Jeff Foster - Birds of the mind

Conference of birds by Peter Sis

 

Thoughts are not the truth, and ultimately they are not even yours. They are only voices, sounds, suggestions, opinions of the mind, coming and going all the time, like a flock of birds singing, every bird singing a different tune; a different opinion, suggestion, perspective. You are not the birds; you are the wide open space in which the birds can sing, the awareness that holds the birds, the silence underneath and inbetween. 

Do not try to silence the birds (for that makes them sing even louder) or destroy them (for they are only parts of yourself longing for love) but allow them to sing, and fly, for that is your power, and your freedom. The "I am a failure" bird can sing, and the "I am a waste of space" bird can sing, and the "I am the most wonderful bird" bird can sing, and all their inbetween friends can sing, and you are a giant nest of awareness, a bird sanctuary, never defined by the chorus of opinions, nor at war with it, the great I AM, undefinable.

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http://www.lifewithoutacentre.com/ 

 

 

Fakhr al-Din Iraqi - How long...

art Linda Olsen

How long will you stick with the monastery's worshipful habits?
For the prisoner of habit, obedience and self-denial are but disbelief.
As long as you cannot jump free of your own embrace,
your worship is bound to a temple of devilish idols.
Pawn your soul at the tavern to buy one sip
but do not try to trade on piety – the coin is debased.
How long will you stand dry-lipped on the shore of desire?
Hurl yourself –now!– into the infinite sea
that the traceless ocean may wash away all trace
and the shark of ecstasy swallow you in one bite.

 

Sitting Bull - Nothing

Orlando Scott Goff, Sitting Bull, 1881.

 

“When the Lakota leader Sitting Bull was asked by a white reporter 

why his people loved and respected him, 

Sitting Bull replied by asking if it was not true 

that among white people a man is respected 

because he has many horses, many houses? 

When the reporter replied that was indeed true, 

Sitting Bull then said that his people respected him 

because he kept nothing for himself.”

–Joseph Bruchac: “Sacred Giving; Sacred Receiving,” 

Source:  Parabola

Hafiz - Love leads me

art Gulcan Karadag

 

If love leads me to a musky, thick wine,
it must be what I need,
not some austere hypocrisy.

If everyone in the world
advised against my loving you
still I would.

One lives in the zikr circle
so that the round knot in the Beloved’s hair
will be undone.

The beautiful bride of the world approaches,
but not to marry anyone!

Watch. One bride leaves,
as another comes.

The cypress, the tulip,
a line of gowns.

We are beggars here,
but don’t ask what we’re begging for!
Whatever it is shows in our faces.

So I said to tease the beauty,
“My moon, if we kissed,
could I endure the love ?”

“Hafiz,” she laughed,
“ kiss on !
Your lips won’t stain the moon.”

Sandy Jones - Beyond limits

I write mystical songs of love unleashed. It’s all imaginary. Tell me one thing that isn’t? Every bit of it is imagination. That’s life; the mind of God. It’s all imagination. Everything.

God is beyond limits. Sweet imagination, divine, divine mind, unbeholden and not subject to matter or to me. Unknowable presence, imaginary visions being all and forever. What is the word for Something that is transcendent, unnamable, intangible and impossible for our minds to apprehend?

The heart knows. The tender, open heart knows.

My joy is this, the pure sweet pleasure of living this Mystery. I see nothing but infinity and I love to run here in the musical forest of wonder with my hair untied, free, my heart blowing in the wind. I love this.

It’s up to me to paint upon eternity as I want to. Imagine that. I want to paint it blue and green, like a sea of heaven. Sail a ship with red sails across the bay, while we drink icy, salty lime green margaritas of Gran Patron. Sails aloft with pink sky, as we glide aimless and easy on a turquoise sea of wonder, to laugh and sing out loud our fondest songs of love to each other. My songs touch the heart of your beauty as I sing them to you.

I Love you, always –

http://woodsongjournals.com/

The Art of Home

Woodsong journals

Clare Cameron - Earth and Water

I am green earth’s daughter,
Sister to wind and water
And fathered by the sun.
From an ancient magic
Fashioned was my fabric
Ere the flesh was spin.

Where the deer are running
Habitation shunning,
Swiftly through the glade,
With all shy and wild things
On powerful or bright wings
There my track is made.

White snow of December
And the glowing ember
Of the autumnal tree,
Stillness of the moonlight
And the grace of moth-flight
Also dwell in me.

Where the birds are questing
Find my spirit resting
In trackless path of sky,
The privileged partaker
Of Being, and my Maker,
In His breast to lie.

O beautiful, my kindred,
Come ye then, unhindered,
Passing through, yet free!
For there is no telling
The boundary of my dwelling
In far infinity.

Clare Cameron 

Mike Jenkins - Be All That You Are

If only you could see and know and feel how truly beautiful you are, nothing would stand in your way. Oh how you would stand astride this world and spill your talents for the uplifting of all, how you would soar above the city skyline and light up the night sky with wondrous rapture.

And how you would soften the coldest of hearts with just a a look. If only you could see and know and feel just how precious you really are, you would share your love in so many ways, free from the rules that say "I can't", "That's not for me", "I'm no good at that" or "They'll never listen to me".

Sweet, sweet child. I listen to you... I am by your side and listen to every word, every breath, every sigh and every cry. Nothing goes unoticed, not one moment is lost.

And so I say be all that you are... every bit of it. The good, the bad and the ugly for nothing is ugly in essence.. everything beautiful is slightly off key. You are the space for all shades of life to be, so be I say... in any way you are. All of it is loved, every aspect of your beautiful being.

I never left you. You left me, to look for me... and here I was, here I am, here I will be always, singing as you, playing this melody that IS you... eternally... 

http://nothingsayingthis.com/ 

Rumi - Love came

 

Love came,
and became like blood in my body.
It rushed through my veins and
encircled my heart.
Everywhere I looked,
I saw one thing.
Love’s name written
on my limbs,
on my left palm,
on my forehead,
on the back of my neck,
on my right big toe…
Oh, my friend,
all that you see of me
is just a shell,
and the rest belongs to love.