Friday, October 14, 2016
Thursday, October 13, 2016
Wednesday, October 12, 2016
Fred LaMotte - God sings you. Sing back!
unknown artist
"I have found, yes, I have found the wealth of the Divine Name’s gem.
My true guru gave me a priceless thing. With his grace, I accepted it."
~Mirabai
"Breathe the name of God, empty of self and filled with love." ~Rumi
~~~
O mind, rest in the radiant Name.
Sing the melody of God, O lips,
and take the very form of divinity.
How can I ever be lost
when I wander in the Word
that created the world?
Wherever I go, I have returned.
Needing no vessel, I am the wine;
needing no seven-stringed lyre,
I am the music;
needing no filament, I am
the electrical Shakti that flows
through every creature's wing and fur.
My rosary is a broken thread.
It's beads have scattered like stars.
I became the silence between them
by dissolving God's Name
into my heartbeat.
Why this burden of a "path"?
Am I not the goal?
Rest in your source, O mind.
Be an acorn fallen in a meadow.
Grow into an oak
with no effort at all!
Though the sins of your past may be countless
as the sands of the sea,
they cannot find you!
For the sound of Love has born you
far beyond this world
into the echo-less empty sky.
Ride that wind
where only soaring creatures may come
to play with lightning!
Here's the secret, Friend:
The Beloved names you,
so that you may name
the Beloved.
God sings you.
Sing back!
Sing the melody of God, O lips,
and take the very form of divinity.
How can I ever be lost
when I wander in the Word
that created the world?
Wherever I go, I have returned.
Needing no vessel, I am the wine;
needing no seven-stringed lyre,
I am the music;
needing no filament, I am
the electrical Shakti that flows
through every creature's wing and fur.
My rosary is a broken thread.
It's beads have scattered like stars.
I became the silence between them
by dissolving God's Name
into my heartbeat.
Why this burden of a "path"?
Am I not the goal?
Rest in your source, O mind.
Be an acorn fallen in a meadow.
Grow into an oak
with no effort at all!
Though the sins of your past may be countless
as the sands of the sea,
they cannot find you!
For the sound of Love has born you
far beyond this world
into the echo-less empty sky.
Ride that wind
where only soaring creatures may come
to play with lightning!
Here's the secret, Friend:
The Beloved names you,
so that you may name
the Beloved.
God sings you.
Sing back!
Monday, October 10, 2016
Ilie Cioara - The Listener
Each person carries within himself a cunning listener:
An arrogant intruder, annoying and nagging;
His presence obstructs listening, which is purity,
Complete understanding, clear serenity.
When real listening occurs, the whole being is passive,
Attentive, perfectly open, silent therefore inactive;
There are no expectations, nothing to be accomplished,
In its wholeness ‒ alert listening.
Is it really possible to experience such a state?
You will find the answer within yourselves, after persistent attempts;
Do not despair at any time, for in each of us are written
Endless possibilities ‒ clear, certain and precise.
Entertain no doubts, put your whole energy
Into this crucial achievement. Do not reject
Anything you hear. Encounter everything
With an open being - be one with what you listen to!
If what you hear is false, the false does not affect you;
It passes you by, it does you no harm.
If what you hear is the Truth, in that Sublime moment,
The wall of the “self” is pierced ‒ in you, there is a moment of light.
By persevering in listening, the old man starts to crumble
And one day ‒ a surprise day ‒ all mysteries are revealed;
When the individual is liberated, he attains Immensity,
The Supreme realization ‒ being one with Totality.
A natural question appears: How does the listener come to exist?
How does he create an erroneous way of listening?
He is, in fact, a fiction, which appears automatically
From the thought processes of the personal “self”.
Notice how the listener becomes self-important
And regards the world with disdain and arrogance.
Behold, someone is speaking. He immediately barges in
Distorting every meaning. Listening stops.
When there is a listener who criticizes and accuses,
The individual listens to the self and acts through the self.
The connection is broken, each encounter is empty,
Thus it is impossible to reach Truth or Love.
Knowing this, another question follows:
How can we escape from its influence?
Every time it appears ‒ encounter it
With a total attention, without any imaginary purpose.
This silent meeting dissolves it, totally,
What is left is pure listening, integrated in the present;
Listening ‒ watching are not different from one another,
They operate the same way ‒ in every circumstance of life.
Sunday, October 9, 2016
Saint Francis of Assisi - Teachings of the Birds
Francis and his companions came upon a field where they were drawn to some beautiful trees filled with birds. Francis lifted up his eyes, surprised with the multitude and with their beautiful variety. “O my beautiful sister birds,” he spoke to the ones on the ground when suddenly all those on the trees also came around him to listen.
Brother Masseo recounted how Francis went among them giving thanks to the Creator, even touched them, and how none of them moved. They did not fly away until he blessed them. The blessing took the form of a sermon.
“My little sisters the birds, you owe much to your Creator who gives you liberty to fly about to all places; and though you neither spin nor sew, he gives you beautifully colored clothing and wings. Though you neither sow nor reap he feeds you, and gives you fountains and rivers to quench your thirst, mountains and valleys for refuge, and trees to build your nests. Your Creator loves you much and sent you with Noah on the Ark that you might not be lost to the world. You have not fallen into the sin of ingratitude but kept your mouths open with your singing praise to God that gives great joy. O my little sisters, we all must beware of ingratitude, and study always to give praise to God.” Then he moved his hands in a blessing over them.
All the birds opened their beaks in song, stretched their necks, spread their wings with joy and rose up into the air singing. They divided themselves into four groups, one group flying towards the east, another towards the west, one towards the south, and one towards the north, moving out with their praise to all parts of the earth, singing wonderfully, signifying that the humble companions, like little birds, should possess nothing in this world but the song of gratitude, and should cast all the care of their lives on the providence of God.
Brother Masseo recounted how Francis went among them giving thanks to the Creator, even touched them, and how none of them moved. They did not fly away until he blessed them. The blessing took the form of a sermon.
“My little sisters the birds, you owe much to your Creator who gives you liberty to fly about to all places; and though you neither spin nor sew, he gives you beautifully colored clothing and wings. Though you neither sow nor reap he feeds you, and gives you fountains and rivers to quench your thirst, mountains and valleys for refuge, and trees to build your nests. Your Creator loves you much and sent you with Noah on the Ark that you might not be lost to the world. You have not fallen into the sin of ingratitude but kept your mouths open with your singing praise to God that gives great joy. O my little sisters, we all must beware of ingratitude, and study always to give praise to God.” Then he moved his hands in a blessing over them.
All the birds opened their beaks in song, stretched their necks, spread their wings with joy and rose up into the air singing. They divided themselves into four groups, one group flying towards the east, another towards the west, one towards the south, and one towards the north, moving out with their praise to all parts of the earth, singing wonderfully, signifying that the humble companions, like little birds, should possess nothing in this world but the song of gratitude, and should cast all the care of their lives on the providence of God.
adapted by Barbara Flaherty from The Little Flowers of Saint Francis of Assisi, by Brother Ugolino
Wednesday, October 5, 2016
Chuck Surface - Pathless Path
The Pathless Path
How can I not be a Sufi,
How could they turn me away,
When the Beloved walks the pathways,
In the Secret Garden of my Heart?
How can I not be a Hindu,
How could they turn me away,
When the Atman Shines Radiant,
In the locus of my Being?
How can I not be a Christian,
How could they turn me away,
When the Holy Spirit,
Comforts and Teaches with every breath?
How can I not be a Buddhist,
How could they turn me away,
When free of independent arising,
This Dream of Endless Causality flows?
Who would refuse this Drunken Vagabond,
Dancing at every temple,
Crying at every altar,
Beseeching every Lord…
Yet thankful in every breath,
For Grace already received…
And Benediction already given,
Before ever the World was born.
Wandering the Great Mystery…
Mindless, Intoxicated,
Along the Pathless Path,
Through which all Paths Wander.
How can I care,
Who embraces or shuns,
When All is Fulfilled,
All is Fulfilled…
All is Fulfilled.
How can I not be a Sufi,
How could they turn me away,
When the Beloved walks the pathways,
In the Secret Garden of my Heart?
How can I not be a Hindu,
How could they turn me away,
When the Atman Shines Radiant,
In the locus of my Being?
How can I not be a Christian,
How could they turn me away,
When the Holy Spirit,
Comforts and Teaches with every breath?
How can I not be a Buddhist,
How could they turn me away,
When free of independent arising,
This Dream of Endless Causality flows?
Who would refuse this Drunken Vagabond,
Dancing at every temple,
Crying at every altar,
Beseeching every Lord…
Yet thankful in every breath,
For Grace already received…
And Benediction already given,
Before ever the World was born.
Wandering the Great Mystery…
Mindless, Intoxicated,
Along the Pathless Path,
Through which all Paths Wander.
How can I care,
Who embraces or shuns,
When All is Fulfilled,
All is Fulfilled…
All is Fulfilled.
Monday, October 3, 2016
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