Sunday, February 21, 2010

No Room For Form

In loving memory of Joan Morrison

On the night when you cross the street
From your shop and your house
To the cemetery

You'll hear me hailing you from inside
The open grave, and you'll realize
How we've always been together.

I am the clear consciousness-core
Of your being, the same in
Ecstasy as in self-hating fatigue.

That night, when you escape your fear of snakebite
And all irritations with the ants, you'll hear
My familiar voice, see the candle being lit,
Smell the incense, the surprise meal fixed
By the lover inside all your other lovers.

This heart tumult is my signal
to you igniting in the tomb.
So don't fuss with the shroud
And the graveyard dust.
Those get ripped open and washed away
In the music of our final meeting.

And don't look for me in human shape,
I am inside your looking. No room
For form with love this strong.

Beat the drum and let the poets speak.
This is the day of purification for those who
Are already mature and initiated into what love is.

No need to wait until we die!
There's more to want here than money
And being famous and bites of roasted meat.

Now, what shall we call this new sort of gazing house
That has opened in our town where people sit
Quietly and pour out their glancing Like light, like answering?

~ Jalaluddin Rumi
version by Coleman Barks, The Essential Rumi

Saturday, February 13, 2010

It Is So Obvious

"It is so obvious that it is not noticed.

It is so close that it cannot be known as an object and yet is always known.

It is so intimate that every experience, however tiny or vast, is utterly saturated and permeated with its presence.

It is so loving that all things possible of being imagined are contained unconditionally within it.

It is so open that it receives all things into itself. It is so spacious and unlimited that everything is contained within it.

It is so present that every single experience is vibrating with its substance.

It is only this open Unknowingness, the source, the substance and the destiny of all experience, that is indicated here, over and over and over again."

—Rupert Spira