#4563 - Saturday, April 7, 2011
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Nonduality Highlights: Issue #4563, Saturday, April 7, 2011
A Small Market Between Towns
There's a town where the soul is fed, where love hears
truth and thrives, and
another town that produces lies that degrade and starve
love. Your voice is
a small market set up between the two towns. Goods arrive
from both directions, flimsy,
fake items and honestly made, wholehearted tools and wares.
Some travelers immediately know
which is which. Some voices open a shop and spend sixty
years chearting customers,
gossiping when they leave, and flattering women to get their
attention. Others weary
of the marketplace altogether and rarely go there.
- Rumi, Mathnawi VI, 4276, 4281-82, 4298-4300, version by Coleman Barks from The Soul of Rumi, posted to Sunlight
Underneath the superficial self, which pays attention to this and that, there is another self more really us than I. And the more you become aware of the unknown self - if you become aware of it - the more you realize that it is inseparably connected with everything else that is. You are a function of this total galaxy, bounded by the Milky Way, and this galaxy is a function of all other galaxies. You are that vast thing that you see far, far off with great telescopes. You look and look, and one day you are going to wake up and say, "Why, that's me!" And in knowing that, you know that you never die. You are the eternal thing that comes and goes, that appears - now as John Jones, now as Mary Smith, now as Betty Brown - and so it goes, forever and ever and ever.
- Alan Watts posted to AlongTheWay
Gnats inside the wind
Some gnats came from the grass to speak with Solomon.
"O Solomon, you are the champion of the oppressed.
You give justice to the little guys, and they don't get
any littler than us! We are tiny metaphors
for frailty. Can you defend us?"
"Who has mistreated you?"
"Our complaint is against the wind."
"Well," says Solomon, "you have pretty voices,
you gnats, but remember, a judge cannot listen
to just one side. I must hear both litigants."
"Of course," agree the gnats.
"Summon the East Wind!" calls out Solomon,
and the wind arrives almost immediately.
What happened to the gnat plaintiffs? Gone.
Such is the way of every seeker who comes to complain
at the High Court. When the presence of God arrives,
where are the seekers? First there's dying,
then union, like gnats inside the wind.
- Rumi, Mathnawi III: 4624 - 59,version by Coleman Barks, from The Essential Rumi, posted to Sunlight
It is being dead to self that is the recognition of God.
- Hazrat Inayat Khan
Commentary by Pir-o-Murshid Inayat Khan: There is a poem by the great Persian poet Iraqi in which he tells, 'When I went to the gate of the divine Beloved and knocked at the door, a voice came and said - Who art thou?' When he had told, 'I am so and so', the answer came, 'There is no place for anyone else in this abode. Go back to whence thou hast come'. He turned back and then, after a long time, after having gone through the process of the cross and of crucifixion, he again went there - with the spirit of selflessness. He knocked at the door; the word came, 'Who art thou? ', and he said, 'Thyself alone, for no one else exists save Thee'. And God said, 'Enter into this abode for now it belongs to thee'. It is such selflessness, to the extent that the thought of self is not there, it is being dead to the self, which is the recognition of God.
One finds this spirit to a small extent in the ordinary lover and beloved, when a person loves another from the depth of his heart. He who says, 'I love you but only so much, I love you and give you sixpence but I keep sixpence for myself, I love you but I stand at a distance and never come closer, we are separate beings'- his love is with his self. As long as that exists, love has not done its full work. Love accomplishes its work when it spreads its wings and veils man's self from his own eyes. That is the time when love is fulfilled, and so it is in the life of the holy ones who have not only loved God by professing or showing it, but who have loved God to the extent that they forgot themselves.
- posted to SufiMystic
I went everywhere with longing
in my eyes, until here
in my own house
I felt truth
filling my eyes.
- Lalla posted to AlongTheWay