Poetry Chaikhana Blog

First dawn
by Ivan M. Granger

First dawn. Even the
birds in the tallest pines are
surprised by the sun.

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

/ Image by Evgeni Dinev /

I have been enjoying the spring mornings here in Eugene, Oregon. Some mornings there is a light rain falling, the world is sleepy and self-enclosed, then on other days we get morning sunshine, everything glistens and awakens to a sense of celebration. Sometimes before we begin work, my wife and I will go to a local coffee shop. I’ll get a warm cup of tea. We read and chat, listening to the hum of the community, people talking in hushed tones, the life of our small city recognizing itself. Such moments are nourishing to the soul.

I am especially appreciative of all this because of a few milestones in my life. Last week I had my birthday. I turned 55. The number feels foreign to me. It’s as if time stopped when I was 35. I haven’t really aged. My hair has just gotten grayer. Can anyone else relate to that feeling?

The other milestone: I was just honored at my work for 30 years of employment. For someone who has moved around the country and, because of health issues, has not always been able to work full time hours in the week, I am amazed — and grateful — to have found early on an employer who has been stable and adaptable and accepting. Wherever I’ve lived and whatever my work rhythms, they were always there, so I never felt the need to move on.

The renewal of springtime and these experiences invite me to reflect back on the year and a half since my wife and I moved back to Eugene. We have had so many wonderful moments returning to our childhood hometown, but the year following our move was also quite challenging. At the beginning of last year my wife was hospitalized and kept in the ICU for several days following a severe asthma attack. As she recovered, we were able to get her on new medication, and the change has been profound. It was a year of difficult finances, requiring me to put as many hours as possible into my day job. At times I felt badly, as if I have been neglecting you, the Poetry Chaikhana community, as a result. I hope to be able to do more with the Poetry Chaikhana in the future.

We never really control the circumstances of our lives. We make plans, formulate expectations, and try to build the daily structures of our lives that will lead to those outcomes — but then life plays out as it will. That regular, steady, structural process has not been my strongest suit, though I have gotten better at it in those timeless twenty years from 35 to 55. Where I have found strength, however, is in the ability to ride the flow of life, even when the details have gotten messy.

I look outside the window. It’s a cloudy morning. The ground is still damp with last night’s rainfall. But the birds are cautiously emerging and sharing their song. We have the promise of a beautiful day. That’s when our work begins, amidst the requirements of life, to discover for ourselves the beauty waiting for us.

Recommended Books: Ivan M. Granger

The Longing in Between: Sacred Poetry from Around the World (A Poetry Chaikhana Anthology)	This Dance of Bliss: Ecstatic Poetry from Around the World	Real Thirst: Poetry of the Spiritual Journey	For Lovers of God Everywhere: Poems of the Christian Mystics	Diamond Cutters: Visionary Poets in America, Britain & Oceania
More Books >>

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

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You are Christ’s Hands
by Teresa of Avila

Christ has no body now on earth but yours,
      no hands but yours,
      no feet but yours,
Yours are the eyes through which to look out
      Christ’s compassion to the world
Yours are the feet with which he is to go about
      doing good;
Yours are the hands with which he is to bless men now.

— from The Longing in Between: Sacred Poetry from Around the World (A Poetry Chaikhana Anthology), Edited by Ivan M. Granger

/ Image by Jackson David /

It is the Solstice and Christmas is just a few days away. It will be a modest one for myself and my wife this year, but one with a lot of gratitude. We recently moved, still within our hometown of Eugene, Oregon. Because previously we had been renting a furnished place and our new home is not pre-furnished, we had to scramble to buy the basics so we weren’t living in an empty house. Also, amidst the grief over the loss of our beloved family dog of many years, Apollo, we adopted a new dog, Bowie, through a local rescue organization. So, rather than exchange a lot of gifts this year, my wife and I decided to make a list of all the gifts we have received or given to ourselves and our household over the past couple of months — everything from dishes and silverware to a bed. Even without wrapped packages, it feels like an abundant Christmas.

As some of you may recall, soon after we moved back to Eugene a little over a year ago, I was taken aback by the homeless population here. Frankly, homelessness had not seemed like such a prominent issue where we previously lived in Colorado. But not only here in Eugene, we are discovering that America’s homeless population is rapidly growing in many cities.

My wife and I have been trying to find ways to help or, at a minimum, not turn our hearts away. Of course we offer a few dollars during street encounters, when we have the cash, and when the situation feels safe. And we contribute to some local groups that work with the homeless and the hungry in the area. I know I can do more, though remaining in balance, both with health and other life commitments, is always a challenge.

I feel a tug-of-war that plays out in me. There is the Aries part of my personality that is a natural activist, that part of me that wants to go out and fix things, that wants to make the world a better place, to help the world recognize what a beautiful place it can be and should be. It’s that part of me that wants to do (and sometimes wants to force). And then there is an inner part of me that whispers, “Don’t do. Flow. In that way the small actions born naturally from your heart, actions that hardly feel like actions, will resonate in the world.”

Is there such a thing as being an actionless activist?

I am still figuring that one out.

=

While this poem is popularly attributed to St. Teresa of Avila, it is not among her officially recognized works. Scholars tell us that it was probably actually written in the late 19th century by Guy Pearse, a Methodist minister, and Sarah Eliza Rowntree, an English Quaker.

Regardless of the actual composer, this is one of my favorite prayer-poems. It is a prayer of supreme spiritual maturity. It is not someone imploring Christ to come and fix everything in the external way imagined by so many fundamentalist sects; rather, it recognizes the presence of the Divine within each of us and our sacred responsibility to embody that compassion and service within the world. Each one of us is the vehicle through which Christ (or Ishwara or the Buddha) enacts blessings in the world. Our job is to let that sacred current flow through us unhindered.

Yours are the hands with which he is to bless men now…

May we each find ways to uncoil ourselves and allow the divine flow of compassion to run unhindered through our hearts and our hands.

Recommended Books: Teresa of Avila

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	For Lovers of God Everywhere: Poems of the Christian Mystics	All Saints: Daily Reflections on Saints, Prophets, and Witnesses for Our Time
More Books >>

Teresa of Avila Spain (1515 – 1582) Timeline Christian : Catholic

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I saw a great light come down over London
by Jay Ramsay

I saw a great light come down over London,
And buildings and cars and people were still
They were held wherever they were under the sky’s
Clear humming radiance as it descended —
Everywhere, in shops, behind desks and on trains
Everything stopped as the stillness came down
And touched the crown of our heads
As our eyes closed, and the sky filled us
And our minds became the sky —
And everyone, regardless of crime class or creed
Was touched; as slowly we began to stir
Out of this penetrated light-filled sleep
Dizzily as the hand completed its dialing,
And the train lurched forward
And I saw faces looking at one another questioning,
I saw people meeting eye to eye and standing
Half amazed by each other’s presence
I saw their mouths silently shaping the word why
Why didn’t we know this? and yet knowing
They already knew, and without words
We all stood searching for the gesture
That would say it —

As the lights went green, and we drove on.

— from The Longing in Between: Sacred Poetry from Around the World (A Poetry Chaikhana Anthology), Edited by Ivan M. Granger

/ Image by Chad Walton /

I only recently discovered that Jay Ramsay died a few years ago. Though I never met him in person, there was a period when we conversed via email. He was warm-hearted and brought an infectious enthusiasm to his poetic endeavors. In hindsight, I suspect that he knew his time on this earth was limited and he wanted to do what good he could in the time he had. A good reminder to us all. We may not all know our departure date, but we are visitors, not permanent residents. Best to stop distracting ourselves and do what we came here to do. Offer a helping hand. Share a smile. Do what the soul always wanted to do. And discover the secret heart of things.

=

I was a poor child, but raised in an affluent area of Southern California. Several of my friends lived in large houses, with manicured lawns, some with swimming pools in their back yards. My friends had two parents, while I was raised by a single mother. They had family dinner times, Sunday church or Saturday temple, went on family vacations together.

They were living the “normal” life, the American upper middle-class ideal. And I had a strange relationship with their world — I craved its stability, the things and experiences my friends had that I didn’t, but their normalcy was also foreign to me, even a bit eerie. It just didn’t seem real to me somehow. In some ways I wanted it, but I didn’t want to be snared by it.

By the time I was a teenager, I became obsessed with seeing through the facades of that “normal” reality. I wanted to know what secrets were hidden away in the overlooked shadows. I became interested in everything from meditation to history to science to linguistics — all ways of trying to understand the hidden meaning behind the world that everyone takes for granted.

…And I was also fascinated by the phenomenon of UFOs.

I think that’s one of the things I really like about this poem — it can be read as a collective moment of awe, or of spiritual awakening, but it can just as easily suggest a city-wide encounter with a UFO. That’s the first thing I think of reading this poem. It’s not really clear what is happening, just that there is a shared moment of stillness and wonderment. Everyone stops and is confronted with a dazzling, otherworldly reality. What’s actually happening seems less important than the shared experience. Not only is this a witnessing of something that transcends the day-to-day existence, but there is also a recognition of fundamental connection with everyone else. To me it is almost the opposite of a terrorist event; instead of tragedy, everyone comes together in a unifying moment of bliss and amazement.

Then, of course, the lights turn green, and the business of living continues. But perhaps those people carry with them just a bit more sacred wonder into their daily activities… and who knows the many subtle, far-reaching ways it will continue to radiate out through their lives? This is how private experiences of transformation — otherworldy or of the inner world — quietly transform the world.

Recommended Books: Jay Ramsay

The Longing in Between: Sacred Poetry from Around the World (A Poetry Chaikhana Anthology)	Diamond Cutters: Visionary Poets in America, Britain & Oceania	Places of Truth: Journeys into Sacred Wilderness	Out of Time	Kingdom of the Edge: Poems for the Spirit
More Books >>

Jay Ramsay England (1959 – 2019) Timeline Secular or Eclectic

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A Walk
by Rainer Maria Rilke

English version by Robert Bly

My eyes already touch the sunny hill,
going far ahead of the road I have begun.
So we are grasped by what we cannot grasp;
it has its inner light, even from a distance–

and changes us, even if we do not reach it,
into something else, which, hardly sensing it,
we already are; a gesture waves us on,
answering our own wave…
but what we feel is the wind in our faces.

— from Selected Poems of Rainer Maria Rilke, Translated by Robert Bly

/ Image by Michael Cummins /

Where has the Poetry Chaikhana been for the past several weeks? First of all, let me reassure everyone that I am okay. But things have been up in my life. We went through a move recently — local this time, still in the Eugene area, but a major effort, especially while I was trying to maintain my work hours with my day job as a computer programmer. Then, Apollo, our beloved dog of many years passed away unexpectedly. He was an important part of our family and we have been grieving his loss. And, of course, I have been paying attention to the terrible situation in Israel/Palestine. I have been balancing a lot while trying to remain open-hearted and an avenue for compassion, both in my family and in the world.

But you, the Poetry Chaikhana community, are my extended family, and I have missed our shared time together. I am so glad to be back with you!

Let’s take a walk with Rilke today…

=

My eyes already touch the sunny hill,
going far ahead of the road I have begun.

This is a fascinating truth that we tend to forget in the hard materiality of the modern world-view: We do not only touch the things with which we come into physical contact. We are often just as profoundly affected by what we see, even when it is out of our reach or not yet within our reach in the physical sense. Sight is a form of touch. It is contact. We touch, and are touched by, what we see.

Rilke’s insight invites us to expand our understanding further still. If what we see with our eyes is a vital sort of contact, then, naturally, what we see, but not with our eyes is just as vital. What we imagine, what we daydream, what we plan, what comes to us in dreams and meditative vision, these touch us too. They affect us. We react to them. They nurture us, feed us, or they may unsettle us and break our hearts.

So we are grasped by what we cannot grasp;
it has its inner light, even from a distance–

Real touch is not about fingertips on skin or hard metal. Real touch is heart to heart, mind to mind. Real touch is a process within the awareness, not about flat matter encountering more matter.

What we seek is never what we seek, but the affect it has on us. With everything we pursue in life, what we actually seek is self-transformation. But the truth is that we don’t even need that external other thing, physical or imagined, to be changed. The transformed self is already within us, just awaiting our own permission to be that. That is why Rilke says–

and changes us, even if we do not reach it,
into something else, which, hardly sensing it,
we already are…

Whether we yearn for a beloved person or place or circumstance, that encounter always awaits us within.

a gesture waves us on,
answering our own wave…
but what we feel is the wind in our faces.

We can read his final lines as suggesting something about the ephemeral nature of reality, or it can be the dawning recognition that we are continuously receiving communication, encouragement, contact. We have just been missing it because of our fixed ideas about what we seek and what is real.

Sending love to you all…

Recommended Books: Rainer Maria Rilke

The Enlightened Heart: An Anthology of Sacred Poetry	Ahead of All Parting: The Selected Poetry and Prose of Rainer Maria Rilke	The Soul is Here for its Own Joy: Sacred Poems from Many Cultures	Rilke’s Book of Hours: Love Poems to God	In Praise of Mortality: Rilke’s Duino Elegies & Sonnets to Orpheus
More Books >>

Rainer Maria Rilke Germany (1875 – 1926) Timeline Secular or Eclectic

More poetry by Rainer Maria Rilke

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!

a star
by Gabriel Rosenstock

a star
a tree
and the longing in between

réalta
crann
is an tnúthán eatarthu

— from The Longing in Between: Sacred Poetry from Around the World (A Poetry Chaikhana Anthology), Edited by Ivan M. Granger

/ Image by AlicePopkorn /

Yesterday I was a guest on Dr. Laurel Trujillo’s podcast The Yoga Hour. We had a delightful, far reaching conversation on sacred poetry, healing, the importance of inspiration to feed the spirit… and the path of longing.

We started our conversation off with this poem by Gabriel Rosenstock, so naturally I decided to share it with all of you.

–

Without even formulating a complete sentence, Irish poet Gabriel Rosenstock gives us the whole spiritual endeavor—rootedness and aspiration, life, light, a terrible void, and the aching heart that impels us onward.

If longing poses the question, then union is the answer.

This vibrant tension between longing and union reminds me of a story told by the 10th century Persian Sufi master Junayd. When asked why spiritually realized masters weep, he responded by telling of two brothers who had been apart for years. Upon their reunion, they embraced and were filled with tears. The first brother declared, “What longing!” to which the second brother replied, “What joy!” Longing and fulfillment, the one is not separate from the other.

We think of longing as a state of lack. There is something or someone we want in our lives, but it is not there. Longing can feel hopeless. But longing is really a spectrum. That ache, that longing pulsates on one end, while union, wholeness, and completion eternally await on the other. It’s not that they’re separate, longing and union; they are connected. The one naturally flows into the other. Longing is not the lack of union; longing leads to union. Longing is an aspect of union. Longing is a landscape we learn and explore as part of the spiritual journey. As seekers we traverse that space between longing and union, becoming its student.

The mystic maps the territory between the soul and God, between lover and Beloved, between the little self and the true Self, between the transitory and the Eternal. The road connecting these is the road of longing. Mysticism is the science of longing.

Star and tree, longing fills their dreams, but they awaken touching.

=

Ivan Interview on The Yoga Hour

If you want to listen my discussion of sacred poetry on The Yoga Hour podcast, you can find it here:
https://www.theyogahour.com/episodes/sacred-poetry-insight-and-inspiration

Recommended Books: Gabriel Rosenstock

The Longing in Between: Sacred Poetry from Around the World (A Poetry Chaikhana Anthology)	Haiku Enlightenment: New Expanded Edition	Bliain an Bhandé – Year of the Goddess	Uttering Her Name	Where Light Begins: Haiku
More Books >>

Gabriel Rosenstock Ireland (1949 – ) Secular or Eclectic Primal/Tribal/Shamanic : Celtic

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Yesterday I was a guest on Dr. Laurel Trujillo’s podcast The Yoga Hour. We had a delightful, far reaching conversation on sacred poetry, healing, the importance of inspiration to feed the spirit… and the path of longing.

The Yoga Hour
https://www.theyogahour.com/episodes/sacred-poetry-insight-and-inspiration

0:00 Introduction
– Introduction to Ivan
– Short meditation by the host
6:15 Poem: a star, a tree…
7:40 The Longing in Between
– The path of longing
– spectrum between longing and union
10:42 continues
12:30 Poetry and prose
16:22 Poem: Navajo Prayer
– restored in beauty
– healing and wholeness
– bridge or meeting point between earth and heaven
22:20 How to form a relationship with a poem
– Poem as participation in the breath and consciousness of poet
29:25 Poem by Yogacharya O’Brien: OM
32:53 What does “chaikhana” mean?
– Teahouses along the Silk Road
– Connection of East and West
– Sufi story of Tea as the drink of initiates
36:10 Mystics
– The word “mystic” preferred to words like, saint or sage
– Free from cultural baggage
– Avoids dogma
– Someone who seeks the living truth, not just following rules
40:17 Poem: Last night as I was sleeping…
43:34 Metaphor and describing the indescribable
– Mundane awareness can work with simile
– Expanded awareness witness union, the interconnectedness of things
– Real metaphor emerges from this realization
– This is what sacred poetry emerges from
46:27 Poem by Yogacharya O’Brien: Satsanga
48:02 Through poetry the illuminated state becomes contagious…
– How poetry conveys the sacred experience
52:30 Poem: One Thread Only
53:07 Inspiration is essential food for the spirit

The Abundance of Brightness
by Dorothy Walters

      God is not unknown on account of obscurity
      but on account of the abundance of brightness.
            — St. Thomas Aquinas

The I Ching calls it clinging, fire:
“Fire has no definite form,”
it says,
“but clings to the burning object
and thus is bright.”

— from Marrow of Flame : Poems of the Spiritual Journey, by Dorothy Walters

/ Image by Jackson David /

I found out a few days ago that Dorothy Walters passed away at the beginning of this week. She would have been 95 next month.

Dorothy and I had been good friends for nearly 20 years. She reached out to me over the Internet in the early days of the Poetry Chaikhana, back when I had just put the website up and had begun circulating these poetry emails. At the time, she still lived in San Francisco but, as a retired professor, she had deep ties to where I lived in Boulder, Colorado and its university, and she soon moved back.

We liked to meet for brunch and far-ranging conversations. We also, for awhile, met together with a few others to read and discuss spiritual poetry.

Though a few decades younger than her, I was often in awe of her energy. She attended multiple groups exploring questions of spirituality, psychology, and human awareness. Invariably, everyone was drawn to her small frame and big heart. She contributed essays to a few different books on Kundalini experience, and she spoke several times at different Kundalini conferences. On top of all that, she maintained many rich, personal correspondences with people all over the country and the world who contacted her to discuss their experiences of spiritual and energetic opening.

She has been a special presence in the world — and in my own life. As I enter my elder years, I hope to follow her example of joyful, enthusiastic, and heartfelt service. She continues to be an inspiration.

Thank you, Dorothy!

Recommended Books: Dorothy Walters

The Longing in Between: Sacred Poetry from Around the World (A Poetry Chaikhana Anthology)	This Dance of Bliss: Ecstatic Poetry from Around the World	Marrow of Flame : Poems of the Spiritual Journey	The Ley Lines of the Soul: Poems of Ecstasy and Ascension	Diamond Cutters: Visionary Poets in America, Britain & Oceania
More Books >>

Dorothy Walters US (1928 – 2023) Timeline Secular or Eclectic

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An eventful couple of weeks. A little over a week ago my wife, Michele, had an acute asthma attack, so severe that we had to call an ambulance in the middle of the night. She spent three days in the ICU and another couple of days in a regular hospital room.

She is back home now, breathing better, but of course still recovering physically and energetically from the ordeal. We are taking everything one step at a time with a sense of gratitude.

Most Americans who have insurance get it through their work, but we are both self-employed, so we are having to make changes to deal with the repercussions and new treatments being recommended for her.

I don’t want to lean on the Poetry Chaikhana community, since everyone was so generous last year in helping us with our big move — for which we are both so grateful.

What that probably means, however, is that these poetry emails may become less frequent for the near future, since I will need to maximize the hours I can put into my day job.

I feel like you are all my neighbors in a wide-reaching neighborhood, and I wanted to let you know what is going on with my family, as well as why the Poetry Chaikhana poem emails may be less frequent for a while. Even if there is a delay between emails, please know that all of your are very much in my thoughts.

Be well. Embrace the wonder of each day. Sending love to you all!

Halleluiah
by Mary Oliver

Everyone should be born into this world happy
and loving everything.
But in truth it rarely works that way.
For myself, I have spent my life clamoring toward it.
Halleluiah, anyway I’m not where I started!

Halleluiah, I’m sixty now, and even a little more,
and some days I feel I have wings.

— from Evidence: Poems, by Mary Oliver

/ Image by disignecologist /

This is a rare Monday poem. It has been a few weeks since my last email, so I wanted to reach out, especially as we move through the winter holidays.

The reason I haven’t sent any emails recently is that I have been juggling a lot to help my wife create a new website for her work. I don’t recall if I’ve mentioned it before, but my wife, Michele Anderson, has been in semi-retirement for the past ten years while she cared for her ailing mother until her death a couple of years ago. My wife’s mother refused most care except for what my wife herself could provide. With few other options, that forced her into the difficult choice of having to put her career of more than 20 years on hold to give her mother the care she needed in the final years of her life.

As those of you who have cared for a sick or dying relative know, few things are more difficult. Being a caregiver is isolating, exhausting, and often unpleasant. The person dying has their own inner struggles reconciling their life and confronting their own mortality, sometimes without mental clarity, which can leave them frightened and angry. Trying to be of service in those moments can be a demanding, all-consuming responsibility. But, through the difficulties and the frequent crises, there can also be profound moments of connection, shared insight, and life resolution.

I am humbled by the strength Michele has shown through this period.

During that difficult time, I helped my wife and her mother in the ways I could. The key contribution I made was that I necessarily became the primary and sometimes sole income provider for our family. Not an easy role for a poet! Not an easy role for someone who deals with chronic fatigue patterns, either. I increased my hours as a computer programmer as much as I could, but the balance has been a struggle. You may not have known it, but your donations and purchase of Poetry Chaikhana books in recent years has been a big help through this period.

As a result of these heightened work requirements, I have not always been as regular as I would like with the Poetry Chaikhana emails. I haven’t been able to maintain and update the website much through this time. I haven’t pursued the publishing projects I would like. I have left too many of your emails to me unanswered. I hope to shift my energies and focus back to the Poetry Chaikhana in the coming months.

After the passing of my wife’s mother, there was naturally a period of grief and recovery. This was during the height of Covid, so the sense of isolation continued. As you know, a few months ago we decided to move from Colorado back to our home state of Oregon. We wanted to reconnect with extended family and also with the land where we feel our roots, where we feel a deep ancestral energy.

Now that we are settling in, Michele is preparing to return to her work as a life coach. She has a genuine gift for working with people, in ways that leave me, as a shy person, amazed. Michele has the most surprising and meaningful conversations with people in the checkout lines of grocery stores. I have sat by her side at a restaurant when she randomly told the waitress, “You would make a great actress! Have you ever considered acting?” To which the waitress replied, “Wow. I can’t tell you how much that means to me! I am studying acting.” My wife connects with people in magical ways.

Michele is a natural wise woman, an intuitive, an artist, a shaman, who continuously inspires me and frequently challenges me too. I am so pleased that she will once again be sharing her gifts with the world.

For that reason, we have been pushing hard, since before our move, in fact, to put together a new website that represents this new phase in her work.

I realize this doesn’t have much directly to do with poetry, but I wanted to share with you what has been a major focus in my life in recent months.

If you are curious, I invite you to visit my wife’s new site:

Explore. Check out the blog. Michele recently posted an article about her experiences with art therapy, something that might appeal to this creative crowd.

When you are on the site send Michele a note through the Contact page to wish her well and let her know what you think of the new site.

Of course, if you’re looking for a life coach, someone to be a personal advocate, sounding board, and mentor, I certainly recommend her highly! I may be biased, I admit it, but I have watched her work with people since the 90s and I am still impressed by how deep and transformative her work is.

I wanted to share this moment of celebration in our household with you.

I hope you are having a wonderful day!

Recommended Books: Mary Oliver

New and Selected Poems	Why I Wake Early	Dream Work	House of Light	Thirst: Poems
More Books >>

Mary Oliver US (1935 – 2019) Timeline Secular or Eclectic

Continue Reading »

Trinket
by Ivan M. Granger

Mother,
you are too practical,

Go ahead, Mother,
it is just you and I
before the mirror.
I won’t tell
if you want to spin
and laugh
like a girl
to see
this bit of glitter
set off
your smile.

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

/ Image by lois komolafe /

It is the middle of Navratri for my Hindu friends, the nine nights of the Goddess. I thought of one of my own poems to the Divine Mother, Trinket.

Jaya Jagadambe, he Ma Durga
All praise to the Cosmic Mother, Ma Durga!

…

Along with all of the natural beauty of our new home here in Eugene, Oregon, we notice a significant homeless population for a relatively small city. Colorado had its homeless too, but in smaller numbers, and usually panhandling on street corners hoping for drivers to stop and stretch across the passenger seat to hand over a bill through the window.

Here in Eugene, the homeless are more part of the city, more present and somehow more integrated with the city. We no longer notice someone through the windshield as we’re driving by, deciding if we want to slow down and give a couple of dollars or continue on our way. In Eugene, we share the sidewalks, walking by each other downtown. Many have their regular spots, they have their place in the community, they are known, they are still people.

Earlier this week we spoke with a neighbor who is getting rid of some items and she mentioned that she like to donate to individuals, when she can. She knew the name of a homeless person who regularly stands outside the local grocery store, so she took the items directly to him.

We recently noticed an article in the local paper about a homeless man who had died and was much loved in the community for the music he used to play around downtown. An entire article about the passing of a homeless man who was still an important part of the community.

I find that profoundly touching.

Of course, my wife and I are having to recalibrate our comfort levels as well as learn to assess safety differently. Some of the people we encounter are clearly dealing with substance abuse issues. Some have obvious mental health issues (and with social programs having been slashed in this country for decades, often the street is the only place for them). Behaviors can be erratic, unpredictable. Some are people just struggling to regain a foothold in society. Some are carried by a threadbare high while seeking an ever lower bottom to hit.

But they are us. Seeing them in and among the rhythms of this small city reminds me that, regardless of their struggles or rough appearance, they are our brothers and sisters. They are part of my community too.

So how do we interact with these individuals? How do my wife and I judge safety walking through downtown? When do we make eye contact, maybe offer a friendly word, perhaps hand over a dollar, and when is it best to cross to the other side of the street and keep our distance? We’re still figuring that out.

I’m curious what your thoughts and experiences are. What sort of charities do you give to that you think are doing good work with the complex issues of hunger and homelessness? And do you have special ways of interacting with the homeless? I know of one person who used to put together care packs of clean socks, toothbrushes, dry foods, miscellaneous necessities and just kept them with him to hand out. Have you come up with creative ideas to help or meaningful ways to connect?

May the Mother’s love connect us all and care for us all!

Recommended Books: Ivan M. Granger

The Longing in Between: Sacred Poetry from Around the World (A Poetry Chaikhana Anthology)	This Dance of Bliss: Ecstatic Poetry from Around the World	Real Thirst: Poetry of the Spiritual Journey	For Lovers of God Everywhere: Poems of the Christian Mystics	Diamond Cutters: Visionary Poets in America, Britain & Oceania
More Books >>

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

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Keep on knocking
by Mevlana Jelaluddin Rumi

English version by Coleman Barks

Keep on knocking
’til the joy inside
opens a window
look to see who’s there

— from The Essential Rumi, Translated by Coleman Barks

/ Image by Daniel Gregoire /

We have made it to the other side of our journey and arrived safely in Eugene, Oregon. It is a homecoming for us, although we have been away for decades. Much is familiar, yet everything is new.

The drive out itself, while beautiful, was a bit of an ordeal. We passed through a heat wave affecting Utah and Idaho before entering the cooler weather of Oregon.

Eugene itself is lovely. The Willamette River running through town, trees and deep greens, blackberry bushes at the edges of alleyways just beginning to bear fruit. Walks along the river in the morning chill is a special treat. The downtown area is vibrant, more active than we remember in the early 90s. Trying to reorient to the idiosyncratic city layout, one way streets, unexpected loops and turns.

When we explore a town, the places we check out first to connect with the community: the natural food stores, the bookstores, coffee shops (though I rarely drink coffee), neighborhood parks. We’re making the rounds.

The ocean, just an hour-and-a-half’s drive away, calls to my wife. An afternoon trip coming up soon.

Boxes are everywhere. All the books arrived, though we did not bring all our old bookshelves, so just where will everything go? Which books make the cut for display on bookshelves and which get tucked away into closets?

Keep on knocking
’til the joy inside
opens a window
look to see who’s there

I want to say thank you to all of you, the entire Poetry Chaikhana community, for all of your thoughts and supportive messages through this move. My heart has been full through the miles traveled. Love to you all in return.

Have a beautiful day!

Recommended Books: Mevlana Jelaluddin Rumi

The Longing in Between: Sacred Poetry from Around the World (A Poetry Chaikhana Anthology)	Poetry for the Spirit: Poems of Universal Wisdom and Beauty	This Dance of Bliss: Ecstatic Poetry from Around the World	Music of a Distant Drum: Classical Arabic, Persian, Turkish & Hebrew Poems	Perfume of the Desert: Inspirations from Sufi Wisdom
More Books >>

Mevlana Jelaluddin Rumi Afghanistan & Turkey (1207 – 1273) Timeline Muslim / Sufi

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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!

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!

Donate

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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I have a big announcement: The Poetry Chaikhana is moving – and so am I. After many years of living in Colorado, my wife and I have decided to move back to our hometown of Eugene, Oregon.

I am a traveler, You are my road.
I go from You to You.

~ Zeynep Hatun

Deciding to Move

We had discussed the idea of returning to Oregon before, but it never felt like the right time. My part-time job as a computer programmer is here in Colorado. We have friends and spiritual circles in Colorado that are important to us. Though we had been vagabonds as young adults, we now felt like “grown ups” who had finally settled down.

Then some big shifts began to happen. Several friends moved out of the area. Covid hit. And just as the first Covid lockdowns started, both of my wife’s parents died (unrelated to Covid). The grief she felt was magnified by the isolation of Covid world. We felt increasingly disconnected in Colorado. Reconnecting with our extended families in Oregon began to feel essential.

(Downtown Eugene, Oregon. Image: Rick Obst, Flickr)

Oregon, Poetry and Nature

In addition to people who are dear to us in Oregon, the land itself has always quietly called to us. Oregon’s deep green forests and its generous rain inspires a contemplative, quieter approach to life. A good place for poetry.

Now that all thoughts have subsided
off I go, deep into the woods,
and pick me
a handful of shepherd’s purse.
Just like the stream
meandering through mossy crevices
I, too, hushed
become utterly clear.

~ Ryokan

An Encounter and a Decision

In April, as we were driving through our neighborhood deep in conversation about the idea of a move, a huge eagle swooped down from around the corner and flew right at our car. As it passed above our car, with its bright white head and immense wingspan, we could clearly see that it held prey, what looked like a fish from the nearby lake, in its talons.

(Not our eagle, but it looked similar. Image: Jongsun Lee, Unsplash)

Encountering that eagle at that exact moment headed straight for us felt like a divine blessing, an affirmation.

When the universe speaks, we find it’s best to listen. We set aside our hesitations and agreed to move.

Just a few days later, we found a home to rent in Eugene that we loved. We committed to move at the beginning of August.

Awaken your spirit to adventure;
Hold nothing back, learn to find ease in risk;
Soon you will be home in a new rhythm,
For your soul senses the world that awaits you.

~ John O’Donohue

Poetry Chaikhana Community Support

When we first started making plans for this move, my wife and I thought we could do it quickly and cheaply, the way we did in our 20s. It turns out that moving when you are over 50 is not the same experience as when you’re young! Who knew I had accumulated so many poetry books over the past couple of decades? Even selling and donating larger things, like furniture, there is a lot to move. We are struggling to find the funds to cover all of the expenses.

It felt like it was time to once again reach out to you, the Poetry Chaikhana community.

I was surprised to realize that it has been more than five years since I last sent out a direct appeal for donations.

My strong hope is that this move will usher in a new flowering of the Poetry Chaikhana. I would love to have community support and encouragement through this move as I begin to explore new poetic avenues in a new community.

Our Goal: Let’s raise $5,000 to help with the move.
That may sound like a big number, but with a community of several thousand people across the globe, I think we can raise that sum together.

Your donation will help in several important ways:

• Logistically, it will help us cover necessary expenses, like a moving truck, gas (which, as you all know, has become expensive) and lodging during the move.
• For the Poetry Chaikhana, it will help with a smooth transition, minimizing the amount of extra work I have to commit to my day job to cover expenses, allowing more time for poetry. This will lay the groundwork for establishing the Poetry Chaikhana in our new community and begin to imagine new projects, both local and global.
• On a personal level, you will be helping us return home to our roots.

If you have thought about making a donation to the Poetry Chaikhana in the past, if you have been touched by a poem or commentary featured in one of the Poetry Chaikhana emails, if you would like to keep the poem emails coming regularly… now is an especially helpful time to make a donation.

Ways you can help:

– Make a secure online donation in any amount through PayPal by clicking the “Donate” button on the Poetry Chaikhana website at https://www.poetry-chaikhana.com/blog/donate/

– Send a check or money order in US funds, addressed to:
Poetry Chaikhana
PO Box 2320
Boulder, CO 80306
USA
(This address will obviously be changing soon, but all mail will be forwarded once the new PO box is set up.)

I am also grateful for your help through supportive thoughts and prayers. Every contribution, financial and energetic, is sincerely appreciated.

Let the beauty we love be what we do.
There are hundreds of ways to kneel and kiss the ground.

~ Rumi

(Bike path along the Willamette River, Eugene, Oregon. Image: Don Hankins, Flickr)

Poetry and Personal Transformation

We forget how fundamental poetry is, not only to culture, but to consciousness. Poetry is meditation in the form of words. I posted this on the Poetry Chaikhana website years ago, and it’s just as true today:

“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.”

The Politics of Poetry

In addition to the spiritual importance of this sacred poetry, there is also a cultural, even a political motivation behind the Poetry Chaikhana. Here’s how I described it in a interview a few years ago:

“Sacred poetry has the unique benefit of being a deeply personal expression of spiritual truth while, at the same time, being largely free from dogma. In the United States, for example, there is an increasing prejudice and fear about the Muslim world. But who can read Jelaluddin Rumi without immediately recognizing the deep truth that Islam can express? The same is true for a non-Hindu reading Lal Ded or a non-Christian reading St. John of the Cross. Sacred poetry is the natural goodwill ambassador for the world’s religions. Poetry can reach across cultural divides, soften prejudices, and shed light on misunderstandings. I hope the Poetry Chaikhana can help to facilitate that process.”

Sacred poetry is transformative on both a personal and a global level.

The Poetry Chaikhana has become a community that reaches across the globe. We have visitors from every continent and more than 220 countries and territories!

The Poetry Chaikhana is an important resource for people all over the world seeking to more deeply understand their own wisdom traditions as well as the spirituality of other cultures in an atmosphere of mutual respect.

=

Thank you for being such a supportive and inspiring community all of these years! I mean that genuinely. I have always felt that we form an extended family for each other. This community has helped me though challenges and changes and shared in my joys. I hope you feel that too. Sending love and poetic nectar from my tea house to yours!

Ivan

O Sweet Irrational Worship
by Thomas Merton

Wind and a bobwhite
And the afternoon sun.

Out of my nameless weeds
His foolish worship.

— from Selected Poems of Thomas Merton, by Thomas Merton

/ Image by Begbie Images /

Well, I seem to be mostly recovered from the Covid I picked up a couple of weeks ago. It’s been no fun, certainly, a miserable sort of flu, but not the sort of thing to bring society to a halt. I know that different people have different reactions, that the vaccine can lessen symptoms, and that vulnerable individuals can end up in the hospital, but, having come through, I find myself asking if it is truly worth all of the fear and blame and isolation that has gripped society.

I shake my head and step outside where life continues. I listen to the wind. I wait for the winter clouds to part to feel the afternoon sun on my face.

Wind and a bobwhite
And the afternoon sun.

Bobwhite, if you don’t know what it is, is a quail-like bird with a unique whistle that sounds like bob-WHITE, bob-bob-WHITE. Reading the opening lines to Merton’s poem, I imagine a walk on a slow afternoon, a gentle breeze, the airy space cut by the clear whistle of the bobwhite.

By ceasing to question the sun
I have become light,
Bird and wind.

I can see a few possible reactions to this statement. Some might read the phrase “ceasing to question” as one of religious dogma, suggesting that a certain freedom comes from no longer questioning one’s belief system. Knowing Merton’s spiritually inclusive philosophy, I don’t think that’s what he intended.

Rather than standing outside of the moment, turning the scene into an external landscape for the questioning mind to define and label and remain apart from, we become quiet and present. We merge into the moment. We don’t see a pretty seen awash in light, we become the light itself… and the birdsong and the breeze. We fill the space.

I am earth, earth
All these lighted things
Grow from my heart.

The boundaries of identity expand. Who we are is not limited by the body or the stories we tell ourselves. We are everything spread out before us, the earth itself. From the earth’s deep heart, our heart, all things grow and emerge to be bathed in the light of the sun.

A tall, spare pine
Stands like the initial of my first
Name when I had one.

I love the way a bold, solitary tree stands forth to become a signifier of — what? An initial, one’s first name, one’s personal name. But that name itself has become ephemeral, lost in the larger self. With a quiet mind, we have become not only wordless, but nameless. Finding the wider self in the wider reality, we have moved beyond names.

Out of my nameless weeds
His foolish worship.

However we define worship, reverence, the celebration of life and innate goodness, may we allow ourselves to be swept up in it fully — foolishly.

Recommended Books: Thomas Merton

Selected Poems of Thomas Merton	The Collected Poems of Thomas Merton	A Thomas Merton Reader	The Strange Islands: Poems by Thomas Merton	Thomas Merton Monk & Poet: A Critical Study

Thomas Merton US (1915 – 1968) Timeline Christian : Catholic

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