#4583 - Saturday, April 28, 2011
Nonduality Highlights: Issue #4583, Saturday, April 28, 2011
We are a haystack, the wheat entangled
with the hay;
Through the reviving wind, disentangle
the wheat from the hay,
Let the sorrow go to the sorrow, the joy
to the joy,
Let the mud go to the mud, and the heart
rise to heaven.
- Rumi, version by Muriel Maufroy from Breathing Truth - Quotations from Jalaluddin Rumi, posted to AlongTheWay
Today I met a journeyman thatcher.
He had not been born with that life in his blood;
One day he just dug up his roots and left.
Never looked back.
He said that sometimes as he swept the thatch
Up onto a roof and heard the shingle of the trees.
The fields' chase, he was blown
Out of the mad motorway of this age
To a place that you never could buy,
A place that is on no map.
He had heard it and touched it in roofs,
In thatch, just once or twice, for a moment.
In him now the back lanes, the side roads
Of a timeless time, a land where hay ricks
Still jolt and topple. I sensed the sunlight in him
Warm as a whole summer.
- Kenneth Steven from Wild Horses, posted to allspirit
that's how you are
just like a sun
right from within
you will arise
- Rumi, from Ghazal 2840, translation by Nader Khalili from Rumi, Dancing the Flame, posted to Sunlight
It is small and no more visible than a cricket
in August. It likes to dress up, to masquerade,
as all dwarfs do. It lodges between
granite blocks, between serviceable
truths. It even fits under
a bandage, under adhesive. Neither customs officers
nor their beautiful dogs will find it. Between
hymns, between alliances, it hides itself.
It camps in the Rocky Mountains of the skull.
An eternal refugee. It is I and I,
with the fearful hope that I have found at last
a friend, am it. But the self
is so lonely, so distrustful, it does not
accept anyone, even me.
It clings to historical events
not less tightly than water to a glass.
I could fill a Neolithic jar.
It is insatiable, it wants to flow
in aquaducts, it thirsts for newer &; newer vessels.
It wants to taste space without walls,
diffuse itself. Then it fades away
like desire, and in the silence of an August
night you hear only crickets patiently
conversing with the stars.
- Adam Zagajewski, posted to allspirit
...pain and pleasure are the crests and valleys of the waves in the ocean of bliss. Deep down there is utter fullness.
Nisargadatta Maharaj, posted to ANetofJewels
You find peace not by rearranging the circumstances of your life, but by realizing who you are at the deepest level.
- Eckhart Tolle, posted to The_Now2