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A BEAM THAT AIDS.. Like words in stone and with black wings chantingand whining out on the winds…
"- People forget that the price of luxury is an ever-increasing expenditure of nerve and brain…"
"- Whatever you integrate within your consciousness has your consciousness integrated within it.…"
"THE ASPIRATION TOWARDS TRUTH
When darkness envelopes you, do you not seek for a lamp?
--…"
When darkness envelopes you, do you not seek for a lamp?
--…"
"Rabia of Basra (c.717 - 801) :
She was a very popular and influential female saint and a central…"
She was a very popular and influential female saint and a central…"
"-- Each being in the universe is an aspect of the Whole, a unique frequency within the collective…"
"-- Energy is like the alphabet soup - all the letter needed to make any word are in the soup, but…"
LETTER TO EARTH: Who We Are Becoming - What We Need to Knowby Elia WiseGateway, 2000, pages…
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She was a very popular and influential female saint and a central figure in Sufi tradition. She was born nearly 500 years before Rumi, and although it is rarely said, she more than any other poet, was the influence he derived tremendous inspiration from for his writings. She grew up in a part of Mesopotamia which is now Iraq.
The sensuousness of Rabia's poetry may be a bit shocking to some, though the translator says it is even more sensuous in its original language. Even conservative scholarly translations cannot get around its graphic eroticisms without diluting the context in which it is said.
When Rabia was quite young she was separated from her parents, and while wandering homeless was stolen and sold into slavery. Because of her remarkable beauty she was bought by a brothel for a huge amount of money. She was both physically and sexually abused from an early age, and it is said that this may be a source of her erotic poetry. She wrote, "What a place for trials and transformations did my Lover out me, but never once did He look upon me as I were impure. Dear Sisters, all we do in this world, whatever happens, is bringing us closer to God."
THEY MIGHT HOLD HANDS
Maybe if I brought the moon a little closer
lovers would argue
less.
They might hold hands outside and point to
the heavens and say,
"I think God is up to
something
sweet!"
*
IT WORKS
Would you come if someone called you
by the wrong name?
I wept, because for years He did not enter my arms;
then one night I was told a
secret:
Perhaps the name you called God is
not really His, maybe it
is just an
alias.
I thought about this,
and came up with a pet name
for my Beloved I never mention
to others.
All I can say is --
it works.
*
IN MY SOUL
In
my soul
there is a temple, a shrine,
a mosque, a church
where I kneel.
Prayer should bring us to an altar
where no walls or names exist.
Is there not a region of love
where the sovereignty is
illumined nothing,
where ecstasy gets poured into itself
and becomes
lost,
where the wing is fully alive
but has no mind or
body?
In
my soul
there is a temple, a shrine,
a mosque, a church
that dissolve, that
dissolve in
God.
*
IT ACTS LIKE LOVE
It acts like love - music -
it reaches toward the face, touche it,
an tries to let you know
His promise: that all will be okay.
It acts like love - music and,
tells the feet,
"You do not have to be so burdened."
My body is covered with wounds
this world made,
but I still longed
to kiss Him,
even when God said,
"Could you also kiss
the hand that caused each scar,
for you will not find me
until you do."
It does that - music -
helps us
to forgive.
*
THIS CHOIR
So amazing this choir of
socks, shoes, shirt, skirt, undergarments,
earth, sky, suns and moons.
No wonder I too,
now,
sing all day.
*
THE MOON WAS ONCE A MOTH
The moon was once a moth who ran to her lover,
they embraced, and she ultimately passed away
with such a smile everywhere
on her body.
Over a period of time, her wings fell to the earth
and sanctified the meadows.
Angels came and buried the limbs
that touched His mouth.
The moon was once a moth who ran to God,
they entwined.
Now just her luminous soul remains
and we gaze at it
at night.
*
A BREAST IN THE SKY
I hear talk about the famous.
I hear talk about different cities.
The most intimate events of families come to my ears.
I hear about temples and
mosques and saints.
All that can be said I have heard.
All that can be wanted
I have seen.
My interest in this world has waned though,
not because I am
depressed.
A fish in a bowl I was,
a bottom feeder,
but now I nurse
upon a breast
in the
sky.
***
-
with intent,
much love, light and laughter,
Asavari.
A most influential figure in the development of Marathi (my mother tongue) literature, and probably the most famous saint who wrote in that language. Marathi is a well preserved Indian dialect still commonly spoken in West Central India. Tukaram was born in a small village called Dehu on the banks of the river Indrayani in Maharashtra, India.
He was remarkably prolific and is attributed with 8000 short poems. His poems are playful, earthy and sometimes very innocent, thought-provoking, often changing from serious to comical within few lines. His poems in marathi are called ABHANG, which are poetic songs of a teaching and devotional nature. His poems are an intimate journal of discovering God within.
He is often compared to St. Francis as animals and birds so loved him and he them. Birds often rode on his shoulders and sat on his instrument, which he kept slung around his neck when not playing it. With cymbals in hand and ecstatic tears on his face he would be seen on the streets dancing and singing his poems to God.
All poetic translations into English by Daniel Ladinsky.
***
FIRST HE LOOKED CONFUSED
I could not lie anymore so I started to call my dog "God"
First he looked
confused,
then he started smiling,
then he even
danced.
I kept at it:
now he doesn't even
bite.
I am wondering if this
might work on
people?
*
A GOOD POEM
A good poem is like finding a hole
in the palace
wall -
never know what you
might
see.
*
HOW COULD A LOVER FALL?
What could have caused your grip to weaken
that allowed creation to be?
How could a lover fall to his death
from the arms of infinite
strength?
How active you are in the mind
sustaining such a great wall
that the sun can cast a frightening shadow
the world believes.
No one has really known sadness.
No real God would ever allow pain.
How then can a heart feel it is broken
and in need
if we are held in the arms of the infinite
compassion and strength?
That mirror you (God) stand before -
we need to gaze into it also.
That name you called Beloved
as I fell from your lips -
I suffer
because I did not quite
hear it.
so tell me again dear One
so clear:
I am
you.
*
PREGNANT AGAIN
I think
the moon is pregnant again.
I hope she won't sue
me this
time.
*
LANDLOCKED IN FUR
I was meditating with my cat the other day
and all of a sudden she shouted,
"What happened?"
I knew exactly what she meant, but encouraged
her to say more -
feeling that if she got it all out on the table
she would sleep better that night.
So I responded, "Tell me more, dear,"
and she soulfully meowed,
"Well I was mingled with the sky and now look -
I am landlocked in fur."
To this I said, "I know exactly what
you mean."
What to say about
conversation between
mystics?
*
ITS THE SHELL TRICK
Its the old shell trick with a twist:
I saw God put Himself in one
of your pockets.
You are bound
to find
Him.
*
ACT SERIOUS
If God would stop telling jokes
I might act
serious.
*
A FANCY EVENT
I was invited
to a fancy event and when
I got there one of the guests said,
"Tukaram, your shirt is on backwards
and so are your pants,
and it looks like your hair never heard the word comb,
and your shoes
don't match."
I replied,
"Thanks, I noticed all that before leaving,
but why try to fool
anyone."
*
THE EVERYTHING POEM
I am looking
for a poem
that says Everything
so I don't have to write
anymore.
***
-
with intent,
much love, light and laughter,
Asavari