All that matters is to be at one with the living God
to be a creature in the house of the God of Life.

Sleeping on the hearth of the living world
yawning at home before the fire of life
feeling the presence of the living God
like a great reassurance
a deep calm in the heart
a presence
as of the master sitting at the board
in his own and greater being,
in the house of life.

— from The Complete Poems of D. H. Lawrence, by D. H. Lawrence

/ Photo by Dee.Dee.M /

All that matters is to be at one with the living God
to be a creature in the house of the God of Life.

I had a couple of very good friends in childhood, but in many ways my closest companion was a calico cat named, Kitty Kumbah (a singsong name made up by a four-year-old me). She saw me through my parents’ divorce, through a disorienting move from Oregon to Southern California, and along the bumpy road into adolescence. She sat patiently listening to my talking and tantrums. She slept on my bed each night and, one year, gave birth to a litter of kittens on my belly while I was asleep. When I was 16, Kitty Kumbah died in my arms, having carried me safely through my childhood.

feeling the presence of the living God
like a great reassurance
a deep calm in the heart

What I remember most was how she taught me meditation, stillness, poise, contentment, and the importance of a well-chosen seat. She taught me pax… peace. That cat was my first spiritual teacher.

Like a cat asleep on a chair
at peace, in peace

PS – My thoughts and prayers are with the people of Oklahoma.

D. H. Lawrence England (1885 – 1930) Timeline Secular or Eclectic

More poetry by D. H. Lawrence

English version by Vraje Abramian

Love came and emptied me of self,
every vein and every pore,
made into a container to be filled by the Beloved.
Of me, only a name is left,
the rest is You my Friend, my Beloved.

— from Nobody, Son of Nobody: Poems of Shaikh Abu-Saeed Abil-Kheir, Translated by Vraje Abramian

/ Photo by Christine Muraton /

As part of my chronic fatigue/ME patterns, I sometimes have an intense sensation of tremors, even though my body is still. Sitting on the couch with my wife, I turn to see if she is shaking her foot, causing the whole couch to vibrate, but she is just quietly sitting there. Each time it happens I’m surprised to find that it is simply my own body buzzing with some unknown charge.

At such times I don’t quite have the energy to do a full day’s work, yet my body isn’t at rest enough to enter deeply into meditation either. What is a person to do who strives to be a meditator engaged with the world when he can neither meditate nor take action? Interesting things happen at such moments, if we let them.

When the stories we tell ourselves about ourselves can no long be sustained, one option is to tenaciously cling to the crumbling edifice and be injured by the collapse. Another option is to construct a new story. Or we can let all stories fall away. We can stop struggling to be either this or that, we can step beyond our stories. That is when we rediscover what we actually are. That is when hidden doorways open.

The little self is simply the sum total of all the stories we tell ourselves. When those stories fall away, the self becomes empty of itself. We then become a cup, empty and ready to be filled by something outside our stories — let’s call it wine.

Of me, only a name is left,
the rest is You my Friend, my Beloved.

This is the hard wisdom that chronic illness teaches — yielding into fulness. Any life struggle — really any experience, pleasant or unpleasant — can be transformed into a teacher of wisdom when we stop taking it personally, when we keep our hearts engaged and our eyes open in the midst of our crumbling and changing self-stories.

What can one do but stand in silent awe of the vision that emerges, showing us how much bigger we are than even our best stories?

Sending love!

Shaikh Abu-Said Abil-Kheir was one of the earlier Sufi poets. He lived more than two centuries before Mevlana Jelaluddin Rumi yet, like Rumi, much of his mysticism follows a similar path of annihilation in divine Love.

Abu-Said’s poetry ranges from the ecstatic and celestial, to struggles with abandonment. His poetry has an immediacy and even a sort of devoutly wry petulance that can draw comparisons with the great Bengali poet, Ramprasad.

Abu Said referred to himself as “Nobody, Son of Nobody,” to convey the mystic’s sense of having completely merged or disappeared into the Divine, leaving no trace of the ego behind.

He lived in Mayhana in what is modern day Turkmenistan, just north of Iran and Afghanistan in Central Asia.

More poetry by Abu-Said Abil-Kheir

English version by A. K. Ramanujan

Looking for your light,
I went out:

      O Lord of Caves,
      if you are light,
      there can be no metaphor.

— from Speaking of Siva, by A K Ramanujan

/ Photo by Aah-Yeah /

We’re back. (Okay, I know– You were here waiting patiently for the next poem email. I guess I should say, I’m back.) Now, on with the poetry…

–

I was surprised to realize that I haven’t featured this poem in several years. It is one of my favorite poems to emerge from the Virasaiva poet-saints in India. It is so short, sharp, like a lightning strike, yet the phrasing suggests recollection, giving it also a dreamy, musing quality, as if recalling that first blinding kiss from the beloved.

Light is a central image in sacred poetry, suggesting the Divine not framed within a mental concept. But for genuine mystics, this light is no mere concept; it is directly experienced…

This sense of light is more than a brightness one might experience on a sunny afternoon. This light is perceived as being a living radiance that permeates everything, everywhere, always. It is a radiance that outshines everything–

like the sudden dawn
of a million million suns.

This light is immediately understood to be the true source of all things, the foundation on which the physicality of the material world is built.

The sense of boundaries and separation, long taken for granted by the mind as the fundamental nature of existence, suddenly seems illusory, for this light shines through all people and things. It has no edges, and the light of one is the light of another.

Looking for your light,
I went out.

Seeing yourself and the entire world radiant with this light, the old notion of a separate self is lost. Only the light truly exists. Everything else is a shifting game of light.

Seeing this light, “there can be no metaphor.” Nothing can be compared to anything else, for everything is recognized as being that light. In this divine light, it is all one already.

Allama Prabhu India (12th Century) Timeline Yoga / Hindu : Shaivite (Shiva)

Allama Prabhu was a contemporary of Basavanna and Mahadevi in the Shiva bhakti movement of the Kannada-speaking regions in southern India. While Basavanna was considered the primary organizer of the community, Allama was in many ways thought of as the spiritual leader, the most realized of these realized poet-saints.

Many of his poems are addressed to Shiva as Guhesvara or “the Lord of Caves.” A popular story is told about the life of Allama Prabhu to explain this name: Allama was said to have been a temple drummer when he fell in love with a beautiful young woman. But the woman caught fever and died. In his grief, Allama abandoned everything and began to wander. One day, he was sitting desolate in a field and noticed something strange — the golden cupola of a buried temple. He began to dig about it until he found the doorway and managed to enter the excavated temple-cave. There he found a yogi absorbed in deep meditation. The yogi handed Allama a linga, the symbol of Shiva, and then the yogi expired. In that very instant, Allama was enlightened.

More poetry by Allama Prabhu

English version by S. Abhyayananda

I offer obeisance to the God and Goddess,
The limitless primal parents of the universe.

When salt dissolves,
It becomes one with the ocean;
When my ego dissolved,
I became one with Shiva and Shakti.

— from Jnaneshvar: The Life and Works of the Celebrated Thirteenth Century Indian Mystic-Poet, Translated by Swami Abhyayananda

/ Photo by isvaracandra /

A beautiful meditation on the dynamic play between duality and nonduality.

I offer obeisance to the God and Goddess,
The limitless primal parents of the universe.

In Hindu metaphysics, the primal duality is between the God and the Goddess, in this case Shiva and Shakti. The God, Shiva, represents the eternal, transcendent aspect of the Divine Reality. The Goddess is Shakti, that is, power or manifestation. Shakti is the Divine Reality in movement, expressing Itself as all of Creation.

On an individual level, Shiva is experienced as resting in the energy center of the crown, and Shakti is the Kundalini force that typically lies dormant at the base of the spine. When the latent Kundalini Shakti is awakened, She rises to the crown and joins in union with Shiva. This is the ‘spiritual marriage’ that initiates enlightenment and bliss–

How sweet is their union!

This is the dance of duality and nonduality that occurs throughout the universe, among galaxies, within individuals, even within the particles of the atom. Everything has its essence and its expression, and its expression is always seeking to reunite with its essence. Matter, manifestation is always seeking union with Spirit. But… on careful examination, one recognizes that the two, in fact, have never been separate. There is no dividing line; the one emanates from the other, like a fire and the heat it radiates.

Understanding this, the poem opens up into a precise description of the subtle nature of reality. “They are not entirely the same,” because distinctions can be made between these two aspects of the Divine, “Nor are they not the same,” because these distinctions are somewhat artificial, mental constructions. (Does fire exist without heat? Does heat exist without its source? Can we truly speak of fire apart from heat? We should more accurately speak of fire-heat as a single thing. The distinction is an artificial separation.) “We cannot say exactly what they are,” because the truth is beyond the ability of the intellect to formulate into words; it can only be perceived directly.

When He awakes, the whole house disappears,
And nothing at all is left.

That is, when we completely reside in our true essence, everything we see and touch and taste and hear and smell is recognized as being part of that same essence. The distinction between things is lost. Form and space may still be perceived, but they are seen as empty, illusory. The ‘thingness’ of things is lost… “nothing at all is left.” You lose even yourself, your identity as a being who is separate from that all-pervading living essence:

They are like a stream of knowledge
From which the knower cannot drink
Unless he gives up himself.

This perception of the ‘thingless’ nature of reality leads some masters speak of being blind or of not seeing the world. “In unity there is little to behold…” Which leads to the reason for the existence of duality in the first place, so the Eternal can come to know itself better: “He takes the role of Witness / Out of love of watching Her.” It is a game, a form of love play, a sort of hide-and-seek the Divine plays with itself. Instead of pure Being, the Divine One pretends to be two, perceiver and perceived, in order to observe Its own nature. And we are a living part of that play of self-consciousness.

But, ultimately, the game of duality, of actor and witness, collapses in on itself, and the truth of unity can be denied no longer. Shiva and Shakti are “inseparable;” they are not two, but one. The crown and the Kundalini are not separated by some distance of space along the spine; they are two poles of the same being (you!). How can the Self be separate from its own self-expression? How can the fire be separate from its heat?

When we stop fighting so hard to perpetuate the game of duality, through the constant assertion of the ego and the endless chatter of the mind, then we are finally able to settle into the awareness that there is only unity and nothing else.

So, along with Jnanadev, to the divine game of duality, I bow. And to the fundamental unity that underlies it, I bow.

It is in this manner I bow
To the inseparable Shiva and Shakti.

Jnanadev India (1275 – 1296) Timeline Yoga / Hindu : Advaita / Non-Dualist

Also known as Jnaneshwar or Jnandev or Jnanadeva.

Jnanadev lived in the Maharashtra region of India.

Jnanadev’s father initially left his wife to become a sadhu ascetic, but when his guru discovered that he had a wife, the guru insisted he abandon the renunciate life and return to his marriage. This entire drama was shocking to orthodox authorities and the family was generally shunned.

The couple had four children together, named Nivrutti (renunciation), Jnana (knowledge), Sopan (stairway), and Mukta (liberation). Jnanadev’s sister, Muktabai, was a great poet and saint in her own right.

When the children were all very young, their parents died and the children had to survive by begging. Yet from this family a spiritual vision of the greatest depth emerged.

Though his life was extremely short, he composed four great works: the Jnanesvari, (a translation of the Bhagavad Gita into Marathi, along with a commentary that is still devoutly studied today for its wisdom and insight), the Amritanubhava, the Abhangs, (spiritual songs and poetry), and the Changadeva Pasashti (a story of conversion from hatha yoga to a more deeply philosophical approach to God).

He was a strong influence and inspiration for other poet-saints in the region who followed, such as Namdev and Janabai.

Traditionally Jnanadev is said to have felt he had completed his purpose in life and left the body in conscious mahasamadhi (the final spiritual union of a saint at death), exiting life at the young age of 22, having already been acknowledged as a great saint and poet.

More poetry by Jnanadev

Ivan M. Granger Book Signing 5/4/13

Thank you to everyone who came by for the Real Thirst Book Signing event yesterday. Since I do most of my work over the Internet, I often have wonderful conversations with people via email, but I rarely get the chance to meet readers of the Poetry Chaikhana in person. So it was a special treat to meet several of you and share smiles face-to-face. I signed books, read a few poems, answered a few questions. But I especially enjoyed the conversations and (thanks to Roger’s suggestion) the opportunity to hear everyone read a short stanza from my translation of Antonio Machado’s “Songs.”

Thank you also to the folks at La Vita Bella Coffee for generously hosting the event. A good cozy, community environment, well-suited to discussion and the poetic spirit…

The Real Thirst Fellowship

Yes, seekers, do
sit up,
stand tall.

Effort clears the way,
but the steps
are already taken.

— from Real Thirst: Poetry of the Spiritual Journey, by Ivan M. Granger

/ Photo by Demi Brooke /

Since I am doing a public book signing tomorrow, I thought I would share one of my own poems with you today.

So many straight spines and rigorous strivings in the spiritual game. All valuable in the right context. But, you know, at some point you just lean into that divine embrace and finally find what all that effort failed to attain.

I like the image of a slingshot. You and I, we are the pebbles. We pull and strain; we fast and meditate, pray and breathe, turn inward, reach outward to help how we can… and yet all we feel is tension. Then, unexpectedly, we surrender, perhaps we stumble, we let go. The slingshot snaps back; that’s when we soar!

Letting go doesn’t mean much if we haven’t first created the proper dynamic tension and focus through spiritual effort. But ceaseless tugging only leads to rigidity and strain. Effort is required, but it is only through yielding that we reach the goal.

Another way to understand this is that enlightenment, salvation, liberation, the true Self, these are not attained through effort. They are not attained at all. They simply are. They are already our nature. Effort is necessary, yes, but only to clear away the delusion that they are not already who we are. Effort clears the way, but the steps are already taken.

So, yes, seekers, do sit up, stand tall. But, with the reclining saints, we slouch our way into heaven. Resting in that recognition, we let the years pass…

A good weekend to go outside, lean back into the earth, look up, let go, and soar!

(And, if you are in Colorado, swing by La Vita Bella Coffeeshop in downtown Longmont this Saturday, between 1:00 and 3:00 pm. I’ll be there, signing books and chatting. I might even be coaxed to read a few poems, if you like.)

Ivan M. Granger US (1969 – ) Secular or Eclectic Yoga / Hindu : Advaita / Non-Dualist

Ivan M. Granger grew up in Oregon and Southern California. He has also lived on the island of Maui. He now lives in Colorado with his wife, Michele.

“Poetry has an immediate effect on the mind. The simple act of reading poetry alters thought patterns and the shuttle of the breath. Poetry induces trance. Its words are chant. Its rhythms are drumbeats. Its images become the icons of the inner eye. Poetry is more than a description of the sacred experience; it carries the experience itself.”

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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?

As a way to answer some of those questions, I thought I’d post an audio interview I did a few years ago. 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.

Click to listen: Interview with Ivan M. Granger

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Ivan M. Granger is the creator and webmaster of the Poetry Chaikhana website.

Email Ivan M. Granger

More poetry by Ivan M. Granger