Jun 03 2016

Yunus Emre – Knowledge should mean a full grasp of knowledge

Published by under Poetry

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

English version by Namık Kemal Zeybek

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

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

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

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

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


/ Image by Amosb /

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

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

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

It is not a matter of how often we pray. Or how perfectly we enunciate each prescribed word. The question is, have we discovered how true prayer wells up within us of its own accord.

This poem is clearly a mystic’s critique of the religious rule-follower, typically someone who favors a rigid understanding of religion that lacks depth or real insight. But, as I think about it, the words of this poem can also be turned around and cause us to question elements of our own spiritual seeking, as well. We may not approach the spiritual path as a matter of superficial actions or brittle creeds, but we also can become swept up in endless new ideas, new flashes of insight, new pathways, new teachers. This can lead to a culture of lifelong seeking that becomes our comfort zone — we seek and we seek, and perhaps we deepen and gain insight, but we can forget to actually find.

I think that is Yunus Emre’s real criticism here, not just directed at the superficially religious or the rigidly minded, but this idea of a culture that takes on the form of religion (or spirituality) without actually discovering the true center that gives it all meaning.

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

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

A heart-healthy nudge to us all…


Recommended Books: Yunus Emre

The Longing in Between: Sacred Poetry from Around the World (A Poetry Chaikhana Anthology) Poetry for the Spirit: Poems of Universal Wisdom and Beauty Music of a Distant Drum: Classical Arabic, Persian, Turkish & Hebrew Poems Quarreling with God: Mystic Rebel Poems of the Dervishes of Turkey The Drop That Became the Sea: Lyric Poems of Yunus Emre
More Books >>


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

Turkey (1238 – 1320) Timeline
Muslim / Sufi

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Jun 03 2016

the greatest gifts

We don’t get the greatest gifts,
we give ourselves to them instead.

No responses yet

Jun 01 2016

A few updates

A while back I had mentioned that I am working on two new books — a new poetry anthology, which I plan to publish in the summer, and also a collection of the ‘thoughts for the day,’ which I hoped to publish even sooner. I will still be publishing both books, but I have decided to focus on the anthology first and complete the book of sayings after. The tentative schedule for the two books now is to release the anthology late summer or early autumn, to be followed by the book of sayings by the end of the year. Although I haven’t been as swift as I hoped with preparing them for publication, I am pleased with how they are coming together… and I hope you will be too.

Also, I forget to mention it, but I have been doing some behind-the-scenes work on the Poetry Chaikhana. I recently updated the database software I use to manage the website along with the extensive library of poetry, biographies, and commentaries. You are not likely to notice any changes as a visitor to the site, but these updates to the software mean that I can avoid several technical issues and I am now in a good position to continue to manage the Poetry Chaikhana well into the future. Some of the humdrum details that only a nerd can appreciate, but they help me to keep the extensive Poetry Chaikhana resources available to everyone.

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Jun 01 2016

Paramahansa Yogananda – O Spirit, reveal Thyself as Thou art

Published by under Poetry

O Spirit, reveal Thyself as Thou art
by Paramahansa Yogananda

O Spirit, Thou art just behind my vision, with which I see Thine outward beauty. Thou art just behind my hearing with which I listen to the medley of earth sounds. Thou art just behind my touch, with which I feel the objects of Thy world.

Thou art just behind the veil of Nature’s splendors. In the sympathetic glances of flowers, in the zest of sustaining food, and in all Thine other bounties lies hidden the essence of Thy Being, Thine eternal sweetness.

As I invoke Thee, Lord, Thou art just behind my awe-trembling voice. Thou art just behind the mind with which I pray. Thou art just behind my deepest feelings. Thou art just behind my sacred thoughts. Thou art just behind my cravings for Thee. Thou art just behind my meditations. Thou art just behind my tender love.

Wilt Thou not come out from behind the screens of human feelings and creation’s elaborate displays? O Inscrutable by Mortals! open my divine eye that sees Thee as Thou art.

— from Whispers from Eternity, by Paramahansa Yogananda


/ Image by Garrett Charles /

A prayer-poem for us today from one of the great spiritual ambassadors of the 20th century, Paramahansa Yogananda.

O Spirit, Thou art just behind my vision, with which I see Thine outward beauty…

Yogananda seems to be describing a divine game of hide-and-seek. The Eternal Spirit is there, everywhere right there, just barely hidden behind “the screens of human feelings and creations elaborate displays.”

It’s not that we have to find the right place to look. It’s that we have to find the right way to look.

O Inscrutable by Mortals! open my divine eye that sees Thee as Thou art.


Recommended Books: Paramahansa Yogananda

Whispers from Eternity Autobiography of a Yogi The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam Explained


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

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Jun 01 2016

wound

Your most secret wound

is the doorway.

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May 25 2016

Hildegard von Bingen – O ignis Spiritus Paracliti

Published by under Poetry

O ignis Spiritus Paracliti
by Hildegard von Bingen

English version by Ivan M. Granger

O Spirit of Fire, O Guide,
life in the life of all life,
holy are you,
      enlivening all things.

Holy are you,
      a healing balm
      to the broken.
Holy are you,
      washing
      blistered wounds.

O Holy Breath,
O Fire of Life,
O Sweetness in my breast
infusing my heart
with the fine scent of truth.

O Pure Fountain
through which we know
God unites strangers
and gathers the lost.

O Heart Shield, guarding life
and hope, joining the many members
into one body;
Belt of Truth,
wrap them in beauty.

Protect those ensnared
by the enemy,
and free the worthy
from their fetters.

O Great Way that runs through all,
      from the heights,
      across the earth,
      and in the depths,
you encompass all and unify all.

From you the clouds stream
      and the ether rises;
from your stones precious water pours,
springs well and birth waterways,
      and the earth sweats green with life.

And eternally do you bring forth knowledge
by the breath of wisdom.

            All praise to you,
you who are the song of praise
      and the joy of life,
you who are hope and the greatest treasure,
      bestowing the gift of Light.


/ Image by Tommy Clark /

This week I have been translating some songs by the great Medieval mystic, Hildegard von Bingen, and I thought I would share this meditation on the universal flow of life today…

This song of praise is a beautiful vision of God — a maternal vision of God, earthy, yet transcendent — flowing with life, permeating all things, exuding a good and holy greenness everywhere.

This Spirit of Fire, the Holy Spirit, is “life in the life of all life.” It is the vivifying life behind all of life. This is the “Holy Breath” that breathes through all of manifest existence, everything in nature, every form, enlivening it, making it holy, sharing its divinity. Life and all creation emerges from Spirit. It is not created in some mechanical sense but flows naturally, organically, fluidly, like breath from the body or water from the spring.

Through this divine animating spirit, all separate things are actually one: “you encompass all and unify all.”

Especially notice the lovely lines:

From you the clouds stream
      and the ether rises,
from your stones precious water pours,
springs well and birth waterways,
      and the earth sweats green with life.

Throughout this song tangible, physical reality, the earth itself streams, pours, exudes, and permeates. All of physical reality, even in its most solid forms of earth and rock, all of ‘solid’ reality… flows. Nothing is as fixed or stationary as it may superficially appear. All forms possess a sort of divine inner ‘sap’ — the fluid Essence — that is its true being which shows itself as life:

…and the earth sweats her green life.

We have delightful language of both water and fire, and yet they seem complimentary. Why a “Spirit of Fire”? In Christian mysticism, the Holy Spirit is often associated with fire. In deep ecstasy, the awareness is flooded with a rising, blissfully searing heat, quieting the mind, opening the heart, filling one’s whole being with a sense of the interconnectedness of life. Adding to this, the inner vision is dazzled by a radiating golden-white light — “bestowing the gift of Light.” Paradoxically, amidst this inner fire of the illumination, there is the simultaneous descent of a trickling honey-like sweetness down the back of the throat, making one drunk on bliss and beauty. Thus Hildegard gives us images of water and flow and secret springs, as well. And throughout the mystic’s grand vision we find ourselves bathed in the most profound knowledge. This is not data or information necessarily, but in some indescribable way the living breath of knowledge itself, gnosis, fills us.

And eternally do you bring forth knowledge
by the breath of wisdom.

Yet clearly this is not a solitary vision confined to the mystic’s solitary self. This same spiritual vivification is taking place throughout the earth, through its good green life, through all things and all people, and we are all, in truth, one in that life and in eternal outpouring of that life-giving Spirit.

…wrap them in beauty.


Recommended Books: Hildegard von Bingen

Symphonia: A Critical Edition of the Symphonia armonie celstium revelationum German Mystical Writings: Hildegard of Bingen, Meister Eckhart, Jacob Boehme, and others Hildegard of Bingen’s Book of Divine Works with Letters and Songs Women of Wisdom: A Journey of Enlightenment by Women of Vision Through the Ages The Book of the Rewards of Life: Liber Vitae Meritorum
More Books >>


Hildegard von Bingen, Hildegard von Bingen poetry, Christian poetry Hildegard von Bingen

Germany (1098 – 1179) Timeline
Christian : Catholic

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May 25 2016

religion is technology

Religion is not a fixed collection
of beliefs and rituals.
Religion, properly understood,
is a living technology
for experiencing God.

No responses yet

May 20 2016

Antonio Machado – Songs

Published by under Poetry

Songs
by Antonio Machado

English version by Ivan M. Granger

I
      Against the flowering mountain,
the wide sea surges.
The comb of my honeybees
has gathered grains of salt.

II
      Against the black water.
Scent of sea and jasmine.
Malaga night.

III
      Spring has come.
No one knows what has happened.

IV
      Spring has come.
White hallelujahs
from the brambles in flower!

V
      Full moon, full moon,
so pregnant, so round.
This serene March night,
honeycomb of light
carved by white bees!

VI
      Castile night;
the song is said,
or, better, unsaid.
When all sleep
I’ll go to the window.

VII
      Sing, sing in clear rhyme,
the almond’s green arm
and the river’s double willow.

      Sing of the mottled oak,
the branch the ax cut,
and the flower no one sees.

      Of the garden pear’s
white flower, the peach tree’s
rosy blossom.

      And this perfume
the wet wind plucked
from the blossoming beans.

VIII
      The fountain and the four
acacias aflower
in the plaza.
The sun burns no more.
Twilight bliss!
Sing, nightingale.
This is the hour
of my heart.

IX
      White lodge,
traveler’s cell,
with my shadow!

X
      The Roman waterway,
— sings a voice from my homeland —
and the love we have for each other,
little one, what strength!

XI
      With words of love
a bit of exaggeration
just feels right.

XII
      In Santo Domingo,
the high mass.
Even though they call me
heretic and Mason,
praying with you,
what devotion!

XIII
      Celebrations in the green pasture
— fife and drum.
With his flower-draped crook
and golden sandals a shepherd came.

      Down from the mountain I came,
only to dance with her;
to the mountain I’ll return.

      Among the bower
there is a nightingale;
it sings of night and of day,
it sings of the moon and the sun.

      Husky from song:
to the garden goes the girl
and a rose she will cut.

      Between the black oaks,
there is a fountain of stone,
and a clay pitcher
that is never full.

      By the oak wood,
with the white moon,
she will return.

XIV
      With you in Valonsadero,
Feast of San Juan,
morning in the Argentine plain,
on the other side of the sea.
Keep faith in me,
that I will return.

      Tomorrow I’ll be the wind upon the plain
and my heart itself will go
to the banks of the High Douro.

XV
      While you are dancing in a circle,
girls, sing:
The fields are already green,
April in his splendor has come.

      At the riverbank,
near the black oaks,
his silver sandals
we’ve seen shine.
The fields are already green,
April in his splendor has come.

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


/ Image by Francois Schnell /

This is one of my favorite selections by the Spanish poet Antonio Machado. It has a joyous, exuberant sense of springtime, but there is an underlying melancholy, as if the spring celebrations are just a bit forced to overmaster some quiet grief…

The implied woman he addresses in this poem is his wife.

and the love we have for each other,
little one, what strength!

She was raised in a traditional Catholic family, where only a churchgoer was considered a suitable match. When he was courting her, Machado started going to church regularly.

In Santo Domingo,
the high mass.
Even though they call me
heretic and Mason,
praying with you,
what devotion!

He says playfully, “praying with you / what devotion!” We can just picture his eyes turned from the altar to catch a glimpse of her face, as if she was the true altar in his private church. “Even though they call me / heretic and Mason…” Being a young poet and a freethinker in conservative Catholic Spain, he constructed an apparent faith, but his worship was reserved for her.

Sadly, Machado’s wife died as a young woman, soon after they were married. In Machado’s poetry, she takes on a ghost-like quality, haunting his memories, calling to him, perhaps becoming even more consciously an image of the Divine as a result. Machado seems to be deliberately cultivating a mystical connection with her otherworldly presence through the very pain of separation. His longing is itself the connection.

And so we get the painful irony of spring each year, a renewal of life, vibrancy, an irrepressible joy rising up from the earth itself, even when death is such a blunt reality. We get these beautiful lines–

Spring has come.
White hallelujahs
from the brambles in flower!

But we are in some sense haunted by them. He seems to be struggling against death, exhorting his own spirit to revive and join with the world’s celebration:

Sing, sing in clear rhyme,
the almond’s green arm
and the river’s double willow.

Sing of the mottled oak,
the branch the ax cut,
and the flower no one sees.

He tells the young girls to dance, to savor this blossoming moment when life has become new and filled with possibility. Is it because he sees the shadow of death hovering about even them, or because he sees in this glorious spring day and in the vital moment itself a sense of victory over death? I suspect the poet sees both.

And so we get a sense of bewilderment at even the existence of springtim, both hopeful and heartrending.

Spring has come.
No one knows what has happened.

And despite the terrible grief that weighs down on the world, we have the renewal of life and the reawakening of hope.

The fields are already green,
April in his splendor has come.


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

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May 20 2016

fierce, gentle

See everything
with a fierce eye
and a gentle heart.

No responses yet

May 18 2016

Ibn Ata’ Illah – How utterly amazing

Published by under Poetry

How utterly amazing is someone who flees from something he cannot escape
by Ibn Ata’ Illah

English version by Victor Danner

How utterly amazing is someone who flees from something he cannot escape
      to seek something that will not last!

“It is not the eyes that are blind,
      but the hearts in the breasts are blind.”

Do not travel from phenomenal being to phenomenal being.
You will be like the donkey going around at the mill.
      It travels to what it set out from.

Travel from phenomenal beings
            to the Maker of Being.

“And the final end is to your Lord.”

— from Ibn ‘Ata’ Illah the Book of Wisdom/Kwaja Abdullah Ansari Intimate Conversations, Translated by Victor Danner / Translated by Wheeler M. Thackston


/ Image by lostknightkg /

I’m back, following a challenging period of chronic fatigue/ME just in time to appreciate the rainy weather making way for sunshine…

How utterly amazing is someone who flees from something he cannot escape
      to seek something that will not last!

It’s easy to miss that the poet is making a joke and laughing hugely (at us? with us?)

What a strange and incomprehensible thing is the human being! We run from the Divine Presence and desperately seek fleeting things: wealth, passion, fame. Can one flee from what is eternal and all-pervasive? Absurd! Yet we believe it. And what do we run after? Things that are subject to time and the laws of physicality and therefore undeniably impermanent. Yet we convince ourselves that these phenomena are what is actually “real” and lasting. Tangible reality is fleeting and, in the long run, not tangible at all. Only that inner blissful Reality endures, only that intangible reality can be continuously held.

I suspect the joke is on us!

This is not to say that there is not meaning in the normal human pursuits of love and relationship and family, work and career and financial stability, it is just that we have to understand them for what they are and what they are not. Their true value is discovered in how they all fit within the larger picture, and how they fit us within the larger picture. We can become transfixed by the goals and desires of life, or we can, with gratitude, recognize in them a reflection of something deeper… and lasting.

Travel from phenomenal beings
            to the Maker of Being.

It’s a lovely spring day here after several days of rain. A good day for a walk to enjoy the passing phenomena and, perhaps, to catch a glimpse of the lasting smile beneath them.


Recommended Books: Ibn Ata’ Illah

Ibn ‘Ata’ Illah the Book of Wisdom/Kwaja Abdullah Ansari Intimate Conversations


Ibn Ata’ Illah

Egypt (1250 – 1309) Timeline
Muslim / Sufi

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May 18 2016

blind faith

‘Blind faith’ is just passive belief.
Find an active faith,
faith that tests itself constantly.
Restore sight to your faith.

No responses yet

May 06 2016

Ala al-Dawla Simnani – What Was

Published by under Poetry

What Was
by Ala al-Dawla Simnani

English version by David and Sabrineh Fideler

Once I was here,
but now “I” am not:

If there’s really a “me,”
      it could only be you.

If any robe warms
and encompasses me now,
that very robe —
      it could only be you.

In the way of your love,
nothing was left —
neither body nor soul.

If I have any body —
If I have any soul —
then, without question,
      it could only be you.

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


/ Image by ~W~ /

Once I was here,
but now “I” am not

Do you feel it? That sense of “I” and “me” how thin and intangible they are when you really look?

We spend most of our life energy asserting that this thing, this “me” is IMPORTANT. The problem is that that “me” is not real. The more we look for it, the more it retreats. When we finally corner it, it simply fades away, dispelled like a trick of light. What are we left with?

There is a self, but it is not a limited or selfish self. To some it borders on blasphemy to call this real Self a self at all, implying some personal possession of something so all-inclusive. Some prefer to call this center of being not “me,” but You — the Friend, the ever-present Beloved. While the “me” struts and shouts and grabs, it cannot make of itself a real and lasting thing. But that You remains, always there, waiting patiently for the braggart self to tire of its own voice and step aside.

In the way of your love,
nothing was left —
neither body nor soul.

Everything we thought we owned, everything we ascribed to that “me,”
even the body itself, they all ceased to be limited objects of the mind when the me itself is recognized as unreal. Body, self– these are seen, not as things that “I” am or possess, but as part of a fluid continuum of the greater You. Everything stops being things, and is, instead, a grand embodiment of the Eternal.

If I have any body —
If I have any soul —
then, without question,
      it could only be you.

Have a beautiful day enrobed in the Beloved.


Recommended Books: Ala al-Dawla Simnani

Love’s Alchemy: Poems from the Sufi Tradition The Throne Carrier of God: The Life and Thought of ‘Ala’ Ad-Dawla As-Simnani


Ala al-Dawla Simnani

Iran/Persia (? – 1336) Timeline
Muslim / Sufi

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May 06 2016

rogues

Rogues too realize.

No responses yet

May 04 2016

Daniel Berrigan – Credentials

Published by under Poetry

Credentials
by Daniel Berrigan

I would it were possible to state in so
few words my errand in the world: quite simply
forestalling all inquiry, the oak offers his leaves
largehandedly. And in winter his integral magnificent order
decrees, says solemnly who he is
in the great thrusting limbs that are all finally
one: a return, a permanent riverandsea.

So the rose is its own credential, a certain
unattainable effortless form: wearing its heart
visibly, it gives us heart too: bud, fullness and fall.

— from Daniel Berrigan: Essential Writings (Modern Spiritual Masters), by Daniel Berrigan / Edited by John Dear


/ Image by Proseuche /

This past Saturday we lost Father Daniel Berrigan. If you’re not familiar with who he is, I highly recommend you look him up — you’ll find several excellent memorial articles and repostings of past interviews. Daniel Berrigan was one of those great souls to whom we in the modern era owe so much, alongside other great spiritual figures like Rev. Martin Luther King Jr., Thich Nhat Hanh, and Dorothy Day, people who put themselves on the line to transform society and awaken a wider compassion in the world. Father Berrigan was one of the early leaders in courageous protest against the Vietnam war and the draft. He worked throughout the Cold War against the proliferation and normalization of nuclear weapons.

He did that thing that makes us most uncomfortable about the Christian pathway: He actually lived it, not just in his head, but on the ground. He rolled up his sleeves and bore his chest as he embraced the poor, spoke up for the vulnerable, and opposed institutional cruelty and violence, done boldly, humbly, amidst the complexities of the modern world and dangers of modern power structures.

I continue to be inspired and challenged and humbled by Father Berrigan. His tireless work for peace and justice and humanity continues to reverberate and benefit us all.

And he was a poet…

In this poem, for example, we are given a couple of images to illustrate how we should understand ourselves and be in the world. In other words, what are our credentials? By what authority and quality do we come into the world and act in the world?

Like the oak tree, we should offer our leaves “largehandedly,” giving fully of ourselves and our very nature to the world. And, in winter, in bareness, the essential form that we are comes through. By not holding back our true nature, by being fully ourselves, even when when the world demands all of us, that is when we “return” and recognize that we are part of a grand, harmonious unity, “a permanent riverandsea.”

We are our own credentials. Our credentials, our spiritual stamp of approval, is there within us, in our most natural form. Like the rose, we must unfold, be as we are, allowing our innermost heart to become visible, to be seen, to let its beauty be present in the world, bringing healing to the world and to ourselves.

So the rose is its own credential, a certain
unattainable effortless form: wearing its heart
visibly, it gives us heart too: bud, fullness and fall.

Have a beautiful day, with a blossoming heart.


Recommended Books: Daniel Berrigan

Daniel Berrigan: Essential Writings (Modern Spiritual Masters) Prayer for the Morning Headlines: On the Sanctity of Life and Death And the Risen Bread: Selected and New Poems 1957-1997 Tulips in the Prison Yard: Selected Poems of Daniel Berrigan Prison Poems: Selected Poems of Daniel Berrigan


Daniel Berrigan, Daniel Berrigan poetry, Christian poetry Daniel Berrigan

US (1921 – 2016) Timeline
Christian : Catholic

More poetry by Daniel Berrigan

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May 04 2016

act of beauty

The most mundane effort,
when approached with a sense of service
and a questing heart,
becomes an act of beauty.

No responses yet

Apr 29 2016

Lalla – I traveled a long way seeking God

Published by under Poetry

I traveled a long way seeking God
by Lalla

English version by Swami Muktananda

I traveled a long way seeking God,
but when I finally gave up and turned back,
there He was, within me!

O Lalli!
Now why do you wander
like a beggar?
Make some effort,
and He will grant you
a vision of Himself
in the form of bliss
in your heart.

— from Lalleshwari: Spiritual Poems by a Great Siddha Yogini, Translated by Swami Muktananda


/ Image by Spanishalex /

For so many mystics it is this way. After intense searching without success, what can be done but give up, or collapse? Yet a special thing happens at that very moment. We drop our expectations, our hopes, our projections about this external thing called “God.” For the first time we have truly let go of the story we’ve been telling ourselves about what God is and how we fit into the picture. It is only then that the scales fall from our eyes.

We stop straining to look, and finally see. And we see the Eternal already here, within.

Finally recognizing the all-engulfing presence of the Divine, the heart feels safe; the heart opens, it blooms, and we are flooded by indescribable bliss!

Even a spiritual mendicant like Lalla can no longer think of herself as a beggar when in possession of such wealth.


Recommended Books: Lalla

The Longing in Between: Sacred Poetry from Around the World (A Poetry Chaikhana Anthology) Women in Praise of the Sacred: 43 Centuries of Spiritual Poetry by Women Poetry for the Spirit: Poems of Universal Wisdom and Beauty Naked Song I Lalla: The Poems of Lal Ded
More Books >>


Lalla, Lalla poetry, Yoga / Hindu poetry Lalla

Kashmir (India/Pakistan) (14th Century) Timeline
Yoga / Hindu : Shaivite (Shiva)

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Apr 29 2016

solution

The solution to religious extremism
is to reawaken that sweet, secret, sacred bliss within,
to gently and generously share it with others,
to create environments that invite
the continuing quest.

No responses yet

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