Rabindranath Tagore - Lord of My Life

Thou who art the innermost Spirit of my being,
art thou pleased, Lord of my Life?
For I give to thee my cup filled with all
the pain and delight that the crushed
grapes of my heart had surrendered,
I wove with rhythm of colors and song cover for thy bed,
And with the molten gold of my desires
I fashioned playthings for thy passing hours.
I know not why thou chosest me for thy partner,
Lord of my life.

Didst thou store my days and nights,
my deeds and dreams for the alchemy of thy art,
and string in the chain of thy music my songs of autumn and spring,
and gather the flowers from my mature moments for thy crown?

I see thine eyes gazing at the dark of my heart,
Lord of my life,
I wonder if my failure and wrongs are forgiven.
For many were my days without service
and nights of forgetfulness; futile were the flowers
that faded in the shade not offered to thee.

Often the tied strings of my lute slackened
at the strains of thy tunes.
And often at the ruin of wasted hours
my desolate evenings were filled with tears.

But have my days come to their end at last,
Lord of my life, while my arms round thee
grow limp, my kisses losing their truth?
Then break up the meeting of this languid day!
Renew the old in me in fresh forms of delight;
and let the wedding come once again in

a new ceremony of life.

T.S. Eliot - Time and Space

art alixandra mullins

“If Time and Space, as sages say,
Are things which cannot be,
The sun which does not feel decay
No greater is than we.
So why, Love, should we ever pray
To live a century?
The butterfly that lives a day
Has lived eternity.

The flowers I gave thee when the dew
Was trembling on the vine,
Were withered ere the wild bee flew
To suck the eglantine,
So let us haste to pluck anew
Nor mourn to see them pine,
And though our days of love be few

Yet let them be divine.”

Robert Saltzman - On free will

Stillness Speaks is pleased to offer Freedom to Be, an excerpt from Robert Saltzman’s new book The Ten Thousand Things  which takes a unique look at awakening, self-determination, destiny, and choice. In Freedom to Be, Robert Saltzman explores free-will within the context of no intrinsic self. He explores who or what makes choices and examines what choices actually are. Robert turns many of our basic assumptions about choice and freedom up-side down. Robert has graciously provided a PDF of his book’s sixth chapter, Freedom to Be, which is free to download.  

The deepest wellsprings of thought and action exist beyond our ken and beyond conscious control. ~ Robert Saltzman

Continuing with the question and answer format in the book, The Ten Thousand Things, this chapter cuts to the chase and opens with this challenging question about free will…

Robert, you say that we have no free will. I don’t understand that at all. If I decide to have another sip of tea, my arm and hand will reach out for the cup. Did I not will that action to happen?

Robert answers…

Naturally, we all have the sensation of free will and choice, but that is, I say, a sensation and nothing more. Choice is a story we tell ourselves after the actual “decision”—there never was any decision—has already been determined unconsciously as the resultant of the interplay among different parts of the brain. What feels to us like choice is not a voluntary decision at all, but the attribution of that neuronal dance to a fictional boss or overseer called myself. The overseer-myself is a ghost in the machine. There really is no little “myself” sitting in the middle of your skull deciding anything.

We all have a sensation of agency, but that sensation is like the feeling while dreaming that “I,” the dreamer, have powers to influence events and determine outcomes within the dream. Upon awakening, we see that the “I” in the dream was as much a part of the dream as anything else in the dream—not in any way separate from it—and actually had no powers at all.

…in the matter of free will, the ancients may have understood things that most of us moderns do not. Vedanta, for example, appreciated long ago that the sense of free will is a kind of self-deception that arises with the mistaken idea that there is a person apart from the entirety of the universe. A similar perspective is found also in Buddhism, which points out that there never was nor will be a freestanding, separate “I,” because every apparently separate happening depends for its existence upon everything else. “Myself” is “co-dependently originated,” as this is said.

Vedanta tells us that “I” exist in two senses. The first is the bodily-identified “I” which believes and feels that it has free will. This is mithya, or conditional being. And then there is the supposedly permanent myself that witnesses the conditional myself, along with everything else in the universe.

In fact, Vedanta professes that without this permanent witness-self, the universe would not exist at all—that only the light of the Self brings the universe into being. The Buddha, on the other hand, who had been trained in Vedanta, but at last rejected it, dismissed the Vedic idea of Self, calling it “eternalism,” and  said that there is no permanent self, nor permanent anything else.

Despite the feeling of free will, and the social conventions that revolve around it, no one, I say, ever chose anything freely. And no one is to blame for so-called “bad choices” either. The deepest wellsprings of thought and action exist beyond our ken and beyond conscious control. I have no idea what word I will type next or where it will come from.

Freedom, I say, does not mean getting to do whatever one wishes. Nor does freedom have anything to do with so-called “free will,” which is a fantasy. Freedom arises with the understanding that in each moment what is, is, and cannot be different, including whatever “myself” sees, feels, thinks, or does.

In the light of that understanding, while acceding outwardly to social conventions which require playing the role of chooser and decider (and even demand acting as if one were somehow responsible for behaviors over which one never had any actual choice), inwardly—within one’s private understanding—one may come clean and admit that the “myself” who chooses is a fiction, a story I have learned to tell myself. In that admission one may find freedom—not the freedom to “choose,” but the freedom to be.

~~~~

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Taya Malakian - The chase

The mind wants so badly
to understand
this mystery.
Each person on your path
holds a clue.
Each quiet moment
offers the chance of insight.
The mind tries
to weave them together
in some form
that make sense to it,
But
this world
is not meant
for sense
and understanding.
This world is meant
for wonder and awe.
As soon as the mind
picks up the trail-
the Universe changes
course or climbs
up and out of reach.
But
as soon
as you sit still
and open
your heart with each breath,
the Universe
can no longer resist you
and surrounds
you with its infinite embrace.

Taya

Mirabai Starr - In praise of Longing...

   

At night on my bed I longed
for my only love.
I sought him, but did not find him.
I must rise and go about the city,
the narrow streets and squares, till I find
my only love.
I sought him everywhere
but I could not find him.
(From The Song of Songs)

Love-longing is one of the casualties of the Post-Modern Age. We seem to have come to some kind of corporate decision that relegates spiritual passion to the psychological trash basket of romantic delusion. It’s the same thing we say when two people fall in love: “She is infatuated with an idea,” we declare, “not a real person.” (We learned this in Psych 101, and it explains a lot about our own history of romantic disasters.) Or: “She is a blank screen onto which he projects his own hopes and dreams of love. It has nothing to do with her.”

The conclusion of this line of reasoning is that one day the lovers will wake up, the scales will drop from their eyes, and they will see each other truly. That, we assert, is when the real work of relationship begins. And that’s when many lovers bail and bolt, only to run the same delusional story on someone else.

Maybe. Or perhaps falling in love is more like what Leonard Cohen said in an interview I read in Interview Magazine while pumping my quads on the Stair-Stepper at the gym years ago. It’s not falling in love that’s the illusion (I’m paraphrasing here); it’s falling out of love. When that intoxicating feeling of awe and connectedness washes over us and penetrates our consciousness, that’s when the shroud lifts and we see that person for who she truly is: a being of exquisite beauty and pure goodness. When we fall out of love, the veil drops once again over our eyes, and we stop seeing our beloved as the holy creature he is.

I believe the same principal is operating with spiritual longing. Many of us start on a spiritual path at a young age, crazed with desire for God. We fast and pray, meditate till we can’t stand up, read and re-read the Gospel of Thomas and the Tao Te Ching, chant kirtan and sing hymns and memorize Rumi poems — all in hopes of catching a glimpse of the Numinous, which has become the object of everything we have ever wanted. And then some well-meaning elder, who has been cultivating wisdom for way longer than we have and has graduated from such sophomoric inclinations, suggests that perhaps what we think is spiritual desire is actually just a case of raging hormones directed at the idea of God, and that we need to let go of attachment and get grounded.

“Don’t worry,” they reassure us. “It’s a perfectly natural developmental phase. You’ll grow out of it.”

Maybe we’re not supposed to grow out of it. What if the Bride in the Song of Songs represents the very highest state of the human spirit, and when she rushes from her bed (where she has been smoldering in agony all through the night) and onto the streets and plazas in search of the One who has set the blaze, she is forging a direct path to mystical union. A path of fire.

This longing you express
is the return message.
The grief you cry out from
draws you toward union.
Your pure sadness that wants help
is the secret cup.
(Rumi, from Love Dogs)

It is true that religion has its limitations, some of which can be harmful (divisive dogma, antiquated rituals, abuses of authority), but the longing of the soul for union with the Divine transcends formal religious boundaries and leaves belief systems in the dust. At the core of every one of the world’s major spiritual traditions lies a heart that burns with yearning for a Presence that cannot be defined by membership in any particular mythic system and cannot be explained by the most precise theology. Longing for God is a trans-religious phenomenon, and so lends itself beautifully to the inter-spiritual quest.

What do I mean by inter-spiritual? I mean an experience of the presence of the sacred anywhere and everywhere we can find it. I mean an Episcopal priest singing the Kol Nidre with her Jewish neighbor and finding the gates of heaven blown open by the ancient Hebrew liturgy and the light of Christ come streaming through. And then the following week there sits the Jew in a pew on an ordinary Sunday morning and when she is invited up to receive communion she overrides her instinctual panic and stands to receive the body and blood of one of the greatest prophets her people has ever known, and then she returns to kneel at the altar rail, her eyes streaming, the taste of love alive on her tongue. I mean an agnostic chanting zikr in a circle of Sufis — Allah Hu — and watching in awe as every preconception he has ever harbored about Muslims being perilous wackos falls away and his spirit soars in remembrance of the One, who is the embodiment of Mercy and Compassion. By inter-spiritual I mean the cultivation of radical humility, and a spiritual thirst so powerful it drives us into the arms of the Beloved wherever we think she may be hiding, even in unfamiliar holy houses. It means being vulnerable enough to be transformed by our encounter with the other.

It means saying yes to love.

O Lord, you Supreme Trickster! What subtle artfulness you use to do your work in this slave of yours. You hide yourself from me and afflict me with your love. You deliver such a delicious death that my soul would never dream of trying to avoid it.
(Teresa of Avila, from The Book of My Life)

Longing is a key that opens the door to the garden where the Beloved is waiting, and has been waiting all along. Stop trying to grow up and grow out of it. Instead, descend. Sink the roots of your love deep into the Ground of Being. This is incarnational spirituality. It is not about ascending some kind of spirit ladder up and away from this messy world into a pure land of equanimity. It’s about fully inhabiting this place, and picking up the tools that come with the package: these glorious, riotous, ravaged hearts that want to praise and burn, these fecund, holy souls that long to see and be seen, these complex minds whose highest task may well be to unlearn everything they think they know, and rest in the mystery of love.

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Rumi - Let me roast in Perfection!

art Rassouli

O incomparable Giver of life, cut reason loose at last!
Let it wander grey-eyed from vanity to vanity.
Shatter open my skull, pour in it the wine of madness!
Let me be mad, as You; mad with You, with us.
Beyond the sanity of fools is a burning desert
Where Your sun is whirling in every atom:
Beloved, drag me there, let me roast in Perfection!

 

Aisha Salem - The primordial Silence

art parablev

The primordial Silence as the vastness of Pure Mind is Absolute Peace in and as Total Absence.
Out of unborn stillness rises the Heart essence as Enlightened Intent. With no ownership and no conceptually rooted purpose, it moves like water on stone – endlessly affecting and timelessly marking its Silence through its ever clearer expression.

The mind, which is surrendered to the vibration of Being as pure Space, doesn’t only find itself to be peace and silence, but is granted the brilliancy of Pure Knowing as its seat and origin, due to the revelation of pure Mind – the Absolute Reality, which rests beneath our usual attention directed into or at Existence.

This origin cannot be personalized nor owned, but only be surrendered to in terms of agreement with non-existence and the Full Emptiness, in which pure knowledge is recognized to be the background, silence and solidity of pure Being.

As the peace of Primordial Silence is discovered, surrendered to and realized, it becomes the purifying instance of all of existence. Existence is thereby recognized as Heart and whole, through which Pure Knowing becomes the case. It happens as an elimination of all beliefs, all limits – in agreement with Truth of Space and existential transparency to Space.

Pure Mind reveals as That beyond identification, beyond identity and beyond Movement of mind, as the result of the emptying out- and elimination of the otherwise solidly founded “I”, which usually inhabits the headspace and brain as un-enlightened matter.

Out of this Silence, All is born. As waves of oceanic movement, Life is the still born into Being. The Absolute Silence reflecting Absence into Presence. Movement appearing and disappearing from the Source, rising and ceasing with no intent, no purpose, no distinction.

All phenomena is born of the same equanimity – of which Enlightened Expression is all of it. The sameness of every form – every part of existence in all of its diversity – is indeed the Natural Displ - y of Silence. Despite a seeming movement, a transformation and a never-ending purification, there is no right or even distinguishable expression other than the display of every single occurrence.

Heart is thereby not a particular expression, but an embrace of All of Existence in its every twist and turn, beyond distinction or judgment, but which allows all qualities of being to carry the same value and be equally contained in its unfolding. In attaining infinite rest as Absolute Peace, nothing reaches outside itself and all of Life is contained but unmoving and invisible as anything but Power itself, within the Vast Expanse of Pure Mind.

In Silence everything comes to rest as equal – in sameness. Staying as rest, solidifies this Silence to the extent of Infinitely Immovable. Inexhaustable.

The Primordial Silence leaves not a single instance visible apart from any other. Nothing to be done or dealt with and neither does it leave any states nor shifts visible within the field of perception.

The rest with- and as the Primordial Silence is the realization of/as Pure Awareness. Awareness which is not aware of anything – neither subject nor object remains. All is recognized as itself to the degree of being its own Silence as Absolute intensity of immovable wakefulness.

Resting as that Silence overrules every need and passes every distinction or difference between anything to the extent of every concept and mind-created field of perception disappearing. There is no home – and yet everything is home. There is no difference between being alone or surrounded by people. There is fundamentally no difference between being asleep or awake, while none of these states represent anything other than a change on a level of existence, which in itself is invisible from and as Awareness itself.

Resting as Pure Awareness means a peace so fundamental, that it surpasses every angle of Existence to the extent of sheer Invisible Brilliancy inverted by and as itself, through the very point of existence – a portal found in the very center of the head-space.

Deeply surrendered to The Absolute we are left only with the peace of pure Mind, which has no reference to anything but recognition as Being – the ground of Basic Space itself. In the deepest of Respect and Love for what is Ultimately True, the embrace of Silence through our every movement, in our every way, is the growing Love for- and surrender to Reality.

The hardships of letting go of emotional ties, the emotional pain of living according to individuality based on wishes, hopes and dreams – none of it exists nor carries any validity in the deepest relaxation into and realization of the Primordial Silence. Therefore none of it carries any importance in Ultimate Reality either.

Meeting The Absolute with this Level of Directness requires Absolute Surrender. Anything but absolute surrender to reality, will make a partial recognition and Trouble for the remaining somebodiness. Ultimate Surrender will in turn, however, become a Natural and Unceasing Fire, that Burns Everything within Ones Being.

The Eminence of Silence is pristine and untouched. It is not a place of hiding, escaping nor of salvation. It is Liberation – beyond anyone in need of a hide-out, needing to escape or needing savior. In other words – there is nowhere to run and nowhere to hide.

To truly wake up, One realizes- and comes to peace with Ones own non-existence. Passing the fear of death by simply dying to non-existence by cessation of Self. 

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