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.


Monday, July 17, 2017

Lorin Roche - Return to the Luminous

art Pieter Weltevrede

 yatha tatha yatra tatra
dvadashante manah kshipet
pratikshanam kshena vritteh
vailak shanyam dinaih bhavet

This body is sustained by altars
To the radiant nectar of life –
Around you, an ocean of air
Ready to become your breath.

Above the head, the glow of an invisible Sun.
Within the spaciousness of the heart,
A pulsing throb of creation –
Where the breaths meet, fuse
And transform into each other.

Whenever, wherever your mind wanders,
Whatever you wonder,
Return to the luminous.
Choose any altar, imbibe its energy as you journey.

Throw your attention again and again
Into one of these centers where spirit and flesh
Consummate their love.
Day by day, old whirlpools fade, the endless circles.
You are living in the temple of essence.

- Lorin Roche The Radiance Sutras


John Astin - Come rest

Come rest here,
in this thought,
this feeling, this moment
of great sorrow or joy.
Come rest, here in the sounds
of the children laughing
and the anguished
of those
who imagine
they have lost
their way.
Come rest
here in the cradle
of a warm
summer night,
and the blistering
of winter’s
Come rest
in this
for there
is nowhere
to rest...


Sunday, July 16, 2017

Dr. Javad Nurbakhsh - Here even Love is bewildered


Through Love , I have reached a place
where no trace of Love remains.

Where "I" and "we" and the painting of existence
have all been forgotten and left behind.

Now who can know where I am,

here where no knowledge, no opinion can be found .

Here even Love is bewildered

and the intellect is crazy , talking nonsense.

Totally impoverished, I have no wealth,
no identity, no self-

Free from faithfulness and faithlessness,

a stranger to myself and all acquaintances.

Yet only for this can I still be blamed—
that a cry comes from me,

Out of grief for Nurbakhsh I say,

“You have gone. How is it I know not where ?"