Wednesday, July 26, 2017

Michael Shepherd - Rumi's Silence

Rumi wrote much about silence.
Does that seem strange?

Poets live with silence:
the silence before the poem;
the silence whence the poem comes; .

the silence in between the words, as you
drink the words, watch them glide through your mind,
feel them slide down your throat
towards your heart;

the silence which you share with the poet
when the poem ends, sitting side by side,
feeling one another being one heart;

the silence after the poem,
when you are a different person
from the person who started reading the poem,
think differently, move differently,
act differently; know Rumi a little better
as a friend; know yourself a little more
as a friend.

Rumi was asked, why do you
talk, talk, talk, so much
about silence?

He said, the radiant one inside me
has said nothing.

And that’s the silence which we listen to
and hear in Rumi’s heart,
here, sitting in the cool shade
which the scent of roses seems to love,
while the fountain gently plays like a poet
with sound and silence. 


Tuesday, July 25, 2017

Vasishtha - Empty like space

That self is empty like space; but it is not nothingness, 
since it is consciousness. 
It is: yet because it cannot be experienced by the
mind and senses, it is not. 
It being the self of all, it is not experienced
(as the object of experience) by anyone. 
Though one, it is reflected
in the infinite atoms of existence 
and hence appears to be many.
This appearance is however unreal… 
But the self is not unreal. 
It is not a void or nothingness: 
for it is the self of all… 


Monday, July 24, 2017

Words of Old Tcheng

The Words of Old Tcheng first appeared in the French journal, Etre, in 1974.

Where this text first originated and at what time are unknown. It was given by a Buddhist monk in the form of a written document to a Frenchman who was visiting Indochina.
Indications of style suggest that it may belong to the school of Zen founded by Hui Neng, the 6th Zen patriarch.

The Text contains very direct teachings on 'Non Duality,' and because they are eternally relevant, whether they appeared several centuries ago or just yesterday, they are imbued with that special timeless power that propels 'truth' towards opening the minds and hearts of sincere seekers, whoever they may be, where ever they may live, what ever they may do.

For this reason i decided to include a selection of passages from this text in a post that would be easily available to all who are sincerely interested. The passages below contain points that encompass  pith instructions and which, if  taken into the heart and meditated upon without thought or contrivance, can lead directly to recognition of one's true nature


Old Tcheng said:

"To see the primordial spirit is to see it whether there are thoughts
are not, whether one is immobile or active, whether one is speaking
like I am before you, or whether one is silent, whether one is an
emperor, a monk, or some one with neither hearth nor home. What does
it really matter?

What difference is there between the Buddha and the illiterate rustic
monk who only knows how to split wood but who sees the primordial

There is not one particular primordial spirit for Bodhidharma
and another for old Tcheng or for each of you.

The primordial spirit is the primordial spirit.
Nothing else can be said about it. Even
that is too much already.

What others have said about the primordial spirit and what I am saying can only be of use to encourage you to search directly yourselves, without having recourse to any authority and without any tricks. Every thing else will only blur your sight
and divert you from the one and only enquiry that should possess you
entirely, wherever you are and whatever you do: meditating, sweeping
the court or answering the call of nature. But when I see what you do
to the words of the patriarchs and my own, better that the patriarchs
and I had been drowned at birth.

"...the world and you are nothing but thoughts of the individual mind since they both disappear along with all other thoughts when you fall asleep.

This also applies to the stale thought of your petty mind about the Buddha, the Path and the primordial spirit.

So understand once and for all how useless all your efforts are to penetrate the impenetrable through thought and action.

You may as well desire to catch the wind. But if you are unencumbered and totally receptive to the primordial spirit, you will instead be caught by it directly."

" Since you have heard of the void as being the supreme achievement, you try
to attain it. Thus you lapse in to torpor and an in-sensitiveness which you
take for the emptiness of the primordial spirit.

Having heard about the absolute as being the ultimate state, you imagine
that all things are equal and nothing is worthy of respect. Thus you lapse
into casualness and anarchy which you take for the unity of the primordial

As you have heard about purity being total bliss, you strive to attain it.
Thus you lapse into intransigence and a rigidity which you take for the
transparency of the primordial spirit.

Having heard about detachment being the one and only freedom, you try to
separate your selves from the world and yourselves. Thus you lapse into
indifference which you take for the independence of the primordial spirit.

"... It is the primordial spirit that is said to be emptiness,
unity, transparency and independence. The component of the wheel of existence is that you are can never any of these faculties.

But if you would see the primordial spirit, you would know that it is your real nature, that it cannot be qualified in any way and that in reality no name can be given to it.

You would then also know that the terms void, absolute, purity,
detachment and even primordial spirit itself, are nothing but words that
only exist for you on account of your blindness and ignorance.

"Everyone  is illuminated by the primordial spirit. Some see it, others do not know it.  That is the only difference between them.

"You do not need anyone else to see the light of the sun.  All that others may say about this is useless to you.  You are in the light. It warms your body and yet you cannot grab it in such a way that you may put it in a box. All efforts to possess it are doomed to fail from the start. You can neither catch it nor get rid of it.
This was already said by some old blabbermouth and others before him.

The same applies to the primordial spirit.  It is always present and just as luminous as the light of the sun. You can neither claim it nor get rid of it."

" He who has seen one grain of sand has seen all grains of sand from all shores and from the bottom of all the seas of the world.  If you see the primordial spirit, you see the entire primordial spirit and you are a Buddha.

I am before you like a piece of wood that resounds.  There is no merit nor importance to that because beings such as old Tcheng, who let the same sound be heard, have never been lacking and never will be until the end of man-kind.  But unfortunately for you, since you are always preoccupied only with appearances, you only consider the piece of wood that is resounding.  Consequently the primordial spirit does not find the echo in you that would make you suddenly realise that you are not and have never been other than the primordial spirit."

"If there are any among you who, while listening to me, are struck by
something greater and profounder than my words, which is not the sort of
complacent torpor which so many revel in, imagining that they are
established in the primordial spirit, but a simple and active lucidity,
well, only to those can I indicate the right direction and show the way.
Their own crust will finally crack; suddenly drop and they will see the gem
of the primordial spirit sparkle.

I do not intervene in this matter as a person. I am only a channel for the
primordial spirit that some people sense through me, old Tcheng, who is
otherwise also like the crust covering a precious gem.

As long as I asked questions about the primordial spirit I can only be
silent or answer 'no.'

As for he who sees the primordial spirit, he does not need old Tcheng.

If you were true men, your thoughts and actions would be right and at all
times appropriate to their purpose. But since you are unable to see your
Buddha nature you make up for your ignorance by appropriating the thoughts,
conduct and actions of those you have placed above your heads. Your concern
to ape what others think and do - that is crust that prevents you from
seeing the primordial spirit...

" ...Your innate nature is in no way different from the Buddha nature.
What you are lacking is that you do not know it unambiguously. That is all.
That is what you are lacking and that is what drives you to try to become
what you have never ceased to be. To have evidence of the primordial spirit,
that is what your existence is all about. When you stray from it the
slightest bit you immediately relapse into the endless confusion and turmoil
of cause and effect.
This is the unique teaching of old Tcheng."

"The true nature of beings and things is not superior in him who sees it nor inferior in him who does not know it. It remains unaffected whether it is known or not, nor is it affected by anything that you attach to it."

"Now, listen to me with the utmost attention.  I will reveal to you the great secret of the primordial spirit. It is the most important thing that has ever been said about it.

Here it is:


 Where upon, Old Tscheng executed a pirouette and disappeared. No one has ever seen or heard about him since.


Sources: Text was transmitted by J Garillot.It was translated from French into English by E. Van Den Muyzenberg

reblogged from Ever Here Now  


Saturday, July 22, 2017

Amata Natasha Goldie - Nectar of Golden Love

 Spiralling beyond beginning or end
You were always there
Nestled deep in the codes of eternity
Your heart a spectrum of light
And you flowed into my soul
Like a never ending sweet nectar
Dancing in sacred tones
You came to me
And Love completed itself
In our magnetic union
Yearning drenched now
Only in this sweetness
Whence creation began
And all became known
By the word of love

Spiralling into existence
You came to bring light
Nestled deep in the heart of loves blossoming
You flowed into the ocean of humanity
So that Love may know itself
So that wholeness may return again
And broken souls may be healed
By each beloved union
Glowing with the splendour

Of the divine mystery
Bathed in the nectar of golden love

 Copyright – Amata N Goldie 2017


Thursday, July 20, 2017

Pir Elias Amidon - Sama

Out of beginningless time
the bird of your love arrives
and perches here in my heart.

On its way to endlessness
it has no need for hurry.
It sings and the whole world dances!

Waves bow to their partner the shore,
stars wink and flirt with the night,
the orchard ripens, leaves spin and clap,
even the bugs turn somersaults!

I won’t live forever and I don’t care.
Just to hear your song, beloved,
is all the joy I could ask for
Read more HERE

Wednesday, July 19, 2017

Anna Wood - Silence

Silence is radical. When sustained, it has an effect on your perception comparable to that of any number of chemicals with which you might seek change. Your vision transforms, to start with; you suddenly find yourself absorbing what’s on the periphery, massive amounts of once-invisible data assailing your pupils. When you’re not preparing your next remark, your hearing capacity expands, too: the changing rhythms of the wind; the muted thud of a teardrop hitting the wooden floor; your neighbor’s beating heart. And taste, and smell, they’re amplified and shifted, as well—a cup of tea sipped without the surrounding dialogue …is a more intricate cup of tea. Silence gives you the opportunity to know any number of an object’s facets that typically disappear behind the verbal screens we erect constantly, unthinkingly, between our selves and our environments.And surely the power of wordless touch is one each of us knows; I need not expand on that.

Read full text  HERE


Elaine Maria Upton - Silence II

Silence is not a lack of words.
Silence is not a lack of music.
Silence is not a lack of curses.
Silence is not a lack of screams.
Silence is not a lack of colors
or voices or bodies or whistling wind.
Silence is not a lack of anything.

Silence is resting, nestling
in every leaf of every tree,
in every root and branch.
Silence is the flower sprouting
upon the branch.

Silence is the mother singing
to her newborn babe.
Silence is the mother crying
for her stillborn babe.
Silence is the life of all
these babes, whose breath
is a breath of God.

Silence is seeing and singing praises.
Silence is the roar of ocean waves.
Silence is the sandpiper dancing
on the shore.
Silence is the vastness of a whale.
Silence is a blade of grass.

Silence is sound
And silence is silence.
Silence is love, even
the love that hides in hate.

Silence is the pompous queen
and the harlot and the pimp
hugging his purse on a crowded street.

Silence is the healer dreaming
the plant, the drummer drumming
the dream. It is the lover’s
exhausted fall into sleep.
It is the call of morning birds.

Silence is God’s beat tapping all hearts.

Silence is the star kissing a flower.

Silence is a word, a hope, a candle
lighting the window of home.

Silence is everything –the renewing sleep
of Earth, the purifying dream of Water,
the purifying rage of Fire, the soaring
and spiraling flight of Air. It is all
things dissolved into no-thing–Silence
is with you always…..the Presence
of I AM


Tuesday, July 18, 2017

Andy Weir - The Egg

Egg by Salvator Dali

You were on your way home when you died.

It was a car accident. Nothing particularly remarkable, but fatal nonetheless. You left behind a wife and two children. It was a painless death. The EMTs tried their best to save you, but to no avail. Your body was so utterly shattered you were better off, trust me.

And that’s when you met me.

“What… what happened?” You asked. “Where am I?”

“You died,” I said, matter-of-factly. No point in mincing words.

“There was a… a truck and it was skidding…”

“Yup,” I said.

“I… I died?”

“Yup. But don’t feel bad about it. Everyone dies,” I said.

You looked around. There was nothingness. Just you and me. “What is this place?” You asked. “Is this the afterlife?”

“More or less,” I said.

“Are you god?” You asked.

“Yup,” I replied. “I’m God.”

“My kids… my wife,” you said.

“What about them?”

“Will they be all right?”

“That’s what I like to see,” I said. “You just died and your main concern is for your family. That’s good stuff right there.”

You looked at me with fascination. To you, I didn’t look like God. I just looked like some man. Or possibly a woman. Some vague authority figure, maybe. More of a grammar school teacher than the almighty.

“Don’t worry,” I said. “They’ll be fine. Your kids will remember you as perfect in every way. They didn’t have time to grow contempt for you. Your wife will cry on the outside, but will be secretly relieved. To be fair, your marriage was falling apart. If it’s any consolation, she’ll feel very guilty for feeling relieved.”

“Oh,” you said. “So what happens now? Do I go to heaven or hell or something?”

“Neither,” I said. “You’ll be reincarnated.”

“Ah,” you said. “So the Hindus were right,”

“All religions are right in their own way,” I said. “Walk with me.”

You followed along as we strode through the void. “Where are we going?”

“Nowhere in particular,” I said. “It’s just nice to walk while we talk.”

“So what’s the point, then?” You asked. “When I get reborn, I’ll just be a blank slate, right? A baby. So all my experiences and everything I did in this life won’t matter.”

“Not so!” I said. “You have within you all the knowledge and experiences of all your past lives. You just don’t remember them right now.”

I stopped walking and took you by the shoulders. “Your soul is more magnificent, beautiful, and gigantic than you can possibly imagine. A human mind can only contain a tiny fraction of what you are. It’s like sticking your finger in a glass of water to see if it’s hot or cold. You put a tiny part of yourself into the vessel, and when you bring it back out, you’ve gained all the experiences it had.

“You’ve been in a human for the last 48 years, so you haven’t stretched out yet and felt the rest of your immense consciousness. If we hung out here for long enough, you’d start remembering everything. But there’s no point to doing that between each life.”

“How many times have I been reincarnated, then?”

“Oh lots. Lots and lots. An in to lots of different lives.” I said. “This time around, you’ll be a Chinese peasant girl in 540 AD.”

“Wait, what?” You stammered. “You’re sending me back in time?”

“Well, I guess technically. Time, as you know it, only exists in your universe. Things are different where I come from.”

“Where you come from?” You said.

“Oh sure,” I explained “I come from somewhere. Somewhere else. And there are others like me. I know you’ll want to know what it’s like there, but honestly you wouldn’t understand.”

“Oh,” you said, a little let down. “But wait. If I get reincarnated to other places in time, I could have interacted with myself at some point.”

“Sure. Happens all the time. And with both lives only aware of their own lifespan you don’t even know it’s happening.”

“So what’s the point of it all?”

“Seriously?” I asked. “Seriously? You’re asking me for the meaning of life? Isn’t that a little stereotypical?”

“Well it’s a reasonable question,” you persisted.

I looked you in the eye. “The meaning of life, the reason I made this whole universe, is for you to mature.”

“You mean mankind? You want us to mature?”

“No, just you. I made this whole universe for you. With each new life you grow and mature and become a larger and greater intellect.”

“Just me? What about everyone else?”

“There is no one else,” I said. “In this universe, there’s just you and me.”

You stared blankly at me. “But all the people on earth…”

“All you. Different incarnations of you.”

“Wait. I’m everyone!?”

“Now you’re getting it,” I said, with a congratulatory slap on the back.

“I’m every human being who ever lived?”

“Or who will ever live, yes.”

“I’m Abraham Lincoln?”

“And you’re John Wilkes Booth, too,” I added.

“I’m Hitler?” You said, appalled.

“And you’re the millions he killed.”

“I’m Jesus?”

“And you’re everyone who followed him.”

You fell silent.

“Every time you victimized someone,” I said, “you were victimizing yourself. Every act of kindness you’ve done, you’ve done to yourself. Every happy and sad moment ever experienced by any human was, or will be, experienced by you.”

You thought for a long time.

“Why?” You asked me. “Why do all this?”

“Because someday, you will become like me. Because that’s what you are. You’re one of my kind. You’re my child.”

“Whoa,” you said, incredulous. “You mean I’m a god?”

“No. Not yet. You’re a fetus. You’re still growing. Once you’ve lived every human life throughout all time, you will have grown enough to be born.”

“So the whole universe,” you said, “it’s just…”

“An egg.” I answered. “Now it’s time for you to move on to your next life.”

And I sent you on your way.