"FIRST OF ALL, ABANDON ANY NOTION that anything you humans do will ultimately destroy me. That is because I am your mother. It is impossible to kill one's mother. You may shoot her a hundred times, but alas, she has already given birth to you. She is your forever. What you are destroying is your own happiness. Your comfort, which I put so much playful effort into creating. Your peace of mind. Your joy.
There is no potion, no poison you can create, that will do anything but rearrange the pattern I have made. And, let me add, you were created in such a way that you can do this. So destruction too is part of the overall design.
The biggest problem is thinking the fate of the world rests on you. It does, and it doesn't. The 'saving' of the planet, as you humans think of it, can be done really easily. All that is required is that everyone becomes as one mind. The mind, actually, of clay, she said, and laughed. Television creates this global mind to some extent, but the programming is so bad.
Then there are the languages people have which have become a completely unnecessary division. There is no need to talk, really. It is something humans started a long time ago - I don't even remember why - and they've clung to it. Clinging to speech they've lost the ability to read one another, to feel one another, to know one another at a glance. Or with a sniff. It is entirely within human capacity to do this.
When you witness the various peace talks that occur on a daily basis somewhere on earth and you see how far everyone is from peace, and how they get no nearer the longer they talk, well, this gives an indication of the problem."
- Alice Walker -
Saturday, 31 January 2009
Sunday, 25 January 2009
Sometimes ...
Sometimes you don't know you've crossed the line,
until you're already on the other side.
until you're already on the other side.
Wednesday, 21 January 2009
The First Elegy
If I cried out, who
in the hierarchies of angels
would hear me?
And if one of them should suddenly
take me to his heart,
I would perish in the power of his being.
For beauty is but the beginning of terror.
We can barely endure it
and are awed
when it declines to destroy us.
Every angel is terrifying in that way.
So I hold myself back,
and let my scream for help
be swallowed by sobbing.
Oh, to what, then, can we turn
in our need?
Not to an angel. Not to a person.
Animals, perceptive as they are,
notice that we are not really at home
in this world of ours. Perhaps there is
a particular tree we see everyday on the hillside,
or a street we have walked,
or the warped loyalty of a habit
that does not abandon us.
Oh, and night, the night, when wind
hurls the universe at our faces.
For whom is night not there?
Longed for and softly disappointing,
it envelopes each solitary heart.
Is night easier for lovers, who
can hide from their fate in each other?
Do you still not know how little endures?
Fling the nothing you are grasping
out into the spaces we breathe.
Maybe the birds
will feel in their flight
how the air has expanded.
Can you see? Springtimes have needed you.
And there are stars expecting you to notice them.
From out of the past, a wave rises to meet you
the way the strains of a violin
come through an open window
just as you walk by.
As if it were all by design.
But are you the one designing it?
Were you not always distracted by yearning,
as though some lover were about to appear?
Let yourself feel it, that yearning.
It connects you with those
who have sung it through the ages,
sung especially of love unrequited.
Shouldn't this oldest of sufferings
finally bear fruit for us?
Is it not time
to free ourselves from the beloved
even as we, trembling, endure the loving?
As the arrow endures the bowstring's tension
so that, released, it travels farther.
For there is nowhere to remain.
- Rainer Maria Rilke -
in the hierarchies of angels
would hear me?
And if one of them should suddenly
take me to his heart,
I would perish in the power of his being.
For beauty is but the beginning of terror.
We can barely endure it
and are awed
when it declines to destroy us.
Every angel is terrifying in that way.
So I hold myself back,
and let my scream for help
be swallowed by sobbing.
Oh, to what, then, can we turn
in our need?
Not to an angel. Not to a person.
Animals, perceptive as they are,
notice that we are not really at home
in this world of ours. Perhaps there is
a particular tree we see everyday on the hillside,
or a street we have walked,
or the warped loyalty of a habit
that does not abandon us.
Oh, and night, the night, when wind
hurls the universe at our faces.
For whom is night not there?
Longed for and softly disappointing,
it envelopes each solitary heart.
Is night easier for lovers, who
can hide from their fate in each other?
Do you still not know how little endures?
Fling the nothing you are grasping
out into the spaces we breathe.
Maybe the birds
will feel in their flight
how the air has expanded.
Can you see? Springtimes have needed you.
And there are stars expecting you to notice them.
From out of the past, a wave rises to meet you
the way the strains of a violin
come through an open window
just as you walk by.
As if it were all by design.
But are you the one designing it?
Were you not always distracted by yearning,
as though some lover were about to appear?
Let yourself feel it, that yearning.
It connects you with those
who have sung it through the ages,
sung especially of love unrequited.
Shouldn't this oldest of sufferings
finally bear fruit for us?
Is it not time
to free ourselves from the beloved
even as we, trembling, endure the loving?
As the arrow endures the bowstring's tension
so that, released, it travels farther.
For there is nowhere to remain.
- Rainer Maria Rilke -
Friday, 9 January 2009
The Missing
The bells chime
in their silent tones
Heard by those
who know the missing
Echoing the future
of dreams lost
And recalling memories
unbeknown
Slipping from view
the missing return
Through the veil
to the invisible world
Only to reappear
to the few again when
The bells chime
in their silent tones.
in their silent tones
Heard by those
who know the missing
Echoing the future
of dreams lost
And recalling memories
unbeknown
Slipping from view
the missing return
Through the veil
to the invisible world
Only to reappear
to the few again when
The bells chime
in their silent tones.
Where Three Roads Meet
- When Creon took over the rule of Thebes I sank back into thankful obscurity and retired to keep company at last with the birds. It was a bird, if you like, who told me the end of the story.
-Tell me, please.
- Do you really want to know?
- You know, I feel it is all I want to know.
- It might go against your grain, Dr Freud.
- Almost everything I have learned has gone against my grain, my friend.
- His end was marvellous. Now there's the thing you didn't grasp.
- Where are you off to? Don't go!
- I'm trying to find the corner of your room, Doctor.
- Why?
- Take me to a corner and I'll show you. Are we there?
- We're facing the French window where you enter.
- And the corner?
- It's here to our right. The other corner is all bookshelves.
- Very well, describe it to me please.
-The corner of my room?
- How many lines meet there?
- How many lines? Three.
- Good. Now describe the directions.
- Two meet at right angles on the horizontal plane and the third makes a right-angled vertical.
- Exactly so.
- Well?
- Well what?
- Aren't you going to explain?
- I would have thought it obvious. It was the third road, the vertical. He took it at last.
- Where to?
- Ah, that's not for me to say. We call it the gods; you may, if you like, Dr Freud, call it 'reality'. The sanction of the gods, the sanction of reality - what's in a name? In any case, it's what you come up against when cornered, and that is when you may begin to know what you are made of and who, really, you are.
- Salley Vickers - p.180-182
-Tell me, please.
- Do you really want to know?
- You know, I feel it is all I want to know.
- It might go against your grain, Dr Freud.
- Almost everything I have learned has gone against my grain, my friend.
- His end was marvellous. Now there's the thing you didn't grasp.
- Where are you off to? Don't go!
- I'm trying to find the corner of your room, Doctor.
- Why?
- Take me to a corner and I'll show you. Are we there?
- We're facing the French window where you enter.
- And the corner?
- It's here to our right. The other corner is all bookshelves.
- Very well, describe it to me please.
-The corner of my room?
- How many lines meet there?
- How many lines? Three.
- Good. Now describe the directions.
- Two meet at right angles on the horizontal plane and the third makes a right-angled vertical.
- Exactly so.
- Well?
- Well what?
- Aren't you going to explain?
- I would have thought it obvious. It was the third road, the vertical. He took it at last.
- Where to?
- Ah, that's not for me to say. We call it the gods; you may, if you like, Dr Freud, call it 'reality'. The sanction of the gods, the sanction of reality - what's in a name? In any case, it's what you come up against when cornered, and that is when you may begin to know what you are made of and who, really, you are.
- Salley Vickers - p.180-182
Wednesday, 7 January 2009
Gitanjali 41
"Where does thou stand behind them all, my lover, hiding behind the shadows? They push thee and pass thee by on the dusty road, taking thee for naught. I wait here weary hours spreading my offerings for thee, while passers by come and take my flowers, one by one, and my basket is nearly empty.
The morning time is passed, and the noon. In the shade of evening my eyes are drowsy with sleep. Men going home glance at me and smile and fill me with shame. I sit like a beggar maid, drawing my shirt over my face, and when they ask me, what is it I want, I drop my eyes and answer them not.
Oh, how, indeed, should I answer them that for thee I wait, and that thou have promised to come. How should I utter for shame that for thee I keep my dowry this poverty. Ah, I hug this pride in the secret of my heart.
I sit upon the grass and gaze upon the sky and dream of the sudden splendour of thy coming - all the lights ablaze, golden pennons flying over thy car, and they at the roadside standing agape, when they see thee come down from thy seat to raise me from the dust, and set at thy side this ragged beggar girl a-tremble with shame and pride, like a creeper in a summer breeze.
But time glides on and still no sound of the wheels of thy chariot. Many a procession passes by with noise and shouts and clamour of glory. It is only thou who wouldst stand in the shadow silent and behind them all? And only I who would wait and weep and wear out my heart in vain longing?"
- Rabindranath Tagore -
The morning time is passed, and the noon. In the shade of evening my eyes are drowsy with sleep. Men going home glance at me and smile and fill me with shame. I sit like a beggar maid, drawing my shirt over my face, and when they ask me, what is it I want, I drop my eyes and answer them not.
Oh, how, indeed, should I answer them that for thee I wait, and that thou have promised to come. How should I utter for shame that for thee I keep my dowry this poverty. Ah, I hug this pride in the secret of my heart.
I sit upon the grass and gaze upon the sky and dream of the sudden splendour of thy coming - all the lights ablaze, golden pennons flying over thy car, and they at the roadside standing agape, when they see thee come down from thy seat to raise me from the dust, and set at thy side this ragged beggar girl a-tremble with shame and pride, like a creeper in a summer breeze.
But time glides on and still no sound of the wheels of thy chariot. Many a procession passes by with noise and shouts and clamour of glory. It is only thou who wouldst stand in the shadow silent and behind them all? And only I who would wait and weep and wear out my heart in vain longing?"
- Rabindranath Tagore -
Friday, 2 January 2009
The Dalai Lama is like a doctor ...
"Many of the great doctors in history have distinguished themselves and come to inspired diagnoses in part by seeing the connectedness of things, the way a problem in the head may effect the performance of the body, or how what you put in your mouth can alter the acid in the stomach. The body is a single organism in which one push here may have a strong effect there. So it is, too, the Dalai Lama says, with the world - and our very concerns about it all are intertwined, impossible to solve separately. It's no good offering people peace, he suggests, if those same people lack food and water; and it's no good offering them food and water if our forests and rivers are polluted. It's no good, even, to clean up our environment if we're still polluted within. In short the solution to all our problems, economic, environmental, political, spiritual, can only be addressed by going back to fundamentals, the change of attitude that can create a change in everything the attitude inspects. Reforms on the surface make no difference whatsoever."
- Pico Iyer - The Open Road: The Global Journey of the Fourteenth Dalai Lama - p.93
- Pico Iyer - The Open Road: The Global Journey of the Fourteenth Dalai Lama - p.93
Friday, 28 November 2008
The Silent Revolutionaries
.....On the surface of the world right now there is war and violence and things seem dark. But calmly and quietly, at the same time, something else is happening underground. An inner revolution is taking place and certain individuals are being called to a higher light. It is a silent revolution. From the inside out. From the ground up. This is a Global operation... A spiritual conspiracy. There are sleeper cells in every nation on the planet. You won't see us on the T.V. You won't read about us in the newspaper. You won't hear about us on the radio. We don't seek any glory. We don't wear any uniform. We come in all shapes and sizes, colours and styles.
Most of us work anonymously. We are quietly working behind the scenes in every country and culture of the world, cities big and small, mountains and valleys, in farms and villages, tribes and remote islands. You could pass by one of us on the street and not even notice, we go undercover, we remain behind the scenes. It is of no concern to us who takes the final credit, but simply that the work gets done. Occasionally we spot each other in the street, we give a quiet nod and continue on our way. During the day many of us pretend we have normal jobs, but behind the false storefront at night is where the real work takes a place. Some call us the 'Conscious Army', we are slowly creating a new world with the power of our minds and hearts. We follow, with passion and joy, our orders from the Central Spiritual Intelligence.
We are dropping soft, secret love bombs when no one is looking. Poems, Hugs, Music, Photography, Movies, Kind words, Smiles, Meditation and prayer, Dance, Social activism, Websites, Blogs, Random acts of kindness. We each express ourselves in our own unique ways with our own unique gifts and talents. 'Be the change you want to see in the world' (Mahatma Ghandi). That is the motto that fills our hearts. We know it is the only way real transformation takes place. We know that quietly and humbly we have the power of all the oceans combined.
Our work is slow and meticulous, like the formation of mountains, it is not even visible at first glance and yet with it entire tectonic plates shall be moved in the centuries to come. Love is the new religion of the 21st century. You don't have to be a highly educated person or have any exceptional knowledge to understand it. It comes from the intelligence of the heart embedded in the timeless evolutionary pulse of all human beings. Be the change you want to see in the world. Nobody else can do it for you. We are now recruiting, perhaps you will join us or you already have....
All are welcome...
The door is open.
-Author Unknown -
Most of us work anonymously. We are quietly working behind the scenes in every country and culture of the world, cities big and small, mountains and valleys, in farms and villages, tribes and remote islands. You could pass by one of us on the street and not even notice, we go undercover, we remain behind the scenes. It is of no concern to us who takes the final credit, but simply that the work gets done. Occasionally we spot each other in the street, we give a quiet nod and continue on our way. During the day many of us pretend we have normal jobs, but behind the false storefront at night is where the real work takes a place. Some call us the 'Conscious Army', we are slowly creating a new world with the power of our minds and hearts. We follow, with passion and joy, our orders from the Central Spiritual Intelligence.
We are dropping soft, secret love bombs when no one is looking. Poems, Hugs, Music, Photography, Movies, Kind words, Smiles, Meditation and prayer, Dance, Social activism, Websites, Blogs, Random acts of kindness. We each express ourselves in our own unique ways with our own unique gifts and talents. 'Be the change you want to see in the world' (Mahatma Ghandi). That is the motto that fills our hearts. We know it is the only way real transformation takes place. We know that quietly and humbly we have the power of all the oceans combined.
Our work is slow and meticulous, like the formation of mountains, it is not even visible at first glance and yet with it entire tectonic plates shall be moved in the centuries to come. Love is the new religion of the 21st century. You don't have to be a highly educated person or have any exceptional knowledge to understand it. It comes from the intelligence of the heart embedded in the timeless evolutionary pulse of all human beings. Be the change you want to see in the world. Nobody else can do it for you. We are now recruiting, perhaps you will join us or you already have....
All are welcome...
The door is open.
-Author Unknown -
Friday, 14 November 2008
Tuesday, 11 November 2008
What happens when I sit in the dark ...
Last night I sat in a darkened room with a few strangers watching a documentary called Examined Life. It starts with a quote from Plato, “an unexamined life is not worth living”. The question is, what happens when you examine your life? Listening to the words of the philosophers streaming from the screen in front of me my mind begins to wander back to earlier in the day. I’m reminded how BORED I AM, bored and dulled to such an extent that anything but what I am supposed to be doing is attractive and an easy distraction.
Today I dragged myself kicking and screaming against my will and my better judgement onto campus, into work and to the classroom. I’m unsure but it seems that the students are bored and dulled by the experience too. What keeps me going on this treadmill of an existence is the belief that education can make a difference. At times education can provide spaces for transformation, liberation and hope. Education can be a pathway to other places. What is to become of education? The modern, mainstream, institutionalised version of knowledge acquisition, of empiricism is dulled by its own myopia, is void of radical solutions and is becoming a one dimensional training camp for the masses.
Boredom is the domain of the boring. When there is so much inequality, injustice, poverty, violence, destruction in the world there is no excuse for being bored. What happens when you find yourself in an organisation, system or institution that is part of the damage and harm being done to others? Arguably the larger community or structure is a reflection of each individual. The challenge is therefore to change it one day, one person, one thought, deed and action at a time. Maybe most of my working day is spent doing things that seem to perpetuate what I am trying to change. That does not have to define me or hold me back or trap me inside of the oppression. However, it is important to fight back. It is essential to effect change in order to liberate the oppressor and set us all free to live in a new community built on freedom, diversity, hope and love.
My boredom is a manifestation of my frustration, anger and sadness. To give in to it is the tragedy. To be motivated to find new ways of communicating with people, new ways to learn and most of all new communities in which to redress the injustices that surround us is my path away from BOREDOM to a more enriched, compassionate and gentle life.
Today I dragged myself kicking and screaming against my will and my better judgement onto campus, into work and to the classroom. I’m unsure but it seems that the students are bored and dulled by the experience too. What keeps me going on this treadmill of an existence is the belief that education can make a difference. At times education can provide spaces for transformation, liberation and hope. Education can be a pathway to other places. What is to become of education? The modern, mainstream, institutionalised version of knowledge acquisition, of empiricism is dulled by its own myopia, is void of radical solutions and is becoming a one dimensional training camp for the masses.
Boredom is the domain of the boring. When there is so much inequality, injustice, poverty, violence, destruction in the world there is no excuse for being bored. What happens when you find yourself in an organisation, system or institution that is part of the damage and harm being done to others? Arguably the larger community or structure is a reflection of each individual. The challenge is therefore to change it one day, one person, one thought, deed and action at a time. Maybe most of my working day is spent doing things that seem to perpetuate what I am trying to change. That does not have to define me or hold me back or trap me inside of the oppression. However, it is important to fight back. It is essential to effect change in order to liberate the oppressor and set us all free to live in a new community built on freedom, diversity, hope and love.
My boredom is a manifestation of my frustration, anger and sadness. To give in to it is the tragedy. To be motivated to find new ways of communicating with people, new ways to learn and most of all new communities in which to redress the injustices that surround us is my path away from BOREDOM to a more enriched, compassionate and gentle life.
Saturday, 8 November 2008
turning to one another
There is no greater power than a community discovering what it cares about
Ask "What is possible?" not "What is wrong?" Keep asking.
Notice what you care about.
Assume that many others share your dreams.
Be brave enough to start a conversation that matters.
Talk to people you know.
Talk to people you don't know.
Talk to people you never talk to.
Be intrigued by the differences you hear.
Expect to be surprised.
Treasure curiosity more than certainty.
Invite in everyone who cares to work on what's possible.
Acknowledge that everyone is an expert about something.
Know that creative solutions come from new connections.
Remember, you don't fear people whose story you know.
Real listening always brings people closer together.
Trust that meaningful conversations can change your world.
Rely on human goodness. Stay together.
- Margaret Wheatley -
Thursday, 30 October 2008
Letters to a young poet ...
...I would like to beg you dear Sir/Madam, as well as I can, to have patience with everything unresolved in your heart and to try to love the questions themselves as if they were locked rooms or books written in a very foreign language. Don't search for the answers, which could not be given to you now, because you would not be able to live them. And the point is to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps then, someday far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer.
- Rainer Maria Rilke, 1903 -
Tuesday, 28 October 2008
Lost
Stand still. The trees ahead and bushes beside you
Are not lost. Wherever you are is called Here,
And you must treat it as a powerful stranger,
Must ask permission to know it and be known.
The forest breathes. Listen. It answers,
I have made this place around you.
If you leave it, you may come back again, saying Here.
No two trees are the same to Raven.
No two branches are the same to Wren.
If what a tree or a bush does is lost on you,
You are surely lost. Stand still. The forest knows
Where you are. You must let it find you.
- David Wagner -
Are not lost. Wherever you are is called Here,
And you must treat it as a powerful stranger,
Must ask permission to know it and be known.
The forest breathes. Listen. It answers,
I have made this place around you.
If you leave it, you may come back again, saying Here.
No two trees are the same to Raven.
No two branches are the same to Wren.
If what a tree or a bush does is lost on you,
You are surely lost. Stand still. The forest knows
Where you are. You must let it find you.
- David Wagner -
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