Oct 20 2023
opposites
Opposites are not opposed,
but joined.
We dance along that seam of connection.
Sep 01 2023
Rumi – The Absolute works with nothing
The Absolute works with nothing
by Mevlana Jelaluddin Rumi
English version by Coleman Barks
The Absolute works with nothing.
The workshop, the materials
are what does not exist.
Try and be a sheet of paper with nothing on it.
Be a spot of ground where nothing is growing,
where something might be planted,
a seed, possibly, from the Absolute.
— from The Longing in Between: Sacred Poetry from Around the World (A Poetry Chaikhana Anthology), Edited by Ivan M. Granger
/ Image by Vasily Koloda /
It is a full moon, a time of energetic ripeness, but, but I suppose because I am something of a contrarian, this lovely poem of emptiness caught my attention this morning…
We are always making plans, building ourselves up, and projecting ourselves into the world. Amidst this constant fullness, Rumi reminds us that we must also have emptiness. If our hands are not empty, they cannot receive. For the soil to be ready for the seed, it must first be cleared.
Empty receptivity, that takes real courage. It requires the courage to be at ease with blank, still spaces in the soul, the courage to feel our own fecundity hidden beneath all our activity. Instead of filling that emptiness, we learn to wait, trusting that some new spark will land and glow and grow.
Recommended Books: Mevlana Jelaluddin Rumi
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Mevlana Jelaluddin Rumi
Afghanistan & Turkey (1207 – 1273) Timeline |
Aug 25 2023
Bulleh Shah – I have got lost in the city of love
I have got lost in the city of love
by Bulleh Shah
English version by J. R. Puri and T. R. Shangari
I have got lost in the city of love,
I am being cleansed, withdrawing myself from my head, hands and feet.
I have got rid of my ego, and have attained my goal.
Thus it has all ended well.
O Bullah, the Lord pervades both the worlds;
None now appears a stranger to me.
— from Bulleh Shah: The Love-Intoxicated Iconoclast (Mystics of the East series), by J. R. Puri / Tilaka Raja Puri
/ Image by Randy Jacob /
I have got rid of my ego, and have attained my goal.
Thus it has all ended well.
Sufis speak of the nafs or the false self. Yogis speak of the ahamkara or “I-maker.”
A few nights ago I was thinking about this troublesome, elusive thing we generically call the ego. There are really three ways of dealing with the ego on the spiritual path.
The first approach is to try to make the ego more functional, balanced, less in conflict with itself. The goal here might be thought of as finding stability and a basic amount of happiness while minimizing inner pain. This is generally the path of most psychotherapeutic work.
The second approach is to try to make the ego more virtuous. The goal is less focused on happiness in the personal sense and more focused on meaning and purpose, sanctity. This approach to the ego, when practiced well, can refine the ego, while lessening it. This is the ideal of most religious traditions.
The third path is the path of mystics. That path is to carry the first two paths to their logical conclusion and to boldly drop the ego. At a certain point we are not trying to get the ego to work better or to be more virtuous, we just step out from under it completely. It can be like shrugging off a heavy coat on a hot summer’s day.
The first two approaches imagine that we are the ego and, therefore, must improve its functioning and its goals in order to improve ourselves. As long the ego is there — or perceived to be there — it is important to work on it. But these two paths never fully attain their goals; at best, they can just bring us closer to them.
The mystic’s path is what actually achieves the goal, because it recognizes that we are not the ego at all. Ego improvement does not improve the self, it just polishes the ego. Here is the shocking insight: The self does not need improvement or changing at all; we just need to drop the muddiness of the ego to allow the self’s inherent goodness and divinity to shine through.
From this perspective, the ego is not a real thing at all. At best we can say that it is a tension in the awareness, and it limits our ability to perceive our full self and the full reality as they truly are. Once we stop viewing everything through the opaque lens of the ego, everything is so much more magical, immense, interconnected — and filled with love! — than we ever imagined.
We can think of the three approaches as:
Stable Ego – Virtuous Ego – No Ego
(A slight reframing in Buddhist language might be: Skillful Mind – Noble Mind – No Mind)
O Bullah, the Lord pervades both the worlds;
None now appears a stranger to me.
Recommended Books: Bulleh Shah
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Bulleh Shah
Punjab (Pakistan/India) (1680 – 1758) Timeline |
Aug 25 2023
struggle and strength
It is the struggle to attain spiritual awakening
that makes us strong enough to actually receive it.
Aug 11 2023
Hawaiian – Oli Hooikaika / Prayer for Strength
Oli Hooikaika/Prayer for Strength
by Hawaiian (Anonymous)
E iho ana a luna
E pi’i ana o lalo
E hui ana na moku
E ku ana ka paia
That which is above, be brought down.
That which is below, shall be lifted up.
The islands shall be united.
The walls shall stand upright!
/ Image by KGO Radio /
My wife and I lived on the island of Maui for four years in the early 2000s. Seeing images of the island burning is heartbreaking. Hearing reports of the rising death toll in the aftermath is devastating.
Lahaina, where the fires did the most damage, is being referred to in the media as a “popular tourist spot.” That may be how most outsiders think of the town, but it is so much more. It was the old capital of the Hawaiian Kingdom, a place of immense cultural importance. We lost cultural and historical artifacts in the fire that can never be replaced.
It wasn’t just a place of hotels, restaurants and gift shops. Small businesses of all sorts filled the side streets, supporting the daily rhythms of life. And, of course, people lived in Lahaina. Homes were lost. Lives have been lost.
The banyan tree that grew in Lahaina was a community center and a focal point for the island. The community gathered to celebrate it’s 150th birthday last year. To think it has burned down is like losing a spiritual elder. Photos in the aftermath show it scorched but still standing. Perhaps it may yet survive.
The fire that ravaged Lahaina was one of several that hit Maui. A smaller fire burned in the Upcountry area where we used to live near Kula. We haven’t received as much news about that area, but that was where we lived our days and nights. That’s where the pastures change into forest along the slopes of Haleakala. I used to walk barefoot in the forests of the area, light headed from fasting, to a small cave I found and there I would sit and meditate. I hope those places survived to reveal their secrets to others.
So many unique and special places across Maui. And, of course, the wonderful people of the island who are affected…
Communities on an island are a fragile thing. Rebuilding and healing will take a long time and heroic patience.
The devastation on Maui feels personal to me, touching on an important period of my earlier journey, but it also feels global. The world knows the island as a place of great natural beauty, and people travel from all over to experience its paradise. More than that, though, I think of Maui as one of the great holy places on the planet, a place of awakening. These fires on Maui seem to represent a harsh shift. A reminder to us all that the more we remain open, aware, and willing, even our sorrows and traumas can become points of transformation.
That which is above, be brought down.
That which is below, shall be lifted up.
The islands shall be united.
The walls shall stand upright!
Sending love to that special island and its people.
Maui no ka oi! Aloha nui loa!
Hear this Hawaiian prayer for strength chanted in its original language: https://soundcloud.com/kidnectedworld/oli-hooikaika
Recommended Books: Hawaiian (Anonymous)
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| The Unwritten Literature of Hawaii: The Sacred Songs of the Hula | ||||
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Hawaiian (Anonymous)
Hawaii (17th Century) Timeline |
Aug 01 2023
Hogen Bays – In this passing moment
In this passing moment
by Hogen Bays
“In the presence of Sangha, in the light of Dharma,
in oneness with Buddha — may my path
to complete enlightenment benefit everyone!”
In this passing moment karma ripens
and all things come to be.
I vow to choose what is:
If there is cost, I choose to pay.
If there is need, I choose to give.
If there is pain, I choose to feel.
If there is sorrow, I choose to grieve.
When burning — I choose heat.
When calm — I choose peace.
When starving — I choose hunger.
When happy — I choose joy.
Whom I encounter, I choose to meet.
What I shoulder, I choose to bear.
When it is my death, I choose to die.
Where this takes me, I choose to go.
Being with what is — I respond to what is.
This life is as real as a dream;
the one who knows it cannot be found;
and, truth is not a thing — Therefore I vow
to choose THIS dharma entrance gate!
May all Buddhas and Wise Ones
help me live this vow.
— from The Longing in Between: Sacred Poetry from Around the World (A Poetry Chaikhana Anthology), Edited by Ivan M. Granger
/ Image by Ales Dusa /
There’s something both delightful and deeply challenging about this vow poem.
The entire poem is summed up at the beginning:
I vow to choose what is
You would think the unavoidable nature of “what is” makes a statement like this meaningless, but the human mind is not entirely sane. It often chooses fantasy and imaginings, shoulds and coulds, possibilities and even impossibilities over what is. Very few of us truly dwell in reality. Rarely do we fully experience the moments of our lives.
What is it that we are straining for as we constantly lean away from “what is”? What do we think is missing that we need? We don’t need someone else’s life. We don’t need a perfect marriage, better finances, or a better place in society. We don’t even need to be a saint living in the mountains. What’s missing is ourselves. What we really need is to stand in our own shoes, to be utterly ourselves. We need that missing ingredient—being present. We need to live, with honesty and an open heart, the life that already moves through us.
When starving–I choose hunger.
When happy–I choose joy.
When we are hungry, can we choose anything other than hunger? When happy, isn’t joy automatic? The truth is that we constantly choose. Ask yourself, how often do we really sit with our hunger and sorrow? How often do we allow ourselves to dance with the joy bubbling up inside us? How often do we notice these things at all?
The power of a practice like Zen is that it defines the human journey, not as escape, but as coming home, of settling into ourselves and being present with the present. It challenges us to actually live the moment that continuously arrives and passes and renews itself.
By making this journey to “what is,” we finally meet ourselves and learn what this amazing thing is that we call life, with all its rich, joyful, painful, and transitory beauty.
May all Buddhas and Wise Ones
help me live this vow.
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| The Longing in Between: Sacred Poetry from Around the World (A Poetry Chaikhana Anthology) | Morning Dewdrops of the Mind: Teachings of a Contemporary Zen Master | Path to Bodhidharma | ||
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Hogen Bays
United States (Contemporary) |
Jul 21 2023
A note from Ivan
I feel like some aspects of the Poetry Chaikhana have been somewhat neglected in recent months. I have, for example, received several touching notes lately from different readers saying how much the Poetry Chaikhana means to you, but I haven’t been able to respond to them all. I want you to know that I receive all of your messages and they mean a lot to me.
I have also had plans for additional books, but I haven’t been able to dedicate the time to complete and publish them. I would even like to experiment with some online workshops or discussion groups.
I am in a phase right now where daily life requires me to put in as many hours as possible with my day job, while these other projects have to wait patiently. I want you all to know that you — and the Poetry Chaikhana in general — are very much in my mind still. When life allows, I very much look forward to some new creative endeavors and just connecting with you all more.
Be well and keep finding those quiet moments of inspiration that feed your soul — and have a beautiful day!
Jul 21 2023
Mevlana Jelaluddin Rumi – During the day I was singing with you
During the day I was singing with you
by Mevlana Jelaluddin Rumi
English version by Coleman Barks
During the day I was singing with you.
At night we slept in the same bed.
I wasn’t conscious day or night.
I thought I knew who I was,
but I was you.
— from Open Secret: Versions of Rumi, Translated by Coleman Barks / Translated by John Moyne
/ Image by Sergiu Valenas /
A snippet of a verse by Rumi today…
During the day I was singing with you.
At night we slept in the same bed.
When Rumi speaks of sleeping in the same bed with God, he is drawing a parallel — as have many mystics — between the ecstatic state and the union of lovers. This can be shocking to more orthodox religious sensibilities, but the comparison can be appropriate.
The sacred experience can be described as orgasmic. There is a sense of ecstasy that goes beyond words, a sense of profound release, and a rising heat often felt to originate from the seat. But, whereas physical pleasure is focused outward and quickly dissipates, this sacred energy turns inward and upward, spreading a glowing awareness of bliss throughout the body and mind.
On an even deeper level, this union is the merging of the individual sense of self with the Divine, the Eternal Self.
When Rumi says he “wasn’t conscious day or night,” he is talking of the mystical experience of being radically free from what most people think of as the normal state of awareness; all of the mental chatter and concepts no longer rule perception. There is no separation between things, no “night and no “day.” And there is no little sense of self from which to view it. What remains, instead, is a blissful, silent, awareness that drinks in everything unfiltered. There is perception, but there is no “I” to perceive or to be “conscious.”
We have spent an entire life time imagining that we know who we are, but do we? In such utter stillness, we discover that this long cultivated me-thing is a mere phantom. We are stunned to discover that there is no difference between oneself and the pure vastness that is the Beloved, that is God.
I thought I knew who I was,
but I was you.
Recommended Books: Mevlana Jelaluddin Rumi
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Mevlana Jelaluddin Rumi
Afghanistan & Turkey (1207 – 1273) Timeline |
Jul 21 2023
Use everything
Use everything:
Joy, fear, success, suffering.
A seeker doesn’t have the luxury
to waste their journey in pursuit
of easy, grand experiences.
Jul 07 2023
Pablo Neruda – Poetry
Poetry
by Pablo Neruda
English version by Anthony Kerrigan
And it was at that age… Poetry arrived
in search of me. I don’t know, I don’t know where
it came from, from winter or a river.
I don’t know how or when,
no, they were not voices, they were not
words, nor silence,
but from a street I was summoned,
from the branches of night,
abruptly from the others,
among violent fires
or returning alone,
there I was without a face
and it touched me.
I did not know what to say, my mouth
had no way
with names
my eyes were blind,
and something started in my soul,
fever or forgotten wings,
and I made my own way,
deciphering
that fire
and I wrote the first faint line,
faint, without substance, pure
nonsense,
pure wisdom
of someone who knows nothing,
and suddenly I saw
the heavens
unfastened
and open,
planets,
palpitating planations,
shadow perforated,
riddled
with arrows, fire and flowers,
the winding night, the universe.
And I, infinitesimal being,
drunk with the great starry
void,
likeness, image of
mystery,
I felt myself a pure part
of the abyss,
I wheeled with the stars,
my heart broke free on the open sky.
— from Pablo Neruda: Selected Poems, by Pablo Neruda / Translated by Anthony Kerrigan
/ Image by Carol Magalhaes /
I often extol the virtue of silence and inner stillness, but today let’s honor the healing and transformative power of words.
We need to remind ourselves how essential dialog, communication — words — are if we hope to lessen the violence in the world.
This may sound like another platitude about communication and peace but there is something more essential to recognize here. Violence only erupts when we feel unable to speak or be heard. This is true in individuals and it is just as true in nation states. At first this may sound overly simplistic, but it is true — beneath the emotions and apparent complexities, violence is always an expression of feeling thwarted. The violence reflex occurs when words are not being exchanged. Words are the preventative medicine against violence.
Of course, the dilemma is that it is never one way. All parties must be listening as well as talking. But when expression is suppressed and the pathways of communication are shut down, that’s the time to duck.
Poetry is the pathway to peace. We’re talking real words, deep words. Words that matter. Words that speak with the weight of spirit.
Words, and more generally all forms of expression that give voice to our hopes and humanity, are the sign of well-being within society. Their absence signals violence brewing.
So a few words by Neruda for us today in honor of the words that free us, words the world waits to hear…
=
And it was at that age… Poetry arrived
in search of me.
The poet doesn’t seek poetry. Poetry seeks him. He is open, waiting, watching. He gives himself to that moment, until he became nameless, faceless–
there I was without a face
and it touched me.
–and that’s when poetry arrives.
Every art beneath its surface craft is about witnessing, seeing. And true seeing requires selflessness. (I use “seeing” in the fullest sense of deep perception. Music and listening fit comfortably within my definition of “seeing” too.) The ego-self always fogs our vision. When the ego is in the way, we just see reflections of ourselves, what the awareness has become used to. We see the surfaces of things.
Deep art requires stepping free from the ego’s blinders, to see honestly and fully. The ancient schools would say that only when we see without self do we have something to say. Only then is the artist ready.
and something started in my soul,
fever or forgotten wings,
and I made my own way,
deciphering
that fire
The path of the artist is also the path of awakening.
Egolessness, spiritual awakening, and art… This raises an obvious question: Why then do so many great artists embody just the opposite, exhibiting immense egos and imbalanced lives? Not everyone is taught to approach their art as a path of clarity and awakening, but there is still the artist’s desperate need to see beyond the limits of the ego. The result is that each artist develops his or her own unique way to lurch briefly free from ego to catch those pure moments of inspiration and vision.
and suddenly I saw
the heavens
unfastened
and open,
planets,
palpitating planations,
shadow perforated,
riddled
with arrows, fire and flowers,
the winding night, the universe.
Imbalanced and willful attempts to shake off the limits of mundane perception become traumatic for the psyche. The individual must then counterbalance by reinforcing the ego once again. This is why too many visionaries and artists turn to drink and other narcotics. It is in order to shift the consciousness and then to settle the resulting vertigo.
Better to cultivate openness, quiet, and wonder. Most of all, one must know the naked self. Only when we come to know who we really are free from the pretenses of the ego, only then are we able stand whole and unshaken before the immense vision.
And I, infinitesimal being,
drunk with the great starry
void,
likeness, image of
mystery,
I felt myself a pure part
of the abyss,
I wheeled with the stars,
my heart broke free on the open sky.
That mystery floods into us. We become it, and it moves through us, through arm, through hand and the pen it holds.
and I wrote the first faint line,
faint, without substance, pure
nonsense,
pure wisdom…
The best poets don’t write poetry. They don’t do anything at all. The best poets step aside and let the mystery speak through them.
May your heart break free on the open sky!
Recommended Books: Pablo Neruda
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| The Book of Questions | Neruda: Selected Poems | On the Blue Shore of Silence: Poems of the Sea | Pablo Neruda: Selected Poems | Extravagaria: A Bilingual Edition |
| More Books >> | ||||
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Pablo Neruda
Chile (1904 – 1973) Timeline |
Jun 30 2023
Kahlil Gibran – Good and Evil
Good and Evil
by Kahlil Gibran
And one of the elders of the city said, Speak to us of Good and Evil.
And he answered:
Of the good in you I can speak, but not of the evil.
For what is evil but good tortured by its own hunger and thirst?
Verily when good is hungry it seeks food even in dark caves, and when it thirsts it drinks even of dead waters.
You are good when you are one with yourself.
Yet when you are not one with yourself you are not evil.
For a divided house is not a den of thieves; it is only a divided house.
And a ship without rudder may wander aimlessly among perilous isles yet sink not to the bottom.
You are good when you strive to give of yourself.
Yet you are not evil when you seek gain for yourself.
For when you strive for gain you are but a root that clings to the earth and sucks at her breast.
Surely the fruit cannot say to the root, “Be like me, ripe and full and ever giving of your abundance.”
For the fruit giving is a need, as receiving is a need to the root.
You are good when you are fully awake in your speech,
Yet you are not evil when you sleep while your tongue staggers without purpose.
And even stumbling speech may strengthen a weak tongue.
You are good when you walk to your goal firmly and with bold steps.
Yet you are not evil when you go thither limping.
Even those who limp go not backward.
But you who are strong and swift, see that you do not limp before the lame, deeming it kindness.
You are good in countless ways, and you are not evil when you are not good,
You are only loitering and sluggard.
Pity that the stags cannot teach swiftness to the turtles.
In your longing for your giant self lies your goodness: and that longing is in all of you.
But in some of you that longing is a torrent rushing with might to the sea, carrying the secrets of the hillsides and the songs of the forest.
And in others it is a flat stream that loses itself in angles and bends and lingers before it reaches the shore.
But let not him who longs much say to him who longs little, “Wherefore are you slow and halting?”
For the truly good ask not the naked, “Where is your garment?” nor the houseless, “What has befallen your house?”
— from The Prophet, by Kahlil Gibran
/ Image by Aymeric Lamblin /
As I was considering which poem to send out this morning, I came across this meditation on good and evil by Kahlil Gibran. I last featured this poem and commentary several years ago, and I thought it might be worth sharing again…
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I like this meditation on good and evil. It challenges assumptions and and raises important questions.
You are good when you are one with yourself.
Gibran suggests there is only good, for that is everyone’s inherent nature, and what we call evil is simply being lost and uninspired. He calls us to be compassionate to those who are selfish and cruel, for they suffer from greater poverty than the homeless and greater hunger than the starving; they suffer from a poverty of the soul.
I strongly feel one should never passively allow the hard-hearted to inflict harm or hoard what belongs to all. Such actions must be opposed with strength and courage and clarity. The vulnerable must always be protected. That is a basic duty. But even success in such action does not stop the fundamental dynamic of harm, just that particular instance. We must always remember that those who inflict harm and encode selfishness into systems and institutions, those people are also seeking their way, just blinded by their spiritual poverty. That’s where the real, patient work of the ages is found… finding how to open eyes and hearts long used to to being shut, finding how to redirect them toward the forgotten goodness and generosity held within.
One line I do question, however, is, “Pity that the stags cannot teach swiftness to the turtles.” To suggest that some people are stags and others turtles might be read to imply that our spiritual unfolding is fixed. Every human being harbors something of heaven within. There is no speed to the process. All that is needed is the right reminder of what we already are. Then begins the steady process of discovering how to encourage that ember and let its warmth permeate all aspects of our lives. Turtles don’t need to become stags. Humans simply need to become themselves. Humans just need to become more human.
But how to reach those who would armor themselves against the urging of their own hearts? No simple formula, nor single action nor organization can accomplish this. Not a year nor a generation nor a century will accomplish this. Still, that is what must be done. That is the real, hard, slow work given to us all to accomplish, each in our own lives, our work, our world.
Knowing our work, let’s be impatient to begin and supremely patient in its accomplishment. Knowing our work, what cause is there for anything but joy in turning to it each day?
In your longing for your giant self lies your goodness: and that longing is in all of you.
Recommended Books: Kahlil Gibran
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| The Prophet | The Beloved: Reflections on the Path of the Heart | Broken Wings | Jesus the Son of Man | Kahlil Gibran: His Life & World |
| More Books >> | ||||
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Kahlil Gibran
Lebanon/US (1883 – 1931) Timeline |
Jun 09 2023
John Fox – The Poem Waits at Its Own Core
The Poem Waits at Its Own Core
by John Fox
The poem at its core
Is snow or egg,
The new moon or grass
In spring.
All these pause at the edge
Of change. There is a deep
Stillness you must pass through
To get close to what waits.
At this edge, you leave
Everything behind
Except what the poem needs:
Warmth, rain, silence,
Gravity —
Make it something you know
Only for the first time:
A river, heartbeat,
Cradle, field of play.
The place where all things
Begin again.
/ Image by Nicolas Messifet /
I like the idea that animates this poem, that there is a sort of a poem within a poem, the real poem, so to speak, at the heart of the surface poem. And that inner poem, like “the new moon or grass in spring” is always on the edge of change.
To uncover that living part of the poem, we must cultivate stillness within ourselves–
There is a deep
Stillness you must pass through
To get close to what waits.
To get there we must let everything fall away, cling to nothing, arrive empty handed–
At this edge, you leave
Everything behind…”
And then we have that surprising line,
Except what the poem needs
What is it that the poem needs from us?
Warmth, rain, silence,
Gravity —
Then we are told to–
Make it something you know
Only for the first time
That’s something not to rush past. I’ve thought a lot about this idea in various forms as it applies to awareness and the spiritual path. The awareness is most alive and receptive when encountering something utterly new and for the first time. As we get older, however, with more experiences under our belt, very little feels new to us. As a result, our perception of life can feel coated with a heave veneer. We can feel numb, experiences are no longer fresh, meaning feels flattened. The real issue is not whether or not the experience is new, but whether we approach with openness. It’s not a question of always having new experiences, it is about cultivating still and receptive awareness.
A river, heartbeat,
Cradle, field of play.
It requires a sense of flow and centeredness and play.
Every experience, even one encountered daily, is unique and magical. Every experience is potentially a doorway into the unknown — when approached honestly and without projection.
Even a poem. Perhaps especially a poem.
It too becomes–
The place where all things
Begin again.
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John Fox is the founder of the Institute for Poetic Medicine and the author of several excellent books on the healing power of poetry, including Poetic Medicine and Finding What You Didn’t Lose. Highly recommended reading!
Have a beautiful day!
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| Diamond Cutters: Visionary Poets in America, Britain & Oceania | Poetic Medicine: The Healing Art of Poem-Making | Finding What You Didn’t Lose: Expressing Your Truth and Creativity Through Poem-Making | ||
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John Fox
US (Contemporary) |