Thursday, February 28, 2008
The Stick Figure - Me
We each have a chalk board inside our minds on which we draw a stick figure and call it “me”. We start to believe that we are that stick figure and lose all awareness of our actual self which we could easily find in the here and now.
Monday, February 18, 2008
Waiting to Fly
The external world matters little to the heart.
After all it is how you feel and what you experience that matters,
not the things that are supposed to be able to bring those experiences.
The heart needs no other to feel love,
no physical miracles to feel magic.
It needs only freedom and room to soar
and perhaps a smile.
Isn’t it the mind that tells that heart
it must have something “real” to love?
Is there a difference between loving a teddy bear and a man?
Ask any young child. They will tell you the truth.
Still, sometimes the heart needs help to find his wings.
The love of another may help us to find those wings
but it is certain that our wings are always there,
waiting, longing to fly.
After all it is how you feel and what you experience that matters,
not the things that are supposed to be able to bring those experiences.
The heart needs no other to feel love,
no physical miracles to feel magic.
It needs only freedom and room to soar
and perhaps a smile.
Isn’t it the mind that tells that heart
it must have something “real” to love?
Is there a difference between loving a teddy bear and a man?
Ask any young child. They will tell you the truth.
Still, sometimes the heart needs help to find his wings.
The love of another may help us to find those wings
but it is certain that our wings are always there,
waiting, longing to fly.
Friday, February 8, 2008
Watch
The heart is infinitely more capable of knowing the divine than is the mind. Therefore if you would know God then kindle your heart, often. Not merely for the sake of the poor heart but for the sake of receiving the divine when it comes whispering.
Watch (with your heart), for ye know not the hour…
Watch (with your heart), for ye know not the hour…
Thursday, February 7, 2008
Know with the Heart
Orchids blossoms may smile eagerly.
A warm feeling may pervade the heart.
Magical views of nature sometimes mysteriously appear
where before there were none.
The heart may dance splendidly to enchanting music.
Gratitude to the divine and hope and faith and love
all come within reach.
Wishes upon stars become a serious matter,
and life can be a treasure once more.
These are some of my hearts reasons to be in the moment.
A warm feeling may pervade the heart.
Magical views of nature sometimes mysteriously appear
where before there were none.
The heart may dance splendidly to enchanting music.
Gratitude to the divine and hope and faith and love
all come within reach.
Wishes upon stars become a serious matter,
and life can be a treasure once more.
These are some of my hearts reasons to be in the moment.
Monday, February 4, 2008
Fill, My Heart
SOME FILL WITH EACH GOOD RAIN
Hafiz
There are different wells within your heart.
Some fill with each good rain,
Others are far too deep for that.
In one well
You have just a few precious cups of water,
That "love" is literally something of yourself,
It can grow as slow as a diamond
If it is lost.
Your love
Should never be offered to the mouth of a
Stranger,
Only to someone
Who has the valor and daring
To cut pieces of their soul off with a knife
Then weave them into a blanket
To protect you.
There are different wells within us.
Some fill with each good rain,
Others are far, far too deep
For that.
Mossy,
Who takes these precious cups,
leaving the blossom to whither and fade?
Reason, justice, power, vanity and anger
are some potent strangers and thieves.
The heart goes thirsty now and then
when attention, love, is torn away.
But the well is not dry
and oh that water is indeed sweet.
Attention must be for love.
For finding it, internally.
This can be done, but so often the best energy goes to other pursuits.
This fine energy, fine attention, fine faith, must not be given to strangers
but to the divine one within.
Hafiz
There are different wells within your heart.
Some fill with each good rain,
Others are far too deep for that.
In one well
You have just a few precious cups of water,
That "love" is literally something of yourself,
It can grow as slow as a diamond
If it is lost.
Your love
Should never be offered to the mouth of a
Stranger,
Only to someone
Who has the valor and daring
To cut pieces of their soul off with a knife
Then weave them into a blanket
To protect you.
There are different wells within us.
Some fill with each good rain,
Others are far, far too deep
For that.
Mossy,
Who takes these precious cups,
leaving the blossom to whither and fade?
Reason, justice, power, vanity and anger
are some potent strangers and thieves.
The heart goes thirsty now and then
when attention, love, is torn away.
But the well is not dry
and oh that water is indeed sweet.
Attention must be for love.
For finding it, internally.
This can be done, but so often the best energy goes to other pursuits.
This fine energy, fine attention, fine faith, must not be given to strangers
but to the divine one within.
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