Imam al-Ghazali’s deathbed poem

 

 

 Say unto brethren when they see me dead,
And weep for me, lamenting me in sadness:
“Think ye I am this corpse ye are to bury?
I swear by God, this dead one is not I.
I in the Spirit am, and this my body
My dwelling was, my garment for a time.
I am a treasure: hidden I was beneath
This talisman of dust, wherein I suffered.
I am a pearl; a shell imprisoned me,
But leaving it, all trials I have left.
I am a bird, and this was once my cage;
But I have flown, leaving it as a token.
I praise God who hath set me free, and made
For me a dwelling in the heavenly heights.
Ere now I was a dead man in your midst,
But I have come to life, and doffed my shroud.”

 

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Prema Lynn - 'Shhhh....'

 

 Innocently,
without judging or interpreting -
just notice yourself thinking.

Just notice.

Then, without attempting  
to change anything
or make it wrong -

gently,  
as the thinking
is happening,
 
become aware
of what Notices it.

That Noticing Essence
is Who you are, in truth.

It is Free.  
It is One.
It is Changeless and Unaffected.

Now,
quietly, gently,
while letting the thinking 'be',

sink deeper
to this Pure Noticing.
This Pure Awareness.

Don't look at this
so much as a practice,

but as a conscious,
'returning Home'
to what you Are.

To what you know
you want to Feel again:

Your Real Nature.

'Notice yourself thinking,
then become aware
of What notices -

and without trying
to change anything,
bring attention there.'

Do this for as long
as it feels right.

Don't strain.

Trust that some thing
is happening
all on its own,

to bring a
deeper feeling

of quiet and
stillness inside.

Even one drop
of bringing attention

to the
Unwavering Presence

matters more
than words can say.

And eventually you will
know yourself more deeply

as the Pure Awareness...
not its apparent contents.

You can tenderly say within,
if you feel so moved:
'Shhhh....'

You are not your
thoughts or thinking

or the seeming world
born of that.

You are the
ever present One
that all appears in.

 

 

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Alain Joly - A Gathering of Friends

 

pic from Bab'Aziz film

 

 There’s been a gathering of friends lately. All gooey with being. It took place somewhere, in a place unknown, unlocated, kept somehow secret, where they all came to share wildly, and taste of a love supreme. You may want to know that place, to locate it, to find it as being somewhere where you can go and share some of that exquisiteness too. Well, now you have to think twice. For as the dictionary says, unlocated means ‘not surveyed or designated by marks, limits, or boundaries’. It is a place of no location. A place that has no geographical situation other than being here. A place that you cannot find within any noticeable limits but that englobes every known location. That place which you cannot find or reach, which has no known address, and which is kept secret behind the usual, well-trodden frontiers of your everyday experience, is yourself. Not your usual self, which you are well acquainted with. That one you have to be cautious of, or even warned against. No. Not that one. There is more to yourself. There is more than this located entity, with marks, limits, and boundaries. More than where your thoughts and beliefs have placed you in. There is a place in yourself that is not a place, that finds itself in no well-marked location, but that you could never not be in. Would you want to go there, that you would have to notice first that you are already in, already placed at the seat of honour, already warmed by its blazing hearth. This only is the heartfelt, spaceless, timeless location for all gatherings of friends. This is the land of your supreme heart, that you share with all living beings under the sky. There you have lived of all eternity without your knowing it. There you cannot go but only be. This is the event you are already signed in for, a retreat where you share the secret address of your deepest being with other fellow friends, and lit a bonfire of love. It may be a gathering of one or a hundred, in company of the wise or the ignorant, with the lighting of a sumptuous blaze or many a scattered sparkle or glitter, it doesn’t matter — there’s been a gathering of friends here and you as being were its gorgeous venue.

 

 

The Dawn Within 

 

 

Farid ud-Din Attar - The Moths and the Flame

 

 

 Moths gathered in a fluttering throng one night
To learn the truth about the candle light,
And they decided one of them should go
To gather news of the elusive glow.
One flew till in the distance he discerned
A palace window where a candle burned —
And went no nearer: back again he flew
To tell the others what he thought he knew.
The mentor of the moths dismissed his claim,
Remarking: “He knows nothing of the flame.”
A moth more eager than the one before
Set out and passed beyond the palace door.
He hovered in the aura of the fire,
A trembling blur of timorous desire,
Then headed back to say how far he’d been,
And how much he had undergone and seen.
The mentor said: “You do not bear the signs
Of one who’s fathomed how the candle shines.”
Another moth flew out — his dizzy flight
Turned to an ardent wooing of the light;
He dipped and soared, and in his frenzied trance
Both self and fire were mingled by his dance —
The flame engulfed his wing-tips, body, head,
His being glowed a fierce translucent red;
And when the mentor saw that sudden blaze,
The moth’s form lost within the glowing rays,
He said: “He knows, he knows the truth we seek,
That hidden truth of which we cannot speak.”
To go beyond all knowledge is to find
That comprehension which eludes the mind,
And you can never gain the longed-for goal
Until you first outsoar both flesh and soul;
But should one part remain, a single hair
Will drag you back and plunge you in despair —
No creature’s self can be admitted here,
Where all identity must disappear.

 

The Conference of the Birds 

 

 

Jalāl al-Dīn Rūmī-Listen to this reed (Persian narrated)

 

Marcella Leff (After the fall) - My Song

 

My Song
.
Inside us all, a melody plays,
a tune of feelings
through life's maze.
Some hearts have a joyous chime,
while others whisper,
humming softly like mine.
.
When souls connect, their music blends,
in melodious harmony
that never seems to end.
A gentle flute softly in the air
with thundering drums,
goes well together to share
.
But with him, silence filled the air,
no thunder nor crashing waves,
and no silent whispered prayer.
There’s a vacant and quiet space,
an emptied room with a hush,
illuminating his neutral face.
.
Yet, in that hush, a curious thing,
I can hear my hushed soul
and my inner voice rings.
When the quiet calmed the daily din,
I started slowly to sing
and let my inner music in.
.
He had no tune to share,
but held the hushed space
for my heart to bear.
A silent guide with a gentle hand,
to help me hear
what I can command.

 

 

After the fall

 

Poeming  

 

 

Paul Weinfield - The Hero's Journey

 

Leonard Cohen said his teacher once told him that the older you get the lonelier you become, and the deeper the love you need. This is because, as we go through life, we tend to over-identify with being the hero of our stories.
This hero isn’t exactly having fun: he’s getting kicked around, humiliated, and disgraced. But if we can let go of identifying with him, we can find our rightful place in the universe, and a love more satisfying than any we’ve ever known.
People constantly throw around the term 'Hero’s Journey' without having any idea what it really means. Everyone from CEOs to wellness-influencers thinks the Hero’s Journey means facing your fears, slaying a dragon, and gaining 25k followers on Instagram. But that’s not the real hero’s journey.
In the real hero’s journey, the dragon slays YOU. Much to your surprise, you couldn’t make that marriage work. Much to your surprise, you turned forty with no kids, no house, and no prospects. Much to your surprise, the world didn’t want the gifts you proudly offered it.
If you are foolish, this is where you will abort the journey and start another, and another, abusing your heart over and over for the brief illusion of winning.
But if you are wise, you will let yourself be shattered, and return to the village, humbled, but with a newfound sense that you don’t have to identify with the part of you that needs to win, needs to be recognized, needs to know. This is where your transcendent life begins.
So embrace humility in everything. Life isn’t out to get you, nor are your struggles your fault.
Every defeat is just an angel, tugging at your sleeve, telling you that you don’t have to keep banging your head against the wall.
Leave that striver there, trapped in his lonely ambitions. Just walk away, and life in its vastness will embrace you.

 

 

https://www.paulweinfieldcoaching.com/ 

 

 

Jalāl al-Dīn Rūmī - The land of Absence

 

 

 The wandering mind came yesterday and knocked on my door.
“Who’s there?” I asked. “Open the door, and come on in.”
“How can I come in?” he answered.
“Your house is on fire.
Absence burns everything with his fire.”
“Don’t worry, “ I said to him. “Be brave, come in. He cleans you of your self, and when he chooses you, it’s all over. You’re finished.”
There’s a universe called Absence.
Its waves break on the shore of existence.
Jump right into that wave,
and if anyone asks, just say you’re a Sufi.
A Sufi doesn’t give a thought to his past.
You’ll see your candle light up all the other candles, and its light will mix with the light of all the great luminaries.
The wave of that sea carries you
to just such a place in the land of Absence.
There it breaks the ties of your soul from everything you’re attached to.
Only in the land of Absence
can you discover your Absolute Being.
You’ll become the king at the harem of Absence. Everyone will follow you there.
Existence itself won’t be able to look at you because the light of your greatness would blind its eyes.

 

 

 

The forbidden Rumi  the suppressed poems of Rumi on love, heresy 

HERE