Saturday, January 23, 2021

Jiddu Krishnamurti - Tell me of God


pic Gregory Colber


 O friend, Tell me of God. Where is He, by what manner do I find Him, Among what climes, in what abodes? Tell me, I am weary.

Read the Vedas, Do tapas, meditate, Perform rites and ceremonies, Practice austerities and renounce, Pray at His temple, among flowers and incense, Bathe in the sacred rivers, Visit the holy places, Be a devotee and pure of intelligence, In Kailas is His abode - - There you will find Him, cried many.

Obey the Law, Take refuge in the Order, Kill not, steal not and commit no sin, Go to the shrine, Enter Nirvana - - There you will find Him, cried many.

Read the Holy Book, pray at His church - -there be many - - This church will lead you to Him but beware of that.

Serve, sacrifice, Do not judge, be merciful,

In Heaven is His throne - - There you will find Him, cried many.

Read the only Book Of the only God, Visit His abode on earth, pray at the mosque, At the setting of the sun worship Him, Bahisht is his abode - - There you will find Him, cried many.

Work, work for humanity, Serve, serve your fellow-creatures, Follow this but beware of that path, Do the will of God, Follow blindly for I hold the key to His abode. Grasp this opportunity He offers you, Sorrow and happiness lead to Him, If you do this, your search will end - - Then you will find Him, shouted many.

I am weary, tired by the passage of time. Traveling on no path, I have come to Thee, Thou hast revealed Thyself to me.

Oh! Thou art the round stone That grinds the rice in the peaceful village Amidst songs and laughter. Thou art the graven image That men worship in temples, With chants and solemn music. Thou art the dead leaf That lies torn on the dusty road Trodden by the weary traveller. Thou art the solitary pine That stands majestic On the lonely hill.

Thou art the lame and mangy creature That comes to my door with a haunted look, hungry, That men abhor.

Thou art the mighty elephant That is gaily robed, Carrying the nobles of the land. Thou art the naked beggar That wanders from house to house Wearily crying for alms. Thou art the great of the land That are rich in possessions and books, That are well-fed and satisfied. Thou art the priests of all temples That are learned, proud and certain. Thou art the harlot, the sinner, the saint and the heretic.

My search is at an end, In Thee I behold all things. I myself, am God.





Thursday, January 21, 2021

Miranda Warren - The Moth to the Flame, the Seeker to the Guru


You find yourself drawn to their words, over and over again, binge-watching their videos like other people watch the latest Netflix hit. Is it something they know, or perhaps something they no longer know? Something they have lost, an illusion dispelled? And yet the dream remains.
It seems there is someone pointing to the nature of the shared dream of life, even as they point to the illusion of there being any other or any separate self to experience the dream. You read book after book, but language turns the endless blanket of stars that is the night sky into a few words on a white page.
And so often, teachers see how the words they use fall like rain before they reach the ears of the seeker, let alone their hearts and minds. So sometimes they try to sound like they have a path, a technique, a method. Yet it seems most know this is not possible, for if it is a gate-less gate, how can there ever be a key?
Sometimes teachers seem to simply offer hope and a moment of connection and comfort when they realize the futility of truly communicating this message; you see it on their faces, eyes filled with tears for a love they know can never be shared, as they gaze at the earnest flock of seekers staring at them in impossible expectation.
Other times the teacher may fall prey to their own stories and the stories others tell about them being a great awakened master, but even that is simply a dream character written by life playing the only part it can.
Enlightenment is not to be found in words or teachings, and yet, sometimes, on a path with no steps, there appears a figure who trips you, and you fall, free falling endlessly, into the inexpressible, ineffable wonder of This as the thought of "you" is replaced by an indefinable, limitless, love.
Then as you go to thank them, the teacher you believe somehow showed you what you never imagined was even there to see, or at least seemed to point you in a direction not found on any map or compass, you watch them fade into the darkness until even their enigmatic smile disappears like the Cheshire Cat, for neither you, nor anyone else, was ever there at all.


Tuesday, January 19, 2021

Rumi ♡ Who is at my door ?



He said, “Who is at my door?”
I said, “Your humble servant.”
He said, “What business do you have?”
I said, “To greet you, O Lord.”

He said, “How long will you journey on?”
I said, “Until you stop me.”
He said, “How long will you boil in the fire?”
I said, “Until I am pure.

“This is my oath of love.
For the sake of love
I gave up wealth and position.”

He said, “You have pleaded your case
but you have no witness.”
I said, “My tears are my witness;
the pallor of my face is my proof.”
He said, “Your witness has no credibility;
your eyes are too wet to see.”
I said, “By the splendor of your justice
my eyes are clear and faultless.”

He said, “What do you seek?”
I said, “To have you as my constant friend.”
He said, “What do you want from me?”
I said, “Your abundant grace.”

He said, “Who was your companion on the journey?”
I said, “The thought of you, O King.”
He said, “What called you here?”
I said, “The fragrance of your wine.”

He said, “What brings you the most fulfillment?”
I said, “The company of the Emperor.”
He said, “What do you find there?”
I said, “A hundred miracles.”
He said, “Why is the palace deserted?”
I said, “They all fear the thief.”
He said, “Who is the thief?”
I said, “The one who keeps me from you.”

He said, “Where is there safety?”
I said, “In service and renunciation.”
He said, “What is there to renounce?”
I said, “The hope of salvation.”

He said, “Where is there calamity?”
I said, “In the presence of your love.”
He said, “How do you benefit from this life?”
I said, “By keeping true to myself.”

Now it is time for silence.
If I told you about His true essence
You would fly from your self and be gone,
and neither door nor roof could hold you back! 




Monday, January 18, 2021

Lisa Lennon - Simple


art Gina- Rose Halpern



 The simplicity of what is spoken of is wonderfully mad. 

No matter what is said, it makes no difference to life being what it is. 

There is only just what is, thats it! Nothing else!

 What is, can't be argued in terms of me and no me, "there is no one to do anything" etc. 

The me is and isn't. Is just appears. 

There is nothing that 'is' in absolute terms, nothing concrete. 

It is totally unknowable, is just seemingly is and yet isn't, neither absolute or apparent.

 Oh what a conundrum for the seeking mind, it is rendered impotent and senseless 

and yet in it's simplicity, life still appears, reigning supreme as there is only that.

Sunday, January 17, 2021

Rumi ♡ Be silent!



 Last night I became mad. Love saw me and said:

I am here. Don’t shout, don’t wail.  Just be silent!

Don’t talk about the mundane, talk of nothing but beauty.
I am the servant of this magnificence.  Just be silent!

I said: O Love, what I fear is something else.
Love said:  There’s nothing else. Just be silent!
I will whisper great secrets in your ear. Just nod yes.  And be silent.

I said: Love!  Is this face angel or human
Love Said:  Neither angel nor human. It is other.  Just be silent.

I said: I will lose my mind if you don’t tell me.
Love said: Then lose your mind, and stay that way. Just be silent.

You who sit in this house filled with images and illusions,
Get up, walk out the door. Go, and be silent.