Iraqi ♡ Remember me! (narrated)

 

 The comfort of my soul
I am wretched without you
Come allow me to cast away my life at your feet
Let me die in desire for your face
as there is no reason to go on if I don't see that beautiful face
Wake up oh hidden Fortune and Behold my state
Come back oh long gone life and ear my constant wailing.
Oh friend, cast your glance upon me every now and then.
Remember that I am as weak as your drunken eye.
It is strange that you are constantly with me
Yet like a shadow I continue to chase you everywhere.
Oh, beloved, it is time for you to find out about my state.
Remember me! I am nothing without your remembrance.
At this moment, Iraqi feels ill and dejected.
Bestow Your mercy upon his heart
and transport him beyond his imagination.

 

 

Kiserian - No secret of life...

 

 There is no secret of life for you to find. It makes me smile when you talk of finding your true nature or losing your ego or seeing that you are not separate. That you have no self or know you never had a self. I always want to ask who is it that knows what they are not? All your focus is on what does not exist. And then you say this is it, or talk of what is, or you talk of consciousness or awareness. Does it not seem funny that you tell me you no longer believe in concepts and then use a flood of concepts to tell me that? You are like a river saying it is finished with water.

You trade one set of concepts for another. All because you get a little peek into what we always saw, felt and lived. Not knowledge. Not ideas. Simply life. It needs no name. There is no concept that your little mind can invent to express everything that goes far beyond our human experience. You are like people who love playing word games. You can always beat me at a word game. You are the masters of using words to get what you want. Even when you say that what you want is beyond words. If it was really beyond words, how could you speak of it?

I am not here to say you are wrong. I am not playing the game with you. I watch you play a tug of war with words over who is saying it the best, badmouthing others and then you say you do not judge! I am only pointing out that when you have the need to assert what you believe, even if you never call it a belief, you are still not seeing what I am talking about. For it is not seen, not even felt in the way we think of feelings.

You are trying to use words to say what you perceive. But the words you use take anyone listening away from life. You can never get outside of life to look at life. To say nothing is real creates an imaginary line between real and false. And denying what is felt and experienced is what Western philosophers have always done. Do you not see yourself falling into the very same trap?

When you say it is all love, that may be as close as you can get. I only wonder why that is never enough for you? 

A comment by Miranda Warren :

 Kiserian only spoke briefly to people outside of her native Kenya, but her reflections on the way her community intuitively understood the world of no separation compared to the modern nondual perspective are always fascinating. I deeply appreciate her grounded sensibility, and her pointing out some basic assumptions of Advaita and Nonduality speakers that seem to suggest their worldview is the only one that could possibly be correct. Her insights on the nature of thought and perception are always clear and provocative and presented in beautiful language, and she always delves deeply into the heart of what is without turning it into an intellectual exercise.  

 

 

In the Arms of Love, a Miranda Dreamsong

 Miranda Warren

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Mark Nepo - The Way Under the Way

 

For all that has been written,
for all that has been read, we
are led to this instant where one
of us will speak and one of us will
listen, as if no one has ever placed
an oar into that water.

It doesn’t matter how we come
to this. We may jump to it or be
worn to it. Because of great pain.
Or a sudden raw feeling that this
is all very real. It may happen in a
parking lot when we break the eggs
in the rain. Or watching each other
in our grief.

But here we will come. With very
little left in the way.

When we meet like this, I may not
have the words, so let me say it now:
Nothing compares to the sensation
of being alive in the company of
another. It is God breathing on
the embers of our soul.

Stripped of causes and plans
and things to strive for,
I have discovered everything
I could need or ask for
is right here—
in flawed abundance.

We cannot eliminate hunger,
but we can feed each other.
We cannot eliminate loneliness,
but we can hold each other.
We cannot eliminate pain,
but we can live a life
of compassion.

Ultimately,
we are small living things
awakened in the stream,
not gods who carve out rivers.

Like human fish,
we are asked to experience
meaning in the life that moves
through the gill of our heart.

There is nothing to do
and nowhere to go.
Accepting this,
we can do everything
and go anywhere.

 

 

https://marknepo.com/ 

J.M.Harrison - The World is Awakening.

 

 Consciousness is awakening people throughout the world, for we are in a time of immense changes on Earth. Beginning to realise that all people and life itself is essentially ONE is fundamental to understanding the process that we are undergoing.
The Oneness of being allows us to perceive the interconnectedness of all life. Not just human life, but ALL life.

When we leave behind our connection to the material world and the limited identity of a material self, we enter a new phase of life experience. We enter the eternal present. We understand that our perception is correlative to experience and understanding, but that all experience is unlimited. That each one of us has everything we need to move our consciousness.

Simplicity is the key, for what complicates and obstructs our purest existence is identification with the body and the mind. When we move into that profundity we all may share, then all previous ties become dissolved and yet we remain unified with all existence. We see that ALL IS ONE. You are a reflection of me and I a reflection of you. That we are all aspects of the same source of creation.

 

http://themysticway.blogspot.com/

Balthazar - Poetry

 

Poetry is the closest one can come to the heart of things. 

It is the art of expressing the inexpressible and saying the unsayable.

It is not just words that can be poetry, any medium taken to its ultimate limit, its ultimate flowering of expression in beauty and truth is poetry. Dancing can be poetry, music can be, film…
A human being can be poetry.

Poetry is not so much what you say, but how you say it.
Prose can be poetry if it sings, if it has that hidden music.
But poetry can be prose if it does not sing.

Poetry is the closest art comes to THAT. That nameless thing of a thousand names. That experience of life, existence, experience, reality, truth/beauty.
It is the peak, the crescendo. The dance of life as it disappears into itself

Anyone can attempt to write poetry,
Few can actually produce a few verses of the real thing.
And far fewer still can be poetry.

Keats said “the poet is the most unpoetical thing in existence”.
And he is right – for the true poet is his art. He or she divests themselves of self-ness and disappears into the poetry of existence. The greatest poets didn’t write poetry, they lived poetry, they became themselves poetry.

The way one lives ones life can be poetry, full of truth and grace. To live in such a way that you enter into the harmony of the Kosmos.

To say that one is a poet is to say that you are attempting to live in such a way that you penetrate into the mystery, that you become so harmonious and flowing into life that you disappear.

Poetry is a verb and an adjective, not a noun
It is not a thing, but a quality and a fragrance

Seek not to be a poet,
but to be poetry.
Not to write poetry,
but to live poetry.

To be a poet without ever writing a poem.
To be poetry itself

 

https://sethbalthazar.com/ 

 

Annette Nibley - You Don't Need a Suitcase

I had many misconceptions at one time about what "this" looked like - this freedom, or whatever - and it always looked like something I could imagine or create from the experiences I already had, extrapolating from what I already knew. But this can't be imagined. This is a total surprise.

I always expected more life goodies, like peace, happiness, ease, a fulfilling relationship, perfect health, respect from my peers, and also, I expected that everywhere I laid my eyes there should be some feeling of total bliss - shock and awe every moment for the joyous bounty that is in front of me, if only I could see it without my own limiting selfish mind standing in the way of me and the truth. I would see every cell of life animated before my eyes, because I would not be distracted by petty stuff. How frustrating that I could not see this psychedelic world I surely lived in!

But this was all selfish imaginings. I wanted more for me, spectacle for me, drama for me, peace for me, adoration for me, love in every moment, for me. And this turns out not to have anything to do with me. And the surprising thing is, it's joyous! It's love, it's life, it's freedom, all unfolding naturally in my path - but none of these things is for me. They are there, they have always been there, when I'm not conjuring up a problem; life, love, and joy are there, but they don't need me. And interestingly, the "me" was made entirely of those problems I'd been thinking of. Without calling up a problem, there is no "me," and all that remains is impersonal life, impersonal love, whatever you want to call it. Nothing that "I" want, because if I can imagine it, it's just part of the prison.

So any idea you have of what this is - it is not. It can't be. This can't be something conjured out of your existing memories, which is all you have as a self. So if you go to any idea of what you must have in order to feel like you "have" it, that can't be it. It can't be thought of, it can't be imagined out of what you know. So you can stop trying to second-guess this. This arises only in what is not known. All that is known or imagined, or can possibly be known or imagined, is part of the prison.

All that remains is living, with no problems. Is it really as simple as that? Yes, it is. But is that my living, with no problems? No, it's not mine. When no problems are conjured up to think about, no "me-ness" arises; which tends to reinforce the idea that this livingness is impersonal; and that tends to reinforce the idea that there is nothing to lose, because nothing in the general "livingness" can ever be lost. So the validation starts building on itself, and the problems are conjured up less and less, until they are seen to never have existed at all. So, where was the "me"? Where was it, ever? Did it ever exist?

The point I've been trying to make is: don't be under the misconception that you can set a goal of "having this" and work towards it, by reading, watching videos, going to seminars, or meditating about it. That is just stuff your mind already knows and wants. Prison.

Subtract, and don't add. Don't add another goal, don't add another seminar. Drop one of your suitcases today, and drop another tomorrow, and don't pick anymore up, and see what happens. Drop the suitcase of opinions. Drop the suitcase of "I know I'm right." Drop the suitcase of "It has to be this way or I'll die." Drop the suitcase of "I have to do something to be free." Don't pick up another one.

If you accidentally stumble across a place where you don't know anything at all - your mind is blank and can't find a single thing that means anything - stick around for a while. Feel around, get to know the place. It doesn't mean you've failed, it means you're beginning to let go of your death grip on your suitcases.

Let them all drop. You don't need a suitcase where you're going. 

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Miranda Warren - A love affair with love itself

This is a love affair with love itself. Everyone is my beloved; all the appearances of transient names and faces that flicker on the screen of dreams we call life, the only place we seem to exist. Everyone is made of love; everyone is love itself. There is nothing you can do that will ever take you outside of this dream of love. The story you tell about who you are or are not, the songs you sing, your suffering and hope, or the peaceful ease of bliss as you seem to dissolve into what simply is--- none of that separates you from the love that we are, none of that matters at all.

This is one love song that is not even one, simply undivided. Love is not personal, for there is no center to this love from which I can look out and see you as separate. No center from where I can feel anything for any separate appearance, including this Miranda character who is simply being lived, animated for a time like a leaf floating in a river. The movie plays on a flat screen, and yet it seems to have characters and objects that move about in three dimensions, and that is its magic, its divine expression, though there is no divinity behind it.

No longer is any apparent word or action seen as coming from any source, any character in the film. Life itself writes the script, and that includes every thought and every emotion. There is no me apart from you and yet here we are, dreamt characters in a love story without beginning or end. You are only the flickering light of a dream, as I am, and we are inseparable as we do our dance in this timeless instant. You are all my beloveds, as it is deeply felt that you are me and I am you, and yet we are not any thing or being at all.

You are the fragile illumination that appears and vanishes into a perfect endless night of infinite stars; each star unique in a timeless sky seen only in the ephemeral glimmers of starlight that shine like the luminescence in my eyes filled with the tears of a love that truly has no name. 💓

 

https://thisterriblelove.blogspot.com/

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