Fred LaMotte - Portals of unknowing

art Mahmoud Farshchian

 "God leads every soul by a separate path." ~St. John of the Cross

I cannot possibly know what is most important: that which will transform me. If I already know what it is I will never be free, because I have packaged "liberation" as knowledge, in the tight wrapper of a concept. This means that spiritual transformation can never become a program, a technique, or a course that I take.

The moments that liberate me are wild portals of unknowing, when the blue sky of wonder outshines any cloud it contains; vast emptiness shifts into the foreground; techniques, traditions, concepts cultivated in the past, dissolve. Thus the sage Ashtavakra taught the first and last spiritual practice : "Layam vraja - dissolve now."

The best meditation evaporates into amazement. The best mantra melts into silence. The best guru dances in mist at the edge of the meadow, and disappears into your longing heart, where true path has no beginning.*

No, I cannot possibly know what is most important - how a blue moth disguises herself as a petal of lupine, why cascade lilies frolic in a rainy mountain meadow, what the hermit thrush means to silence. I cannot know when the golden sun will burst my chest wide open, turning the small dark chamber of self-doubt into a boundless empyrean.
________

*Not a metaphor. I actually saw this happen one Guru Purnima, my Guru dancing, disappearing and reappearing in a meadow lit with fireflies as we chanted and drummed. In this playful lila, he did something quite profound, though we didn't realize it at the time: he was erasing the difference between bija and nirbija, form and formlessness. It was the moment when my outer Guru gracefully became Guru-tattva, the Guru within. This is a true Guru's only goal.

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https://yourradiance.blogspot.com/ 

Pablo Neruda - Keeping quiet

Now we will count to twelve
and we will all keep still.

For once on the face of the earth
let’s not speak in any language;
let’s stop for one second,
and not move our arms so much.

It would be an exotic moment
without rush, without engines,
we would all be together
in a sudden strangeness.

Fishermen in the cold sea
would not harm whales
and the man gathering salt
would look at his hurt hands.

Those who prepare green wars,
wars with gas, wars with fire,
victories with no survivors,
would put on clean clothes
and walk about with their brothers
in the shade, doing nothing.

What I want should not be confused
with total inactivity.
Life is what it is about;
I want no truck with death.

If we were not so single-minded
about keeping our lives moving,
and for once could do nothing,
perhaps a huge silence
might interrupt this sadness
of never understanding ourselves
and of threatening ourselves with death.
Perhaps the earth can teach us
as when everything seems dead
and later proves to be alive.

Now I’ll count up to twelve
and you keep quiet and I will go.

thanks to being silently drawn...

 

Kahlil Gibran - Have Mercy on Me, My Soul!

art Mahmoud Farshchian

 Why are you weeping, my Soul?
Knowest thou my weakness?
Thy tears strike sharp and injure,
For I know not my wrong.
Until when shalt thou cry?
I have naught but human words,
To interpret your dreams,
Your desires, and your instructions.

Look upon me, my Soul; I have
Consumed my full life heeding
Your teachings. Think of how
I suffer! I have exhausted my
Life following you.

My heart was glorying upon the
Throne, but it is now yoked in slavery;
My patience was a companion, but
Now contends against me;
My youth was my hope, but
Now reprimands my neglect.

Why, my Soul, are you all-demanding?
I have denied myself pleasure
And deserted the joy of life
Following the course which you
Impelled me to pursue.
Be just to me, or call Death
To unshackle me,
For justice is your glory.

Have mercy on me, my Soul.
You have laden me with Love until
I cannot carry my burden. You and
Love are inseparable might; Substance
And I are inseparable weakness.
Will ever the struggle cease
Between the strong and the weak?

Have mercy on me, my Soul.
You have shown me Fortune beyond
My grasp. You and Fortune abide on
The mountain top; Misery and I are
Abandoned together in the pit of
The valley. Will ever the mountain
And the valley unite?

Have mercy on me, my Soul.
You have shown me Beauty, but then
Concealed her. You and Beauty live
In the light; Ignorance and I are
Bound together in the dark. Will
Ever the light invade darkness?

Your delight comes with the Ending,
And you revel now in anticipation;
But this body suffers with life
While in life.
This, my Soul, is perplexing.

You are hastening toward Eternity,
But this body goes slowly toward
Perishment. You do not wait for him,
And he cannot go quickly.
This, my Soul, is sadness.

You ascend high, through heaven’s
Attraction, but this body falls by
Earth’s gravity. You do not console
Him, and he does not appreciate you.
This, my Soul, is misery.

You are rich in wisdom, but this
Body is poor in understanding
You do not compromise
And he does not obey.
This, my Soul, is extreme suffering.

In the silence of the night you visit
The Beloved and enjoy the sweetness of
His presence. This body ever remains
The bitter victim of hope and separation.
This, my Soul, is agonizing torture.
Have mercy on me, my Soul!

 The Prophet

Jack Kornfield describes his encounter with Nisargadatta Maharaj

Buddhist teacher Jack Kornfield describes his encounter with Nisargadatta Maharaj in "The Eightfold Path for the Householder."

"There's something in us, in our nature, which compels us to discover. I remember a very powerful moment with the old guru who I studied with, Nisargadatta Maharaj, who taught the way of Nisarga Yoga. "Nisarga" means natural. The basic translation of his name was "Mr. Natural". He was this 80-year old cigarette-smoking man. He had a little cigarette stand. He was kind of a combination like Krishnamurti and Fritz Perls. He would put you on the hot seat when you came in and ask you about your spiritual life.

One day we were in a room about this big.

People were coming in and asking questions. Somebody came in and asked a question and was a little bit dissatisfied and left. And another person raised their hand and said, "Maharaj, what will happen to that person who came and asked that question and left? Is it all over for them in this life? They didn't stay here. You are a great guru, and they weren't interested, and they went home." And he twinkled at that moment, he really lit up, and he said,

"It's too late. Even the fact that they put their foot in this room, even if they hadn't asked the question, means that somewhere in there there's a seed of really knowing who we are and what this life is about. Not what you were taught in elementary school or what's on TV or the newspapers, but a deep seed of knowing our true nature, that wants to discover; it's like coming home. The fact that he just walked in the room means that that seed has started to sprout. And no matter if he tries to forget it and goes back and gets lost, sooner or later that will manifest in awakening.

...I'll read you a passage from Nisargadatta Maharaj, the old bidi wallah who I studied with in Bombay; wonderful old teacher. He sold little Indian cigarettes on the street corner, and he was fully enlightened somehow at the same time. He had these classes. He died a couple of years ago. He was a wonderful old man.

Someone asks:

What can truth or reality gain by all our practice?

He uses truth and love interchangeably. He says:

"Nothing whatsoever, of course. But it is in the nature of truth or love, cosmic consciousness, whatever you want to call it, to express itself, to affirm itself, to overcome difficulties. Once
you've understood that the world is love in action, consciousness or love in action, you will look at it quite differently. But first your attitude to suffering must change. Suffering is primarily a call for attention, which itself is a movement of love. More than happiness, love wants growth, the widening and deepening of awareness and consciousness and being. Whatever prevents that becomes a cause of pain, and love does not shirk from pain."

-- The Eightfold Path for the Householder:

PDF
Ten talks by Jack Kornfield,
transcribed from audio tape

Sri Anandamayi Ma - Samadhi

"During samadhi Her face lost all freshness of life; the body appeared to be very frail and weak and in Her general appearance there was no expession whatever of either joy or pain. In that state it took Her much longer to recover Her normal self. In 1930, when She came to Ramna Ashram, She often appeared to have lost all signs of life during samadhi and passed four or five days together without response to any outer stimulus. During the whole phase, from the beginning of the samadhi to its end, there was no indication that She was alive or could ever become alive. Her body became as cold as ice and remained cold for a long time after consciousness returned. . . On inquiry we learned from Her later that while She was in that condition She would feel a fine threadlike upward current of life flowing from the lower end of the spinal cord right up to the topmost centre in the brain, and along with it a thrill of joy would run through every fibre of Her body and even through the pores of Her hair. She would feel at that time that every particle of Her physical frame danced, as it were, with infinite ripples of bliss. Whatever She touched or saw appeared to Her to be a vital part of Herself. Her physical body gradually ceased to function.
At that time, if Her backbone was massaged or the joints of Her body were rubbed for a long time, She would remain quiet for a while and recover Her normal condition. It was at this stage that She was found to be brimming over with heavenly joy and Her looks had all the indications of one lost in Universal Love. . . .
One evening, just at dusk, Sri Ma was lying in a state of samadhi. Our Didima (Mataji's mother) was on the bed by Her side. Pitaji was also in the room. At about 2 A.M. I was seated on the verandah meditating on Mother's lotus feet. I felt a thrilling sensation in my heart produced by the sound of Her footsteps. I opened my eyes but could not notice anything. I heard some feeble sound inside the room. When I left my seat I noticed two tiny footprints of Mataji's wet feet.
On entering the room I found Sri Ma in bed. I inquired from Didima if Ma had gone out. The reply was 'no'. The night passed. Next morning She was on the plane of physical consciousness for a brief interval. Though She recovered Her sense on the following day, it took three or four days more to regain Her normal ways of life.
A few days later I said to Mataji: 'I have heard that during samadhi it is not possible for anybody to move about in his physical body. How was it that I noticed your footprints on the floor last night?' Sri Ma said: 'Is it possible for man to explain all things in words?' and resumed silence."

~Bhaiji (Jyotish Chandra Ray), from his book "Mother As Revealed To Me", pages 63-66, 1983 edition printed by Shree Shree Anandamayee Charitable Society, Calcutta, India

Thanks to  Ccarol Grayson

http://www.anandamayi.org/

Mystic Meandering - The Sanctuary of Silence

Sitting in the Sanctuary
of Silence,
the deep space of
Formlessness
keeps pulling me in,
enticing me to
remember,

to
listen
D
E
E
P
L
Y
.
.
.


In this space of Pure Awareness,
beyond thought,
I can feel the intimacy of Silence
once again;
The organic Rhythm,
immersed in its Quiet Flow...
Out of which all movement arises
and takes form...

Formlessness-Form
Form-Formlessness,
Not two - yet not one;
not either/or
but
both/and
The Ineffable Mystery


I sometimes call it "The Beloved",
sometimes now "The Unmanifest."
It has many names -
this Aware Silence,
this Hush of the Mystery
that we are,
that we emerged from,
Life ItSelf;
and is no-name as well...

The Unknown...

In this Sea of Silence
I remember the feel of
Its Rhythm;
the transparency and
boundarylessness
of its endless S p a c i o u s n e s s
that Just IS...

The Mystery of Life living ItSelf
in/as
the vast
and
rhythmic
pulse of Living Silence...

recognizing ItSelf as "me",
and "me" recognizing It
as my
Self

I had forgotten
this Sacred Silence
that knows us intimately
as ItSelf...

Our pain, sorrow, grief;
our laughter and joy,
are inexplicably
ITs own

Inseparable

It knows our shadow
and embraces
all darkness
as ITs own -
because
IT is -
ITs own

Light...

that knows
no darkness


The grief, the loss,
the sadness, the suffering,
the woundings...

ALL ITs own;
feeling what we feel,
experiencing what we experience
as ItSelf...

Ever-present
Ever-aware
Ever-open
to all experience

Not a cold, conceptual
hollow vacuum of Nothingness...

But the V a s t n e s s of Life ItSelf,
intimately living ItSelf...
OM-ing pre-Existence into Existence...
Breathing ItSelf into Life -
into every wound of pain
and suffering
with ITs soft caress...

Aware Living Silence
knows our Hearts
as ITs own,
and dances with
Joy
in
the
delight
of
knowing
it
.
.
.

I had forgotten THIS...
The feel of this deep intimacy
in ITs complete and utter Embrace;
Its total enfoldment;
Its inclusiveness
of all that we are;
forgotten the once known
innocence of
being touched
by the
Vastness
and
Depth
of


Silence



Mystic Meandering
April 11, 2015

https://mysticmeandering.blogspot.com/ 

Badshah Khan - Your dear heart

art Reza Badrossama

 Rubayiat Al Thurab (Verses of the Dust) – 84

BismillahIr RahmanIr Raheem

Listen politely to your dear heart,
Its Speaking to you’
Its uttering the language of eternal love.

Heed to your dear heart,
Its a boundless wealth of righteous,
Your heart, habitually recite the sacred words.

The sacred words of your divine creator
Keenly listen to your dear heart’
Without any scholarly literatures.

Properly referring to you,
The poetic language of eternal love,
Listen willingly to your dear heart.

Divinely revealing your eternal truth,
Whom you unconditionally Follow,
Who you Call Him as your beloved.

Allah Khair….. Khairul Rabul Alameen Yah Arrahmanur Yah Raheem

Rubayiat Al Thurab (Verses of the Dust) 

Arthur Osborne - Be Still

art Jane Adams

 Thou art? — I am?
Why argue? — Being is.
Keep still and be.

Death will not still the mind.
Nor argument, nor hopes of after-death.
This world the battle-ground, yourself the foe
Yourself must master.

Eager the mind to seek.
Yet oft astray, causing its own distress
Then crying for relief, as though some God
Barred from it jealously the Bliss it sought
But would not face.

Till in the end,
All battles fought, all earthly loves abjured,
Dawn in the East, there is no other way
But to be still.

In stillness then to find
The giants all were windmills, all the strife
Self-made, unreal; even he that strove
A fancied being, as when that good knight
Woke from delirium and with a loud cry
Rendered his soul to God.

Mind, then, or soul?
Break free from subtle words.

Only be still,
Lay down the mind, submit, and Being then
Is Bliss, Bliss Consciousness: and That you are.

Source 

PDF - Be Still, It Is. The Wind. That Sings:

 

HERE 

My Life and Quest-Arthur Osborne

  HERE