Archive for the 'Poetry' Category

Jul 31 2015

Jusammi Chikako – On this summer night

Published by under Poetry

On this summer night
by Jusammi Chikako

English version by Edwin A. Cranston

      On this summer night
All the household lies asleep,
      And in the doorway,
For once open after dark,
Stands the moon, brilliant, cloudless.

— from Women in Praise of the Sacred: 43 Centuries of Spiritual Poetry by Women, Edited by Jane Hirshfield

/ Image by George Lu /

A beautiful moon last night quietly watching overhead as my wife and I went for an evening walk. I believe the official full moon is tonight — a blue moon. A perfect opportunity for a moon poem.

I have loved this poem by Jusammi Chikako for years, so I was surprised to discover that it has been years since I featured it on the Poetry Chaikhana. Let’s rectify that omission…

We are instantly made aware of a warm summer night, and everyone sleeps, except the poet, who is awake. The door is left open to invite a cooling breeze, and through it we see the moon, large, glowing, pure, watching us just as we watch it. In that timeless still moment, it is as if we have met the gaze of an old friend or lover, a quite moment of mutual recognition. No words are spoken, none needed. We are fully present in each other’s gaze.

If we want to read this poem on a more metaphorical level, we might understand the “house” as the individual self. So when Jusammi Chikako says, “All the household lies asleep,” she could be stating that the mind has finally settled into perfect, still awareness.

The “doorway” becomes the threshold of open perception.

And in the doorway
For once open after dark,
Stands the moon, brilliant, cloudless.

The moon can be taken to represent the individual awareness perfectly reflecting the eternal light (of the sun). The full moon is Buddha mind, original mind. She has suddenly discovered it, been flooded with its “brilliant” light, utterly at peace beneath the unobstructed, “cloudless” night sky of awareness.

…Or we can just look up and meet the moon’s gaze.

Recommended Books: Jusammi Chikako

Women in Praise of the Sacred: 43 Centuries of Spiritual Poetry by Women

Jusammi Chikako

Japan (14th Century) Timeline
Buddhist : Zen / Chan

More poetry by Jusammi Chikako

3 responses so far

Jul 29 2015

Ram Tzu – You are perfect

Published by under Poetry

You are perfect
by Ram Tzu (Wayne Liquorman)

Ram Tzu knows this –

You are perfect.

Your every defect
is perfectly defined.

Your every blemish
is perfectly placed.

Your every absurd action
is perfectly timed.

Only God could make
Something this ridiculous

— from No Way: For the Spiritually “Advanced”, by Wayne Liquorman

/ Image by Eloha-Ulysses /

Something for those days when we see our own faults and imperfections all too clearly beneath the harsh neon light of self-judgment…

You are perfect.

Yes, we absolutely should work to find balance, better guide our actions, elevate our focus, settle the mind and its impulses — but we need occasional reminders that “perfection” is not found in constructing a perfect, flawless self. Perfection, if we want to call it that, is found — absurdly — in our imperfect selves right now, within this imperfect world right now.

The ridiculousness exists only because we have forgotten our nature…

Your every blemish
is perfectly placed.

…and even those blemishes, when we really pay attention to them with a quiet mind, suggest something to us of the road back to the pure, radiant being we already are beneath it all.

Only God could make
Something this ridiculous

So be kind to yourself today in all your ridiculousness. Self-acceptance has a strange way of becoming self-awareness.

Recommended Books: Ram Tzu (Wayne Liquorman)

No Way: For the Spiritually “Advanced”

Ram Tzu (Wayne Liquorman), Ram Tzu (Wayne Liquorman) poetry, Yoga / Hindu poetry Ram Tzu (Wayne Liquorman)

US (1950 – )
Yoga / Hindu : Advaita / Non-Dualist
Secular or Eclectic

Continue Reading »

2 responses so far

Jul 24 2015

Farid ud-Din Attar – A dervish in ecstasy

Published by under Poetry

A dervish in ecstasy
by Farid ud-Din Attar

English version by Afkham Darbandi and Dick Davis

A frenzied dervish, mad with love for God,
Sought out bare hills where none had ever trod.
Wild leopards kept this madman company —
His heart was plunged in restless ecstasy;
He lived within this state for twenty days,
Dancing and singing in exultant praise:
“There’s no division; we two are alone —
The world of happiness and grief has flown.”
Die to yourself — no longer stay apart,
But give to Him who asks for it your heart;
The man whose happiness derives from Him
Escapes existence, and the world grows dim;
Rejoice for ever in the Friend, rejoice
Till you are nothing, but a praising voice.

— from The Conference of the Birds, Translated by Afkham Darbandi / Translated by Dick Davis

/ Image by vakatanka /

A frenzied dervish, mad with love for God…

I think we, like the wild leopards, should keep this madman company for a while…

…Sought out bare hills where none had ever trod.

This idea of retreating into the desert or the forest always had a romantic appeal to me, especially in my 20s and 30s. That instinct for renunciation and retreat has an interesting tension. In its best form, it is about seeking the essence of things, learning to recognize the essential self. There is the intense desire — or need, really — to clear the mind and settle the heart.

To accomplish this, like the dervish in this poem, we often want to withdraw, retreat from the world. But what is “the world”? We can loosely say that “the world” is society, but that’s not it exactly. Really, “the world” we are trying to withdraw from is more an idea of reality. We are attempting to separate from the consensus trance.

This is an important point that we too often forget in our daily lives: Even in our most pragmatic, mundane activity, we are in trance. We don’t enter trance in those rarified moments, like the dervish in his ecstasy; we are always in trance. And we are always seeking trance. We humans are trance-seeking creatures. Virtually every choice we make is about cultivating trance. We watch TV and surf the Internet because of the trance it induces. We eat food as much for how it makes us feel as for nourishment. Falling in love is trance. Family conversation is trance. A good day at work is one form of trance, and a bad day is another form of trance. Every action of every day is an attempt to fine tune our mental and emotional states because of how they affect our perception of reality. We are endlessly forming and reforming trance.

But the frustrating thing is that we learn early on that there is a very limited range of trance that is acceptable or even achievable. We quickly come to believe that this fixed range is the full spectrum of reality. We all subscribe to this in order to be acceptable and considered “normal” within society. And, for the child moving into adolescence, taking on that consensus trance is hugely important, allowing us to stabilize psychologically and form healthy relationships with others. It is also a serious problem, since it has nothing to do with actual limitations of reality or our true nature.

It is this shared trance that we call “the world,” which seekers instinctively feel the need to withdraw from in order to begin to see clearly, free from the psychic pressures of society to remain within a certain limited bandwidth of awareness. When done with balance, steadiness… and reverence, such withdrawal from the world can lead to surprising clarity, opening, and bliss.

But here is the potential problem with all of this: Retreat also necessarily implies separation. We are separating from the world. We are separating from what we imagine to be foolish and lost humanity. In the struggle to free oneself from the gravitational pull of societal reality, it is easy to become rigid, aloof, even hard-hearted. We have divided reality between what is holy or sacred or “true” from the secular, mundane, and “illusory.” Such a division, any division, within our view of reality can never hold up for long. It can become a recipe for spiritual disaster.

Here is how I understand the solution to this dilemma: That sense of separating oneself, retreating in order to discover an awareness that is pure or more essential — whether through literal retreat, or on a purely internal level — can be immensely helpful at certain points along the spiritual journey. But we must always remember that it is a phase of the journey and not the end goal. In other words, we may choose to step out into the desert, but we remain connected to the world through compassion and commitment. We will eventually return to “the world,” hopefully with a transformed awareness and very little of the little self left. When we have the vision of the full Reality, we come to recognize that the small section we call “the world” is no longer the world, yet that shadowy thought-reality still has its place within the Whole — and that is the place that most awaits the gifts we return with.

Rejoice for ever in the Friend, rejoice
Till you are nothing, but a praising voice.

Recommended Books: Farid ud-Din Attar

Poetry for the Spirit: Poems of Universal Wisdom and Beauty The Drunken Universe: An Anthology of Persian Sufi Poetry Music of a Distant Drum: Classical Arabic, Persian, Turkish & Hebrew Poems Perfume of the Desert: Inspirations from Sufi Wisdom The Conference of the Birds
More Books >>

Farid ud-Din Attar, Farid ud-Din Attar poetry, Muslim / Sufi poetry Farid ud-Din Attar

Iran/Persia (1120? – 1220?) Timeline
Muslim / Sufi

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3 responses so far

Jul 22 2015

Yoka Genkaku – Right here it is eternally full and serene

Published by under Poetry

[39] Right here it is eternally full and serene (from The Shodoka)
by Hsuan Chueh of Yung Chia / Yoka Genkaku

English version by Robert Aitken

Right here it is eternally full and serene,
If you search elsewhere, you cannot see it.
You cannot grasp it, you cannot reject it;
In the midst of not gaining,
In that condition you gain it.

/ Image by leonard-ART /

Sorry about the poetic absence last week. I’m back…

Right here it is eternally full and serene,
If you search elsewhere, you cannot see it.

This is so simple, yet so difficult to accept. What is it we are seeking? Enlightenment? Salvation? Heaven? God? If something is missing, then it must be somewhere else. So we seek out new groups, new teachers, new books, new religions, new lands. Even in our meditation and prayer, we are reaching, reaching out– for what?

It is almost an insult to our efforts to be told again and again that it is “right here.” If it was right here, we would feel it, we would know it. Right?

This makes no sense at all to the seeking mind, yet we each can discover that it is absolutely true: What we seek is right here. Not elsewhere. Not in the future. Right here.

Which begs the question, if it is always at hand, why can’t we grasp it? First, it is so difficult for the mind to accept that this thing we seek is not a thing at all. It cannot be grasped or held or claimed. It is not an object outside of ourselves. It is not a thing contained within space, contained within time, contained within concepts. It is not a thing that starts and ends, nor is it here but not there; rather, it is an effulgence of awareness. Even that might suggest to us that it is something within the mind to be coaxed forth, imagining it to be an ephemeral object of the mind, a subset of the self. Such a thing cannot last or transform.

It would be easy to dismiss all of this as elaborate philosophical wordplay were it not for the fact that we are told again and again that solving this riddle unlocks a whole new self and a whole new reality, a reality that is much larger, clearer, blissful, unified, and somehow more true. If we accept even the possibility that enlightenment/heaven/God are not only knowable, but the actual state of reality that clears away the normal state of illusion, then to dismiss such spiritual wordplay is foolish in the extreme.

Since sage voices keep telling us that what we seek (but don’t fully understand) is right here and not elsewhere, let us try an experiment: Let us stop imagining another place, another experience. Let us strop trying to imagine what it is we seek at all. If we ache, let us feel it intensely without imagining what will soothe it. Let us, instead, grow quiet, grow still, and let go of all the mind’s imaginings. And then let us just see. What do we notice? Not trying to grasp or gain or escape, what do we sense right here? What has been so consistently present that we have always felt but never noticed?

In the midst of not gaining,
In that condition you gain it.

The touch we feel might just surprise us — right here.

Recommended Books: Hsuan Chueh of Yung Chia / Yoka Genkaku

Buddhism and Zen

Hsuan Chueh of Yung Chia / Yoka Genkaku

China (665 – 713) Timeline
Buddhist : Zen / Chan

Continue Reading »

2 responses so far

Jul 10 2015

William Wordsworth – The Soul that rises with us

Published by under Poetry

The Soul that rises with us, our life’s Star (from Ode. Intimations of Immortality)
by William Wordsworth

The Soul that rises with us, our life’s Star,
      Hath had elsewhere its setting,
            And cometh from afar:
      Not in entire forgetfulness,
      And not in utter nakedness,
But trailing clouds of glory do we come
      From God, who is our home.

— from Complete Poetical Works, by William Wordsworth

/ Image by ewen and donabel /

This is one of the few poetic utterances that makes me instantly respond with the word — gorgeous! Other poems may be uplifting or inspire deep thought or simply offer up a delightful confection of words and images. But these few lines by Wordsworth are all of these things, yet it all somehow comes together in a way that causes one to take a deep breath and expand.

Sometimes I read these words and think the image and language are almost overripe, but, no, not quite. It holds. And then I am carried away by it again.

Its first few lines distill the soul’s feelings of loneliness and vulnerability, that feeling that something important in one’s very being has been hidden from memory, and gently negates it–

Not in entire forgetfulness,
And not in utter nakedness

Then we get their answer in those final lush lines–

But trailing clouds of glory do we come
From God, who is our home.

And we again know our home. We find ourselves at rest, our full memory of self restored, while clouds of glory trail from our shoulders. Gorgeous.

Recommended Books: William Wordsworth

The Longing in Between: Sacred Poetry from Around the World (A Poetry Chaikhana Anthology) Poetry for the Spirit: Poems of Universal Wisdom and Beauty The Oxford Book of Mystical Verse Complete Poetical Works William Wordsworth: Selected Poems
More Books >>

William Wordsworth, William Wordsworth poetry, Secular or Eclectic poetry William Wordsworth

England (1770 – 1850) Timeline
Secular or Eclectic

Continue Reading »

3 responses so far

Jul 08 2015

Antonio Machado – Hope says

Published by under Poetry

Hope says
by Antonio Machado

English version by Ivan M. Granger

      Hope says: One day
you will see her, if you wait well.
Says despair:
She is only your bitterness.
Beat, my heart… Not all
has been swallowed by the earth.

/ Image by RezzanATAKOL /

This heartbreaking poem wrestles with that great empty space left by death. The “her” referred to here is Machado’s wife, who died very young. Her death is an anguished absence in many of his poems.

But this poem’s few lines have a quiet courage as well. The tension between hope and despair seems equal and impossible to resolve, but his soul makes a stand and gives that final nudge in favor of hope and the world of the living.

I selected this poem today to touch on some of the ways that death is a teacher, perhaps our most powerful teacher. Our own death. The death of loved ones. The small daily deaths of loss and change and uncertainty. The terrifying certainty that death eventually comes for everyone and everything.

Usually, we try not to think about death at all, or at least not with depth and an unshaken gaze. When forced to think about it directly, we tend to view death as an evil thing, a devilish force, something that breaks the way reality should work. But the simple truth that death touches every corner of the material world tells us that it is essential to reality on a certain level. Death is a universal presence, and therefore a bearer of universal truth.

Death is an essential teacher, and we each must, in our own way, overcome that reflexive fear and learn to learn from it.

It is such an immense, emotion-fraught, and shadowy subject, and I won’t suggest simple, comfortable answers. Here are just a few my own thoughts and observations…

Death teaches us to let go. So much of life is spent in acquiring, gathering, and holding, but that becomes a lopsided equation. Life must include letting go, to find balance. And, I have found that, when I truly accept this, the internal act of letting go can also be a great unburdening. Letting go, in great and in small ways, can be a tremendous release, like exhaling after holding one’s breath.

And, when we think about it, much of spiritual practice does exactly the same thing: teaching us to let go, to exhale, to witness the unhindered flow of life.

We can say this is about non-attachment, but I would carry this further to say this is about non-identification. By that I mean that what truly frightens us to release are the things we identify with. The things and relationships that define our own sense of self are the hardest to lose. Their loss gives us a glimpse of our own death; some part of our self definition has been broken open.

That is a big part of it, I think — death, along with its gentler, daily form, loss, help us to see the many ways we have defined ourselves, the ways we have externalized ourselves, the ways we have tried to formulate an unchanging and limited idea of self. When pieces of that elaborate self-construction are removed or moved around, we are often traumatized, eliciting a very real encounter with death, even if physical mortality is not an immediate concern. But, we also have the opportunity to recognize that we are still essentially here. Some essential part of ourselves remains completely itself, regardless of what change or loss is experienced or how our sense of who we are has changed.

We might say that death removes the non-essential to help us discover what is essential and unchanging.

Or we can say something nearly the opposite: that death takes what is absolutely essential to us in order to awaken such a pure ache that we seek for deeper meaning, a deeper understanding of reality, and a deeper sense of self.

We can say that death comes for our stories, and only takes us when we cannot let go.

Or we can say that death metes out death until we discover we cannot die.

It would be foolish to argue against the all too blunt reality of physical death and the very real experience of loss in daily life. It is not so much that “learning” these lessons inoculates us against death and loss; rather, we come to understand them differently. Loss happens, but it is part of the eternal rhythm of movement through one’s life. Death happens, but perhaps it is not the loss of self we feared. When we let go of our carefully constructed ideas of self and come to see the immense, undefined being we actually are, the flow of coming and going becomes a very different experience.

Beat, my heart… Not all
has been swallowed by the earth.

Wishing you a joyful, life-filled day today!

Recommended Books: Antonio Machado

The Longing in Between: Sacred Poetry from Around the World (A Poetry Chaikhana Anthology) Real Thirst: Poetry of the Spiritual Journey The Enlightened Heart: An Anthology of Sacred Poetry Times Alone: Selected Poems of Antonio Machado Border of a Dream: Selected Poems of Antonio Machado
More Books >>

Antonio Machado, Antonio Machado poetry, Secular or Eclectic poetry Antonio Machado

Spain (1875 – 1939) Timeline
Secular or Eclectic

Continue Reading »

3 responses so far

Jul 07 2015

Books Received – part 1

Published by under Books,Poetry

I periodically receive poetry books in the mail. That is always a treat — a package with someone’s thoughts and insights, observations and feelings, their art and aspirations.

Of course, the authors and publishers who send these books are naturally hoping that I will prominently feature their books on the Poetry Chaikhana. Often these books contain truly excellent poetry, but because the focus of the Poetry Chaikhana is fairly specific, even truly great poetry is not always the right fit. Other times, the book and its poetry are just right for the Poetry Chaikhana, but I may not be able to add them for quite a while.

I would like to acknowledge all of the wonderful books I receive, however. I know from my own experience as a publisher each book sent out represents a hope for some sort of connection or in the hopes of reaching a wider audience. And there is a certain expense involved with sending out each book.

Whether or not I eventually feature selections from these books, I want to thank the authors and publishers who have sent their cherished works, I am listing several books received in the last few months. This is a partial selection. I will acknowledge more books that have been received soon…

The Moon Over Tagoto: Selected Haiku of Buson
New Versions in English, Irish and Scots

By Gabriel Rosenstock & John McDonald

Gabriel Rosenstock’s poetry and translations have been a long-time favorite on the Poetry Chaikhana. It’s a treat to read through an entire book of his translations of the great haiku master Buson.

white lotus
a monk about to cut it –
between two minds

loiteog bhán
manach ar tí í a stoitheadh –
idir dhá aigne

fite lotus
a monk about tae sned it –
atween twa minds

The Happiness of Is: Poems of Wonder – Pictures of Delight
By Günter Saure

This is one to appreciate as much for the photographs as for the poetry.


very mysteriously
much to my surprise
there is


The Next True Story of My Life: Poems
By Lois Holub

Old Woman

Old woman is dreaming
while spiders mend and wait,
while moonlight moves from the top of the cedar
to the forest floor.
A faint reflection of stars resting in her hair
And the night curled in her hands,
Old Woman dreams of snow and of snow melting
on her tongue,
of laughter on the riverbank and the smell of the sun.
She dreams of her mother’s voice.
Old Woman is dreaming of her lovers,
of the white limbs of the cottonwood against the sky.
She dreams across valleys
and over the dark rise of mountains.

She is teacher, poet, healer
singer, storyteller, gift giver.
She is a river of tears.
She is laughter in the belly.
She lights the fire
and she puts the fire out.
She sleeps in the ashes and embers and flames
and rises dream-tempered,
warm to the touch.

Plain Living, Happy Singing: Haiku Scenes
By Toshi Ida

She peels an apple.
He gazes at her hands –
The retired couple.

Three books by the Hailstone Haiku Circle:

Seasons of the Gods: Haiku Poems

Hugging the cedar
I put my ear to it:
another season

(Reiko Hayahara)

Meltdown: An Anthology of Haiku Z to A

A rich collection organized alphabetically by subject, from “zone” to “apology.”

At summer’s close,
scarecrows awarded medals
of dragonflies


Lost Heian: A Japan-in-Asia Haiku Gathering

Sprinting through the words
of the open dictionary –
a tiny spider

(Keiko Yurugi)

One response so far

Jul 01 2015

Andrew Colliver – Come

Published by under Poetry

by Andrew Colliver

Every day I am astonished by
how little I know, and discouraged,
obedient as I am to the demand to
know more — always more.

But then there is the slow seep
of light from the day,
and I look to the west where
the hills are darkening,

setting their shoulders to the night,
and the sky peppered with pillows
of mist, their bellies burnt
by the furnace of the sun.

And it is then that I notice
the invitation didn’t say, Come
armed with knowledge and a loud voice
It only said, Come.

/ Image by MicroAlex /

Each new poem by Andrew Colliver somehow finds a surprisingly moving tension between art and insight. This poem, for example, was sent to me directly by the author just a few days ago, and it immediately grabbed hold of me.

Every day I am astonished by
how little I know, and discouraged,
obedient as I am to the demand to
know more — always more.

Reading those lines for the first time, I had to smile. It was as if some part of my own self was speaking to me. This is something I have certainly recognized in myself.

Like many of you, I was born with a hungry head. I always wanted to know. I was curious about everything, how things work, how things connect, why things are the way they are. So, naturally, I approached the spiritual journey this way, as well.

The good thing about this approach is that it encourages you to bring your full awareness to your spirituality. The questioning mind, the curious mind, the cynical mind, the categorizing mind, the discriminating mind — these can be powerful motivating forces within oneself, drawing together your energies, focusing them toward a difficult goal, allowing you to continuously examine and reformulate yourself and your understanding of reality.

That’s the good thing. The bad thing is that this approach can easily get stuck in the head. One can easily fall into the trap of turning the spiritual journey into an intellectual enterprise, confusing the acquisition of “spiritual” information with genuine awareness.

When I have more deeply confronted this tendency within myself, I have discovered an interesting reason behind this approach: On some level, I carried the idea that I had to somehow earn awakening or spiritual depth. And, in my personal makeup, the way I tried to prove my worthiness was through building a fortress of knowledge.

That basic thought, of somehow not being worthy without the “proof” of impressive knowledge, was a core barrier to my own opening process. And the more I learned, whether through books or teachers or even through my own direct experience, often reinforced that fundamental barrier. All of that has a way of strengthening a more polished form of ego while we are trying to be more “spiritual.”

When so much of your proposed future enlightened self is built on the idea of acquired “spiritual” knowledge, trying to move beyond that wall can feel like blindness, aimlessness, the loss of spiritual direction.

It requires the humility, self-honest, and trust necessary to walk an unknown path and get lost, look like a fool, disappoint your peers. Bruised and disoriented, we learn to feel our way. Feeling, we begin to discover the heart and the secret intelligence it carries.

I am in no way denigrating either rational thought or spiritual study. These can be essential in developing clarity and focus. They can provide us with a much needed map and the internal tools to assess the landscape. But the job is not to paper the walls of our bedrooms with maps; the purpose is to actually make the journey, to feel each step of the land beneath our feet. Whether we bring one map or a stack of atlases or walk with empty hands, it is unknown territory we step into. We are but small travelers in the midst of great mystery.

Best not to worry overmuch about knowledge or earning your way. We are all already worthy. Knowing that, we know enough. All that is left to do is to answer the call and give ourselves permission to take that bold first step.

And it is then that I notice
the invitation didn’t say,
armed with knowledge and a loud voice.
It only said,

Buen camino!

Recommended Books: Andrew Colliver

The Longing in Between: Sacred Poetry from Around the World (A Poetry Chaikhana Anthology)

Andrew Colliver

Australia (1953 – )
Secular or Eclectic

Continue Reading »

9 responses so far

Jun 26 2015

Juan Ramon Jimenez – Who Knows What is Going On

Published by under Poetry

Who Knows What is Going On
by Juan Ramon Jimenez

English version by Robert Bly

      Who knows what is going on on the other side of each hour?

      How many times the sunrise was
there, behind a mountain!

      How many times the brilliant cloud piling up far off
was already a golden body full of thunder!

      This rose was poison.

      That sword gave life.

      I was thinking of a flowery meadow
at the end of a road,
and found myself in the slough.

      I was thinking of the greatness of what was human,
and found myself in the divine.

— from The Winged Energy of Delight, Translated by Robert Bly

/ Image by xucra /

Who knows what is going on on the other side of each hour?

Isn’t that just a wonderful opening line? It’s one of those profound, enigmatic statements that can trip you up full stop, making the rest of the poem an afterthought.

But what is the poet saying? I think he’s encouraging us to not bring our assumptions to each experience in life. We have to encounter each experience, each hour, as it is, not as we expect it to be. This is why he turns our expectations on their head with lines like:

This rose was poison.

That sword gave life.

Every single thing holds its secret and is pregnant with surprise…

How many times the brilliant cloud piling up far off
was already a golden body full of thunder!

To approach life without the false certainty of what each experience holds requires a supreme humility. It requires us to cherish the unexpected possibilities of each encounter more deeply than our own accumulating history. It requires a silence of mind, a sense of wonder, and a restoration of our inherent innocence. But, when we truly learn to live this way, magic happens! We open ourselves and, in turn, the common things we encounter open themselves to us, revealing hidden worlds within…

I was thinking of the greatness of what was human,
and found myself in the divine.

Recommended Books: Juan Ramon Jimenez

The Winged Energy of Delight News of the Universe: Poems of Twofold Consciousness The Soul is Here for its Own Joy: Sacred Poems from Many Cultures Invisible Reality Time and Space: A Poetic Autobiography
More Books >>

Juan Ramon Jimenez, Juan Ramon Jimenez poetry, Secular or Eclectic poetry Juan Ramon Jimenez

Spain (1881 – 1958) Timeline
Secular or Eclectic

Continue Reading »

2 responses so far

Jun 24 2015

Zeynep Hatun – I am a fountain, You are my water

Published by under Poetry

I am a fountain, You are my water
by Zeynep Hatun

English version by Murat Yagan

I am a fountain, You are my water.
I flow from You to You.

I am an eye, You are my light,
I look from You to You.

You are neither my right nor my left.
You are my foot and my arm as well.

I am a traveler, You are my road.
I go from You to You.

— from Women in Sufism: A Hidden Treasure – Writings and Stories of Mystics Poets, Scholars & Saints, Edited by Camille Adams Helminski

/ Image by putonicfluf /

I have loved this poem ever since I discovered it several years ago. That makes it doubly frustrating that, in the intervening years, I have only found one other poem by her in English translation (and that second poem’s translation was a rather dry Victorian translation).

This single poem suggests such a richness of soul behind it. Perhaps it is enough to stand for all the poems that have fallen silent.

I am a fountain, You are my water.
I flow from You to You.

The single image of a fountain and flowing water elegantly suggests so much to us: The Divine Beloved is the vivifying, animating, all-permeating medium. The water is the life and soul of the fountain.

The imagery suggests to us a sense of self that is no longer fixed. Whatever we are, we flow. And everywhere we flow from, through, and to, we remain in contact with the Beloved.

I am a traveler, You are my road.
I go from You to You.

Each step, each arc of movement and point of rest, is another instance of delicious touch in the divine love affair that is life’s journey.

Recommended Books: Zeynep Hatun

Women in Sufism: A Hidden Treasure – Writings and Stories of Mystics Poets, Scholars & Saints

Zeynep Hatun

Turkey (15th Century) Timeline
Muslim / Sufi

Continue Reading »

7 responses so far

Jun 12 2015

Book Announcement: Dorothy Walters, Marrow of Flame

Published by under Poetry

Dorothy Walters is a poet of stunning talent, startling wisdom, and wide open heart — which makes it a genuine pleasure to be able to announce that the Poetry Chaikhana will be publishing a new edition of her most popular collection of poetry, Marrow of Flame: Poems of the Spiritual Journey.

Ever since Marrow of Flame was originally published in 2000 by Hohm Press, its poetry of passionate awakening and self-transformation has inspired so many modern day seekers. These are the words of a woman who is a contemporary mystic, someone who is humble and approachable, yet she writes with clarity and poetic skill. This collection of poetry has found its way to a respected place in the bookshelves of seekers, teachers, and religious leaders alike.

But the original publisher relinquished its publishing rights, allowing this beloved book to fall out of print, with only a few copies left in circulation. Dorothy Walters approached me to see if I would be willing to publish a new edition of Marrow of Flame as a Poetry Chaikhana book. I gladly agreed!

The Poetry Chaikhana will be publishing the new edition of Marrow of Flame later this summer.

I wanted to let you all know in advance to build some anticipation. I have been working with Dorothy Walters on the final layout and formatting, as well as other minor corrections to the first edition. The great Andrew Harvey, who wrote the introduction to the first edition, has contributed a new introduction to this second edition.

Here is an excerpt of what Andrew Harvey had to say about this new edition of Marrow of Flame:

This re-issue of Dorothy Walters’s mystical masterpiece “Marrow of Flame” is a great literary and spiritual event. I don’t know of any other poet currently writing in English who expresses so simply and nobly and with such shameless but humble authority the ordeals, ecstasies and revelations of the path to radiant embodiment…

Whatever path you are on, read these quietly astounding love-poems to the Divine and let them guide you into the truth of your real nature and into the real nature of a world everywhere “Drowned in God.”

This new edition of Marrow of Flame is a beautiful collection of poetry, one I am very proud to publish. I will let you all know as we get closer to the publication date. Stay tuned!

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Jun 12 2015

Dorothy Walters – The Abundance of Brightness

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The Abundance of Brightness
by Dorothy Walters

      God is not unknown on account of obscurity
      but on account of the abundance of brightness.
            — St. Thomas Aquinas

Dante Mounting to the Rose of Heaven

Not one of us
could breathe this air,
face this naked radiance
Here music turns to light,
a tone so sweet
that we, dulled by
our familiar calliope,
mistake its sound for silence.

Dante, mounting to tiers of
trembling flame,
found light. Light everywhere.
Circles, wheels,
light on light,
a dance of invisibles.
The flames pulsating, as if
measuring the breath of heaven.
At the last, he falls forward,
caught in widening rings
of implacable bright.

At Eleusis

Even at Eleusis,
after the long journey,
the sea-bath among the sacred waves,
the accounts of the grieving mother
and her vanished child,
at the end
the shouts rang out
like birth-cries in the throats
of the startled pilgrims, blinded
by the flare of torches sweeping
from frames of darkness.
Then silence. Then they saw.

A Celebration

And then quiet.
Someone who whispers:
now we are free.

Which was, almost,
but only in the way
a bird,
leaving a limb,
goes freely into
a different realm,
an atmosphere
more pure,
more transparent,
but that, too,
maintaining its fixities.

The Clinging

[for those who] have beheld the Tao… gems sparkle on dusty roads; puddles appear as pools of lapis lazuli; tough weeds acquire fragile beauty…
      — John Blofield

The I Ching calls it clinging, fire:
“Fire has no definite form,”
it says,
“but clings to the burning object
and thus is bright.”

— from Marrow of Flame : Poems of the Spiritual Journey (1st ed.), by Dorothy Walters

/ Image by Hoang Giang Hai /

I hope you will pause to reread this poem a few times. It has several lines that can bring you to a full stop. The images of Dante encountering the circles of light. That final line from “At Eleusis.” The way, in “A Celebration,” a bird taking flight shifts worlds, enters a new reality. In “The Clinging,” the way the fixed object burns bright and gives root to formless fire, and in so doing returns to formlessness itself.

And have a beautiful day!

Recommended Books: Dorothy Walters

The Longing in Between: Sacred Poetry from Around the World (A Poetry Chaikhana Anthology) Marrow of Flame : Poems of the Spiritual Journey The Ley Lines of the Soul: Poems of Ecstasy and Ascension Unmasking the Rose: A Record of a Kundalini Initiation A Cloth of Fine Gold: Poems of the Inner Journey
More Books >>

Dorothy Walters

US (1928 – )
Secular or Eclectic

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Jun 10 2015

Wendell Berry – Sabbaths 1985 V

Published by under Poetry

Sabbaths 1985, V
by Wendell Berry

How long does it take to make the woods?
As long as it takes to make the world.
The woods is present as the world is, the presence
of all its past and of all its time to come.
It is always finished, it is always being made, the act
of its making forever greater than the act of its destruction.
It is a part of eternity for its end and beginning
belong to the end and beginning of all things,
the beginning lost in the end, the end in the beginning.

What is the way to the woods, how do you go there?
By climbing up through the six days’ field,
kept in all the body’s years, the body’s
sorrow, weariness, and joy. By passing through
the narrow gate on the far side of that field
where the pasture grass of the body’s life gives way
to the high, original standing of the trees.
By coming into the shadow, the shadow
of the grace of the strait way’s ending,
the shadow of the mercy of light.

Why must the gate be narrow?
Because you cannot pass beyond it burdened.
To come into the woods you must leave behind
the six days’ world, all of it, all of its plans and hopes.
You must come without weapon or tool, alone,
expecting nothing, remembering nothing,
into the ease of sight, the brotherhood of eye and leaf.

— from A Timbered Choir: The Sabbath Poems 1979-1997, by Wendell Berry

/ Image by mindfulness /

I suppose I am already thinking of the weekend, and some cherished moments of stillness…

There is something so healing, so earthly — in the most sanctified sense — in this Sabbath meditation by Wendell Berry.

His phrases of the “six days’ world” and the “six day’s field” are references to how we see the world and interact with the world on all the other days of the week, the non-Sabbath days. In the “six days’ world” we work, we do, we accomplish, we acquire. Often it is a world of control and burdens, “plans and hopes.” It is a world of objects and tools to manipulate those objects. Too often it is a world of domination and separation.

An essential reason for the Sabbath is to remind us that that “six days’ world” is not the real world nor is it the whole world, it is only one way of interacting with the world. When we take a true day of rest, and enter a majestic space not made by men — like the ancient, silent woods — we remember that we participate in a larger life, eternal, eternally recycling itself. We are reminded that there is a wholeness to the world we live in, something we can’t segment and sell without harm to ourselves. The Sabbath, the woods, the wilds, these remind us of the sacred, whole, eternal spaces within the human spirit. In true rest and quiet awe, we return to ourselves.

I try to to remember to find something of the Sabbath in each day of the week.

Recommended Books: Wendell Berry

The Collected Poems of Wendell Berry, 1957-1982 Selected Poems of Wendell Berry Given: Poems A Timbered Choir: The Sabbath Poems 1979-1997 The Mad Farmer Poems
More Books >>

Wendell Berry, Wendell Berry poetry, Secular or Eclectic poetry Wendell Berry

US (1934 – )
Secular or Eclectic

More poetry by Wendell Berry

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Jun 05 2015

Rainer Maria Rilke – The Man Watching

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The Man Watching
by Rainer Maria Rilke

English version by Robert Bly

I can tell by the way the trees beat, after
so many dull days, on my worried windowpanes
that a storm is coming,
and I hear the far-off fields say things
I can’t bear without a friend,
I can’t love without a sister

The storm, the shifter of shapes, drives on
across the woods and across time,
and the world looks as if it had no age:
the landscape like a line in the psalm book,
is seriousness and weight and eternity.

What we choose to fight is so tiny!
What fights us is so great!
If only we would let ourselves be dominated
as things do by some immense storm,
we would become strong too, and not need names.

When we win it’s with small things,
and the triumph itself makes us small.
What is extraordinary and eternal
does not want to be bent by us.
I mean the Angel who appeared
to the wrestlers of the Old Testament:
when the wrestler’s sinews
grew long like metal strings,
he felt them under his fingers
like chords of deep music.

Whoever was beaten by this Angel
(who often simply declined the fight)
went away proud and strengthened
and great from that harsh hand,
that kneaded him as if to change his shape.
Winning does not tempt that man.
This is how he grows: by being defeated, decisively,
by constantly greater beings.

/ Image by Christopher Chan /

Last night a tornado touched down just a few miles from where I live in Longmont, Colorado. The power of nature is sometimes majestic and terrifying, both!

And then an evening of being battered by rain and hail, with heavy thunder and lightning.

The experience gives particular resonance to the poem’s lines:

The storm, the shifter of shapes, drives on
across the woods and across time,
and the world looks as if it had no age:
the landscape like a line in the psalm book,
is seriousness and weight and eternity.

It is as if the overwhelm of the storm both renews the world while, at the same time, having bestowed a serenity and ageless wisdom. Having survived the storm, the world has entered a deathless state.

One would think that Rilke’s perspective in this poem would be crushing, with its observation that, through the simple act of living and growing, we face inconceivably immense forces arrayed against us. Forces that hardly notice us in their own massive movement. We are such vulnerable things ready to be battered by life. But Rilke manages a feat of precarious insight, suggesting that our very strength and meaning are found in the particular way we encounter those great currents.

If only we would let ourselves be dominated
as things do by some immense storm,
we would become strong too, and not need names.

And in these encounters the goal is not to win or overcome. “Winning does not tempt that man.” For the one who has met this “Angel who appeared / to the wrestlers of the Old Testament” there is the bruising realization that success is not the success of the man, but the success of the spirit.

The mere touch of these mighty forces, though they overwhelm, somehow ennobles us and strengthens us.

This is how he grows: by being defeated, decisively,
by constantly greater beings.

Something to contemplate in the aftermath of the storm…


I feel that I don’t say it often enough, but I want to take a moment to acknowledge the many ways you support and encourage my work with the Poetry Chaikhana…

Many of you donate money, online or through the mail. You have purchased copies of The Longing in Between and Real Thirst. You purchase other poetry books through the links in these emails and on the website.

And when that’s not possible — and I understand that finances can get tight — you send me the most amazing emails. And comments posted on the Poetry Chaikhana blog. And the Facebook page.

I just want to say — Thank You! Your support, financial and energetic, is what allows me to do this work, even when my health limits my ability to keep income up with my day job.

I am so grateful for all of you in the Poetry Chaikhana community!

Have a wonderful (and safe) weekend!

Recommended Books: Rainer Maria Rilke

The Enlightened Heart: An Anthology of Sacred Poetry Ahead of All Parting: The Selected Poetry and Prose of Rainer Maria Rilke The Soul is Here for its Own Joy: Sacred Poems from Many Cultures Rilke’s Book of Hours: Love Poems to God In Praise of Mortality: Rilke’s Duino Elegies & Sonnets to Orpheus
More Books >>

Rainer Maria Rilke, Rainer Maria Rilke poetry, Secular or Eclectic poetry Rainer Maria Rilke

Germany (1875 – 1926) Timeline
Secular or Eclectic

More poetry by Rainer Maria Rilke

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Jun 03 2015

Abdul-Qader Bedil – Creation’s Witness

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Creation’s Witness
by Abdul-Qader Bedil

English version by David and Sabrineh Fideler

At time’s beginning
that beauty
which polished creation’s mirror
caressed every atom
with a hundred thousand suns.

But this glory
was never witnessed.

When the human eye emerged,
only then was he known.

— from Love’s Alchemy: Poems from the Sufi Tradition, Translated by David Fideler / Translated by Sabrineh Fideler

/ Image by Lisa Norwood /

At time’s beginning
that beauty
which polished creation’s mirror
caressed every atom
with a hundred thousand suns.

I love that phrase in the opening section about every atom being caressed “with a hundred thousand suns…” Mm.

Reread the poem’s final couplet, though.

When the human eye emerged,
only then was he known.

What do you suppose the poet meant by stating that only “when the human eye emerged” was “that beauty” — the radiance of God — known?

He is directly addressing that aching question that is at the heart of the spiritual quest: If God or the Eternal is One, and all of creation is fundamentally one with that Reality, why then does existence appear fragmented? Why do we perceive separation at all, if all is one? Does that apparent separation serve some purpose?

Bedil’s poem gives us a path of understanding through this dilemma: In the primal Wholeness that exists prior to separation, everything is one, but unawakened. There is wholeness, but no perception of wholeness, since nothing else is known and since there are no individual points of perception from which to witness that wholeness…

But this glory
was never witnessed.

God is said to have willed the illusion of separation in human consciousness in order to produce the necessary duality of seer and seen. The play of separation then allows universal consciousness, through humanity, to witness its own Being. Humanity, in this understanding, is the eye of consciousness within existence. You could say that this is our divine purpose — to awaken to the radiant vision of Being. Our first role is to be witnesses. We exist to perceive the fundamental nature of reality. Only by doing so do we fulfill our reason for being.

Separation leads to perspective. Perspective leads to vision. Vision leads us back to unity.

It is through us that the universe comes to fruition in self-knowledge.

\ | /
– o –
/ | \

Recommended Books: Abdul-Qader Bedil

Love’s Alchemy: Poems from the Sufi Tradition The Ocean of Unity: Wahdat al-wujud in Persian, Turkish, and Malay poetry

Abdul-Qader Bedil

Afghanistan (1644 – 1721) Timeline
Muslim / Sufi

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May 29 2015

Kalidasa – Waking

Published by under Poetry

by Kalidasa

English version by W. S. Merwin & J. Moussaieff Masson

Even the man who is happy
      glimpses something
      or a hair of sound touches him

      and his heart overflows with a longing
            he does not recognize

then it must be that he is remembering
      in a place out of reach
      shapes he has loved

      in a life before this

      the print of them still there in him waiting

— from East Window: Poems from Asia, Translated by W. S. Merwin

/ Image by Stig Nygaard /

I’m back. I was waylaid by another bout of chronic fatigue syndrome, but I’m recovering and ready to wax poetic once again!

and his heart overflows with a longing
            he does not recognize

I just love these lines.

It reminds me of revelation I had around age 20 that really helped me through a lost, lonely period. It was a time when I felt an excruciating inner ache, a hole in myself, an empty space, with no idea how to fill it. Other people that age were busy with life: schoolwork, friends, dating, imagining their futures. But at that age I was struggling with a terrible void.

But then I started really watching people. I wanted to watch all the “normal” people to figure out how I could be more like them. Then suddenly it struck me: No matter how “happy” one may be, everyone — without exception — has that same gaping hole in their life. Most people pour all of their energies into either filling it endlessly, and with the wrong things, or they cover it up, ignore it, avoid it through endless activity. That sort of happiness is brittle, all too fragile. Suddenly we glimpse something or “a hair of sound touches” us, and that empty space becomes unavoidable. The hunger, the longing overflows.

I saw that the whole world is defined by that longing. And I also began to understand that I wasn’t really different from everyone else. It’s just that perhaps I found it more difficult to avoid staring at that uncomfortable question mark that sits at the center of everyone’s life.

That insight not only reassured me that I was fundamentally okay, it also gave me permission to feel compassion for people I used to quietly envy. Everyone, all of us, high and low, rich and middle class and poor, famous and infamous and obscure — we’re all struggling with that haunting hunger.

But why? What is that hunger? Why is there a hole in the center of the world?

To really know the answer, we have to stop looking away. We have to stop distracting ourselves. And we have to stop trying to fill it with petty things — money, sex, fame.

Turn and sit and just quietly look at that empty space. Get to know it. Learn its feel.

Here’s what I’ve discovered in my own exploration: That hole is exactly God-shaped.

But there’s an important corollary to that statement: God is not shaped like the cutout doll handed to us when we were children. The word “God” itself is too limiting, and is heavily layered with cultural assumptions. That’s why I often use words like the Divine, the Eternal, the Real.

The most important thing about that God-shaped hole: When we finally, truly, really see it, an amazing river of bliss pours through that hole and washes over us…

Recommended Books: Kalidasa

Sanskrit Love Poetry Abhijnanasakuntalam of Kalidasa The Recognition of Sakuntala: A Play in Seven Acts Theatre of Memory: The Plays of Kalidasa The Origin of the Young God: Kalidasa’s Kumarasambhava

Kalidasa, Kalidasa poetry, Yoga / Hindu poetry Kalidasa

India (350? – 430?) Timeline
Yoga / Hindu : Shakta (Goddess-oriented)

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May 20 2015

Czeslaw Milosz – Late Ripeness

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Late Ripeness
by Czeslaw Milosz

English version by Robert Hass

Not soon, as late as the approach of my ninetieth year,
I felt a door opening in me and I entered
the clarity of early morning.

One after another my former lives were departing,
like ships, together with their sorrow.

And the countries, cities, gardens, the bays of seas
assigned to my brush came closer,
ready now to be described better than they were before.

I was not separated from people,
grief and pity joined us.
We forget — I kept saying — that we are all children of the King.

For where we come from there is no division
into Yes and No, into is, was, and will be.

We were miserable, we used no more than a hundredth part
of the gift we received for our long journey.

Moments from yesterday and from centuries ago –
a sword blow, the painting of eyelashes before a mirror
of polished metal, a lethal musket shot, a caravel
staving its hull against a reef — they dwell in us,
waiting for a fulfillment.

I knew, always, that I would be a worker in the vineyard,
as are all men and women living at the same time,
whether they are aware of it or not.

— from New and Collected Poems 1931 – 2001, by Czeslaw Milosz

/ Image by BennyBrand /

This is one of my favorite poems by Czeslaw Milosz. I hope you feel it too…

Try reading those early lines again:

I felt a door opening in me and I entered
the clarity of early morning.

Notice how the breaking of the line influences the meaning. It is not written “I felt… / I entered…” separating it into two logical statements. Instead, the first line is “I felt… and I entered.” There the line stops, forcing us to stop as well and consider it as a statement complete in itself. And once we enter, we are almost overwhelmed by the next line; it is as if, at that point, all of existence has become “the clarity of early morning.”

That sense is further emphasized by the next lines, “One after another my former lives were departing, / like ships, together with their sorrow.” Milosz is describing how the weight of one’s personal history, the burden of past identity and the actions that seemed to give it reality, all of that is washed away in the flood of that light. Not even washed away; “departing,” gently drifting away. Reading that line, I have the sense of those laden ships, not sailing away, but fading out, like gloomy phantoms ever looking backward suddenly caught in the brilliance of dawn.

For where we come from there is no division
into Yes and No, into is, was, and will be.

The lines of this poem have an intuitive recognition of the unity at rest beneath the jangle and hurts of life. It is a recognition that allows for forgiveness… and self-forgiveness.

Recommended Books: Czeslaw Milosz

New and Collected Poems 1931 – 2001 The Collected Poems Against Forgetting: Twentieth-Century Poetry of Witness To Begin Where I Am: The Selected Prose of Czeslaw Milosz A Treatise on Poetry
More Books >>

Czeslaw Milosz, Czeslaw Milosz poetry, Secular or Eclectic poetry Czeslaw Milosz

Poland (1911 – 2004) Timeline
Secular or Eclectic
Christian : Catholic

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