Archive for January, 2025

Jan 24 2025

Marina Tsvetaeva – I know the truth

Published by under Poetry

I know the truth
by Marina Tsvetaeva

English version by Elaine Feinstein

I know the truth — give up all other truths!
No need for people anywhere on earth to struggle.
Look — it is evening, look, it is nearly night:
what do you speak of, poets, lovers, generals?

The wind is level now, the earth is wet with dew,
the storm of stars in the sky will turn to quiet.
And soon all of us will sleep under the earth, we
who never let each other sleep above it.

— from Tsvetayeva: Selected Poems, by Marina Tsvetaeva / Translated by Elaine Feinstein


/ Image by Niko Tsviliov /

I return to this poem regularly, and it brings me to a halt each time. There is such a mature, weary compassion in these lines.

The question is not whether we will live or die. We all live (though we may not always feel as if we do). And we all die (though we may discover that death is not what we imagined).

The real question is, while we move and act upon the earth, do we ease the suffering of others or add to it? Will we let each other rest above the earth, or only beneath it?

Life and death are a given. It is what we do along our journey between those two road markers that matters.

The whole while the earth says, “Is not every beautiful thing yours already?” And the night sky, for all its immense movement, is completely at peace. So what has humanity lost sight of?


Recommended Books: Marina Tsvetaeva

Women in Praise of the Sacred: 43 Centuries of Spiritual Poetry by Women Tsvetayeva: Selected Poems Tsvetaeva Milestones A Russian Psyche: The Poetic Mind of Marina Tsvetaeva
More Books >>


Marina Tsvetaeva, Marina Tsvetaeva poetry, Secular or Eclectic poetry Marina Tsvetaeva

Russia (1892 – 1941) Timeline
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Jan 24 2025

excluding

Who am I excluding from my heart?
How can I fix that?

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Jan 17 2025

e. e. cummings – may my heart always

Published by under Poetry

may my heart always be open to little
by e. e. cummings

may my heart always be open to little
birds who are the secrets of living
whatever they sing is better than to know
and if men should not hear them men are old

may my mind stroll about hungry
and fearless and thirsty and supple
and even if it’s sunday may i be wrong
for whenever men are right they are not young

and may myself do nothing usefully
and love yourself so more than truly
there’s never been quite such a fool who could fail
pulling all the sky over him with one smile

— from E.E. Cummings: Complete Poems 1904-1962, by e. e. cummings


/ Image by Dan Bojorquez /

I want to start by addressing the fires still raging in Southern California. I was an adolescent in the LA area, not far from where many of the fires are now burning. I no longer have family in the area and I haven’t been back in many years, but I have history there, formative moments associated with those places. I carry the imprint of the land with me. So, even from a distance, the fires feel personal.

To all of you affected more directly by the fires, my heart goes out to you and your communities.

The rhythms of the world feel as if they have shifted. The hills surrounding LA have always been prone to fires, but never with such destruction and size. Just as many areas have always been vulnerable to hurricanes, but never with such size and ferocity and frequency. It feels as if few places on the planet are truly stable and reliable these days, requiring us to dig deep to discover an inner source of security while becoming supremely flexible in dealing with a shifting landscape — all while trying to help and ease suffering where we can. I guess our work is laid out for us…

Now, on to today’s poem–

Boy… e.e. cummings.

Any commentary or thoughts you want to share? Me, I’m not sure I want to touch this one! Anything that betrays too much of a fixed reading of this poem feels misplaced. (“for whenever men are right they are not young”)

far better to roll wordlets with otherthan meanings
and let them pool slow in the honey-glad heart

I think I’ll just reread the poem…

may my mind stroll about hungry
and fearless and thirsty and supple

Be well making your way through this perilous, wondrous world.


Recommended Books: e. e. cummings

E.E. Cummings: Complete Poems 1904-1962 73 Poems 1 x 1 [One Times One] 50 Poems 95 Poems
More Books >>


e. e. cummings, e. e. cummings poetry, Secular or Eclectic poetry e. e. cummings

US (1894 – 1962) Timeline
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Jan 17 2025

effortless

Love and compassion are effortless.
The soul is exhausted by the effort
to stop this natural outpouring
of the living heart.

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Jan 03 2025

Lu Tung Pin – What is Tao

Published by under Poetry

What is Tao?
by Lu Tung Pin

English version by T. C. Lai

What is Tao?
It is just this.
It cannot be rendered into speech.
If you insist on an explanation,
This means exactly this.


/ Image by Mael Balland /

Happy New Year!

What is Tao?
It is just this.

I remember the first time I tried to navigate through the Tao Te Ching as a teenager. There was undeniably something beautiful and poetic about it, but it was so infuriatingly vague! What is “the Tao”? Calling it The Way doesn’t help. Are we talking about God? A path or a practice? Something else? Other Taoist writings were the same, taunting me with endless non-definitions. (I wanted clear goals I could aggressively pursue!)

It took me years to begin to appreciate this approach…

It cannot be rendered into speech.

There’s a real dilemma at the heart of religion and spiritual endeavor. The Eternal, the Whole cannot be adequately held by such small containers as words. Yet we humans are instinctively communicators and word-makers. What are the sages and saints to do with their perceptions? How do they render the Eternal comprehensible to others and inspire new seekers? Describe the profound love and bliss and unity, and we naturally name it Mother. Convey the immensity and power, we name it Father. Or we say Beloved. Or Friend.

All of these are valid ways to begin to form a notion of the Eternal. Through these words we as individuals can form a relationship to this vast Reality. And through this relationship we can be drawn into deeper awareness, into deeper opening, and into our own direct encounter… at which point we realize how inadequate all words are.

The problem arises when the mystics are no longer heard or are relegated to history, when too few people have their own direct wordless encounter. Then we end up with entire religions stuck at the level of words. No matter how sacred and truth-filled those words may be, words are always incomplete. Words alone are soon taken literally, and then true knowledge is lost. Not knowing what is real, religion becomes embalmed, self-protective, sectarian, and sometimes violent.

The wounds of religion are healed through compassion and through direct perception. Instead of forcing meaning, we settle into ourselves and come to see things as they are.

If you insist on an explanation,
This means exactly this.

Have a beautiful, undefined day!


Recommended Books: Lu Tung Pin

The Secret of the Golden Flower: The Classic Chinese Book of Life The Eight Immortals of Taoism: Legends and Fables of Popular Taoism Tales of the Taoist Immortals Tao of Health, Longevity, and Immortality: The Teachings of Immortals Chung and Lu


Lu Tung Pin, Lu Tung Pin poetry, Taoist poetry Lu Tung Pin

China (755 – 805) Timeline
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Jan 03 2025

like a tree

We don’t float to heaven.
Like a tree, we sink roots deep into the rocky soil,
and so, year-by-year, reach higher into the heavens.

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