Friday, October 30, 2015

Elliot Sullivan - A Useless Man




He’s a man concealed in mystery,
Among the greats of history.
A timeless being of the ages
Emerging from long lines of sages.
He speaks the wisdom of the ancients;
He is the very source of patience.
Existing beyond the reach of space
The absolute is his resting place.
He sees the unseen; he breathes the between.
He only appears as a transparent screen.
He’s a vagabond who’s gone to the beyond,
A useless wizard whose cane is his wand.

He’s got the world on a string which he flies like a kite.
And he removes everything that is blocking the light.
His ship is freedom; his flag is unfurled.
He sails you far beyond this world.
In the blink of an eye you don’t know who you are.
You’ve grown and evolved. You’ve traveled so far.
Then he takes you in his aeroplane
And flies you past the cosmic domain.
He flies you past your greatest fear
Until you finally disappear.

But be careful! He plays hide and seek.
If you don’t seek, then he will hide.
But if your yearning is at its peak,
He’ll be right there right by your side
Until the “I and mine” has died.

And yet there’s no one there; he can’t be found
He’s beyond time and space, beyond light and sound.
There’s no one there; he can’t be found
Unless Knowledge knows and love abounds.
There’s no one there; he can’t be found
Unless roots sink deep into the ground.
There’s no one there; he can’t be found.
Because he’s everywhere; he’s all around.

Yes, he can’t be found; there’s no one there.
But if you’re drowning in despair,
He’ll fill your cup even as you weep
And lift you up with love so deep
That you know for sure he’s not apart.
He’s there embedded in your heart.
With love so sweet and love so tender
He’s found forever in surrender. 


no information found on this author 
 
 

Rumi - The place of the Kalam-i-qadim




'There comes a Sound,
from neither within nor without,
From neither right nor left,
from neither behind nor in front,
From neither below nor above,
from neither East nor West,
Nor is it of the element:
water, air, fire, earth, and the like;
From where then? 


It is from that place thou art in search of:
Turn ye toward the place wherefrom the Lord makes His appearance.
From where a restless fish out of water gets water to live in,
From the place where the prophet Moses saw the divine Light,
From the place where the fruits get their ripening influence,
From the place where the stones get transmuted to gems,
From the place to which even an infidel turns in distress,
From the place to which all men turn when they find this world a vale of tears.


It is not given to us to describe such a blessed place:
It is a place where even the heretics would leave off their heresies. 


from The "Diviani Shamsi Tabriz" 

source 

 

Thursday, October 29, 2015


Mother Teresa - In the silence of the heart




Once Mother Theresa was asked
what she said when she prayed. 

She answered that
she didn’t say anything,
she listened. 

When asked what God said to her,
she said that God didn’t say anything;
He listened back. 

She added that if you didn’t understand,
she couldn’t explain it further. 

God speaks in the silence of the heart.
Listening is the beginning of prayer.




U.G.Krishnamurti - No self



I discovered for myself and by myself 
that there is no self to realize — 
that's the realization I am talking about. 
It comes as a shattering blow. 
It hits you like a thunderbolt. 
You have invested everything in one basket, self-realization, 
and, in the end, suddenly you discover 
that there is no self to discover, no self to realize — 
and you say to yourself 
"What the hell have I been doing all my life?!" 
That blasts you.





Wednesday, October 28, 2015

Mai ... - Into The Eye Of The Storm......




I love the singing.....
I love the song......

The song sings itself......
And echoes in the cavernous canyons of my heart....

And I sway to the music, within me.....
I love the dance.......

I the music.......
And me the dance......

Where was the party, tonight......?

And the heart beats to the rhythms of it's own song......

And all the while the perfume bubbled up my nose......
And a palpitating, delight of wonder, almost choked my throat......

Here, is where the party was, tonight......

And I sway to the music, within me.....

I the music.......
And me the dance......

Summer of '94.......

It was all too new......

What is this place, where I find myself.......

I had no clue.......

Lost in the wetness of the words of my own song........

I looked for a singer.......
And found none......

And ran head long into the eye of the storm......

Where was the dancer, dancing this dance......

And all the while the perfume bubbled up my nose......

Holding my own heart.....in the palms of my hands.....

These songs sing themselves......
As we laugh.....and cry......


And the dance dances itself.....
As we tumble......and fly......





Tuesday, October 27, 2015

Ilie Cioara - Listening and Watching




Be still, stop, be attentive - a total attention!
Neither past nor future, be with the present moment;
Between you and what you listen to, let thoughts, images disappear,
Be just pure listening, a whole being, boundless.

The divine instrument - observation - alive and crystal clear,
You listen and watch, outside and inside yourself;
The whole thinking is mute - a tomb-like silence,
There are no expectations, no ideal projections.

All these will create in you a perfect order,
Body and mind, the whole being, in a direct relationship,
Able to understand any life phenomenon
In a certain, real and profound way, as ephemeral as it may be.

Such a simple meeting is pure meditation,
Practice this all the time, in every circumstance;
Start and end with a total silence,
The whole being in harmony - in a timeless state.

This peace gives you an ever-renewing mind,
Completely detached from the old, integrating in the present;
Psychologically, you are without center, boundless, you are Immensity itself, 
Able to embrace the Eternity of the moment.

Through these simple meetings, the old man starts to crumble,
A crack appears in the egoic structure,
Through it, the accumulated energies start to leak and disappear,
They were holding you prisoner from times immemorial.

The Liberation started thus is continued, in time, until in the end,
When the "ego", the sad conditioning, perishes,
The Spark — the Sacred within us — returns to the Source,
Sooner or later this is everyone's fate: total Liberation.

Here lies the whole secret of knowing oneself,
Mystery intertwined with spontaneous action;
The only one which transforms, and finally liberates,
The conditioned being from its degrading "ego".

Always remember that knowledge keeps you prisoner,
Be quick to understand its unintelligent nature;
Give all your respect to the moment — meet it with humbleness,
Through it, wonders open into the Infinite world.


Monday, October 26, 2015

Wei Wu Wei - The Poor Joke



 Bondage is being dependent, tied up, limited. On, to, by, what? Is it not attachment to a supposed 'will', which is the exercise of personal, independent choice by that supposition with which what-I-am is identified and which is called 'me'?

This merely means that I use the pronoun 'I' wrongly. I use it as though this objectivisation here were free to do as 'it' wished, whenever 'it' wished, and wherever 'it' wished. But such a possibility has never arisen, and never could arise: there is no such possibility - for an objectivisation can do nothing of itself, any more than any piece of mechanism can act autonomously.

How has it been possible to avoid seeing the absurdity of this notion? It has only been possible by imagining or assuming an invisible, imponderable, untraceable 'entity' which takes charge of this mechanism, like the driver of an automobile, and which refers to the machine and its driver together as 'I' and 'me', identifying itself entirely with the apparatus. Is it difficult to recognise that this assumed personality is factually inexistent, that this supposed 'entity' is just a concept?

This exercise of supposed choice and decision, this series of perpetual acts of will or of wilfulness, called 'volition', is what constitutes bondage, and the ensuing conflict, experienced as suffering, is due to the supposed need to act volitionally.

The abandonment of this nonsense must abolish the cause of bondage, bondage being bondage to volition expressed as 'I', and implying the phenomenal object concerned. With the understanding of the incongruity of this notion nothing is left to be bound, and nothing is left that can suffer as 'me'.

For I - as what I am, as all I am - am no object. The word 'I' says it. So what is there to be bound, where is there any me-object to suffer, when could there be any conflict and with what?

This assumed 'entity', unidentifiable and an unfounded supposition, acts only as 'volition'. I, as what I am, have none - for I am no object that could have 'volition'. I do not act, there is no actor - for an 'actor' is a concept in mind which could not act as such. What I am is devoid of any trace of objectivity. In short, and once again - in no circumstances am I any sort or kind of 'entity'.

What I am is expressed phenomenally as see-ing, hear-ing, feel-ing, taste-ing, smell-ing, think-ing, but there is no objective 'I' that sees, hears, feels, tastes, smells or thinks. How then could I exercise 'volition', choose, decide, accept, refuse, or play the clown in any such phenomenal performance?

Objects 'live' sensorially or are 'lived' sensorially, and what I am is their sentience. If I so function, objects live as they must - and there is no need for the notions of bondage, conflict, or suffering - since I do not, and can not, exercise 'volition' which alone is responsible for these.

What absurd clowns 'we' are whose joke is to 'want', to 'wish', to 'desire', 'hope', 'regret'! No wonder clowns are notoriously tragic figures at heart! 



 

Dr. Javad Nurbakhsh - The delight of my soul



All my moments I spend with You, my Companion,
the tranquility of the entire world.
Light and joy, refuge and sanctuary:
All are You.

You are my sorrows´ Confidant,
Source of all my strength and patience.
Lacking nothing, You´re beyond comparsion,
above anything that can be said or thought.

My New Year is You: my festival
You, the delight of my soul.
You are my Beloved, my only Love,
my only Soul.

O alluring Cypress, all my patience,
my tranquility, comes from You.
I have no profit or gain, no loss or pain but You;
You ´re all I could ever want to have.

Whatever coyness You display,
however long You treat me as nothing,
Still my soul I´d sacrifice in an instant
if only You would but rest Your foot on my head.

My New Year is You: my festival
You the delight of my soul.
You are my Beloved, my only Love,
my only Soul.

To people of purity You belong:
No! You ´re purity itself!
By fidelity You are bound:
No! You ´re the very embodiment of fidelity!

I am a lover of pain; You are my every afflection and pain,
my every hardship.
I am the one slain by love; You are my Physician,
my only relief and cure.

My New Year is You: my festival
You the delight of my soul.
You are my Beloved, my only Love,
my only Soul.

On the path of devotion, You are both disciple and master,
desirer and desired.
In Love ´s manuscript, You become both – ink and white space,
all scripts, all knowledge.

The moment, out of generosity, You had the grace
to enter the lane of my heart,
You become the only hope in my breast,
the only remembrance in my heart.

My New Year is You: my festival
You the delight of my soul.
You are my Beloved, my only Love,
my only Soul.
 
 
 
 Dr. Javad Nurbakhsh
(Nūr 'Ali Shāh)
 
See more Here
 
 

Nathan Gill - Clarity



If all there is is Consciousness, if there is only Consciousness, then why or
for what are you still seeking? If there is only Consciousness then right now
you must be that and everything else that appears in and as awareness must
also be that, including your sense of separate self if that is how you appear
now. Any personal sense of I or ‘doership’ or ego must be Consciousness.
What else could it be?

I, ego, time, thought, separation, - if all there is is Consciousness then is not
all of this already Consciousness? Any appearance of mundane, ordinary
existence can be no less of Consciousness than any appearance of
unconditional love, wholeness, bliss, stillness, silence or anything else. Does
anything really need to be transcended, found or let go of?

Why not live in this understanding, no longer requiring that you wait for all the
supposed signs of ‘enlightenment’ to appear?


Source text and PDF Download  HERE


Mooji - Original Innocence



Jiddu Krishnamurti - The book of life