Poetry Chaikhana Blog

How did I ever think silence the language of love?
by Darshan Singh

English version by Barry Lerner and Harbans Singh Bedi

How did I ever think silence the language of love?
What I thought would not come to light was in plain sight.

Darshan, the glances I’d fancied voiced my love —
Even they couldn’t convey the unplumbed depths of my longing.

— from Love’s Last Madness: Poems on a Spiritual Path by Darshan Singh, Translated by Barry Lerner / Translated by Harbans Singh Bedi

/ Image by Daniele Levis Pelusi /

Let’s spend a little time with this poem…

This poem is a lovely way to address some of the initial encounters of mystical union.

The opening couplets explore interweaving themes of silence and awareness of the Divine. Esoteric traditions all over the world use inner silence, profound psychic stillness, as a way to open up to the vision of the Divine. But here Darshan Singh confronts the limitation of the practice–

How did I ever think silence the language of love?
What I thought would not come to light was in plain sight.

As we explore deeply, we discover layers to silence. Superficial silence is effortful. It is a striving for something not seen. It is, in effect, a rejection of the common perception of the common world.

Yet Darshan Singh shares with us his deeper realization, that the Divine speaks to us in the language of love, and that language is whispered everywhere, in all things. He seems to be urging us not to cultivate a holiness born of rejection, but one born of profound recognition of the Divine already here, already everywhere, in plain sight.

Further, in silence is discovered a quiet, all-pervading sound. So, even in silence, that silence is filled with a song, the language of love.

I hear my silence talked of in every lane;
The suppression of a cry is itself a cry of pain.

First, I love the humorous play of words with these lines: He ‘hears’ his silence, and it is talked about everywhere. His silence has sound, and the acclamation of his attainment of his silence makes his silence noisier.

And that second line says so much. Merely holding thoughts back can open a few doors, but it ultimately becomes a practice of suppression. Suppression cannot be the ultimate fulfillment, for it too is “a cry of pain.”

Where then does that leave us? How is silence and clear vision attained without suppression of thought? Think of it this way: Learning to hold thoughts allows us to finally understand deep silence. When that is discovered, when we learn to rest in that truer silence, surface thoughts are of less consequence.

We find a similar idea expressed in some Buddhist teachings and poetry that pose the question, of what consequence are clouds to the unchanging blue sky?

The beloved’s regard was but a flash of light;
How innocent to think I’d found eternal bliss.

That first ecstatic flood of light in mystic experience is life changing. Joy indescribable. Wholeness. Unity. Supreme contentment. Many mystics have trouble admitting that they have not (yet) attained the Ultimate. Too many mystics reach this level, and thinking they have found eternal bliss, rush to put out their guru shingle — only to find the experience slipping through their grasp. Like lightning, it fills the world with light, and then returns into itself.

And that’s the issue: It is an experience of enlightenment, but it is not yet capital-E Enlightenment. Any ‘experience’ is something that happens to you; it has a beginning, but it also has an end. True Enlightenment, on the other hand, must be stable, lasting. Full Enlightenment is not really an experience or an event, it is a recognition.

We don’t want to imagine ourselves satisfied by those first “glances,” as fulfilling and transformative as they may be. At this stage we want to find within ourselves “the unplumbed depths of longing” that will lead us through the adept’s initial plateau into the wide open vista of true Awakening.

Darshan, the glances I’d fancied voiced my love —
Even they couldn’t convey the unplumbed depths of my longing.

Recommended Books: Darshan Singh

Love’s Last Madness: Poems on a Spiritual Path by Darshan Singh

Darshan Singh India (1921 – 1989) Timeline Sikh

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Too tired to maintain our pretenses,
we rest in awe.

Thank you so much, everyone, for your many generous donations and for all of the wonderful, warm-hearted messages as we prepare for our move to Eugene, Oregon.

While we have not yet reached our $5,000 fundraising goal, I should be able to maintain a fairly regular poetry schedule, once we get settled.

Currently, we are now surrounded by stacks of boxes and empty bookshelves. We’re engaged in a flurry of planning, coordination, phone calls, and lifting of heavy things. It’s a strange thing to have imagined myself as leading a relatively non-materialistic life, but to then be confronted by all the stuff non-materialist me has managed to accumulate over the past few decades of living in Colorado. Because there is a financial calculation to choosing to transport everything such a distance, each object presents me with a challenge or a question: Is it useful? Is it meaningful? Have I become too attached too it? Or am I being too cavalier in the name of non-attachment and should I make more of an effort to hold onto it? We’re selling a little bit and donating a lot, and still we have so much to move. How did we ever manage to move halfway across the Pacific Ocean to Hawaii years ago? Youthful bravado, I suppose, and a willingness to go way beyond the limits of my then unrecognized chronic fatigue patterns. Trying to do things this time with more balance and wisdom, while still retaining a spark of that old bravado.

Wishing you magical adventures… and a beautiful day!

Trying to become a Buddha is easy
by Shiwu (Stonehouse)

English version by Red Pine

Trying to become a Buddha is easy
but ending delusions is hard
how many moonlit nights
have I sat and felt the cold before dawn

— from The Zen Works of Stonehouse: Poems and Talks of a 14th Century Chinese Hermit, Translated by Red Pine

/ Image by Dingzeyu Li /

Trying to become a Buddha is easy
but ending delusions is hard

Shiwu’s opening lines remind me of the first lines of a poem by the Indian poet Lalla:

Learning the scriptures is easy;
but living them, that’s hard.

I think both are saying something similar.

We might reword Shiwu’s lines as, “Trying to become a Buddha is easy, but becoming a Buddha is hard.” The difference in the two phrases is in the trying, the effort. Trying is the easy part. Taking on a practice, following a prescribed pathway, joining a sangha, observing the correct rituals or, as Lalla, says, learning the scriptures, those are simply the forms of spirituality. There may be intense effort, but that effort can just as easily be used by the ego to reinforce its self-identity as a “spiritual” person or to be praised by others for our spiritual “progress.”

The real dilemma is how to go beyond merely following the forms and, instead, to actually use our practices as alchemy to transform and liberate. How do we stop trying to become Buddhas and, instead, actually step free from our delusions?

how many moonlit nights
have I sat and felt the cold before dawn

The poet doesn’t seem to offer us answers… well, perhaps the hint of an answer.

Shiwu gives us the image of meditating through the night and feeling cold by the morning. On one level, that can be read as disappointment with the progress of his meditation. Hoping to be above such things, he finds he is keenly aware of his body and senses in the chilly morning.

But we can read these lines in a slightly different way, as well. A moonlit night is often used in Asian poetry to suggest the gentle illumination perceived by the meditator’s quiet mind. Sitting through many such nights only to notice the cold of the morning suggests that the enlightenment has always been there yet somehow missed or not fully realized. But then we have the dawn. This can be read as illumination in its brilliant, undeniable, all-encompassing form. Enlightenment has been found, but after the effort has ceased.

He stopped trying to become the Buddha and the dawn simply washed away his delusions.

Recommended Books: Shiwu (Stonehouse)

The Zen Works of Stonehouse: Poems and Talks of a 14th Century Chinese Hermit

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There is an inner perfection
the same for everyone.
The psyche may go through the motions,
but its journey is done.

Poetry Chaikhana Move Updates

I want to say how profoundly touched I am by the many messages I have received wishing me well through this upcoming move. I haven’t been able to respond to every note, but I have read them all. Here is something I wrote to someone else also going through a move that I thought might be worth sharing:

“So much goes into a move, doesn’t it? It is not just planning and boxing and cleaning. A move becomes a sort of life review. We sift through all the things we have accumulated, furniture, books, mementos, every little thing that fills our living spaces. Each item reminds us of a memory, a time we purchased it, or when it was given to us. It can be an emotional process, reminding us of the stories of our lives, asking us what from our past we want to carry forward into the next phase.”

It’s a bit of a whirlwind around here right now, but we are so looking forward to this new phase, both personally and with the Poetry Chaikhana. We’re trying to catch the current in the midst of all the activity…

We have raised nearly two thirds of our $5,000 goal to help with the move!

The donations coming in to help with this move have been so generous! Many donations of $10, $20 and $30 have come in, along with several donations of larger amounts. I know that sometimes the smallest contributions mean the most, because they are often the most difficult to send. I am grateful to you all!

If you are still thinking of making a contribution — it is certainly welcome. It would be wonderful to reach that $5,000 goal. But if finances are too tight to send something right now, I genuinely understand. Your good wishes help too. And a friendly note of support arriving in my in-box or in the mail is always a welcome sight!

Thank you so much, everyone, for your help and encouragement through this big move. I look forward to working with you and watching the Poetry Chaikhana adapt and change in its new home!

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As air carries light poured out by the rising sun
by Jacopone da Todi (Jacopone Benedetti)

English version by Ivan M. Granger

As air carries light poured out by the rising sun,
As the candle spills away beneath the flame’s touch,
So too does the soul melt when ignited by light,
      its will now gone.
Lost within this light,
      the soul, dying to itself, in majesty lives on.

The soul is willing and yet unwilling,
For there is nothing the soul now seeks,
save for this beauty!
No longer does it hunger or grasp,
      so emptied by such sweetness.
This supreme summit of the soul rises
      from a nothingness shaped
      and set within the Lord.

— from This Dance of Bliss: Ecstatic Poetry from Around the World, Edited by Ivan M. Granger

/ Image by Dulcey Lima /

As air carries light poured out by the rising sun,
As the candle spills away beneath the flame’s touch,
So too does the soul melt when ignited by light…

With these recognizable images, we begin to get an idea of how the soul is transformed in exalted states. Flooded by the light of illumination, we, like wax near a fire, melt. The self is no longer a fixed, hardened thing, but something fluid and formless. In this dynamic state, the soul loses its dull opacity, becoming clear, allowing the light to shine through it.

Lost within this light,
      the soul, dying to itself, in majesty lives on.

The old, inanimate self melts away, becoming a new and fluid being that expresses itself through yielding. In its yielding, the soul discovers its real life.

So it is with the soul drowned in light:
Love has drunk it in,
changed it, mixed it with truth,
      until it is entirely new.

The spiritual concept of surrendering the will is difficult to accept in any age, but especially so in the modern era when accomplishment through aggressive exercise of the will is idolized.

The soul is willing and yet unwilling…

The most immediate objection is that without will, we can do nothing. On a certain level, we prove our existence by acting in the world, right?

When deeply examined, however, the will is revealed to be more complex than we might casually think. There are different expressions of will. On one level, will is volition or the impulse to act. Will can be our sense of firm determination. Will is also the capacity to choose, our free will.

Mystics regularly use terms like “self-will” to express a further understanding of what the will is and how it works. We can say that self-will is selfish will, as opposed to the willingness to be of service. Or we might say that self-will is willfulness, when we are consumed by our own private purposes and no longer pay attention to feedback from other people or the environment. But there is more to self-will than that.

Self-will isn’t always cruel or destructive, at least not in obvious ways. It is quite possible to perform great philanthropic works and still have it be an expression of self-will, for example. Self-will is will that is under the control of the ego. Its actions serve and reinforce the ego. Self-will renews the trance of the ego-self.

Most of what we call will is involved somehow in self-will. But the opposite of self-will is not inaction. There is another form of will that does not originate with the ego and does not constantly return our attention to it. This selfless will is potent, yet it is not our own. To unleash this other will in our lives requires an elegant balance between yielding and stepping forward, between selflessness and presence. We engage in action, but we are not the actors. What we normally think of as the self is not directing the action.

This frees up a great amount of trapped psychic energy, and we become awestruck witnesses to the unexpected grace and power of life acting through us — a vision of immense beauty!

For there is nothing the soul now seeks,
save for this beauty!

Recommended Books: Jacopone da Todi (Jacopone Benedetti)

Poetry for the Spirit: Poems of Universal Wisdom and Beauty	This Dance of Bliss: Ecstatic Poetry from Around the World	Jacopone da Todi: Lauds (Classics of Western Spirituality)	All Saints: Daily Reflections on Saints, Prophets, and Witnesses for Our Time

Jacopone da Todi (Jacopone Benedetti) Italy (1230 – 1306) Timeline Christian : Catholic

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Innocence is not naiveté.
Naiveté must be carefully removed.
Innocence is our true nature.