Your singular gesture – love reborn in your voice –
brought alive sounds and words that cut to the core
–
convincing us – before we saw their code as the
quickening sword
to split another outworn mask.
You called on us to reach beyond the known –
overstep the aim –
dissolve the norm and break the seal of truth –
again – and again.
We dug our riverbeds – and then you passed –
broke our hearts and cast the shadow of your myth on
us.
Grit remains your gift – and a flame – willing the
desire
for every true ideal to manifest – each dream a
sacred shell
in which the pearl is polished to perfection –
until it will be crushed, freeing light,
unsurpassed.
‘The heart, which is called the mirror in Sufi
terms, has two different actions which it performs.
Whatever is reflected in the heart does not only
remain a reflection but becomes a creative power,
productive of a phenomenon of a similar nature … ‘
Hazrat Inayat Khan, from ‘The Mind World’
We are continuously subject to reflections, mostly
subconsciously. Since our minds are increasingly
bombarded with fleeting impressions, it serves us to
reflect on the process of reflection itself, and on
how we absorb or repel impressions. Personal
expectations certainly play a part.
Continue reading this article>>
MAES HOWE
Shielded by a fluid core
From deep in the earth,
A message appears – elusive
Notes of origins and endings,
A runic index on stone,
Of ways we have come across,
Ways we knew, ways we would lose;
The ancients here could have known
These paths through sand and storm,
A search of longing, and alone
A search of love – beyond time’s fray,
A beam strikes from above
Into the core of stone,
A floating sound sustains
Like voices of the generations
Calling down their yearning
To belong, in us, who face
Each other in this holy place.
Your souls are so precious,
Weightless – in their own music,
Combining a pitch of yearning
With the union of your Being,
So your two voices may span
The innermost opening chord
From the truest nature of yourselves,
And as your lives increase together,
The rough unanswered question
Of separation will be wiped away,
The resonance of kindness comes
Like a tiny hoofsound in the sky,
Left by your souls’ turning
In closeness towards each other –
Until that one placeless moment,
You have become so powerful,
Strengthening each root
In this immeasurable centre
Of each other – finding
The beauty of a subtler note
Within you who are precious.
O hard won tears, that now should bring
release Of joy, and sorrow,
and a hundred things Besides, as though
such stillness and such peace
Were brashly championed as offerings Of
love in one intense
kaleidoscope; Yet in this vivid calmness
somehow find My purest
comfort and my surest hope, My deepest
purpose and my clearest mind.
For who am I and why do I believe,
How may my skills be honed before
they're spent?
What new behaviour suffering relieve,
Where and when ransom my environment?
Give me fresh insight raised against my
fears and easy laughter down
the hard won years.
Khalil Green (inspired by the NLP
model of
Logical Levels created by Robert
Dilts)
Ah sacred Muse, whose honeyed voice on sweet
libations fed, and blushful Hippocrene
did drink on holy Helicon, unseen by mortals then,
and yet... and yet their feet now here, now there,
now here, take up your beat as distant waves against
the shore have been
in wine dark echoes facetted between the campfire
and the sunset's swift retreat.
Daughter of Memory lend me your aid, bring back to
life Odysseus of old, the
white-armed Helen, gloriously arrayed in silver
robes, as hoary Homer told.
Then yet may Menelaus red-haired be and straining
sail yet glide on wine dark sea.
Khalil Green, inspired by the Ocean in the Drop,
February 2008
Three major planets shift elemental predominance …..
Since September 2007, Saturn, Jupiter and Pluto have
all moved from fire signs to the earthy signs of
Virgo and Capricorn. In astrological terms, fire is
a volatile element, relating to imagination,
possibility, inspiration and spontaneity; it is
oriented to the future, to vision and movement.
Earth, its counterpart, is concerned with making
things tangible, giving form, creating in real terms
from the vision of fire; possibilities which do not
have enough substance to take the next step must be
left behind at energy becomes focused with
discernment, dedication and discipline.
Pluto first entered Capricorn (earth) in late
January, where it remains until mid-June, when it
reverses back into Sagittarius (fire). In late
November, Pluto re-enters Capricorn, moving through
this sign until 2023. This means that 2008 is a year
of significant transition, where the seeds of vision
are nurtured and the new forms arising are
accommodated. We are supported in being practical,
immediate and efficient.... (Read full article
here)
The Urs of Pir-o-Murshid
Hazrat Inayat Khan - 5th February 2008, Four Winds
Zikr of Intimacy
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With the pace of an arrow
Through the unshielded heart,
Intimacy spreads into us,
Like the echo in a shell-find
A soft pierce quivers
The visors in the mind,
We drop a mirror
For the dust
In a net by the bow –
From beyond two doors
Soft peat crinkles
To a fire like a shuttle
Out of a deeper ascent
Threading the moment
To an edgeless past,
And the future is a coracle
Built of this peat, protecting
What is compassless –
We drift towards a breath,
The same spirit that is fire
Within is also ocean.
A fleck of remembrance,
There is rain on a rooftop,
And the windrush woke us;
By the branches outside,
Stars gather like tenants
In an island of mirrors.
Day will soon pervade,
The innermost kindles,
Union invokes a glance.
With thanks to Farida and Omar who held the Zikr:
“Urs means wedding, so it signifies Pir-o-Murshid
Hazrat Inayat Khan’s unity with the One on the date
of his passing.”
The continuous memory of love
Is precious to me,
A glimpse of knowing.
Precious to me is the face of the Beloved
Revealed in human flesh.
Precious to me is birdsong,
Space and light,
Sunrays glistening across water,
A vanishing horizon – what’s beyond?
Precious to me is
Finding the question –
Precious to me is above all, gathering
With dear friends, far and near,
You and I – I and Thou.
And precious to me – the field
Where the buried treasure is.
Precious to me is the lion-headed ancestor.
Precious to me is truth,
Love,
Sorrowing,
Forgiving,
Returning to love.
Precious to me is . . . mystery,
Silence and the void,
The presence in sound and silence,
And peace at the heart of silence.
Precious to me is
. . . My time, when devoted to searching for truth.
. . . My husband, who caresses my wounds
Until they glisten like jewels.
. . . The soul of the world,
Whose light illuminates the darkest despair,
Whose warmth expels coldest night,
Whose love overwhelms
The most despotic enemies.
And precious to me is the knowledge –
That we become whatever we accept –
Whether it is the better or worse.
Precious to me is the heart
Going with you
And you, and you, and you . . .
My heart dwells at the shore
Of our familiar scene – exiled,
Longing for an un-named land,
While my inner friends and foes
Roam the electronic wilderness,
Lost in trance, skipping screens
To find our soul’s true score,
The art is called the search.
Quick deletions clear the path,
Virtual models help design
And shape belief – the raft –
To carry us and risk our dream,
Once we’re ready and agreed
But my motley team delays us,
Thrives on mystery, complexity,
Diversion – bliss of folly – ecstasy.
At night, they gather, disillusioned,
Weary of maps and tired of demands.
I remind them how a single salty tear
Merging with the ocean – connects us
With the one heart – its eternal beat.
To my actors I remain a mystery,
Yet without my childlike faith
The strongest raft would fall apart.
Plump raindrops on
skylight
drum in repetitive non-rhythm,
pale beams erase the day,
moon drops through glass
that is no glass, glass-moon
falls to moon-glass
behind my eye.
The reversal begins:
my garden fades
round the dark bones
of apple trees;
from within the eclipse
other lives behold me;
I shut my eyes – to see;
Companions light my house.
I must trust their influence:
shape-shifting agents
collide with routines,
children of wit and charm
offer their graces
and orbit my senses;
Order unfolds like a rose
opening to winds of light;
perfume inhales my skin,
a shower of grace dips
like a flame off a wing
into a heaving tide;
wild flavours arrive,
On my tongue – the salt
of sea and earth alight
devoid of history
or division in space,
with no door – I hold no key
to being – eternal is now,
kinship explodes in me.
Beyond committed thought
a cosmic fountain pours
radiance through every atom;
between each breath
at the fine point – rhythm halts
poised at the brink
of becoming.
(a poem by Evlynn Sharp
inspired by the 'Palace of Mirrors' course offered
to us by Ashen, Binah, Melanie and Rahima at Four
Winds in 2003)
Your
Cross is four corners,
And yesterday, I see North, the Pict woman,
Strong again, dancing magic blues and ochres,
All the colours of your life,
Into this Celtic stone; and at dawn,
The unscarred light of your whole being,
Turns back to grace the stone
Where generations come,
Seeking the safety of a holy name.
This
morning, you are all East,
A wise woman, flint on the fingertips
Alongside light, and you are sharing
Points of departure, points of darkness
That conceal the place within
Where we unmask our hardest grief,
And you prove a deeper journey is possible
Wherever we survive.
This
afternoon, it must be West,
I am witnessing the Elder woman,
Your pilgrim’s walk is magnificent,
You show how a body grows like a continent,
With all its difficult joints, and so too
You offer the truth of honouring our body
That always “waits for custom” like a chair.
Last
night, this is completely South,
You are the Celtic Sound, the strength of Rumi,
Humming our hearts open,
Bringing the words of sacred nourishment
To plant in our neglected ear
So we may go beyond our worn fears
And hear the splash of courage.
And
in this way, Celtic woman,
Your Four corners hold the lamps
That lengthen our longing on this earth
To sail the solitary voyage
Through awakening shores,
Where we are not asleep, but drop towards Being,
And by this path, my Friend,
Our heart finds the delicate turning into Love.
Every day
A small window opens,
To the unexpected.
As when a human voice resounds
And suddenly surprises,
By shining in
And startling the heart,
With compassion,
Awakening a need –
A necessity, forgotten –
For the gentler voyage,
And a deep knowing in us,
That underneath everything,
From pride to anger,
Linger pain, sadness, even failure,
As well as the perfect moments,
Those single beads of happiness,
Which strung together hold faith,
Enough to endure
Our human limitations.
Let us balance for a while
On the edge of our chart,
Daring the receptive heart
To guide us across the broad silence
Through barriers of old suffering,
Through fears and persistent denials,
Towards the ideal that calls us
Into the flow of a wider freedom,
Into the sacred source of life,
Unfolding with tenderness,
Our birthright and potential,
Like a river in our own heart.
