ShivAllahSita sutra 16

[Guest guest]

Nights of guitars, fado and mando for loversManguesh, Nagesh, Ganesh,

Saptakotes'dancingTo the beat of drums amid the fire-throwersCows,

dogs, crows, snakes, monkeys, mango, man Caju feni, delirium e c s t

a s y m a d n e s s.

(Fado is a Portuguese love song; Mando is a Goan love song; Mangesh,

Nagesh, Ganesh, Saptakotes' are incarnations of the god Shiva; caju

feni is a local liquor made from the caju fruit.)

~Anthony Gomes, M.D

poet and professor of Cardiology Mount Sinai Medical Center, New York. -- c. j. s. wallia

Embracing Her, Shiva enjoys His own bliss. Though all the joy Of the

world belongs to Him, There is no joy without Her. She is His very

form, But Her radiance comes from Him. Blending into one, They enjoy

the nectar of their own union. Shiva & Shakti are one, Like air & the

wind, Like gold & its luster. Shiva & Shakti cannot be separated. They

are like musk & its fragrance, Like fire & its heat. In the light of

the Sun There is no difference between day & night In the Light of

the Supreme Truth There is no difference between Shiva & Shakti.

Shiva and Shakti envy the Primordial Sound "Om" because they are seen

as two while the sound Om is always regarded as one. Jnanadeva says,

"I honor the union of Shiva and Shakti, who devour this world of name

and form like a sweet dish. All that remains is the One.

~Jnaneshwar

Gokul is my heart wherein thrives the pasture of your kine; O Lord,

shining in consciousness ! Mindways are the Gopi's running reckless

after you; maddened by the call of Krishna's flute,Losing sentience

and feeling,

forgetting self and non-self....

Wandering all around they find him at no point, they hear from far

away the flute alone. None plays there with anyone else, none but

Krishna there; Krishna alone, cowherd lads and lasses, men, women,

none is there who is not He .... Trees and plants and stones with

eyes agape unravel secrets of the inner depth."

~Paramananda

 

My mother never forgave my fatherfor killing himself,especially at

such an awkward timeand in a public park,that springwhen I was

waiting to be born.She locked his name in her deepest cabinetand

would not let him out,though I could hear him thumping.When I came

down from the atticwith the pastel portrait in my hand of a

long-lipped strangerwith a brave moustacheand deep brown level

eyes,she ripped it into shredswithout a single wordand slapped me

hard.In my sixty-fourth yearI can feel my cheekstill burning.

~Stanley Kunitz

Fetch? Balls and sticks capture my attentionseconds at a time. Catch?

I don't think so.Bunny, tumbling leaf, a squirrel who's -- oh joy --

actually scared. Sniff the wind, thenI'm off again: muck, pond,

ditch, residueof any thrillingly dead thing. And you?Either you're

sunk in the past, half our walk,thinking of what you can never bring

back,or else you're off in some fog concerning-- tomorrow, is that

what you call it? My work:to unsnare time's warp (and woof!),

retrieving,my haze-headed friend, you. This shining bark,a Zen

master's bronzy gong, calls you here,entirely, now: bow-wow, bow-wow,

bow-wow.

~Mark Doty

In sufi circles they say, "There's prayer, and a step up from that is

meditation, and a step up from that is sohbet, or conversation."

 

If you want to know

a secret of

the bluest of the blue

horizons.

It enters through the eyes

this frozen point

no time, no name, no size.

It is right here

~Alan Larus

 

Begin again

and yes the Friend minnows in,

wiggles in instant subtlety and yes

i'm in reverie over memories garnered,

gathered

from the mind-sack of a particular kind of crazy.

Let's be adequate and say i've always been mad -

"Crazy Mitzvah," meeting God in onion soup and adultry.

i wonder if it connotates into this - a dull tree.

Jesus did say to haul ass and leave family and friends

to bury the dead or lead the blind,

or something along those lines, eh?

Man, i was running a cemetary and sanitorium for Shiva

for fucking ever it seems!

He said, "You lift 'em up and I'll take 'em down.

You take 'em down and I'll lift 'em up."

i palmed the cool moon with that advice and split it in two.

But God, oh God the fire of fana wants one thing!

Union, communion, onion soup and lunatics like me to see

that it's all one action.

Actionless in motion and motionless in action the Heart Oms -

"Come Home, Beloved."

They called me into a room of clear white Light

streaming from within and without.

In the middle i met Beloved,

met the Beloved,

met the Beautiful bo tree and climbed It.

And as my Dear, departed father would say,

"Who, pray tell, is this mysterious 'they?'"

Playing coy with me, he pretended he didn't Breathe

in Mystery.

"They?"

Oh Daddy, Daddy,

the ones who come are many.

The One who comes is One.

The many who move in this world

surround me in One Light.

Sri Ramana, Adya, the 'no-nonsense' Nis,

Luminous Nityananda,

the One who holds the Sky of Heart open,

streaming clear,

white

Light

of creation

creating this moment i live in.

Still,

in the still sky turning blue

turning rust and i must fawn like a fool,

God's funny little fool and taste It.

Sometimes, sometimes

the mind is so kind

it feeds us spirit-food as fragrance,

and lets us Taste It.

Last night i tasted the Fragrance of God.

Today, just a bit crazier, sizzled smooth

in Blissful Being.

 

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