Staudt /

A little motivation to take down that old copy of the Odyssey, dust it off, and crack it open once again. It was a favorite of mine when I was a teenager, with gods, monsters, heroes, adventure… and a reminder of my Greek heritage (my father’s father was from the Greek island of Chios).

Cavafy’s poem reminds us of the Odyssey’s hidden truth, that the hero’s journey to Ithaca is the soul’s journey home.

Ancient tradition says that Homer’s epics, the Illiad and the Odyssey, combine into a grand mystery tale, understood by initiates as describing the stages and struggles of the soul’s inner journey.

pray that the road is long,
full of adventure, full of knowledge…

Too often seekers decry the road, its bumps and turns, impatient for the destination.

To arrive there is your ultimate goal.
But do not hurry the voyage at all.

But the stops along the journey are not roadblocks, they are stepping stones. Actually, even that’s not true. Seen clearly, the journey and the destination are a single continuum. The river pours into the sea, and they are one. Seated on the slow-moving river, we already touch the sea.

…and purchase fine merchandise,
mother-of-pearl and coral, amber, and ebony,
and sensual perfumes of all kinds,
as many sensual perfumes as you can…

Cavafy suggests that worldly experience, the senses, a certain amount of materialism, these too are part of the journey. The physical world is the realm through which the soul journeys. Encountering marvels and terrors the soul strengthens and comes to know itself. Knowing itself in victory and adversity, the soul is finally ready to return. But to navigate through such bewildering, overwhelming experiences, the destination must never be forgotten:

Always keep Ithaca on your mind.

Don’t rush through the journey, impatient only for its end. The adventure is your soul’s story.

Wise as you have become, with so much experience,
you must already have understood what these Ithacas mean.

The wisdom you attain with each step reveals the destination’s true meaning.

And it is just as true to say that the destination’s gift is contained in the journey itself:

Ithaca has given you the beautiful voyage.

Constantine P. Cavafy, Constantine P. Cavafy poetry, Secular or Eclectic poetry Constantine P. Cavafy

Egypt (1863 - 1933) Timeline
Secular or Eclectic

More poetry by Constantine P. Cavafy

Come to a stop

Ivan M. Granger June 17th, 2009

Seek those moments
when you gently come to a stop.
Stay there.

Yunus Emre - A Full Grasp of Knowledge

Ivan M. Granger June 15th, 2009

Knowledge should mean a full grasp of knowledge:
by Yunus Emre

English version by Namık Kemal Zeybek

Knowledge should mean a full grasp of knowledge:
Knowledge means to know yourself, heart and soul.
If you have failed to understand yourself,
Then all of your reading has missed its call.

What is the purpose of reading those books?
So that Man can know the All-Powerful.
If you have read, but failed to understand,
Then your efforts are just a barren toil.

Don’t boast of reading, mastering science
Or of all your prayers and obeisance.
If you don’t identify Man as God,
All your learning is of no use at all.

The true meaning of the four holy books
Is found in the alphabet’s first letter.
You talk about that first letter, preacher;
What is the meaning of that-could you tell?

Yunus Emre says to you, Pharisee,
Make the holy pilgrimage if need be
A hundred times — but if you ask me,
A visit to the heart is best of all.


/ Photo by whatmegsaid /

Knowledge should mean a full grasp of knowledge:
Knowledge means to know yourself, heart and soul.
If you have failed to understand yourself,
Then all of your reading has missed its call.

Sages of all lands keep reminding us that the spiritual journey is a journey of awareness, and specifically self-awareness. It is not a journey of acquisition. Or intellect. Or adherence to rules.

It is not a matter of how many books we’ve read. Or how many times we’ve read them. The only question of any value is whether we’ve yet recognized their truths… within ourselves.

It is not a matter of how often you pray. Or how perfectly you enunciate each prescribed word. The question is, have you discovered how the prayer wells up within you on its own.

Make the holy pilgrimage if need be
A hundred times — but if you ask me,
A visit to the heart is best of all.

Follow each prescribed step of the journey, and bring your books, but what you seek is found only and always in the heart of the heart.

Yunus Emre, Yunus Emre poetry, Muslim / Sufi poetry Yunus Emre

Turkey (1238 - 1320) Timeline
Muslim / Sufi

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Magic in the moment

Ivan M. Granger June 15th, 2009

Find the magic
in the moment.

Hallaj - If They Only Knew

Ivan M. Granger June 12th, 2009

If They Only Knew
by Hallaj (Mansur al-Hallaj)

English version by Michael A. Sells

What earth is this
      so in want of you
they rise up on high
      to seek you in heaven?

            Look at them staring
                  at you
            right before their eyes,
                  unseeing, unseeing, blind.
. . .

            I was patient,
                  but can the heart
be patient of
      its heart?

                  My spirit and yours
            blend together
                  whether we are near one another
            or far away.

            I am you,
you,
      my being,
            end of my desire.

      The most intimate of secret thoughts
            enveloped
and fixed along the horizon
      in folds of light.

                  How? The “how” is known
            along the outside,
                  while the interior of beyond
      to and for the heart of being.

      Creatures perish
            in the darkened
blind of quest,
      knowing intimations.

                        Guessing and dreaming
            they pursue the real,
                  faces turned toward the sky
      whispering secrets to the heavens.

            While the lord remains among them
                  in every turn of time
abiding in their every condition
      every instant.

                  Never without him, they,
            not for the blink of an eye –
                  if only they knew!
            nor he for a moment without them.

— from Early Islamic Mysticism: Sufi, Quran, Miraj, Poetic and Theological Writings (Classics of Western Spirituality), by Michael A. Sells


/ Photo by millicent bystander /

This is a great poem by the Sufi mystic and martyr, al-Hallaj.

A reminder to us all that, wherever we look, we are always staring at the face of God, “right before [our] eyes.” Everyone, knowingly or unknowingly, is always searching for the Eternal, but too easily we become lost in our search. The idea of a search is already to be lost — “a blind quest.” We imagine that the Goal will be found elsewhere, somewhere that we are not, and so we rush about looking, looking. “Guessing and dreaming,” looking for God in some distant heaven instead of beneath our feet and between the span of our arms, we blindly have our “faces turned toward the sky.” But doing that, we never recognize that “the lord remains among [us]” in our “every condition / every instant.” We are never without the Divine Presence, “not for the blink of an eye!”

Hallaj says it very simply, speaking to God as the Beloved who is everywhere and, at the same time, the heart of the heart:

                  My spirit and yours
            blend together
                  whether we are near one another
            or far away.

            I am you,
you,
      my being,
            end of my desire.

Hallaj (Mansur al-Hallaj), Hallaj (Mansur al-Hallaj) poetry, Muslim / Sufi poetry Hallaj (Mansur al-Hallaj)

Iran/Per (9th Century) Timeline
Muslim / Sufi

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Recognize as heaven

Ivan M. Granger June 12th, 2009

Through you
the world learns
to recognize itself
– as heaven.

Paramahansa Yogananda - Samadhi

Ivan M. Granger June 10th, 2009

Samadhi
by Paramahansa Yogananda

Vanished the veils of light and shade,
Lifted every vapor of sorrow,
Sailed away all dawns of fleeting joy,
Gone the dim sensory mirage.
Love, hate, health, disease, life, death,
Perished these false shadows on the screen of duality.
Waves of laughter, scyllas of sarcasm, melancholic whirlpools,
Melting in the vast sea of bliss.
The storm of maya stilled
By magic wand of intuition deep.
The universe, forgotten dream, subconsciously lurks,
Ready to invade my newly wakened memory divine.
I live without the cosmic shadow,
But it is not, bereft of me;
As the sea exists without the waves,
But they breathe not without the sea.
Dreams, wakings, states of deep turiya sleep,
Present, past, future, no more for me,
But ever-present, all-flowing I, I, everywhere.
Planets, stars, stardust, earth,
Volcanic bursts of doomsday cataclysms,
Creation’s molding furnace,
Glaciers of silent x-rays, burning electron floods,
Thoughts of all men, past, present, to come,
Every blade of grass, myself, mankind,
Each particle of universal dust,
Anger, greed, good, bad, salvation, lust,
I swallowed, transmuted all
Into a vast ocean of blood of my own one Being!
Smoldering joy, oft-puffed by meditation
Blinding my tearful eyes,
Burst into immortal flames of bliss,
Consumed my tears, my frame, my all.
Thou art I, I am Thou,
Knowing, Knower, Known, as One!
Tranquilled, unbroken thrill, eternally living, ever new peace!
Enjoyable beyond imagination of expectancy, samadhi bliss!
Not a mental chloroform
Or unconscious state without wilful return,
Samadhi but extends my conscious realm
Beyond the limits of the mortal frame
To farthest boundary of eternity
Where I, the Cosmic Sea,
Watch the little ego floating in me.
The sparrow, each grain of sand, fall not without my sight.
All space like an iceberg floats within my mental sea.
Colossal Container, I, of all things made.
By deeper, longer, thirsty, guru-given meditation
Comes this celestial samadhi
Mobile murmurs of atoms are heard,
The dark earth, mountains, vales, lo! molten liquid!
Flowing seas change into vapors of nebulae!
Aum blows upon the vapors, opening wondrously their veils,
Oceans stand revealed, shining electrons,
Till, at last sound of the cosmic drum,
Vanish the grosser lights into eternal rays
Of all-pervading bliss.
From joy I came, for joy I live, in sacred joy I melt.
Ocean of mind, I drink all creation’s waves.
Four veils of solid, liquid, vapor, light,
Lift aright.
Myself, in everything, enters the Great Myself.
Gone forever, fitful, flickering shadows of mortal memory.
Spotless is my mental sky, below, ahead, and high above.
Eternity and I, one united ray.
A tiny bubble of laughter, I
Am become the Sea of Mirth Itself.

— from Whispers from Eternity, by Paramahansa Yogananda


/ Photo by spisharam /

I was in my late teens — a time of frustration and personal road blocks — when I first read Yogananda’s Autobiography of a Yogi. With it’s adventure, philosophy, description of mystical states and a deeper reality, respect for the universality of all religions… and its compassion, that book opened up my spiritual horizon. It restored my breath to me when so much in life seemed to be without purpose. It gave me the courage to hold a gentle heart, and begin to imagine a path of spirit.

Yogananda’s Autobiography was also my first introduction to the yogic term ’samadhi’ — the mystic’s total, blissful, conscious union with the Divine.

Myself, in everything, enters the Great Myself.

‘Samadhi’ is one of Paramahansa Yogananda’s most loved poems describing the ecstatic, elevated spiritual state. There is so much to say here, but I think I’ll step back and let Yogananda’s words ring in the silence.

Present, past, future, no more for me,
But ever-present, all-flowing I, I, everywhere.

A poem is built of rhythm and words upon a foundation of breath. And breath guides the awareness. A poem like this can lead the reader into lands of sacred experience…

Spotless is my mental sky, below, ahead, and high above.
Eternity and I, one united ray.

Paramahansa Yogananda, Paramahansa Yogananda poetry, Yoga / Hindu poetry Paramahansa Yogananda

India (1893 - 1952) Timeline
Yoga / Hindu

More poetry by Paramahansa Yogananda

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