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a well wisher  
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Rating: 0 of 0 votes Quote a well wisher Replybullet Posted: 15 July 2009 at 1:08pm
Thank You Brother Dolcy...
 

Who knows what is going on on the other side of each hour?
How many times the sunrise was there, behind a mountain!
How many times the brilliant cloud piling up far off
was already a golden body full of thunder!
This rose was poison.
That sword gave life.
I was thinking of a flowery meadow at the end of a road,
and found myself in the slough.
I was thinking of the greatness of what was human,
and found myself in the divine.
 
~Juan Ramon Jimenez
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Rating: 0 of 0 votes Quote a well wisher Replybullet Posted: 17 July 2009 at 2:01pm

You probably seem to yourself to be a believer, even if you are a believer in disbelief.
But you cannot really believe in anything until you are aware of the process by which you arrived at your position.
Before you do this, you must be ready to postulate that all your beliefs may be wrong, that what you think to be belief may only be a variety of prejudice caused by your surroundings - including the bequest of your ancestors for whom you may have a sentiment.
True belief belongs to the realm of real knowledge.
Until you have knowledge, belief is mere coalesced opinions, however it may seem to you.
Coalesced opinions serve for ordinary living.

Real belief enables higher studies to be made.


~Attributed to Hazrat Ali ibn Talib (RA)

As quoted in "Way of the Sufi" by Idries Shah


Edited by a well wisher - 17 July 2009 at 2:02pm
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Rating: 0 of 0 votes Quote a well wisher Replybullet Posted: 18 July 2009 at 1:16pm

 

 
One day -- it was in September 1926 -- Elsa and I found ourselves travelling in the Berlin subway. It was an upper class compartment. My eye fell casually on a well-dressed man opposite me, apparently a well-to-do businessman, with a beautiful briefcase on his knees and a large diamond ring on his hand. I thought idly how well the portly figure of this man fitted into the picture of prosperity which one encountered everywhere in Central Europe in those days: a prosperity the more prominent as it has come after years of inflation, when all economic life had been topsy-turvy and shabbiness of appearance the rule. Most of the people were now well dressed and well fed, and the man opposite me was therefore no exception. But when I looked at his face, I did not seem to be looking at a happy face. He appeared to be worried: and ;not merely worried but acutely unhappy, with eyes staring vacantly ahead and the corners of his mouth drawn in as if in pain -- but not in bodily pain. Not wanting to be rude, I turned my eyes away and saw next to him a lady of some elegance. She also had a strangely unhappy expression on her face, as if contemplating or experiencing something that caused her pain; nevertheless, her mouth was fixed in the stiff semblance of a smile which, I was certain, must have been habitual. And then I began to look around at all the other faces in the compartment -- faces belonging without exception to well-dressed, well-fed people; and in almost every one of them I could discern an expression of hidden suffering, so hidden that the owner of the face seemed to be quite unaware of it.This was indeed strange. I had never before seen so many unhappy faces around me; or was it perhaps that I had never before looked for what was now so loudly speaking in them? The impression was so strong that I mentioned it to Elsa; and she too began to look around her with the careful eyes of a painter accustomed to study human features. Then she turned to me, astonished, and said: "You are right. They all look as though they were suffering torments of hell... I wonder, do they know themselves what is going on in them?"I knew that they did not -- for otherwise they could not go on wasting their lives as they did, without any faith in binding truths, without any goal beyond the desire to raise their own "standard of living," without any hopes other than having more material amenities, more gadgets, and perhaps more power...When we returned home, I happened to glance at my desk on which lay open a copy of the Koran I had been reading earlier. Mechanically, I picked the book up to put it away, but just as I was about to close it, my eye fell on the open page before me, and I read:

You are obsessed by greed for more and more
Until you go down to your graves.
Nay, but you will come to know!
Nay, but you will come to know!
Nay, if you but knew it with the knowledge of certainty,
You would indeed see the hell you are in.
In time, indeed, you shall see it with the eye of certainty:
And on that day you will be asked what you have done with the boon of life.

For a moment I was speechless. I think the book shook in my hands. Then I handed it to Elsa. "Read this. Is it not an answer to what we say in the subway?"It was an answer: an answer so decisive that all doubt was suddenly at an end. I knew now, beyond any doubt, that it was a God-inspired book I was holding in my hand: for although it had been placed before man over thirteen centuries ago, it clearly anticipated something that could have become true only in this complicated, mechanized, phantom-ridden age of ours.At all times people had known greed: but at no time before this had greed outgrown a mere eagerness to acquire things and become an obsession that blurred the sight of everything else: an irresistible craving to get, to do, to contrive more and more -- more today than yesterday, and more tomorrow than today: a demon riding on the necks of men and whipping their hearts forward toward goals that tauntingly glitter in the distance but dissolve into contemptible nothingness as soon as they are reached, always holding out the promise of new goals ahead -- goals still more brilliant, more tempting as long as they lie on the horizon, and bound to wither into further nothingness as soon as they come within grasp: and that hunger, that insatiable hunger for ever new goals gnawing at man's soul: Nay, if you but knew it you would see the hell you are in...This, I saw, was not the mere human wisdom of a man of a distant past in distant Arabia. However wise he may have been, such a man could not by himself have foreseen the torment so peculiar to this twentieth century. Out of the Koran spoke a voice greater than the voice of Muhammad....*(PBUH)
 
~Muhammad Asad(Leopold Weiss)
Excerpt: The Road To Mecca


Edited by a well wisher - 18 July 2009 at 1:17pm
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Rating: 0 of 0 votes Quote a well wisher Replybullet Posted: 21 July 2009 at 12:23pm

 

Mon âme dit à mon Coeur: Sais-je
Moi-même que nous veut ce piège

D’être presents bien qu’exilés
Encore que loin en allés?

(My soul says to my heart: Do I know
What this trap wants from us

To be present and exiled,
As well as long gone?)

~Paul Verlaine



Edited by a well wisher - 21 July 2009 at 12:23pm
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Rating: 0 of 0 votes Quote a well wisher Replybullet Posted: 22 July 2009 at 12:03pm

 

But for those obstinate questionings
Of sense and outward things,
Fallings from us, vanishings;
Blank misgivings of a Creature
Moving about in worlds not realised,
High instincts before which our mortal Nature
Did tremble like a guilty Thing surprised:
But for those first affections,
Those shadowy recollections,
Which, be they what they may,
Are yet the fountain light of all our day,
Are yet a master light of all our seeing;
Uphold us, cherish, and have power to make
Our noisy years seem moments in the being
Of the eternal Silence:
truths that wake,To perish never;
Which neither listlessness, nor mad endeavour,
Nor Man nor Boy,
Nor all that is at enmity with joy,
Can utterly abolish or destroy!
Hence in a season of calm weather
Though inland far we be,
Our Souls have sight of that immortal sea
Which brought us hither,
Can in a moment travel thither,
And see the Children sport upon the shore,
And hear the mighty waters rolling evermore.
 
 
~William Wordsworth
(Ode:Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood)
 


Edited by a well wisher - 22 July 2009 at 12:05pm
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Rating: 0 of 0 votes Quote a well wisher Replybullet Posted: 23 July 2009 at 1:22pm

A hand moves,
and the fire’s whirling takes different shapes:
All things change when we do.
The first word,”Ah,”
blossoms into all others.
Each of them is true.
 
~Kukai


Edited by a well wisher - 23 July 2009 at 1:23pm
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Rating: 0 of 0 votes Quote a well wisher Replybullet Posted: 24 July 2009 at 12:15pm
 
 
 
 
One moment, You are all I know, Friend.
Next moment, eat, drink, and be merry!
Another moment, I put every beast to shame.
O' Friend, how will this scatteredness that is me
find its way to You?
 
~Abu-Said Abil-Kheir
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Rating: 0 of 0 votes Quote a well wisher Replybullet Posted: 25 July 2009 at 10:34am

 
We got ready, and showed our house.
The visitors said, "You live well.
The slum must be inside you."
 
~Tomas Transtromer


Edited by a well wisher - 25 July 2009 at 10:35am
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Rating: 0 of 0 votes Quote a well wisher Replybullet Posted: 26 July 2009 at 10:43am
 
 
 
 
 
EVERYTHING IS WAITING FOR YOU
 
Your great mistake is to act the drama
as if you were alone.  As if life
were a progressive and cunning crime
with no witness to the tiny hidden
transgressions.  To feel abandoned is to deny
the intimacy of your surroundings.  Surely,
even you, at times, have felt the grand array;
the swelling presence, and the chorus, crowding
out your solo voice.  You must note
the way the soap dish enables you,
or the window latch grants you freedom.
Alertness is the hidden discipline of familiarity.
The stairs are your mentor of things
to come, the doors have always been there
to frighten you and invite you,
and the tiny speaker in the phone
is your dream-ladder to divinity.
 
Put down the weight of your aloneness and ease into
the conversation.  The kettle is singing
even as it pours you a drink, the cooking pots
have left their arrogant aloofness and
seen the good in you at last.  All the birds
and creatures of the world are unutterably
themselves.  Everything is waiting for you.
 
~ David Whyte ~
 
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Rating: 0 of 0 votes Quote a well wisher Replybullet Posted: 27 July 2009 at 10:40am

 

 
To stare into the after-light,
the glitter left on the lake's surface,
When the sun has fallen behind a wooded island;
To follow the drips sliding from a lifted oar
Held up, while the rower breathes, and the small boat drifts quietly shoreward;
To know that light falls and fills, often without our knowing.
-The Shape of the Fire," ll. 88-92
~Theodore Roethke


Edited by a well wisher - 27 July 2009 at 10:40am
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Rating: 0 of 0 votes Quote a well wisher Replybullet Posted: 27 July 2009 at 10:54pm

more fully,
since snow fell
even on this
sun-drifted,
sun-drenched sea,
blossoms the ice
in those baskets
you carry into town.

sand..

you demand in return,
for the last
rose back at home
this evening also wants to be fed
out of the trickling hour.
 
~Paul Celan


Edited by a well wisher - 27 July 2009 at 10:54pm
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Rating: 0 of 0 votes Quote a well wisher Replybullet Posted: 30 July 2009 at 2:18pm

Water says to the dirty,
"Come here."
The dirty one says,
"But I am so ashamed."
Water says,
"How will you be made clean without me."
 
Mathnawi II, 1366-7
~Jalaluddin Rumi RA
 
 
 


Edited by a well wisher - 30 July 2009 at 2:18pm
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Rating: 0 of 0 votes Quote a well wisher Replybullet Posted: 31 July 2009 at 2:18pm

 

 
Final Soliloquy of the Interior Paramour

Light the first light of evening
In which we rest and, for small reason, think
The world imagined is the ultimate good.
This is, therefore, the intensest rendezvous.
It is in that thought that we collect ourselves,
Out of all the indifferences, into one thing:
Within a single thing, a single shawl
Wrapped tightly round us, since we are poor, a warmth,
A light, a power, the miraculous influence.
Here, now, we forget each other and ourselves.
We feel the obscurity of an order, a whole,
A knowledge, that which arranged the rendezvous.
Within its vital boundary, in the mind.
We say God and the imagination are one...
How high that highest candle lights the dark.
Out of this same light, out of the central mind,
We make a dwelling in the evening air,
In which being there together is enough.
 
~Wallace Stevens
 


Edited by a well wisher - 31 July 2009 at 2:18pm
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Rating: 0 of 0 votes Quote a well wisher Replybullet Posted: 09 August 2009 at 2:56pm
 
 
 
For the Traveler
 
Every time you leave home,
Another road takes you
Into a world you were never in.
 
New strangers on other paths await.
New places that have never seen you
Will startle a little at your entry.
Old places that know you well
Will pretend nothing
Changed since your last visit.
 
When you travel, you find yourself
Alone in a different way,
More attentive now
To the self you bring along,
Your more subtle eye watching
You abroad; and how what meets you
Touches that part of the heart
That lies low at home:
 
How you unexpectedly attune
To the timbre in some voice,
Opening in conversation
You want to take in
To where your longing
Has pressed hard enough
Inward, on some unsaid dark,
To create a crystal of insight
You could not have known
You needed
To illuminate
Your way.
 
When you travel,
A new silence
Goes with you,
And if you listen,
You will hear
What your heart would
Love to say.
 
A journey can become a sacred thing:
Make sure, before you go,
To take the time
To bless your going forth,
To free your heart of ballast
So that the compass of your soul
Might direct you toward
The territories of spirit
Where you will discover
More of your hidden life,
And the urgencies
That deserve to claim you.
 
May you travel in an awakened way,
Gathered wisely into your inner ground;
That you may not waste the invitations
Which wait along the way to transform you.
 
May you travel safely, arrive refreshed,
And live your time away to its fullest;
Return home more enriched, and free
To balance the gift of days which call you.
 
~ John O'Donohue ~
 
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