Hāfez-e Shīrāzī - A pregnant woman

 

 

 My Master once entered a phase
That whenever I would see him
He would say,

 

“Hafiz,
How did you ever become a pregnant woman?”

 

And I would reply,

 

“Dear Attar,
You must be speaking the truth,
But all of what you say is a mystery to me.”

 

Many months passed by in his blessed company.
But one day I lost my patience
Upon hearing that odd refrain
And blurted out,

 

“Stop calling me a pregnant woman!”

 

And Attar replied,
“Someday, my sweet Hafiz,
All the nonsense in your brain will dry up
Like a stagnant pool of water
Beneath the sun,

 

Though if you want to know the Truth
I can so clearly see that God has made love with you
And the whole universe is germinating
Inside your belly

 

And wonderful words,
Such enlightening words
Will take birth from you

And be cradled against thousands
Of hearts.”

 

 

 

The life of Hafiz 

 

Danna Faulds - Inner Listening

 

I'm trying to listen

at the level of soul,

to hear the liquid gold

that flows in from Source,

to receive the mystery

with all my inner senses.

I can't tell you how I

do this exactly. It's a

matter of attuning and

also choosing to receive.

It isn't so much a practice

as a way of life --

opting for quiet so I don't

miss the gifts that come

from who knows where

to keep me focused on

the truth. I'm not sure why

inner listening means so

much to me, but I think

it's why I'm here. Today,

what the universe has to

say to me is this: There is

only one consciousness

shining through the whole.

Open to it. Breathe it in.

Receive it fully. By being

yourself without shame

or excuses, you add your

small puzzle piece to the

infinite frame of the unknown.

 

 

http://dannafaulds.com/ 

 

 

Jalāl al-Dīn Rūmī ~ Finally...

 

 

 

 This moment this love comes to rest in me,
    many beings in one being.
    In one wheat grain a thousand sheaf stacks.
    Inside the needle's eye, a turning night of stars.

    Listen, if you can stand to.
    Union with the friend
    means not being who you have been,
    being instead silence, a place,
    a view where language is inside seeing.

    From the wet source
    someone cuts a reed to make a flute
    The reed sips breath like wine,
    sips more, practicing. Now drunk,
    it starts the high clear notes.

    There is a path from me to you
    that I am constantly looking for,
    so I try to keep clear and still
    as water does with the moon.

    We do not have to follow the pressure-flow of wanting.
    We can be led by the guide.
    Wishes may or may not come true
    in this house of disappointment.
    Let's push the door open together and leave.

    My essence is like the essence of a red wine.
    My body is a cup that grieves because it is inside time.
    Glass after glass of wine go into my head.
    Finally, my head goes into the wine.


 
    Coleman Barks version
    The Big Red Book

 

 

Mahmoud Shabistari ~ The Visit

 

 One day at the dawn
The fair idol entered my door and woke me from my sleep of slothful ignorance.
The secret chamber of my soul was illumined by His face,
And my being was revealed to me In its true light.
I heaved a sigh of wonder when I saw that fair face.

He spoke to me, saying,
"All thy life thou has sought name and fame ;
This self -seeking of thine
Is an illusion, keeping thee back from Me. To g1ance at My face for an instant
Is worth a thousand years of devotion."

Yes, the face of that world-adorner was shown unveiled before mine eyes ;
My soul was darkened with shame to remember my lost life, my wasted days.
Then that moon whose face shone like the sun, seeing I had cast hope away,
Filled a goblet of Divine Knowledge and, passing to me, bade me drink, saying,

" With this wine,"tasteless and odourless, wash away the writing on  thy  being's tablet."

Intoxicated from the pure draught which I had drained to the dregs, In the bare dust I fell.

Since then I know not if I exist or not,
But I am not sober, neither am I ill or drunken.

Sometimes, like His eye, I am full of joy,
Or, like His curl, I am waving; Sometimes, alas! from habit or nature, I am lying on a dust heap.
Sometimes, at a glance from Him,
I am back in the Rose Garden.

 

 

 read/download:

 secret rose garden

 

 

Jiddu Krishnamurti ~ Present in the Presence

 An indescribable silence

 

'What you are...what you actually are, is being.
Being is not the mind thinking.
Thinking is a movement, a motion.
Being is the silence that precedes the motion.
You cannot see it; you cannot grasp it because you are it.
The feeling that you are.
The unadorned naked awareness that is always there,
rarely heeded, is what you always have been, always will be.
Cannot not be.
You can't look for it, because it is what is looking.
It is like space, you can't see it but everything is in it.
Everything is it.
So I say to you, 'be aware when you are unaware'
let its presence warm you, fill you.
Be present in the Presence.'