Live and let go

I have found that if you wait for something long enough, patiently enough, without resistance, without anxiety, without even seemingly waiting for it, it comes to you, out of the blue, on stealthy feet, when you least expect it, by which time your desire is already diminished and you are in a state of acceptance and learnt to do without, and lo and behold, it comes as a pleasant surprise.

So the trick is in letting go, in not holding on to the desire. The soul has the knack of attracting all that it needs for evolvement - people, situations, experiences. They come and go as the need arises. Why complicate things by desiring, by clinging, by regretting? Why desire something that will pass, why cling to something which is already slipping through your fingers, why regret experiences that have long since passed or pine for them to come back?

Pass gently through life, the soul is in command, it knows where it is going. The choice is ours, whether to live in resistance and want, desiring something that we think we lack. Or to live in abundance knowing that all that we need is already in our life.

The world according to me

You need to come to a full and complete realisation that your world is entirely of your own making. It is held in your mind and is shaped by your thoughts, perceptions, experiences, responses etc to what is a neutral and meaningless set of events. Once you realise this you go from a position of dependency and powerlessness to complete empowerment. You become the creator of your own world rather than being a puppet and victim.

While creating software we use tools to mockup screens of how the user interface should look. We make tweaks here and changes there and when we find one design that is acceptable we finalise that as ‘the look’. This happens in all spheres of product design. It also happens in the world that we carry around in our mind. Tweak a thought and your mood can shift from hopelessness to optimism. reframe a perception and your rosy world can suddenly collapse into misery. In Photoshop, we can take an image and tweak it such that in a few minutes it will look totally different from the original image. We can do that to our world as well. Try sitting back and shifting your perceptions around a bit. You might come up with an entirely different world-view. The world according to you, completely made-over, enhanced and latest version.

Can something so changeable, so malleable, so unreliable, be the real thing? Obviously not. Then where is the real world? Wherein lies reality? Shouldn’t we all be trying to find out? Shouldn’t that be our primary concern? Instead of living immersed in a dream world where the only liberation is death of the body-mind? Shouldn’t we all be trying to wake up?  Shouldn’t you?

After-note: Today, for me clarity has returned after writhing for some days in unconsciousness. After thrashing about in turbulent waters, gasping for air. Who is it that pulled me out, that saved me from drowning? It must have been my real self, the Atman, who responding to some impulse in me to break free, must have brought about some shift in consciousness. No matter how the world might shift and change, the Atman is always there, steady, changeless. My lapses into unconsciousness will only cease when I fully realise that I am It, that I and the Atman are one. Then the world might shimmer and dance like a plaything but I will be the player only engaged in play, and cast aside the world when the play is done.

Submergence

A glorious sort of joy pervades my being, could it be you Oh Lord, whose presence I feel.

Is that your whisper, so soft, that stills my mind and makes fragrant the boundless spaces of my soul.

Is that your touch, so gentle, that transforms my soul into a million shimmering butterflies taking off in exuberant euphoric flight.

Is that your love, so sublime, that resounds in every particle of my being and turns me into a laughingly playful exultant melody.

In that your embrace so tender, that melts me into a river of a countless sparkling stars and leaves me willingly flowing flowing flowing into nothingness......

Nostalgia

A thousand varied memories
form patterns in my mind
a quilt-work of my past,
bright here, worn-out there
and yet holding me
in a comforting embrace.
The present must wait
while I snuggle into the folds
of remembered moments,
scratch the tear of old hurts,
feel the bumps of disappointments.
As enticing the future is not
as the seductive clasp of old joys
recollected wistfully on a rainy day.
I know, I must put it away,
this warm, enfolding familiarity
that smudges and detracts from
the aliveness of the present.

Poems by Lila

Steps

Breathe deeply
for the ocean of life is eager for your participation
start to sink into the unknown depths
of the folds of your heart

Swim quickly
for the shores of experience await your arrival
start to bathe in the beauty
of self made creations

Rest soundly
for the journey called life is never ending
start to be aware of the moment
as it presents itself NOW

Author of this spiritual poetry ~ Lila Star

~~~



Present

Slices of myself
find expression
in the rumble
of everyday noise

At times
To breathe
another breath
takes effort
of unknown proportions

Silence
to gather myself
is a commodity
that simply
does not exist
in any realm

Realisation
that movements
of this universe
are expressed
in the tiniest
particle of a cell
deep within my body
meandering on its path

always Here always Now


Author of this mystical poem ~ Lila Star

Oneness

You and I
what are we
but waves in the ocean,
we rise momentarily
and fall again
into the vast ocean.

You and I
what are we
but the immense ocean,
all waves contained
within us
rising and falling.

Into the void we dissolve
the ocean and the waves
the rising and the falling,
into the void we melt
where all is one
and the one is in all.

Irony

I seek tiny morsels of joy

in the world’s temporal pastures

like a bird pecks for grain

amongst dust,

while a universe of bliss

languishes unsought

right here within me

right now within reach.

:)

Putting a smile on a child's face is the bestest feeling in the world :)

Hafiz poems

The earth would die if the sun stopped kissing her...



What we speak
becomes the house
we live in.
Who will want
to sleep in your bed
if the roof leaks
right above it?


Fear is the
cheapest room
in the house,
I would like
to see you living
in better conditions.


There is only one reason
we have followed God
into this world:
to encourage laughter,
freedom,
dance and love ....


God and I are rushing
from every corner of
existence,
needing to say
we are yours.


The sun never says
to the earth,
even after all this time
“you owe me”.


I once asked a bird
how is it that you
fly in this gravity
of darkness?
she responded,
love lifts me.


I should not make
any promises right now
but I know if you pray
somewhere in this world
something good
will happen.

-Hafiz

Translated by Daniel Ladinsky and Robert Bly

Rain

by Hone Tuwhare, a New Zealand poet.

I can hear you
Making small holes
In the silence
Rain

If I were deaf
The pores of my skin
Would open to you
And shut

And I
Should know you
By the lick of you
If I were blind

The something
Special smell of you
When the sun cakes
The ground

The steady
Drum-roll sound
You make
When the wind drops

But if I
Should not hear
Smell or feel or see
You

You would still
Define me
Disperse me
Wash over me
Rain

- Hone Tuwhare

Boldness has genius.....

Until one is committed, there is hesitancy, the chance to draw back, always ineffectiveness. Concerning all acts of initiative (and creation), there is one elementary truth the ignorance of which kills countless ideas and splendid plans.

The moment one definitely commits oneself, then providence moves too. All sorts of things occur to help one that would never otherwise have occurred. A whole stream of events issues from the decision, raising in one's favor all manner of unforeseen incidents and meetings and material assistance, which no man could have dreamed would have come his way. Whatever you can do, or dream you can, begin it. Boldness has genius, power and magic in it. Begin it now.

- Johann Wolfgang Goethe

A labour of love

Writing a poem is almost like a birthing process. Tremendously joyful and yet simultaneously painful. To know that something has been gestating within you and is now fully formed and knocking on the doors of your heart to get out. Those are the first pangs. But how does one find the words to give shape to something so ethereal, so ephemeral, so other-worldly. The soul does not easily translate into words. So then the labour starts. Some poems are short-laboured, some take days to give body to. To catch a fleeting feeling, to turn into phrase an ethereal thought, to solidify images that float ephemeral on the other side of consciousness. That is the labour of love.

And finishing a poem is always a joyous experience even though I sometimes put down the pen in exhaustion. But some dissatisfaction remains. Because words, no matter how cleverly woven and intricately embellished always fall short of the nebulous magnificence that was the original idea. But I like to think that somehow the soul speaks to the reader’s soul.

Self-knowledge

"That which is the Pure Atman is the Great Cause, The Cause of the cause. The gross, the subtle, the casual, and the Great Cause. The five elements are gross. Mind, buddhi, and ego are subtle. Prakriti, the Primal Energy, is the cause of all these. Brahman, Pure Atman, is the Cause of the cause.

This pure Atman alone is our real nature. What is jnana? It is to know one's own Self and keep the mind in It. It is to know the Pure Atman".

Sri Ramakrishna

Surrender

A beautiful song, lyrics quite literally out of the world!

jhoothi duniya
jhoothe bandan
jhoothi hai yeh maya
jhootha saans ka aana jaana
jhootha hai yeh kaya
yahan saancho tera naam re...

Sigh!

Click here to watch video

And Waheeda Rehman looking so breathtakingly beautiful. Sigh!

Stilness...

You do not need to leave your room…
Remain sitting at your table and listen.
Do not even listen, simply wait.
Do not even wait,
be quite still and solitary.
The world will freely offer itself to you
to be unmasked.
It has no choice.
It will roll in ecstasy at your feet.

- Franz Kafka

Stop Calling Me a Pregnant Woman

My Master once entered a phase
That whenever I would see him
He would say,

"Hafiz,
How did you become a pregnant woman?"

And I would reply,

"Dear Attar,
You must be speaking the truth,
But all of what you say is a mystery to me."

Many months passed by in his blessed company.
But one day I lost my patience
Upon hearing that odd refrain
And blurted out,

"Stop calling me a pregnant woman!"

And Attar replied,
"Someday, my sweet Hafiz,
All the nonsense in your brain will dry up
Like a stagnant pool of water
Beneath the sun.

Though if you want to know the Truth
I can so clearly see that God has made love with you
And the whole universe is germinating
Inside your belly
And wonderful words,
Such enlightening words,
Will take birth from you

And be cradled against thousands
Of hearts."

- Hafiz

From 'The Gift - Poems by Hafiz' by Ladinsky

Heartsong

(this one is for you Selvi, if you ever happen to read this)

Sing, sing, oh crazy heart,
sing of the cross you bear.
Sing of the love you carried
to a beloved who did not care.

Weep, weep, oh grieving heart,
lay your pain out bare.
Weep at the scornful glances
and accusations unfair.

Rave, rave, oh angry heart,
rave and rant akin.
Rave at grievous injury,
rant at hideous sin.

Grieve, grieve, oh lonely heart,
grief is nature’s cure.
For the depth to which grief has cut,
joy shall fill for sure.

Still, still, oh troubled heart
let all tempests blow.
Unaffected, as you watch
life’s ebb and life’s flow.

Soar, soar, oh heavy heart,
forthright your cares shed.
For look! God has chosen you
to be His beloved.

Sing, sing, oh joyous heart,
sing of joys untold.
For in loving arms He shall
you most lovingly enfold.

The sacred grove

Drop your words, your thoughts,
drop, also, your body, my love,
strip down to your pure soul,
come, enter the sacred grove of silence.

There, among the wellsprings of love
let’s pluck blossoms of incredible joy,
string them on our dancing heartbeats
and offer them at the feet of the Lord.

Then, in total surrender, let us float
in the supreme bliss of the moment
when all but love dissolves
and we stand revealed as Divine.

Dancing moonbeams

The night is awash
in the aftermath of rain.
Fragrant breezes,
glistening leaves,
the earth that sighs a benediction.
The moon rises full,
and moonbeams dance playful
on shimmering waters.

A lone bird calls,
calls again
and stops,
as if to listen to the silence.
Fireflies float by
gliding on the fragrant air.
As moonbeams skip and slide
on sparkling waters.

The valley is still,
the fields asleep,
the earth lies rain-soaked
and fragrant.
Waters tumble down hillsides,
gather in streams,
and moonbeams ride laughing
on warbling waters.

In the ethereal silence
all dissolves,
earth, sky and space.
Even I.
And the soul exults,
ebullient, ecstatic
with the dancing moonbeams
on silvery waters.

Teachers all

No man is your enemy, no man is your friend, every man is your teacher.

- old saying