Author Topic: Saints and Mystics  (Read 4233 times)

Offline Nichi

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Re: Saints and Mystics
« Reply #285 on: March 08, 2011, 08:03:15 AM »
A Zero-Circle

Be helpless and dumbfounded,
unable to say yes or no.

Then a stretcher will come
from grace to gather us up.

We are too dull-eyed to see the beauty.
If we say "Yes we can," we'll be lying.

If we say "No, we don't see it,"
that "No" will behead us
and shut tight our window into spirit.

So let us not be sure of anything,
beside ourselves, and only that, so
miraculous beings come running to help.

Crazed, lying in a zero-circle, mute,
we will be saying finally,
with tremendous eloquence, "Lead us."

When we've totally surrendered to that beauty,
we'll become a mighty kindness.

-- Mathnawi IV, 3748-3754
Coleman Barks
Say I am You
Maypop, 1994
« Last Edit: March 08, 2011, 08:06:41 AM by Nichi »
Not here, not there, but everywhere - always right before your eyes.
~Hsin Hsin Ming

Offline Nichi

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Re: Saints and Mystics
« Reply #286 on: March 31, 2011, 04:43:41 AM »
I am amazed at the seeker of purity who when it's time to be polished
complains of rough handling.
Love is like a lawsuit: to suffer harsh treatment is the evidence;
when you have no evidence, the lawsuit is lost.
Don't grieve when the Judge demands your evidence;
kiss the snake so that you may gain the treasure.
That harshness isn't toward you, O son, but toward the harmful qualities within you.
When someone beats a rug, the blows are not against the rug, but against the dust in it.

Rumi
Mathnawi III: 4008-4012
Version by Camille and Kabir Helminski
"Rumi: Jewels of Remembrance" Threshold Books, 1996


"Kiss the snake so that you may gain the treasure..."  :)
Not here, not there, but everywhere - always right before your eyes.
~Hsin Hsin Ming

Offline Nichi

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Re: Saints and Mystics
« Reply #287 on: March 31, 2011, 05:43:40 AM »
Conventional opinion is the ruin of our souls,
something borrowed which we mistake as our own.
Ignorance is better than this; clutch at madness instead.
Always run from what seems to benefit your self:
sip the poison and spill the water of life.
Revile those who flatter you;
lend both interest and principle to the poor.
Let security go and be at home amidst dangers.
Leave your good name behind and accept disgrace.
I have lived with cautious thinking;
now I'll make myself mad.

-- Mathnawi II: 2327-2332
Version by Camille and Kabir Helminski
"Rumi: Daylight"
Not here, not there, but everywhere - always right before your eyes.
~Hsin Hsin Ming

Offline Nichi

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Re: Saints and Mystics
« Reply #288 on: April 02, 2011, 04:48:59 PM »
Every child has known God,
Not the God of names,
Not the God of don'ts,
Not the God who ever does
Anything weird,
But the God who knows only 4 words
And keeps repeating them, saying:
"Come Dance with Me."
Come Dance.

~Hafiz
by Ladinsky
Not here, not there, but everywhere - always right before your eyes.
~Hsin Hsin Ming

Offline Nichi

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Re: Saints and Mystics
« Reply #289 on: April 03, 2011, 11:04:06 AM »
Heartsick, heartborken -
To know love is to know pain.
What could be more common?
Even so, each broken heart
is so singular
That with it we probe the divine.

Rumi
Not here, not there, but everywhere - always right before your eyes.
~Hsin Hsin Ming

Offline Nichi

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Re: Saints and Mystics
« Reply #290 on: April 09, 2011, 03:34:04 AM »
Then Winks

Everything is clapping today.

Light,
Sound,
Motion,
All movement.

A rabbit I pass pulls a cymbal
From a hidden pocket
Then winks.

This causes a few planets and I
To go nuts
And start grabbing each other.

Someone sees this,
Calls a
Shrink,

Tries to get me
Committed
For
Being too
Happy.

Listen: this world is the lunatic's sphere,
Don't always agree it's real,

Even with my feet upon it
And the postman knowing my door

My address is somewhere else.


Hafiz by Daniel Ladinsky
Not here, not there, but everywhere - always right before your eyes.
~Hsin Hsin Ming

Offline Nichi

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Re: Saints and Mystics
« Reply #291 on: April 10, 2011, 02:06:18 PM »
4 Whimsical Rumi Poems


I saw sorrow holding a cup of pain.
I said, hey sorrow, sorry to see you this way,
what's troubling you,
what's with the cup?
Sorrow said, what else can I do,
all the joy that you have brought to the world
has killed my business completely.
 

**
 

Bring the pure wine oflove and freedom.
But sir, a tornado is coming.
More wine, we'll teach this storm
A thing or two about whirling.
 

**
 

I am so drunk
I have lost the way in
and the way out.
I have lost the earth, the moon, and the sky.
Don't put another cup of wine in my hand,
pour it in my mouth,
for I have lost the way to my mouth.
 

**

I sipped some of love's sweet wine,
and now I am ill.My body aches,
my fever is high.
They called in the doctor and he said,
drink this tea!
Ok, time to drink this tea.
He said,Take these pills!
Ok, time to take these pills.
The doctor said,
And get rid of the sweet wine of love's lips!
Ok, time to get rid of the doctor.
 

Rumi by Shahram Shiva
Not here, not there, but everywhere - always right before your eyes.
~Hsin Hsin Ming

Offline Nichi

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Re: Saints and Mystics
« Reply #292 on: April 10, 2011, 02:16:33 PM »
Rumi & Shams: A Love Story or Personal Necessity? The Untold Story

by: Shahram Shiva


To comprehend the often misunderstood and misquoted connection between Rumi and Shams we should start by reviewing the personality of these two historic figures.

Rumi, born into wealth, power and the world of politics, was a member of the high society. He was known to pull and offer favors. His mother was a relative of the king in the province of Khorasan in the Eastern Persian Empire, where he was born. His father was a respected court advisor on jurisprudence. Rumi indulged in personal contacts, favors and friendships. He was known to deepen his friendship to his favorite people by any means necessary. For example, he was close with a goldsmith in Konya. Since it was socially unacceptable for a member of the elite class to socialize with the merchant class, he arranged for his son to marry the daughter of the goldsmith to formalize his connection with him.

Shams, by the time he met Rumi was in his 60s. By then he was known mainly as a blunt, antisocial and powerful spiritual wanderer. His nickname was the Bird. The Bird, because he couldn't stay in one place for too long, and because he was known to be in two distant cities around the same time, as if he could fly or transport his essence at will. This wanderer is known to have been seeking a "grand master student"--a student, who would be greater than many masters at the time. He chooses Rumi as his "master-student." Apparently he initially notices Rumi when he was 21, but judging the time inappropriate and the student not ready, he waits 16 or so years to approach Rumi again.

They meet again when Rumi was in his late 30s and Shams in his early 60s. The initial spark of their connection inspires Rumi to take Shams into his home. Shams from then on becomes the new friend, the latest companion. As you can imagine problem is brewing from day one. Shams, same as the goldsmith wasn't from the elite class. He was a simple wanderer, a powerful spiritual figure yes, but still a poor, homeless wanderer. Also, Shams was terribly antisocial, had a bad temper and used to curse in front of the children. The problem initially was put aside by Rumi's magnetism; however, it gradually grew into a much bigger issue. After receiving repeated death threats Shams decides to leave town. Soon after, Rumi falls into a deep state of grief. A few months later, Shams is brought back into Konya. After all Rumi's health and well-being was worth more than social boundaries. This time, Rumi decides to legitimize Shams' presence in his home and uses the same tactic as with the goldsmith, he marries his very young stepdaughter Keemia (alchemy) to Shams. Keemia was under the age of 15 at the time. It is said that Shams for the first time falls in love. This must have been a truly memorable moment in his life--not only being with his chosen student, but also being married to his student's teenage daughter. The situation in the household quiets down during this time, after all Shams was now a relative. However, a few months later due to illness and most certainly deep grief Keemia dies, and with that comes the end of Shams and Rumi's companionship.

One story reveals that Shams leaves Rumi and becomes the wandering, wild bird that he was. Another places Shams in the hands of Rumi's youngest son and Keemia's stepbrother, to die for ruining Rumi's pristine reputation. Another attributes Shams' disappearance to a successful assassination attempt for religious blasphemy. Yet another story places Shams in India, as an inspiration for a few spiritual figures at the time.

I believe that Rumi's youngest son who had special closeness to Keemia, committed revenge killing (also known as honor killing) on Shams for causing the death of Keemia. Rumi should have expected this when he forced-marry his precious teenage daughter to someone of Shams' personality type and old age.

The core explanation of Shams and Rumi's relationship is that Rumi without Shams would not have been known to history. Rumi uses all his wit to keep this powerful, wandering, wild bird in a cage for as long as possible and becomes a major spiritual master and an artist of truly world-class stature. In the meantime, Shams achieves his dream of a "grand master student," and falls in love for the first and only time and pays dearly for it. A love story, a tragedy or a personal necessity?

 

(c) Shahram Shiva and Rumi.Net
Not here, not there, but everywhere - always right before your eyes.
~Hsin Hsin Ming

Offline Nichi

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Re: Saints and Mystics
« Reply #293 on: April 14, 2011, 04:28:32 AM »
I Asked

I asked, 'What's bright as the Moon?'
'My beautiful face,' was the answer.
I said, 'What's sweet as sugar?'
'My speech,' was the answer.

'What is the way of Lovers?' I asked
'The way of loyalty,' was the answer.
I said, 'Don't be so cruel to me.'
'It's my job to behave thus,' was the answer.

'What is death for Lovers?'
'Separation from me,' was the answer.
'What is the cure for life's ills?'
'To gaze upon my face,' was the answer.

'What is spring, what autumn?'
'Only my changing beauty,' was the answer.
'Who is the envy of the gazelle?'
'My swift gait,' was the answer.

'Are you a fairy or a houri?'
'I am the Lord of Beauty,' was the answer.
'Khusrow is helpless,' I said.
'He is my devotee,' was the answer.


Amir Khusrow Dehlawi
13th Century India/Pakistan




Ab'ul Hasan Yamin al-Din Khusrow, 1253-1325, usually known by his pen name as Amir Khusrow Dehlawi (or Amir Khusrau Dehlavi), is a greatly loved composer of poetry, song, and riddles from India.

He was born in northern India. His father was of Turkish descent but born in Balkh, Afghanistan, the same region that gave birth to Jelaluddin Rumi. Khusrow's mother was from Delhi.

Amir Khusrow was a Sufi and disciple of Hazrat Nizamuddin Aulia.

Khusrow is often called the "father of qawwali music" -- the ecstatic devotional Sufi music of India and Pakistan. He is also credited with the invention of tabla drums, the two hand drums played throughout the Indian subcontinent.

Khusrow was a classical poet and composer who served as court poet to several Delhi sultans. His songs are still widely sung by Sufis and the devout, especially in Northern India and Pakistan.
~Ivan Granger
Not here, not there, but everywhere - always right before your eyes.
~Hsin Hsin Ming

Offline Nichi

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Re: Saints and Mystics
« Reply #294 on: April 14, 2011, 04:48:44 AM »
Ab'ul Hasan Yamin al-Din Khusrow, 1253-1325, usually known by his pen name as Amir Khusrow Dehlawi (or Amir Khusrau Dehlavi), is a greatly loved composer of poetry, song, and riddles from India.

He was born in northern India. His father was of Turkish descent but born in Balkh, Afghanistan, the same region that gave birth to Jelaluddin Rumi. Khusrow's mother was from Delhi.

Amir Khusrow was a Sufi and disciple of Hazrat Nizamuddin Aulia.

Khusrow is often called the "father of qawwali music" -- the ecstatic devotional Sufi music of India and Pakistan. He is also credited with the invention of tabla drums, the two hand drums played throughout the Indian subcontinent.

Khusrow was a classical poet and composer who served as court poet to several Delhi sultans. His songs are still widely sung by Sufis and the devout, especially in Northern India and Pakistan.
~Ivan Granger


<span data-s9e-mediaembed="youtube" style="display:inline-block;width:100%;max-width:640px"><span style="display:block;overflow:hidden;position:relative;padding-bottom:56.25%"><iframe allowfullscreen="" loading="lazy" scrolling="no" style="background:url(https://i.ytimg.com/vi/gQ1fj7Q1BhE/hqdefault.jpg) 50% 50% / cover;border:0;height:100%;left:0;position:absolute;width:100%" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/gQ1fj7Q1BhE"></iframe></span></span><br /><a href="http://www.youtube.com/v/gQ1fj7Q1BhE?fs=1" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" class="bbc_link bbc_flash_disabled new_win">http://www.youtube.com/v/gQ1fj7Q1BhE?fs=1</a>

You’ve taken away my looks, my identity, by just a glance.
By making me drink the wine of love-potion,
You’ve intoxicated me by just a glance;
My fair, delicate wrists with green bangles in them,
Have been held tightly by you with just a glance.
I give my life to you, Oh my cloth-dyer,
You’ve dyed me in yourself, by just a glance.
I give my whole life to you Oh, Nijam,
You’ve made me your bride, by just a glance.



<span data-s9e-mediaembed="youtube" style="display:inline-block;width:100%;max-width:640px"><span style="display:block;overflow:hidden;position:relative;padding-bottom:56.25%"><iframe allowfullscreen="" loading="lazy" scrolling="no" style="background:url(https://i.ytimg.com/vi/PSUxjKHqLuI/hqdefault.jpg) 50% 50% / cover;border:0;height:100%;left:0;position:absolute;width:100%" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/PSUxjKHqLuI"></iframe></span></span><br /><a href="http://www.youtube.com/v/PSUxjKHqLuI?fs=1" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" class="bbc_link bbc_flash_disabled new_win">http://www.youtube.com/v/PSUxjKHqLuI?fs=1</a>

Arise and prepare to rejoice
Let the wine take root in our cups
As would a flower in the soil
Let us become intoxicated with bliss
For till when shall we dwell in sadness
Those drunk with love
Will break this unending wheel of sorrow
For the treasures of the beloved
belong to those celebrating with us.
Not here, not there, but everywhere - always right before your eyes.
~Hsin Hsin Ming

Offline Nichi

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Re: Saints and Mystics
« Reply #295 on: July 17, 2011, 07:59:48 AM »
To arrange words
In some order
Is not the same thing
As the inner poise
That's poetry.

The truth of poetry
Is the truth
Of being.
It's an experience
Of truth.

No ornaments
Survive
A crucible.
Fire reveals
Only molten
Gold.

Says Tuka
We are here
To reveal.
We do not waste
Words.


~Tukaram
17th Century India


Tukaram was born in the Indian region of Maharashtra to a lower caste Sudra family. Despite being of a lower caste, the family was wealthy by rural standards.

When Tukaram was thirteen, his father fell ill and the boy had to take on the responsibility of supporting his family. Soon after, both parents died.

Hardships continued to follow Tukaram. His first wife died during a famine, and his second wife had no respect for Tukaram's devotion to God.

Contrary to the traditional Hindu model of receiving spiritual initiation from a guru, Tukaram was initiated in a dream by Lord Hari (Krishna/Vishnu).

When Tukaram sensed his end was approaching, he stepped into a river, as other saints have done. It is said that his rug and instruments returned to shore, but his body was never found. Devotees believe he was taken bodily to heaven.

During Tukaram's relatively short life, he was constantly singing devotional hymns called abhangs, composing over 5,000. Many of his songs are autobiographical.

~Ivan Granger
Not here, not there, but everywhere - always right before your eyes.
~Hsin Hsin Ming

Offline Nichi

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Re: Saints and Mystics
« Reply #296 on: August 02, 2011, 02:43:20 AM »
We are, what are we?
We know not, what we are!
For a moment we are blessed
For a moment we are accursed
Some moment we pray and fast
Some moment we are free spirits
Now we declare, 'Only we exist'
Now we declare, 'We don't exist'
For a bit, our heart is calm
In a bit, we weep rivers
Now we say, 'We are self-realized'
Now we ask, 'Who are we?'
'Sachal' we are only That eternally
What other contracts can we make here?


Sachal Sarmast
Sufi
19th Century Pakistan





The name Sachal Sarmast can be translated as Ecstatic Saint of Truth. He is sometimes called Sachoo, The Truthful.

Sachal Sarmast was born in the Sindh region of what is today Pakistan, and is considered one of the great poets and Sufi mystics to emerge from the region.

His teachings have often been compared with al-Hallaj, the Sufi martyr who ecstatically proclaimed, "I am the Truth." Rather than blindly following tradition, Sachal urged people to seek the truth directly. And like ibn Arabi and others, Sachal Sarmast taught a vision of Unity called Wahdat al-Wujud, which others have compared to the great nondualist teachings of Advaita Vedanta within Hinduism and Zen/Chan within Buddhism.

Sachal Sarmast once said, "He (God) is everywhere and in each and every phenomenon. He has come here just to witness His own manifestation."

Sachal Sarmast was born Abdul Wahab in the village of Daraza in the Sindh region. His father died when he was a young child, and Abdul Wahab was raised by his uncle, who also became his spiritual master.

His soul was deeply moved by music. Listening to music, he was often enraptured, tears pouring down his face.

Sachal Sarmast married, but the young woman died two years later. He never remarried.

He took the name Sachal, Truth. Later people added Sarmast, Leader of the Ecstatics, to his name in appreciation of his spiritual poetry.

Sachal Sarmast lived a humble, ascetic life, preferring solitude, simple meals of daal and yogurt. It is said that he never left Daraza, the village of his birth. Yet he composed sacred poetry in seven different languages, poetry that is loved and sung to this day.

==

Unfortunately, I haven't yet found a good single source of Sachal Sarmast's poetry in English. I've only discovered scattered verses translated on the Internet. We are waiting for a book of inspired translations of Sachoo.

~Ivan Granger
http://www.poetry-chaikhana.com/S/SarmastSacha/index.htm
Not here, not there, but everywhere - always right before your eyes.
~Hsin Hsin Ming

Offline Nichi

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Gamble Everything for Love
« Reply #297 on: August 08, 2011, 02:29:48 AM »
Gamble everything for love
if you're a true human being.

If not, leave
this gathering.

Half-heartedness doesn't reach
into majesty. You set out
to find the Beloved, but then you keep
stopping for long periods
at mean-spirited roadhouses.


Rumi
Version by Coleman Barks



(encore posting)
Not here, not there, but everywhere - always right before your eyes.
~Hsin Hsin Ming

Offline Nichi

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The Pleiades
« Reply #298 on: August 22, 2011, 05:40:06 AM »
The Pleiades

In absence, aloe wood burns fragrant.
The love we feel is smoke from that.

Existence gets painted with non-existence,
its source, the fire behind the screen.

Smoke born of this fire hides the fire!
Pass through the smoke. Soul, a moving

river; body, the riverbed. Soul can
break the circle of fate and habit.

Take hold the hand of absence and let
it draw you through the Pleiades,

giving up wet and dry, hot and cold.
You become a confidante of Shams Tabriz.

You see clearly the glory of nothing
and stand, inexplicably, there.

Ghazal (Ode) 2949
Version by Coleman Barks, with Nevit Ergin
"The Glance"
Not here, not there, but everywhere - always right before your eyes.
~Hsin Hsin Ming

Offline Nichi

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Re: Saints and Mystics
« Reply #299 on: August 22, 2011, 06:29:27 AM »
Many set out from the very spot
where the object of their quest is to be found.
The far sight and boasting of the sleeper is no use;
it is nothing but a fantasy—don't be caught by it.
You are sleepy, but at least sleep on the Way:
for God's sake, sleep on the Way of God,
that by chance a traveler on the Way may stumble upon you
and tear you from the fantasies of your slumber.
The sleeper dreams of the dire pangs of thirst,
while the water is nearer to him than the neck vein.

Mathnawi IV: 3234-3237; 3241
Version by Camille and Kabir Helminski
"Rumi: Jewels of Remembrance"
Threshold Books, 1996
Not here, not there, but everywhere - always right before your eyes.
~Hsin Hsin Ming

 

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