Frontpage archives January 2005

I have studied many times
The marble which was chiseled for me --
A boat with a furled sail at rest in a harbor.
In truth it pictures not my destination
But my life.
For love was offered me and I shrank from its disillusionment;
Sorrow knocked at my door, but I was afraid;
Ambition called to me, but I dreaded the chances.
Yet all the while I hungered for meaning in my life.
And now I know that we must lift the sail
And catch the winds of destiny
Wherever they drive the boat.
To put meaning in one's life may end in madness,
But life without meaning is the torture
Of restlessness and vague desire --
It is a boat longing for the sea and yet afraid.

Friday January 28, 2005 7:05

The Silence

Though the air is full of singing
my head is loud
with the labor of words.

Though the season is rich
with fruit, my tongue
hungers for the sweet of speech.

Though the beech is golden
I cannot stand beside it
mute, but must say

"It is golden," while the leaves
stir and fall with a sound
that is not a name.

It is in the silence
that my hope is, and my aim.
A song whose lines

I cannot make or sing
sounds men's silence
like a root. Let me say

and not mourn: the world
lives in the death of speech
and sings there

Wendell Berry

Tuesday January 25, 2005 20:49
Back online.

Saturday January 15, 2005 17:58

A Persian Apologue

LOVE came to crave sweet love, if love might be;
To the Belovëd's door he came, and knocked:-
'And who art thou?' she asked,-'we know not thee!'
Then shyly listened, nor the door unlocked.
Love answered, 'It is I!' 'Nay, thee and me
This house will never hold.'-'Twas thus she mocked
His piteous quest; and, weeping, home went he,
While thro' the night the moaning plane-tree rocked.
Three seasons sped, and lo, again Love came;
Again he knocked; again in simple wise,
'Pray, who is there?' she asked,-'What is thy name?'
But Love had learnt the magic of replies,-
'It is Thyself!' he whispered, and behold,
The door was opened, and love's mystery told.

Samuel Waddington

Thursday January 13, 2005 7:52

Abandon being loved by people and practice loving God,
you who have such a high opinion of yourself.
You are really more silent than the night;
how long will you seek a buyer for your words?
Your hearers nod their heads in your presence,
but you waste your time in your passion to draw them near.
You say to me, "Don't be so envious,"
but how should I envy one who possesses nothing?
Instruction given to the worthless is like sketching in dust.
Instruct yourself in love of God and spiritual insight--
that endures like a pattern carved on solid stone.
Your own self is the only pupil ever really faithful to you.
All the others perish: where will you seek them, where?
While trying to make others erudite and eminent,
you are ruining yourself and draining what knowledge you have.
But when your heart is one with Reality,
you may speak, and not be afraid of becoming empty.
And so the Divine command, "Recite!" came to the Prophet,
saying, "O righteous one, this will not fail: it is an infinite ocean."

From: "Jewels of Remembrance - A Daybook of
Spiritual Guidance Containing 365 Selections From
the Wisdom of Rumi"

Trans. Camille and Kabir Helminski

Monday January 10, 2005 19:01

What was in that bright candlelight
that took my heart and burned it so completely?

Come back, my friend, come quickly
nothing can heal me but your sweetness.

I remember a dawn when my heart
untied a lock of your hair.

My soul heard something from your soul
my heart drank from your spring.

I drowned and the flood swept me away.

From 'Rumi Hidden Music'
Translated by Maryam Mafi & Azima Melita Kolin

This page was last updated: April 10, 2005 14:02