Saturday, March 19, 2016

Miriam Louisa - beloved Beloved


How can You be so evident
and yet
completely missed
as we search for You
insatiably?

How can You be so simple
and at the same time
so subtle
that overlooking You
takes priority?

How can You be so clear
and nakedly
present
yet only be referred to
in riddles?

How can You be so Total
so inescapably
everything
and yet
be nothing knowable
or namable?


How can You be so evident
and yet
completely missed
as we search for You
insatiably?
How can You be so simple
and at the same time
so subtle
that overlooking You
takes priority?
How can You be so clear
and nakedly
present
yet only be referred to
in riddles?
How can You be so Total
so inescapably
everything
and yet
be nothing knowable
or namable?

- See more at: http://www.onethemagazine.com/blog/2015/03/08/featured-poet-miriam-louisa-simons/#sthash.HTeWOSfD.OXZJLVlm.dpuf

Mystic Meandering - Prosetry on "Reality"...



There is a “Deep Reality”
that pulls us beyond our beliefs,
 religions & philosophies;
the maps of reality
 that we have created for ourselves…
A “Supreme Reality” that does not depend on
one’s beliefs, one’s maps,
but on a deep Heart-longing for
the Truth of Existence
and
Love for
what’s truly Real…



It’s not a “higher” reality,
but more
an energetic purity,
a clarity,
a refined reality…

It’s an Ineffable Reality
that transcends all our
ideas and concepts,
as well as materiality.

One could call it
The Ultimate Reality,
The Infinite Reality,
The Absolute Reality -
if there is such a thing…

These are only names
used to try to describe
what is felt experientially.


Some Mystics and Poets who experience
this “Deep Reality” within
 feel a visceral vibrational resonance with it,
and words just bubble up spontaneously
from “The Deep,” on their own.


Today I use
The “”Supreme Reality”
The “Ineffable Reality”
and “Deep Reality”
because that’s what
”bubbled up.”
But the words will change.
They are merely metaphors
for a Reality that cannot be named -
only experienced…

In “The Deep Reality”

we wait -
for the Ineffable Mystery to reveal ItSelf -
a rendezvous in the Sacred Silence -
without preconception of what “Reality”
will look like -
or how it will feel;
without concern for words…



In the waiting without words
Gratitude
wells up…

A deep Gratitude for
The Ineffable Mystery of Existence;
a sense of awe
at the magnitude, depth, and expanse of “The Mystery”




When we willinging succumb to
this Deep Ineffable Reality;
not just surrender -
but allow ourselves
to be dissolved into the
Cosmic Depths of the
Unknown…



We Rest



~*~



Mystic Meandering
March 13, 2016



~*~



All you need is a sincere longing for Reality -
the love of the Supreme…



Nisargardatta





Thursday, March 17, 2016

Chuck Surface - Perhaps They Are Right



When I chat with my ”ism" friends,
Buddhism, Hinduism, this ism, that ism,
They are quick to place my experience,
In the context of their beliefs.

They explain what has happened,
What it all means, and why,
Where I am on the Path to “enlightenment”,
Where I have to go…

And what I must do to get there.

They’re certain and assured in all of this,
For the "truth" has been laid out,
And in their minds, unarguably so,
By the founder of their ism…

And those “enlightened” ones who followed after.

Buddhism in all it’s many forms,
The vast ocean of Hindu philosophy,
The Abrahamic, book-based isms,
And contemporary “nonduality”.

Certain and assertive,
They speak with the authority of “lineage”,
Longstanding, tried and true,
And in their minds…”

“Truth".

For Sankara said thus,
Buddha said thus,
Paul said thus,
Someone or other said thus.

And... perhaps they are right.

Seldom speaking from experience,
Most often my ism friends simply pour,
My experience into the mold,
Inherited from their ism.

Their intentions are kind,
Seeking to help one sadly misdirected,
Bound in delusion and falsity,
In desperate need of guidance.

And... perhaps they are right.

I've no "idea" what happened that day,
When "I" and Creation Vanished,
When all duality ceased, Absolutely,
Leaving nothing whatsoever,
Of knower and known,
Experience and experiencer,
Perceiver and perceived,
Subject and object,
But only...

Unalloyed Ecstasy,
Experienced by no one,
No where,
At no time.

And I've truly no "idea" what this Presence is,
The ever-present Sublimity that remained,
When the world and "I" reappeared,
Shining thereafter, in the Locus of The Heart…

A touch of dualities Dissolution,
A touch of the Formless Ecstasy,
Inherent in that Dissolution,
As heat is to fire.

The world and “I” vanished,
Heaven remained,
The world and "I" reappeared,
And thereafter, the Heart Shone,
Like a Sun of Benediction,
Bubbled over, like a Wellspring of Grace...

The secular became sacred,
Samsara and Nirvana,
Heaven and Earth,
Formlessness and Form...

All became indistinguishable.

I've no "idea" at all "about" any of this,
No concepts, theories, or conjecture,
No assumptions made, or conclusions drawn,
Into which I can pour this Ineffable Sublimity.

And so, perhaps my ism friends are right.

For unlike me, they “know”,
And are breathless to tell me,
The what, why, and wherefore,
From the "truth" as they "know" it.

And... perhaps they are right.

They place this Dissolution of duality,
This Blissful aspect of ongoing experience,
In a "hierarchy" of "spiritual evolution",
From the "truth" as they "know" it.

And... perhaps they are right.

They explain, with such certain authority,
How I am sadly in bondage,
Enamoured of the “Bliss body”,
Addicted to ephemeral experience.

And... perhaps they are right.
I do not know the "Self", they declare,
For there is no Ecstasy there,
No qualities or attributes of any kind,
In the "Absolute".

And… perhaps they are right.

They point to the use of words,
Like “Lover” and “Beloved”,
As sophomoric emotionality,
A immature desire for love and healing.

And… perhaps they are right.

It’s all just kundalini, they say,
All chakra nonsense,
So much yogic hoo-hah,
To be dismissed as “unreal”.

They urge me to continue "further",
Striving to attain the "Ultimate",
Which they are happy to describe,
From the "truth" as they "know" it.

And… perhaps they are right.

In the words of each I find,
Varied teachings of "truth",
Varied descriptions of "reality",
Varied unarguable "absolutes".

All there is, is Brahman, one declares,
No, all there is, is Emptiness, cries another,
No, all there is, is God, say the Diests,
No, none of these are true, say the agnostics.

All so full of certainty,
So fierce when questioned,
So dogmatic, while claiming openness,
So righteous in seeking to help.

And... perhaps they are right.

But when Fullness, Completion, and Bliss,
Filled moment-to-moment Experience,
And the felt sense of "self" vanished,
All movement stopped, to and from.

All seeking for "more" vanished,
All “grasping after” ceased,
And Bliss, Immovable, Impenetrable,
Filled, at last, this weary Heart.

In Fullness, where am I to put more,
In Completion, what is there to attain,
Intoxicated, the Heart's Desire Fulfilled…
Why would I seek a bottle.

But still… perhaps they are right.





Farid ud-Din Attar - The Dullard Sage


Lost in myself
      I reappeared
            I know not where
a drop that rose
      from the sea and fell
            and dissolved again;
a shadow
      that stretched itself out
            at dawn,
when the sun
      reached noon
            I disappeared.
I have no news
      of my coming
            or passing away–
the whole thing
      happened quicker
            than a breath;
ask no questions
      of the moth.
            In the candle flame
of his face
      I have forgotten
            all the answers.
In the way of love
      there must be knowledge
            and ignorance
so I have become
      both a dullard
            and a sage;
one must be
      an eye and yet
            not see
so I am blind
      and yet I still
            perceive,
Dust
      be on my head
            if I can say
where I
      in bewilderment
            have wandered:
Attar
      watched his heart
            transcend both worlds
and under its shadow
      now is gone mad
            with love. 



Lost in myself
      I reappeared
            I know not where
a drop that rose
      from the sea and fell
            and dissolved again;
a shadow
      that stretched itself out
            at dawn,
when the sun
      reached noon
            I disappeared.
I have no news
      of my coming
            or passing away–
the whole thing
      happened quicker
            than a breath;
ask no questions
      of the moth.
            In the candle flame
of his face
      I have forgotten
            all the answers.
In the way of love
      there must be knowledge
            and ignorance
so I have become
      both a dullard
            and a sage;
one must be
      an eye and yet
            not see
so I am blind
      and yet I still
            perceive,
Dust
      be on my head
            if I can say
where I
      in bewilderment
            have wandered:
Attar
      watched his heart
            transcend both worlds
and under its shadow
      now is gone mad
            with love. - See more at: http://www.poetry-chaikhana.com/blog/2010/02/17/farid-ud-din-attar-the-dullard-sage/#sthash.rbCMZP1V.dpuf

Wednesday, March 16, 2016

Albert Einstein - Love



 ""There is an extremely powerful force that, so far, science has not found a formal explanation to. It is a force that includes and governs all others, and is even behind any phenomenon operating in the universe and has not yet been identified by us.
This universal force is LOVE.
When scientists looked for a unified theory of the universe they forgot the most powerful unseen force.
Love is Light, that enlightens those who give and receive it.
Love is gravity, because it makes some people feel attracted to others.
Love is power, because it multiplies the best we have, and allows humanity not to be extinguished in their blind selfishness. Love unfolds and reveals.
For love we live and die.
Love is God and God is Love""



Tuesday, March 15, 2016

Aisha Salem - Dying in the Arms of The Mother




Oh Beloved Immortal
How She Dances
As I leave my wits
She calls me Silently
with a Whisper Divine
Feeling her Gentle Fingers
I am Drawn into Her Song
Knowing Fully She is the End of Me
I Still cannot resist Her Call
Delighting in Her Sumptuous Lips
Her Opulent Grace
I Taste Her
Taste Her Again
The Only Longing
Mother is She
Charging at Me with Her Black Silence
With Her Intoxicating Scent
I Die to her Soft Darkness
Letting my guard Down
Loosing Ideas
Loosing MySelf
Intentionally exposing my Neck
She Will Take it, Take it All
Knowing Nowhere I would Rather Die than in Her Arms
Catching a Glimpse
of Her Ruthless Scimitar
Trusting her Decision of my fate
I Taste Her
Taste Her again
My Soul Alive
Love Her through the Transient
Leaving All Behind
for Her Whisper – Just Once More
The Only Source of My Longing
Feeling Her Blood Pulsing through my Veins
Delighting in Her Integrity I Stand
Delighting in Her Strong Legs i Run
Tasting Her passionate lips I Drink and Get Drunk
Over and Over
Nothing save Her
The Bones Inside Her
Full of Care
Yet Thrusting Her Sword for Life
Murderous in Her Laughing Eyes
Gentle in her Sensitive Touch
Innocent in Her Thunder
I Die, I Just Die for Her
I Taste Her
Taste Her Again
She Takes My Feet
Drive me Into Her Night
Where All Fall by Devotion to Her
Oh My Human Heart, My Precious Woman
Dividing The Poison and The newborn Child
Unfolding as It Is
Delicate as The Flower
Large as the Universe
I Drink, I Dare, I Desire
To Drown mySelf in Her Love
The Air To My Breath
The Beat to My Heart
I Drown In you Over and Over
Become the House and Home of your Pure Passion
Diving into Your Divine Form
I Taste Her
I Taste Her
Taste Her Again