Archive for November, 2009

Hakim Sanai - Belief brings me close to You

Ivan M. Granger November 29th, 2009

Belief brings me close to You
by Hakim Sanai

English version by Priya Hemenway

Belief brings me close to You
but only to the door.
It is only by disappearing into
Your mystery
that I will come in.

— from The Book of Everything: Journey of the Heart’s Desire, by Hakim Sanai Al-Ghaznavi / Translated by Priya Hemenway


/ Photo by Flowery *L*u*z*a* /

This poem’s two statements say so much.

Belief brings me close to You
but only to the door.

Personally, I’m not a big fan of “belief,” not in the way most people use it today. I think of that sort of belief as the religious form of “Fake it ’till you make it.” It can help a person go forward, but it’s also a hollow act until it blooms with organic life from within. At best, belief can only bring us to the threshold. No matter how loudly or passionately we profess it, belief alone is not enough.

It is only by disappearing into
Your mystery
that I will come in.

The final step — which is really the only step — is the step into the unknown. It is in opening ourselves to the fullness of the sacred mystery all around us that we finally cross the threshold.

True, belief is what gives some the courage to let the ego fall (”disappear”) in order to step naked through the doorway. But for too many belief does the opposite, armoring the ego, becoming the excuse to not see, to not understand, and to not take that step. Those with certainty but no knowledge have no tolerance for a reality beyond the mind’s limited conception.

To really meet the mystery, we must be UNcertain. We must be open-minded, open-hearted, curious, courageous, quiet, poised… and humble enough to not notice our own sweet melting. That is when we’ve finally stepped through.

Hakim Sanai

Afghanistan (1044? - 1150?) Timeline
Muslim / Sufi

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Worth any effort…

Ivan M. Granger November 29th, 2009

Deep spiritual unfolding
may feel unbearably slow,
at times painful or terrifying,
– but what else is worth any effort?

Wheelchairs, Wrist Injuries, and New Awareness

Ivan M. Granger November 29th, 2009

When I was in my first year of college, I spent a day in a wheelchair. I wasn’t injured. I just wanted to do it, as an awareness exercise. Not for some class assignment. I wanted to get a better sense of how people in wheelchairs relate to their environment. Making my way across the University of Southern California campus was no easy feat. Trying to find ramps hidden around the back of buildings. Elevators that existed only at the other end of a hallway Asking strangers to open doors I couldn’t quite tug open. The simplest things became difficult puzzles. And my arms were exhausted by the end of the day. But I highly recommend it. It will change your relationship to the world around you.

Well, unfortunately, my wife is going through her own version of an awareness exercise, but not by choice, and with significant discomfort. Early last week, my wife fell and broke her wrist. (That’s why the poetry emails stopped without notice.) When we haven’t been sitting in doctors’ offices, I’ve been helping her with all the little things two-handed people take for granted: carrying things from room to room, fastening buttons, opening food containers… She goes through surgery Tuesday, more time in a cast, but over a few weeks she’ll get normal use of her hand back.

I better check on her again, see if she needs another ice pack…

Wishing you all lots of love, and safe footing!

Li-Young Lee - Nativity

Ivan M. Granger November 23rd, 2009

Nativity
by Li-Young Lee

In the dark, a child might ask, What is the world?
just to hear his sister
promise, An unfinished wing of heaven,
just to hear his brother say,
A house inside a house,
but most of all to hear his mother answer,
One more song, then you go to sleep.

How could anyone in that bed guess
the question finds its beginning
in the answer long growing
inside the one who asked, that restless boy,
the night’s darling?

Later, a man lying awake,
he might ask it again,
just to hear the silence
charge him, This night
arching over your sleepless wondering,

this night, the near ground
every reaching-out-to overreaches,

just to remind himself
out of what little earth and duration,
out of what immense good-bye,

each must make a safe place of his heart,
before so strange and wild a guest
as God approaches.


/ Photo by giovanni_giusti /

I know it’s not even Thanksgiving yet, but we’re already getting Christmas advertisements, so I thought maybe an early Christmas contemplation for today, away from the retail hype and a couple steps closer to the heart of the season…

Maybe we should first ask, just what does this poem have to do with the Nativity anyway? What does it have to do with the traditional scene of the Christ child lying in a manger?

The poem starts with a question asked in the dark by a child: What is the world? The responses he gets are beautiful and soothing, but also fleeting. There is something haunting about asking such a question in the darkness.

So, back to the Nativity. In the Nativity, we discover the pure spark of light that is the Christ child, surrounded by the vast emptiness of the night. The Nativity is an image of light in the darkness. A small child, vulnerable, humble, poor, a tiny point of existence, surrounded by the immensity of the night… but with the promise that the light will increase until it floods the world with its light. (It’s no accident that Christmas occurs near the Winter Solstice, when the world is plunged in darkness and awaits the rebirth of the sun.)

Li-Young Lee, asking his question into the night, feels that smallness. The boy first asking the question is small, the man grown feels small too. Even the question itself seems ready to be swallowed up in the dark. But it isn’t. The question persists. It persists and grows and shines.

The question is alchemical. It causes the child to become aware of existence. As he grows, he notices the process of coagula et solve of existence, the way life both gathers together and then dissolves. He discovers “earth and duration,” but also the “immense good-by.” Though they seem opposites, one flows into the other. And from their living, dynamic tension, the mind is stretched open. And the heart, broken and warmed, broken and warmed, it too opens.

That question — What is the world? — haunting the nights and the years, working its quiet alchemy, becomes an invitation and a challenge in the awareness, coaxing us to make of the heart the true manger:

each must make a safe place of his heart,
before so strange and wild a guest
as God approaches.

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

US (1957 - )
Secular or Eclectic

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Perfect Ruin

Ivan M. Granger November 23rd, 2009

The challenge –
to become a perfect ruin
of utter surrender to the Divine,
while remaining poised, clear, and capable.

Chogyam Trungpa - Sutra

Ivan M. Granger November 20th, 2009

Sutra
by Chogyam Trungpa

Sssoo Sssoo Soot Soot Sootr
Sootr Sutra Soootra Sutroom
Sootroom Sootree Sootro-EE
Oo Ay Oh Oh Ay Oh Ee
Soooodj Soooodj
Junction
Sutra Junction Junction Junction
Junction Junction
Confluence Union United
Unified
United Unified Junction of Confluence
United Unified Junction of Sutra

— from Timely Rain: Selected Poetry of Chogyam Trungpa, by Chogyam Trungpa


/ Photo by Ronen’s Dad /

Okay, first, you have to say this one out loud. Just reading it silently in your mind won’t cut it. Sound it out. Let it slide and dance over your tongue. I doubt you can finish without a smile on your lips…

This poem has a playful Dadaist / Beat feel to it.

Chogyam Trungpa Rinpoche seems to be playing not only with sound, but with the fundamental meaning of “sutra.” A sutra is a sacred text, usually a collection of short aphorisms or statements of insight. But the literal meaning of “sutra” is “thread.” Sometimes the image is used of a string of pearls; the sutra is the thread that joins the pearls of wisdom. So a sutra is the hidden essence that “unifies,” bringing the “junction” that is the aha! moment of insight.

United Unified Junction of Sutra

Chogyam Trungpa, Chogyam Trungpa poetry, Buddhist poetry Chogyam Trungpa

Tibet / US (1939 - 1987) Timeline
Buddhist : Tibetan

More poetry by Chogyam Trungpa

Pack lightly

Ivan M. Granger November 20th, 2009

Pack lightly,
and leave yourself behind.

Reb Zalman Schachter-Shalomi on Interfaith Dialog

Ivan M. Granger November 20th, 2009

A wise, thought-provoking interview with Reb Zalman Schachter-Shalomi on Interfaith Dialog from a Jewish perspective. I love Reb Zalman’s gentle, embracing wisdom. Definitely worth taking a few minutes to listen to this interview.

In Exile Together: A Dialogue of Faith (Click the “Watch the Interview” link at the top of the biography notes.)

Video & Music: Trace Bundy Playing Pachelbel’s Canon

Ivan M. Granger November 19th, 2009

Something about Pachelbel’s Canon is profoundly healing to the heart. It doesn’t matter if it’s performed in a classical style or in it’s most syrupy New Age version with dolphins in the background — it always works its soothing, healing magic.

Thought you might especially appreciate this unique one-man performance…

Civivakkiyar - In bricks and granite

Ivan M. Granger November 18th, 2009

In bricks and in granite
by Civivakkiyar

English version by Kamil V. Zvelebil

In bricks and in granite,
in the red-rubbed lingam,
in copper and brass
is Siva’s abode –
      that’s what you tell us,
      and you’re wrong.
Stay where you are
and study your own selves.
Then you will BECOME
the Temple of God,
      full of His dance and spell
            and song.

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


/ Photo by paalia /

This poem exhibits the Tamil Siddha opposition to orthodoxy and mindless ritualism — which tend to externalize God, separating the individual from the presence of the Divine. Civivakkiyar is proclaiming that God (Siva) is not (only) found in temples and objects of worship, places and things that have been separated out and defined as sacred. Not “in bricks and in granite,” not in the “lingam” (a common representation of Siva), not in the ritual objects of “copper and brass.”

To say that God is in the temple or the altar or the icon and not elsewhere impoverishes us spiritually. That perspective makes us strangers to the presence of the sacred, which is everywhere, always.

The truth is that God is not ‘out there’ (wherever we imagine ‘there’ to be). The Divine is right here, right now, within us:

Stay where you are
and study your own selves.
Then you will BECOME
the Temple of God…

It is only within ourselves that we find the proper ground to worship and ultimately encounter God, whether we stand in the temple precinct, or the marketplace, the forest grove, or the office space.

When we stop running from ’sacred’ place to ’sacred’ place and, instead, finally recognize the living sacred presence everywhere — and most especially within ourselves — then we experience such an uninhibited flow of life and delight that we become filled with the eternal “dance and spell / and song.”

Civivakkiyar

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

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No story can…

Ivan M. Granger November 18th, 2009

No story can contain you.

Omar Khayyam - With me along the strip of Herbage strown

Ivan M. Granger November 16th, 2009

[10] With me along the strip of Herbage strown
by Omar Khayyam

English version by Edward FitzGerald

With me along the strip of Herbage strown
That just divides the desert from the sown,
      Where name of Slave and Sultan is forgot –
And pity Sultan Mahmud on his Throne!

— from The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam, by Omar Khayyam / Translated by Edward FitzGerald


/ Photo by Andy Hay /

I’ve always liked this quatrain from the Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam. With its lyric language, it beautifully evokes that mystic stillpoint in which all polarities are reconciled and balanced.

Khayyam invites us to walk with him “along the strip of Herbage strown” — that slender path of life — “That just divides the desert” — the barren places of the untended soul — “from the sown” — those places of the mind so heavily cultivated and patterned that, though it contains life, it has become artificial. It is the wild place, the natural place, the place of uncontained life in between the two we must find.

In this place, the “name of Slave and Sultan is forgot.” In this state of spiritual poise, all dichotomies, social divisions, mental dissections, and perceptual separations fall away. No one kneels below you and no one stands above you; everyone and everything profoundly IS, and it is all ONE.

Omar Khayyam, Omar Khayyam poetry, Muslim / Sufi poetry Omar Khayyam

Iran/Per (11th Century) Timeline
Muslim / Sufi

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In every love

Ivan M. Granger November 16th, 2009

In every love,
we love the Beloved.

Ramprasad Sen - I drink no ordinary wine

Ivan M. Granger November 13th, 2009

I drink no ordinary wine
by Ramprasad (Ramprasad Sen)

I drink no ordinary wine,
but Wine of Everlasting Bliss,
As I repeat my Mother Kali’s name;
It so intoxicates my mind that people take me to be drunk!
First my guru gives molasses for the making of the Wine;
My longing is the ferment to transform it.
Knowledge, the maker of the Wine,
prepares it for me then;
And when it is done,
my mind imbibes it from the bottle of the mantra,
Taking the Mother’s name to make it pure.
Drink of this Wine, says Ramprasad,
and the four fruits of life are yours.

— from Kali: The Black Goddess of Dakshineswar, by Elizabeth U. Harding


/ Photo by Findsiddiqui /

As with so many poems describing the experience of ecstatic union, this poem refers to wine, but “no ordinary wine.”

The “molasses” given by the guru to make the wine of sacred bliss is diksha or shaktipat — the energetic initiation given by a guru, usually accompanied by a mantra, in order to begin the process of awakening the Kundalini force within the seeker.

His intense desire or longing for God, the Divine Mother, “ferments” that energy, causing it to bubble and expand, giving it a vitality of its own.

When its expansion is complete, through spiritual practice and devotion, the Kundalini Shakti rises from the seat to the crown, complimented by the descending of a divine current that has a sweetness in the mouth and throat that is like drinking a heavenly liquid.

“Drink of this Wine, says Ramprasad” — indeed, we should!

Ramprasad (Ramprasad Sen)

India (1718? - 1775?) Timeline
Yoga / Hindu : Shakta (Goddess-oriented)

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Never to be missed

Ivan M. Granger November 13th, 2009

The present moment is always unique,
a profound mystery,
and never to be missed

EATP Interview with Ivan M. Granger

Ivan M. Granger November 11th, 2009

Poetry Chaikhana readers often ask me about myself. Who is the guy behind all those poetry emails? What drew you to sacred poetry? And just what does “Poetry Chaikhana” mean?

Ivan M. Granger, Ivan Granger

As a way to answer some of those questions, I thought I’d post an audio interview I did a couple of years ago with the Ecstatic Art and Theater Project (www.ecstaticproject.org). I talk a little about myself, and a lot about poetry — the transformational power of poetry, the ways poetry naturally expresses the sacred experience, the non-dogmatic nature of poetry. And I read a few poems.

I hope you find it inspiring and thought-provoking…

Click to listen: EATP Interview with Ivan M. Granger

Kelsang Gyatso - Little Tiger

Ivan M. Granger November 11th, 2009

Little Tiger
by Kelsang Gyatso

English version by Thubten Jinpa and Jas Elsener

The honey bee, a little tiger,
is not addicted to the taste of sugar;
his nature is to extract the juice
from the sweet lotus flower!

Dakinis, above, below, and on earth,
unimpeded by closeness and distance,
will surely extract the blissful essence
when the yogins bound by pledges gather.

The sun, the king of illumination,
is not inflated by self-importance;
by the karma of sentient beings,
it shines resplendent in the sky.

When the sun perfect in skill and wisdom
dawns in the sky of the illuminated mind,
without conceit, you beautify
and crown the beings of all three realms.

The smiling faces of the radiant moon
are not addicted to hide and seek;
by its relations with the sun,
the moon takes waning and waxing forms.

Though my gurus, embodiment of all refuge,
are free of all fluctuation and of faults,
through their flux-ridden karma the disciples perceive
that the guru’s three secrets display all kinds of effulgence.

Constellations of stars adorning the sky
are not competing in a race of speed;
due to the force of energy’s pull,
the twelve planets move clockwise with ease.

Guru, deity, and dakini — my refuge –
though not partial toward the faithful,
unfailingly you appear to guard
those with fortunate karma blessed.

The white clouds hovering above on high
are not so light that they arise from nowhere;
it is the meeting of moisture and heat
that makes the patches of mist in the sky.

Those striving for good karma
are not greedy in self-interest;
by the meeting of good conditions
they become unrivaled as they rise higher.

The clear expanse of the autumn sky
is not engaged in the act of cleansing;
yet being devoid of all obscuration,
its pure vision bejewels the eyes.

The groundless sphere of all phenomena
is not created fresh by a discursive mind;
yet when the face of ever-presence is known,
all concreteness spontaneously fades away.

Rainbows radiating colors freely
are not obsessed by attractive costumes;
by the force of dependent conditions,
they appear distinct and clearly.

This vivid appearance of the external world,
though not a self-projected image,
through the play of fluctuating thought and mind,
appears as paintings of real things.

— from Songs of Spiritual Experience: Tibetan Buddhist Poems of Insight & Awakening, Translated by Thupten Jinpa / Translated by Jas Elsner


/ Photo by chefranden /

…when the face of ever-presence is known,
all concreteness spontaneously fades away.

Love that line!

There is a lot being explored in this wisdom poem…

In so many ways the “vivid appearance of the external world” can become a trap for the distracted mind. Through the intensity of contact we get caught in constant reaction, running after pleasure, running from pain.

But this poem reminds us that such experiences are not inherently ‘real.’ It is not so much that things are unreal; rather, we tend not to see reality directly and, instead, see our own mental reproduction of reality. It is like looking at “paintings of real things” without realizing it.

This vivid appearance of the external world,
though not a self-projected image,
through the play of fluctuating thought and mind,
appears as paintings of real things.

What we call “experience” is really a story we tell ourselves, a story reflexively created by “fluctuating thought and mind” when it reaches out and touches an object that it perceives to be outside of itself. “Experience” is a mental overlay, and not the thing or event itself.

In the truly natural state, the awareness is at rest, perceiving without tension, encountering reality without an overlay of stories, without attraction or repulsion. In that pure awareness, life becomes a flow of events and interaction, not pushed by the self-will of likes and dislikes. We no longer imagine, “I have done this” or “I have experienced that.” We are simply as we are, in our pure state. Actions are done, but we do not do them. Events still occur, but they don’t happen to us, they simply unfold. We are no longer addicted to the “hide and seek” of life experience; its “waning and waxing” is simply its natural flow.

Then we become like the sun, illuminating and beautifying “without conceit.” We are rainbows, not obsessed by our “attractive costumes,” yet beautiful nonetheless. And like the honey bee, the “little tiger”, we are fiercely true to our nature, gathering nectar, not because we are addicted to its sweetness, but because that is what is in our nature to do.

The honey bee, a little tiger,
is not addicted to the taste of sugar;
his nature is to extract the juice
from the sweet lotus flower!

Kelsang Gyatso

Tibet (1708 - 1757) Timeline
Buddhist : Tibetan

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