You've no idea how hard I've looked
for a gift to bring You.
Nothing seemed right.
What's the point of bringing gold
to the gold mine, or water to the Ocean.
Everything I came up with
was like taking spices to the Orient.
It's no good giving my heart and my soul
because you already have these.
So- I've brought you a mirror.
Look at yourself and remember me.
- Jalaluddin Rumi
July 29, 2005
July 26, 2005
True Love
When you realize your own inherent freedom, you realize there is no other. This is Being meeting Itself. Love is present in this meeting. People want to find true love. First realize your freedom, where there is no other and Being is meeting Itself, eternally in communion with itself, appreciating itself in all its diverse forms. True love blossoms with this realization. When this love emerges in the world, it makes every effort to encourage freedom, to encourage you to realize your original nature.
Post by Akilesh
Post by Akilesh
July 19, 2005
Musings from the porch
Yesterday, the day began so warm, the heat already palpable. The bright sun illuminated the dust on my dresser and the silvery filaments of spider webs, spiraling midair, mirroring qualities of my inner housekeeping. Now, it’s deep into the night, the air is fresh and cool, and above there are a million stars. The moon is a few days from being full. I love summer nights. My heart feels the immediacy of mystery on these bright summer nights; sitting quietly on my porch I offer hospitality to the unknowing. Dust and webs aside, graciously I invite, “Forgive the mess, and linger awhile.”
Existence has its own way, smiling at innocents who think they have control. In this moment, the only moment, I have no control. I don’t need any. In an inner dialogue, I whisper, “I have you Beloved, truly all I need.” My trust in this runs deep. The next breath will come, and so will the one after that. The one that does not come will leave me in total peace with silence.
The sky expands. In darkness I see there are more than a million stars – there are millions upon millions. Sitting here, I am so small – a tiny particle of dust in the grandeur of the universe. I am a silvery, shimmering, smiling, crying particle of dust, reflecting a miniscule facet of glory – absolutely right in size and shape for the reason I exist.
What is this experience of “I,” of this person I call myself, Meredith? This has been a source of wonder from the earliest recognition of self awareness in childhood. Perhaps it is the greatest variable in my nature. The character and quality of “I” is sometimes a feeling of alienation, at other times of communion with life. I move on a continuum of self-deprecation to profound self worth. At times this feeling of “I” has been a prison bounded in captivity by habitual thoughts and feelings – circling, tapes that wind, rewind and run again. At other times, emancipated, this “I” is my own hidden treasure. This “I” is an eye, through which God sees.
In the deepest shadows of night, when there was no moon, no stars, and the unfriendly air was chilly and everything was dirty and disgusting – in that dark night was there a god to see? For a time I doubted…and then the cleaning began. Some unseen hand within began the polishing in the seat of my soul. As Rumi says,
An unsuspecting child first wipes the tablet
and then writes the letters on it.
God turns the heart into blood and desperate tears;
then writes the spiritual mysteries on it.
Internal resources seek light. After the tears, I seemed to find resolve to move and flutter, scratch and tear a hole in the papery screen covering this darkest room. Reality teaches by means of opposites and contrasts, wrath and mercy. With wet wings and compassion I saw the sun rise for the first time. The imperfection of the world is what gives birth to the sunrise, to the reality of love – an unconditional love that loves even this imperfection.
Imperfectly and hesitantly I have been riding into the unknown. Traversing has been tumultuous – like riding an unruly horse I have hung on, grasping at a wispy mane with my fists and a moving torso with the length of my legs, clinging to an uncertain security. Getting bucked off is sudden, painful, humiliating to my ego. This falling has happened over and over again; learning to ride the undulations of existence is at times painful and frightening. Trembling is a part of being human. Rumi says,
Look at yourself, trembling
afraid of non-existence:
know that non-existence is also afraid
that God might bring it into existence.
If you grasp at worldly dignities,
it’s from fear, too.
Everything, except love of the Most Beautiful,
is really agony. Its agony
to move towards death and not drink the water of life.
One day I know I will let go – let go of fear, of trembling, of resistance. Perhaps that day is soon. Though the horse is appealing – strong, beautiful, compelling, the horse is an illusion. Finally it will dissolve as fantasies do. I feel and note the particles, like dust on my dresser, fragments of the illusion falling away, resting, glistening in the new day's morning sun, smiling at me. I feel the intimacy of love, unconditioned immanent love, warming me in this light. This love, without control, without fear, without knowing, wraps me softly in her very own light.
Existence has its own way, smiling at innocents who think they have control. In this moment, the only moment, I have no control. I don’t need any. In an inner dialogue, I whisper, “I have you Beloved, truly all I need.” My trust in this runs deep. The next breath will come, and so will the one after that. The one that does not come will leave me in total peace with silence.
The sky expands. In darkness I see there are more than a million stars – there are millions upon millions. Sitting here, I am so small – a tiny particle of dust in the grandeur of the universe. I am a silvery, shimmering, smiling, crying particle of dust, reflecting a miniscule facet of glory – absolutely right in size and shape for the reason I exist.
What is this experience of “I,” of this person I call myself, Meredith? This has been a source of wonder from the earliest recognition of self awareness in childhood. Perhaps it is the greatest variable in my nature. The character and quality of “I” is sometimes a feeling of alienation, at other times of communion with life. I move on a continuum of self-deprecation to profound self worth. At times this feeling of “I” has been a prison bounded in captivity by habitual thoughts and feelings – circling, tapes that wind, rewind and run again. At other times, emancipated, this “I” is my own hidden treasure. This “I” is an eye, through which God sees.
In the deepest shadows of night, when there was no moon, no stars, and the unfriendly air was chilly and everything was dirty and disgusting – in that dark night was there a god to see? For a time I doubted…and then the cleaning began. Some unseen hand within began the polishing in the seat of my soul. As Rumi says,
An unsuspecting child first wipes the tablet
and then writes the letters on it.
God turns the heart into blood and desperate tears;
then writes the spiritual mysteries on it.
Internal resources seek light. After the tears, I seemed to find resolve to move and flutter, scratch and tear a hole in the papery screen covering this darkest room. Reality teaches by means of opposites and contrasts, wrath and mercy. With wet wings and compassion I saw the sun rise for the first time. The imperfection of the world is what gives birth to the sunrise, to the reality of love – an unconditional love that loves even this imperfection.
Imperfectly and hesitantly I have been riding into the unknown. Traversing has been tumultuous – like riding an unruly horse I have hung on, grasping at a wispy mane with my fists and a moving torso with the length of my legs, clinging to an uncertain security. Getting bucked off is sudden, painful, humiliating to my ego. This falling has happened over and over again; learning to ride the undulations of existence is at times painful and frightening. Trembling is a part of being human. Rumi says,
Look at yourself, trembling
afraid of non-existence:
know that non-existence is also afraid
that God might bring it into existence.
If you grasp at worldly dignities,
it’s from fear, too.
Everything, except love of the Most Beautiful,
is really agony. Its agony
to move towards death and not drink the water of life.
One day I know I will let go – let go of fear, of trembling, of resistance. Perhaps that day is soon. Though the horse is appealing – strong, beautiful, compelling, the horse is an illusion. Finally it will dissolve as fantasies do. I feel and note the particles, like dust on my dresser, fragments of the illusion falling away, resting, glistening in the new day's morning sun, smiling at me. I feel the intimacy of love, unconditioned immanent love, warming me in this light. This love, without control, without fear, without knowing, wraps me softly in her very own light.
July 16, 2005
Memory
One summer I was on a wilderness backpack trip in Eastern Oregon with a companion. It was incredibly beautiful county, though I didn't really take it all in because the hiking alone took my most of my focus. We were two days into a five day trip when, midmorning, on a steep and endless craggy slope, my energy just ran out. The weather was hot, and the trail was grueling . I didn't have the stamina to go any further. My friend was so strong; with boundless energy he was seemingly unaffected by the altitude or temperature. He urged me to keep going, he poked and prodded me, made fun of me, offered to take part of my load, and finally went on ahead because he was tired of me and tired of being slowed by my pace.
I couldn't believe he would abandoned me like that - I was suddenly and overwhelmingly afraid. Alone, and free of being observed, I dropped by the side of the trail, held my head in my hands, and wept. I cried because I was worn out. I cried because I was humiliated; I felt weak and ignoble. I cried from fear. I cried because I was furious, with raging anger at my friend and hating myself. In the end, I didn't even know why I was crying anymore. I felt pathetic, pitiful, dirty and disgusting, sitting there by myself, crying my eyes out.
Finally the tears subsided, there were no more left to cry. Exhausted, spent in every way, I finally felt myself relax. Time stood still. Eventually, something within me urged me to get up and get going again. I took a drink of water, had a bite of a power bar, retied my boots, and put on my heavy pack.
Alone on the trail now, my pace was my own, I was not being pushed or pulled by another. The lack of a companion was freeing in a way. I hiked many miles in isolation that day, pushing myself at times, and resting when I needed to. I started singing, remembering old songs, and making up new ones. In this solitude, I needed to prove nothing; my ego was unnecessary. All the angry energy, the humiliation, the fear and exhaustion just dissolved.
Slowly, from a spacious reserve within me, I found the strength and motivation I needed. I began to know and trust myself in a new way, though my focus on self diminished. I became very quiet, my interior chatter stilling. In this quietude, the only sound on the trail was from my own footsteps. Soon, even that dissolved, and all I could hear was silence – the great awesome silence of the wilderness. Like daybreak, an awareness of the surrounding beauty gradually expanded, filling me with a sense of utter peace unlike any I had ever known.
I couldn't believe he would abandoned me like that - I was suddenly and overwhelmingly afraid. Alone, and free of being observed, I dropped by the side of the trail, held my head in my hands, and wept. I cried because I was worn out. I cried because I was humiliated; I felt weak and ignoble. I cried from fear. I cried because I was furious, with raging anger at my friend and hating myself. In the end, I didn't even know why I was crying anymore. I felt pathetic, pitiful, dirty and disgusting, sitting there by myself, crying my eyes out.
Finally the tears subsided, there were no more left to cry. Exhausted, spent in every way, I finally felt myself relax. Time stood still. Eventually, something within me urged me to get up and get going again. I took a drink of water, had a bite of a power bar, retied my boots, and put on my heavy pack.
Alone on the trail now, my pace was my own, I was not being pushed or pulled by another. The lack of a companion was freeing in a way. I hiked many miles in isolation that day, pushing myself at times, and resting when I needed to. I started singing, remembering old songs, and making up new ones. In this solitude, I needed to prove nothing; my ego was unnecessary. All the angry energy, the humiliation, the fear and exhaustion just dissolved.
Slowly, from a spacious reserve within me, I found the strength and motivation I needed. I began to know and trust myself in a new way, though my focus on self diminished. I became very quiet, my interior chatter stilling. In this quietude, the only sound on the trail was from my own footsteps. Soon, even that dissolved, and all I could hear was silence – the great awesome silence of the wilderness. Like daybreak, an awareness of the surrounding beauty gradually expanded, filling me with a sense of utter peace unlike any I had ever known.
July 15, 2005
Light Rising
Silent, iridescent gold
Light rising in the east.
Silent, silvery mist
Light rising in the hills.
Silent, verdant, feathery greens
Light rising from new growth
in the trees.
My Beloved joins me at the window this dawn
Silent, together we view this splendor
Our vision radiates further than ever before
Outward and inward spirals
Light rising in our hearts.
We are not-two, my Beloved and I
Both viewer and view, not two
Silent light from the sun, from the hills
from the trees, from our hearts -
Not separate light, but one.
One silent lovelight, rising.
Light rising in the east.
Silent, silvery mist
Light rising in the hills.
Silent, verdant, feathery greens
Light rising from new growth
in the trees.
My Beloved joins me at the window this dawn
Silent, together we view this splendor
Our vision radiates further than ever before
Outward and inward spirals
Light rising in our hearts.
We are not-two, my Beloved and I
Both viewer and view, not two
Silent light from the sun, from the hills
from the trees, from our hearts -
Not separate light, but one.
One silent lovelight, rising.
July 11, 2005
The Sacrament of the Present Moment
For centuries, people seeking greater realization of love have first sought immediate, wakeful presence as the practical foundation of their purpose. Standing awake in the here and now, consecrating their desire in the sacrament of the present moment, they have claimed their yearning for love.
Awakening from his dream, Jacob said, “Surely the Lord is in this place and I did not know it.” “Take no thought of the morrow,” said Jesus, “Stay awake, praying constantly.” Jesus said this in the context of seeking God first, before all other concerns.
St. Augustine: “Too late I have loved Thee, O thou Beauty of ancient days, yet never knew! Too late I loved Thee! And behold, You were within, and I apart.”
Brother Lawrence: “…we need only to know God intimately present in us, to address ourselves to God at every moment.” We seek the present moment in order to “practice the presence of God.”
Jean-Pierre de Caussade: “...the sacrament of the present moment.” This sacrament manifests God’s will: “an immense ocean which the heart only fathoms In so far as it overflows with faith, trust, and love.” “There are no moments which are not filled with God’s infinite holiness so that there are none we should not honor.”
Thomas Kelly: “…the eternal now.” “Continually renewed immediacy, not receding memory of the Divine Touch, lies at the base of religious living.” Kelly said that this is the avenue toward world justice: “Social concern is the dynamic Life of God at work in the world, made special and emphatic and unique, particularized in each individual and group who is sensitive and tender in the leading-strings of love.”
Thich Nhat Hanh: “…the miracle of mindfulness.” “…present moment wonderful moment.” This mindfulness of the present moment is in the service of “being peace.”
***
When I read these great quotes, and I feel for immediate awareness in the "present wonderful moment", it feels like a homecoming. This present moment is pure and perfect, right here, right now, with you.
Awakening from his dream, Jacob said, “Surely the Lord is in this place and I did not know it.” “Take no thought of the morrow,” said Jesus, “Stay awake, praying constantly.” Jesus said this in the context of seeking God first, before all other concerns.
St. Augustine: “Too late I have loved Thee, O thou Beauty of ancient days, yet never knew! Too late I loved Thee! And behold, You were within, and I apart.”
Brother Lawrence: “…we need only to know God intimately present in us, to address ourselves to God at every moment.” We seek the present moment in order to “practice the presence of God.”
Jean-Pierre de Caussade: “...the sacrament of the present moment.” This sacrament manifests God’s will: “an immense ocean which the heart only fathoms In so far as it overflows with faith, trust, and love.” “There are no moments which are not filled with God’s infinite holiness so that there are none we should not honor.”
Thomas Kelly: “…the eternal now.” “Continually renewed immediacy, not receding memory of the Divine Touch, lies at the base of religious living.” Kelly said that this is the avenue toward world justice: “Social concern is the dynamic Life of God at work in the world, made special and emphatic and unique, particularized in each individual and group who is sensitive and tender in the leading-strings of love.”
Thich Nhat Hanh: “…the miracle of mindfulness.” “…present moment wonderful moment.” This mindfulness of the present moment is in the service of “being peace.”
***
When I read these great quotes, and I feel for immediate awareness in the "present wonderful moment", it feels like a homecoming. This present moment is pure and perfect, right here, right now, with you.
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