The end of sorrow

Ramana Maharishi: "There is no kind of sorrow for those who give up (cease) seeing through their physical senses and begin to see everything as their own Self. Further, this grief does not indicate real love. Love which one displays towards external objects and forms is not real love. Real love always has its abode in one's own Self."

Contemplations on A Course in Miracles

A belief system is anything which blinds us. Thought is the lowest vibration.
What transcends thought - transcends belief - because belief is thought.
If you look at my blog - I have a recent section about The Book of John in the Bible - Chapter 11 - it highlights the word "believe" used by Jesus himself the use of it here - implies faith in the intuitive perception and the goodness of the Christ energy - it has nothing to do with dogma or doctrine or blind allegiance to a church.

When jesus spoke of the church - he was speaking of the dharma of the Christian message - ie the vehicle of his carried in the hearts of those who really hear and impliment the wisdom of what he had to say. It has nothing to do with pews or denominations or sectarian rivalry or any of that nonsense...

Belief of itself is a dead thing - as it is the construct of thought.
Belief systems have no relationship with truth. Period.

Truth is not material. Thought is material and conditioned.
Belief is, by its very nature, conditioned.

Wisdom is not conditioned - it is of another dimension entirely. Most of the world - including learned professors are lost in nonsense - and that is clearly a
fact!~ just look at the crooked nature of the world - with discrimination - rather than judgment.

If you are a Christian (or any other religions for that matter) reading this - as to whether you are a part of "churchianity" or not - hmm - I suppose if you have a belief system and defend it - then you are. If you have reached the state of defenselessness which is the essence of the Christ energy's nature - then i guess not. To be in that state requires discrimination and a rare kind of courage - a courage that has nothing to do with outward shows of strength, but rather inward surrender to wisdom.

Condemnation is of the energy of thought. Direct perception is of an entirely
different order.

Do you see the nonsense of beliefs? - how they divide? - how thought and your opinion of me is between you and I - affection is lost when thought and opinons and beliefs take over.....each one is sacred and the relationship between each individual and another is sacred - but the sanctimonious and devout - are blinded by their own arguments...belief/thought is the very thing which divides....there
is no belief in love/truth - it transcends all such fearful approaches.

I was fortunate to have a teacher who lived on another level. How privelleged I was
to meet such a being. Such humility. Such intelligence.

If you can drop your conclusions and belief systems for awhile and come to it with an open might be truly inspired by the Course in Miracles....the New Testament has many worthy moments- but it is a record of Christ's life by secondhand sources (the Sermon on the Mount though is as great as any scripture ever written) - the Course on the other hand is given directly by Christ is the injection of sanity which Christianity has been in waiting for for centuries....but as with all is only for those - very rare few - who have the
ears to hear. And you cannot hear when your mind is filled with the noise of thought and belief.

Death is nothing but material change

When the news of the death of King George V was brought to the Ashram, Chadwick's eyes filled with rears, and the other disciples commiserated half- weeping with him in sympathy. The Maharshi finally broke in, after having remained silent throughout.

M: You unwise people! You may 'die' and discover your real Self, and then live without death. So why do you care about the death of a third person? The Self does not perish, only the body. Get rid of your materialistic outlook!

Ramana Maharishi

Patanjali - the source of Yoga

All yogas lead to vichara (inquiry) and teach abidance in the Self. All yogas are good for purification of the mind. Only the purified mind is capable of grasping the method.

Source of yoga – taught through the story of Patanjali

Ananta (name) – something that cannot be measured.
A snake – flexible and hard as needs be
Attention and comfort => absence of pain
Just living on breath – “vatasana”

Ananta is a good example to mankind

Amsha avataram – a small part of the being descends

Anjali mudra (gesture) – asking for something, expecting something
Taught how to speak (mahapasham)
How to be healthy (ayurveda)
How to have a stable state of mind (yoga)

Pranava – “tasya vacakah pranavah”

The power of pranava can remove all obstacles.

What is real faith?

"“Faith” is often used by agnostics as a term of abuse. That is to say, it is taken to refer to the blind credulity which accepts all kinds of dogmas and creeds without question, repeating parrot-like what has been taught, and closing its ears to doubt and reason. Such “faith” should certainly be attacked. It is compounded of laziness, obstinacy, ignorance and fear. Because it is rigid and unyielding it can be quite easily shaken and altogether destroyed. But this is not the true faith – true faith is provisional, flexible, undogmatic, open to doubt and reason…
Suppose you are subject to indigestion. One day you read a book about diet or meet a doctor who tells you that he can restore your health if you follow his instructions. You do not have to accept the book or the doctor with blind faith, but you do have to have a provisional, hypothetical faith. You have to try it before you can say with authority whether it is helpful or useless. So too with spiritual diet.”

Some cool Swami whom I lost the name of!

To jump a million years

“We are told by the biologists that it has taken millions of years for the brain to develop to its present state and that it will take millions of years to develop further. Now, the religious mind does not depend on time for its development. What I want to convey is that when the brain, which must function in its responses to the outward existence, becomes quiet inwardly, then there is no longer the machinery of accumulating experience and knowledge. Therefore, inwardly it is completely quiet, but fully alive, and then it can jump the million years.”

Jiddu Krishnamurti

I wrote this out of says a lot on multiple levels

“There is so much to do” said the master pointing to the empty bowl.

From a Course in Miracles….words to lift the heart and guide the mind…

“Extend goodness and you will come to embody the truth about yourself.”

“Safety is the complete relinquishment of attack.”

“The only way to have peace is to teach peace. By teaching peace you must learn it yourself, because you cannot teach what you still dissociate. Only thus can you win back the knowledge that you threw away. Everything you teach – (i.e. express through your example) you are learning. Teach only love, and learn that love is yours and you are love.”

“Forget not that the motivation for this Course is the attainment and the keeping of the state of peace. Given this state the mind is quiet and the condition in which God is remembered is attained…where he can enter, there he is already.”

ACIM p499 Text

One hardly meets an original human being

It is funny how man runs away from his own solitude. I remember my father once said to me "You're British." It has to be one of the most absurd statements I have ever heard.
Labels...I think they must be man's way of hiding from loneliness. To be alone without the need of another. Whether in the quiet, still clearing of a wood or in an apartment in the center of a modern city...quiet with yourself...without the hiss of television, without the stuttering intrusion of a telephone...just sitting or lying peacefully with the murmur of the such moments one sees how terribly rare love is - one sees because one is alone - completely alone. One hardly meets an orginal human being. To be original there must a penetrating gaze within - an insight into the beautiful nature of aloneness.

A strange envelope

"There is always some romance in opening a strange envelope. However wearied with correspondence we may have become, the sporting instinct and the promptings of curiosity always stir us a little. It may be a bill, or it may be a legacy. Hope and apprehension therefore clash and neutralise."

Written by an author I lost the name of - a British soldier who fought in the Middle East some decades ago...

This kind of thinking brings history to life...

An understanding of history - surely requires such (natural) amazement...

"There is a lonely place in the woods of Chilham, in the County of Kent, above the River Stour, where a man comes upon an irregular earthwork still plainly marked upon the brow of the bluff. Nobody comes near this place. A vague country lane, or rather track; goes past the wet soil of it, plunges into the valley beyond, and after serving a windmill joins the high road to Canterbury. Well, that vague track is the ancient British road, as old as anything in this Island, that took men from Winchester to the Straits of Dover. That earthwork is the earthwork (I could prove it, but this is not the place) where the British stood against the charge of the Tenth Legion, and first heard, sounding on their bronze, the arms of Caesar. Here the river was forded; here the little men of the South went up in formation; here the Barbarian broke and took his way, as the opposing General has recorded, through devious woodland paths, scattering in the pursuit; here began the great history of England.
Is it not an enormous business merely to stand in such a place? I think so."

Hillaire Belloc

The Community today

"The community today is the planet, not the bounded nation; hence the patterns of projected aggression which formerly served to co-ordinate the in-group now can only break it into factions."

""Live," Nietzsche says, "as though the day were here." It is not society that it is to guide and save the creative hero, but precisely the reverse...Every one of us shares the supreme ordeal...not in the bright moment's of his tribe's great victories, but in the silence of his personal despair."

Joseph Campbell - The Hero Today Chapter of Myth and Society

When I see that society is, by and large mad...I think of this:

"A prayer for the wild at heart, kept in cages."

Tennessee Williams

The Complete works of my spiritual preceptor - Tara Singh

Love Holds No Grievances softcover
Nothing Real Can Be Threatened
A Gift for All Mankind
Awakening A Child From Within
Commentaries on ACIM
Commentaries on ACIM
How to Learn from ACIM
What Is The Christ?
The Joseph Plan for the Lean Years
Moments Outside of Time
Remembering God in Everything You See

How to Learn from ACIM w/Linda Evans, 2 tapes, 3 HOURS
Forgiveness: Removing Blocks to Peace 1 tape, 60 min.
Keep The Bowl Empty 1 tape, 60 min.
Wise Parent, Happy Child 1 tape, 60 min.
All Relationships Must End in Love 1 tape, 60 min.
Awakening the Light of the Mind 1 tape, 60 min.
Simplicity and the Art of Living 2 tapes, 120 min.
What Are Miracles & Why Do We Need Them? 2 tapes, 120 min.
Exploring ACIM 3 tapes, 180 min.
Wat Is The Christ? 3 tapes, 180 min.

Holding Hands with You first 50 Lessons of ACIM, 25 tapes
Manual for Teachers 10 tapes
One Year Given to God full set, 72 tapes
One Year Given to God monthly installment, 6 tapes

The Power within Us Daniel Long’s version of Cabeza de Vaca 31 pages 5.00
Living with Integrity TS interview with journalist 30 pages
The Present Heals 2 TS talks on healing 22 pages
The End of Loneliness 3chaps. fr. Future, 2nd ed.44 pages
Jesus and the Blind Man TS on John: 9 36 pages

Silence Within (Tara Singh Video) 1 hour
How to Raise a Child of God (Tara Singh Video) 1 hour


THE FUTURE OF MANKIND Ballantine edition
REMINISCENCES OF TARA SINGH letters to TS on 72nd birthday

The Impossible Question

"Sirs, look, we never put the impossible question - we are always putting the question of what is possible. If you put an impossible question, your mind then has to find the answer in terms of the impossible - not of what is possible. All the great scientific discoveries are based on this, the impossible. It was impossible to go to the moon. But if you say, `It is possible' then you drop it. Because it was impossible, three hundred thousand people co-operated and worked at it, night and day - they put their mind to it and went to the moon. But we never put the impossible question! The impossible question is this: can the mind empty itself of the known? - itself, not you empty the mind. That is an impossible question. If you put it with tremendous earnestness, with seriousness, with passion, you'll find out. But if you say, `Oh, it is possible', then you are stuck."

5th August 1970.

Jiddu Krishnamurti

Tribute to Idries Shah

Idries Shah, Sayed Idries el-Hashimi

The following tribute to Idries Shah was written after his death on 23rd November, 1996.

List the accomplishments and achievements of Idries Shah, and they begin to seem the work of many men - probably because in our 'pessimistic society', as he often described it, we do not expect such prodigious capabilities in a single individual.

One of his lives, as it were, was as the author of more than 35 books and over a hundred academic monographs. The books included 20 best-selling titles on Sufism - of which he was the great living exemplar - which so far have sold 15 million copies in 12 languages. That would have been enough for most single lifetimes. But he was also Director of Studies for the Institute for Cultural Research , an educational charity which researched and published materials on cross-cultural patterns of human thought and behaviour.

He was advisor, too, to a number of monarchs and Heads of State. He was actively involved in a cluster of other enterprises, academic, humanitarian, scientific and commercial. He was a founder member of the Club of Rome, a Governor of the Royal Humane Society and the Royal Hospital and Home for Incurables. And, not least, he was a family man and father.

Though he seemed the epitome of Englishness in speech and bearing, belonged to the Atheneum and Garrick Clubs, and lived for many years in a large Regency house near Tunbridge Wells, Shah was in fact born in Simla, India, in 1924, into a distinguished Hashemite family, which traces its ancestry and titles, confirmed and attested by Doctors of Islamic Law in 1970, back to the prophet Mohammed. His inalienable titles included Badshah (sovereign), Emir, Sirdar (general). Then there was Sharif, translatable as prince of the blood, and Hadrat, which means holy, presence.

His Scottish mother met his father, the writer and savant Sirdar Ikbal Ali Shah, when he was a medical student in Edinburgh, and went to live with him in the Afghan highlands in Paghman, the stronghold and fiefdom of the family. From the start, the young Shah was at home in both East and West: educated, as his father before him, by private tutors in Europe and the Middle East, and through wide-ranging travel and personal encounters -- the series of journeys, in fact, that characterise Sufi education and development. He was briefly at St. Catherine's College, Oxford, and though he discontinued the course of study there, he was always amused that that university, like so many others around the world, incorporated his books into their essential curricula.

In keeping with Sufi tradition, his life was essentially one of service. His friends and associates included soldiers, scientists, artists, writers, thinkers, businessmen; the high-achieving, the famous, the royal. But equally they included as many, if not more, of the obscure and humble. And in everything he did he exemplified the way of the Sufi. It was his contention that people educated as he was, and as he attempted to educate others, could become multi-faceted, high-achieving, dedicated to the service of others, and also be funny, entertaining, and in the best sense 'ordinary'. He was, for instance, an unparalleled storyteller, and also an excellent cook. People lucky enough to get an invitation to one of his fabled parties would fly in from all over the world. He was also frequently to be found combing through boot fairs and junk shops, even in the last months of his life, looking for (and given his vast knowledge of such things, frequently finding) rare and valuable antiques of both East and West.

His knowledge and interests seemed limitless. He could rage in the face of negativity and wilful foolishness, but was more usually warm, approachable and encouraging. People who benefited professionally from his knowledge have described a range of capacities he himself would never have bothered to draw attention to. A musicologist, for example, says he helped her decipher ancient Egyptian songs unheard for 3,500 years (and subsequently broadcast on the BBC); a scientist honoured during World War II for his inventions in naval radar claims that years ago Shah helped him in the research and development of his pioneer patents in air ionisation; one of Britain's leading architects says that a nudge from Shah sent him in a completely unexpected direction in his career, dramatically improving the quality and usefulness of his work. This was characteristic: when it was appropriate Shah would nudge and hint; throw some ball from his huge storehouse of knowledge, and see who could catch it.

Shah's knowledge and activities took place in so many different areas of specialisation and in so many countries, that friends and sometimes even family were aware of what he was doing purely on a 'need to know' basis. So an account such as this inevitably refracts a very limited - and Western - view. The concealment was in part a mixture of modesty, discretion, and an unwillingness to waste time; and part a refusal to indulge anything that smacked even faintly of gossip of self-serving. Shah himself, and those round him, were masters of disinformation. For example, when in 1967 Robert Graves, a long-time friend, published his new translation of the Rubayyat of Omar Khayyam and declared Khayyam a Sufi, a group of academic Orientalists who felt their territory undermined by the fresh air Shah was bringing to the subject, attacked him by association, and even travelled to Afghanistan to collect ammunition against him and his family. Unaware of the tradition there of protecting the Hashemite family from idle curiosity. they were fed all kinds of tall and ridiculous tales, which they gave unchecked to the press, in an attempt to discredit him. But such attacks were neutralised by the warmth and weight of other scholars, far more eminent than the critics, who sprang to Shah's defence.

His public and formal work, as Director of Studies of the Institute for Cultural Research, began when Shah was in his thirties. Such scholarly criticism as there was in the early years climaxed in the Omar Khayyam affair, and then dwindled, as Shah himself was invited to lecture at various seats of learning, including Stanford University in America, and Geneva University, where he was a visiting professor. The Sufis, published by Jonathan Cape in 1964, slightly ahead of the surge of interest in metaphysical ideas, pronounced that tradition alive and well, and more or less invited readers to approach its ideas and test them out. The evident sense, and common sense, most readers found made it clear that here was a sane, authoritative voice in the wilderness of the gobbledegookish mysticism of the sixties.

In all the books that followed, whatever he made available always linked realistically into the culture to which it was offered. Through Octagon Press , the publishing company he founded to keep these books in print after mainstream publishers might drop them from their lists, he also established a broad historical and cultural context for Sufi thought and action. Through Octagon he also disseminated, in a range of books, an enormous amount of little known information about Afghanistan, forseeing that such documentation would provide a crucial record in the aftermath of that country's tragic devastation.

During the Afghan-Russian war he risked his life more than once on missions inside Afghanistan and with the Mujahuddin. Already in his sixties, he entered the country secretly - had he been betrayed to the Russians, it would have been an enormous propaganda coup. In the event, his best-selling novel, Kara Kush, was based on fact, incorporating his first-hand knowledge of the stupendous courage of the Afghan people, and the appalling atrocities inflicted upon them. And he was not above tweaking the Russian bear's tail by embedding titbits of secret intelligence in his fiction which nobody was supposed to know, such as the telephone number of the KGB.

About a year after his last visit to Afghanistan, in the late spring of 1987, Shah suffered two successive and massive heart attacks. Sick as he was, his hilarious and hair-raising analysis of the behaviour of the medical profession, and his capacity to conserve himself and still work, was an eye-opener to those around him. His physicians told him he had only eight per cent heart function remaining, and could not expect to survive. But over the next nine years, in between bouts of weakness, pain, further illness and frequent hospitalisation, he produced further books and worked with characteristic dedication, seriousness, humour and light-heartedness, teaching and advising the now necessarily depleted but still large number of people who approached him, as well as actively directing his enterprises and preparing those who would succeed him. He showed, as he had done all his life, how much it is possible for a single individual to achieve in the face of towering obstacles.

By their nature, newspaper obituaries focus on public record. But it is necessary to say that Idries Shah's visible achievements, however profound and wide-ranging, may really have been the very least of his impact. His purpose and knowledge, his kindness, his seemingly limitless patience and generosity; the warmth of his companionship; the perceptive, zany humour in a range of wickedly accurate accents which could send serious-minded adults rolling on the floor in laughter; his sheer understanding and sanity, also operated invisibly in the realm of the human heart. The thousands of people who were his students and friends, and others who encountered him however briefly, were probably all affected in a degree and dimension for which it is hard to find words. It is impossible to assess his influence, and his legacy is incalculable. The Poet Laureate, Ted Hughes, once wrote that the Sufis must be 'the biggest society of sensible men there has ever been on earth'. Idries Shah was indeed a sensible man. He was also, it is said, the Sufi Teacher of the Age.

Idries Shah, writer and savant, born Simla, India, June 16, 1924; married Cynthia (Kashfi) Kabraji, 1958; one son, two daughters; died London, November 23, 1996.

The Kasîdah of Hâjî Abdû El-Yezdî

The Kasîdah of Hâjî Abdû El-Yezdî or “Lay of the Higher Law”

“Translated and annotated by his friend and pupil, F.B.”
Richard F. Burton



The Translator has ventured to entitle a “Lay of the Higher Law” the following composition, which aims at being in advance of its time; and he has not feared the danger of collision with such unpleasant forms as the “Higher Culture.” The principles which justify the name are as follows:—

The Author asserts that Happiness and Misery are equally divided and distributed in the world.

He makes Self-cultivation, with due regard to others, the sole and sufficient object of human life.
He suggests that the affections, the sympathies, and the “divine gift of Pity” are man’s highest enjoyments.
He advocates suspension of judgment, with a proper suspicion of “Facts, the idlest of superstitions.”
Finally, although destructive to appearance, he is essentially reconstructive.
For other details concerning the Poem and the Poet, the curious reader is referred to the end of the volume.
F. B.
Vienna, Nov., 1880.

The hour is nigh; the waning Queen
 walks forth to rule the later night;
Crown’d with the sparkle of a Star,
 and throned on orb of ashen light:

The Wolf-tail1 sweeps the paling East
 to leave a deeper gloom behind,
And Dawn uprears her shining head,
 sighing with semblance of a wind:

1 The false dawn.

The highlands catch yon Orient gleam,
 while purpling still the lowlands lie;
And pearly mists, the morning-pride,
 soar incense-like to greet the sky.

The horses neigh, the camels groan,
 the torches gleam, the cressets flare;
The town of canvas falls, and man
 with din and dint invadeth air:

The Golden Gates swing right and left;
 up springs the Sun with flamy brow;
The dew-cloud melts in gush of light;
 brown Earth is bathed in morning-glow.

Slowly they wind athwart the wild,
 and while young Day his anthem swells,
Sad falls upon my yearning ear
 the tinkling of the Camel-bells:

O’er fiery wastes and frozen wold,
 o’er horrid hill and gloomy glen,
The home of grisly beast and Ghoul,2
 the haunts of wilder, grislier men;—

2 The Demon of the Desert.

With the brief gladness of the Palms,
 that tower and sway o’er seething plain,
Fraught with the thoughts of rustling shade,
 and welling spring, and rushing rain;

With the short solace of the ridge,
 by gentle zephyrs played upon,
Whose breezy head and bosky side
 front seas of cooly celadon;—

’Tis theirs to pass with joy and hope,
 whose souls shall ever thrill and fill
Dreams of the Birthplace and the Tomb,
 visions of Allah’s Holy Hill.3

3 Arafât, near Mecca.

But we? Another shift of scene,
 another pang to rack the heart;
Why meet we on the bridge of Time
 to ’change one greeting and to part?

We meet to part; yet asks my sprite,
 Part we to meet? Ah! is it so?
Man’s fancy-made Omniscience knows,
 who made Omniscience nought can know.

Why must we meet, why must we part,
 why must we bear this yoke of MUST,
Without our leave or askt or given,
 by tyrant Fate on victim thrust?

That Eve so gay, so bright, so glad,
 this Morn so dim, and sad, and grey;
Strange that life’s Registrar should write
 this day a day, that day a day!

Mine eyes, my brain, my heart, are sad,—
 sad is the very core of me;
All wearies, changes, passes, ends;
 alas! the Birthday’s injury!

Friends of my youth, a last adieu!
 haply some day we meet again;
Yet ne’er the self-same men shall meet;
 the years shall make us other men:

The light of morn has grown to noon,
 has paled with eve, and now farewell!
Go, vanish from my Life as dies
 the tinkling of the Camel’s bell.

In these drear wastes of sea-born land,
 these wilds where none may dwell but He,
What visionary Pasts revive,
 what process of the Years we see:

Gazing beyond the thin blue line
 that rims the far horizon-ring,
Our sadden’d sight why haunt these ghosts,
 whence do these spectral shadows spring?

What endless questions vex the thought,
 of Whence and Whither, When and How?
What fond and foolish strife to read
 the Scripture writ on human brow;

As stand we percht on point of Time,
 betwixt the two Eternities,
Whose awful secrets gathering round
 with black profound oppress our eyes.

“This gloomy night, these grisly waves,
 these winds and whirlpools loud and dread:
What reck they of our wretched plight
 who Safety’s shore so lightly tread?”

Thus quoth the Bard of Love and Wine,4
 whose dream of Heaven ne’er could rise
Beyond the brimming Kausar-cup
 and Houris with the white-black eyes;

4 Hâfiz of Shirâz.

Ah me! my race of threescore years
 is short, but long enough to pall
My sense with joyless joys as these,
 with Love and Houris, Wine and all.

Another boasts he would divorce
 old barren Reason from his bed,
And wed the Vine-maid in her stead;—
 fools who believe a word he said!5

5 Omar-i-Kayyâm, the tent-maker poet of Persia.

And “‘Dust thou art to dust returning.’
 ne’er was spoke of human soul”
The Soofi cries, ’tis well for him
 that hath such gift to ask its goal.

“And this is all, for this we’re born
 to weep a little and to die!”
So sings the shallow bard whose life
 still labours at the letter “I.”

“Ear never heard, Eye never saw
 the bliss of those who enter in
My heavenly kingdom,” Isâ said,
 who wailed our sorrows and our sin:

Too much of words or yet too few!
 What to thy Godhead easier than
One little glimpse of Paradise
 to ope the eyes and ears of man?

“I am the Truth! I am the Truth!”
 we hear the God-drunk gnostic cry
“The microcosm abides in ME;
 Eternal Allah’s nought but I!”

Mansûr6 was wise, but wiser they
 who smote him with the hurlèd stones;
And, though his blood a witness bore,
 no wisdom-might could mend his bones.

6 A famous Mystic stoned for blasphemy.

“Eat, drink, and sport; the rest of life’s
 not worth a fillip,” quoth the King;
Methinks the saying saith too much:
 the swine would say the selfsame thing!

Two-footed beasts that browse through life,
 by Death to serve as soil design’d,
Bow prone to Earth whereof they be,
 and there the proper pleasures find:

But you of finer, nobler, stuff,
 ye, whom to Higher leads the High,
What binds your hearts in common bond
 with creatures of the stall and sty?

“In certain hope of Life-to-come
 I journey through this shifting scene”
The Zâhid7 snarls and saunters down
 his Vale of Tears with confi’dent mien.

7 The “Philister” of “respectable” belief.

Wiser than Amrân’s Son8 art thou,
 who ken’st so well the world-to-be,
The Future when the Past is not,
 the Present merest dreamery;

8 Moses in the Koran.

What know’st thou, man, of Life? and yet,
 forever twixt the womb, the grave,
Thou pratest of the Coming Life,
 of Heav’n and Hell thou fain must rave.

The world is old and thou art young;
 the world is large and thou art small;
Cease, atom of a moment’s span,
 To hold thyself an All-in-All!

Fie, fie! you visionary things,
 ye motes that dance in sunny glow,
Who base and build Eternities
 on briefest moment here below;

Who pass through Life liked cagèd birds,
 the captives of a despot will;
Still wond’ring How and When and Why,
 and Whence and Whither, wond’ring still;

Still wond’ring how the Marvel came
 because two coupling mammals chose
To slake the thirst of fleshly love,
 and thus the “Immortal Being” rose;

Wond’ring the Babe with staring eyes,
 perforce compel’d from night to day,
Gript in the giant grasp of Life
 like gale-born dust or wind-wrung spray;

Who comes imbecile to the world
 ’mid double danger, groans, and tears;
The toy, the sport, the waif and stray
 of passions, error, wrath and fears;

Who knows not Whence he came nor Why,
 who kens not Whither bound and When,
Yet such is Allah’s choicest gift,
 the blessing dreamt by foolish men;

Who step by step perforce returns
 to couthless youth, wan, white and cold,
Lisping again his broken words
 till all the tale be fully told:

Wond’ring the Babe with quenchèd orbs,
 an oldster bow’d by burthening years,
How ’scaped the skiff an hundred storms;
 how ’scaped the thread a thousand shears;

How coming to the Feast unbid,
 he found the gorgeous table spread
With the fair-seeming Sodom-fruit,
 with stones that bear the shape of bread:

How Life was nought but ray of sun
 that clove the darkness thick and blind,
The ravings of the reckless storm,
 the shrieking of the rav’ening wind;

How lovely visions ’guiled his sleep,
 aye fading with the break of morn,
Till every sweet became a sour,
 till every rose became a thorn;

Till dust and ashes met his eyes
 wherever turned their saddened gaze;
The wrecks of joys and hopes and loves,
 the rubbish of his wasted days;

How every high heroic Thought
 that longed to breathe empyrean air,
Failed of its feathers, fell to earth,
 and perisht of a sheer despair;

How, dower’d with heritage of brain,
 whose might has split the solar ray,
His rest is grossest coarsest earth,
 a crown of gold on brow of clay;

This House whose frame be flesh and bone,
 mortar’d with blood and faced with skin,
The home of sickness, dolours, age;
 unclean without, impure within:

Sans ray to cheer its inner gloom,
 the chambers haunted by the Ghost,
Darkness his name, a cold dumb Shade
 stronger than all the heav’nly host.

This tube, an enigmatic pipe,
 whose end was laid before begun,
That lengthens, broadens, shrinks and breaks;
 —puzzle, machine, automaton;

The first of Pots the Potter made
 by Chrysorrhoas’ blue-green wave;9
Methinks I see him smile to see
 what guerdon to the world he gave!

9 The Abana, River of Damascus.

How Life is dim, unreal, vain,
 like scenes that round the drunkard reel;
How “Being” meaneth not to be;
 to see and hear, smell, taste and feel.

A drop in Ocean’s boundless tide,
 unfathom’d waste of agony;
Where millions live their horrid lives
 by making other millions die.

How with a heart that would through love
 to Universal Love aspire,
Man woos infernal chance to smite,
 as Min’arets draw the Thunder-fire.

How Earth on Earth builds tow’er and wall,
 to crumble at a touch of Time;
How Earth on Earth from Shînar-plain
 the heights of Heaven fain would climb.

How short this Life, how long withal;
 how false its weal, how true its woes,
This fever-fit with paroxysms
 to mark its opening and its close.

Ah! gay the day with shine of sun,
 and bright the breeze, and blithe the throng
Met on the River-bank to play,
 when I was young, when I was young:

Such general joy could never fade;
 and yet the chilling whisper came
One face had paled, one form had failed;
 had fled the bank, had swum the stream;

Still revellers danced, and sang, and trod
 the hither bank of Time’s deep tide,
Still one by one they left and fared
 to the far misty thither side;

And now the last hath slipt away
 yon drear Death-desert to explore,
And now one Pilgrim worn and lorn
 still lingers on the lonely shore.

Yes, Life in youth-tide standeth still;
 in manhood streameth soft and slow;
See, as it nears the ’abysmal goal
 how fleet the waters flash and flow!

And Deaths are twain; the Deaths we see
 drop like the leaves in windy Fall;
But ours, our own, are ruined worlds,
 a globe collapst, last end of all.

We live our lives with rogues and fools,
 dead and alive, alive and dead,
We die ’twixt one who feels the pulse
 and one who frets and clouds the head:

And,—oh, the Pity!—hardly conned
 the lesson comes its fatal term;
Fate bids us bundle up our books,
 and bear them bod’ily to the worm:

Hardly we learn to wield the blade
 before the wrist grows stiff and old;
Hardly we learn to ply the pen
 ere Thought and Fancy faint with cold.

Hardly we find the path of love,
 to sink the self, forget the “I,”
When sad suspicion grips the heart,
 when Man, the Man begins to die:

Hardly we scale the wisdom-heights,
 and sight the Pisgah-scene around,
And breathe the breath of heav’enly air,
 and hear the Spheres’ harmonious sound;

When swift the Camel-rider spans
 the howling waste, by Kismet sped,
And of his Magic Wand a wave
 hurries the quick to join the dead.10

10 Death in Arabia rides a Camel, not a pale horse.

How sore the burden, strange the strife;
 how full of splendour, wonder, fear;
Life, atom of that Infinite Space
 that stretcheth ’twixt the Here and There.

How Thought is imp’otent to divine
 the secret which the gods defend,
The Why of birth and life and death,
 that Isis-veil no hand may rend.

Eternal Morrows make our Day;
 our Is is aye to be till when
Night closes in; ’tis all a dream,
 and yet we die,—and then and THEN?

And still the Weaver plies his loom,
 whose warp and woof is wretched Man
Weaving th’ unpattern’d dark design,
 so dark we doubt it owns a plan.

Dost not, O Maker, blush to hear,
 amid the storm of tears and blood,
Man say Thy mercy made what is,
 and saw the made and said ’twas good?

The marvel is that man can smile
 dreaming his ghostly ghastly dream;-
Better the heedless atomy
 that buzzes in the morning beam!

O the dread pathos of our lives!
 how durst thou, Allah, thus to play
With Love, Affection, Friendship, all
 that shows the god in mortal clay?

But ah! what ’vaileth man to mourn;
 shall tears bring forth what smiles ne’er brought;
Shall brooding breed a thought of joy?
 Ah hush the sigh, forget the thought!

Silence thine immemorial quest,
 contain thy nature’s vain complaint
None heeds, none cares for thee or thine;—
 like thee how many came and went?

Cease, Man, to mourn, to weep, to wail;
 enjoy thy shining hour of sun;
We dance along Death’s icy brink,
 but is the dance less full of fun?

What Truths hath gleaned that Sage consumed
 by many a moon that waxt and waned?
What Prophet-strain be his to sing?
 What hath his old Experience gained?

There is no God, no man-made God;
 a bigger, stronger, crueller man;
Black phantom of our baby-fears,
 ere Thought, the life of Life, began.

Right quoth the Hindu Prince of old,11
 “An Ishwara for one I nill,
Th’ almighty everlasting Good
 who cannot ’bate th’ Eternal Ill:”

11 Buddha.

“Your gods may be, what shows they are?”
 hear China’s Perfect Sage declare;12
“And being, what to us be they
 who dwell so darkly and so far?”

12 Confucius.

“All matter hath a birth and death;
 ’tis made, unmade and made anew;
“We choose to call the Maker ‘God’:—
 such is the Zâhid’s owly view.

“You changeful finite Creatures strain”
 (rejoins the Drawer of the Wine)13
“The dizzy depths of Inf’inite Power
 to fathom with your foot of twine”;

13 The Soofi or Gnostic opposed to the Zâhid.

“Poor idols of man’s heart and head
 with the Divine Idea to blend;
“To preach as ‘Nature’s Common Course’
 what any hour may shift or end.”

“How shall the Shown pretend to ken
 aught of the Showman or the Show?
“Why meanly bargain to believe,
 which only means thou ne’er canst know?

“How may the passing Now contain
 the standing Now—Eternity?—
“An endless is without a was,
 the be and never the to-be?

“Who made your Maker? If Self-made,
 why fare so far to fare the worse
“Sufficeth not a world of worlds,
 a self-made chain of universe?

“Grant an Idea, Primal Cause,
 the Causing Cause, why crave for more?
“Why strive its depth and breadth to mete,
 to trace its work, its aid to ’implore?

“Unknown, Incomprehensible,
 whate’er you choose to call it, call;
“But leave it vague as airy space,
 dark in its darkness mystical.

“Your childish fears would seek a Sire,
 by the non-human God defin’d,
“What your five wits may wot ye weet;
 what is you please to dub ‘design’d;’

“You bring down Heav’en to vulgar Earth;
 your maker like yourselves you make,
“You quake to own a reign of Law,
 you pray the Law its laws to break;

“You pray, but hath your thought e’er weighed
 how empty vain the prayer must be,
“That begs a boon already giv’en,
 or craves a change of law to see?

“Say, Man, deep learnèd in the Scheme
 that orders mysteries sublime,
“How came it this was Jesus, that
 was Judas from the birth of Time?

“How I the tiger, thou the lamb;
 again the Secret, prithee, show
“Who slew the slain, bowman or bolt
 or Fate that drave the man, the bow?

“Man worships self: his God is Man;
 the struggling of the mortal mind
“To form its model as ’twould be,
 the perfect of itself to find.

“The God became sage, priest and scribe
 where Nilus’ serpent made the vale;
“A gloomy Brahm in glowing Ind,
 a neutral something cold and pale:

“Amid the high Chaldean hills
 a moulder of the heavenly spheres;
“On Guebre steppes the Timeless-God
 who governs by his dual peers:

“In Hebrew tents the Lord that led
 His leprous slaves to fight and jar;
“Yahveh,14 Adon or Elohîm,
 the God that smites, the Man of War.

14 Jehovah.

“The lovely Gods of lib’ertine Greece,
 those fair and frail humanities
“Whose homes o’erlook’d the Middle Sea,
 where all Earth’s beauty cradled lies,

“Ne’er left its blessèd bounds, nor sought
 the barb’arous climes of barb’arous gods
“Where Odin of the dreary North
 o’er hog and sickly mead-cup nods:

“And when, at length, ‘Great Pan is dead’
 uprose the loud and dol’orous cry
“A glamour wither’d on the ground,
 a splendour faded in the sky.

“Yea, Pan was dead, the Nazar’ene came
 and seized his seat beneath the sun,
“The votary of the Riddle-god,
 whose one is three and three is one;

“Whose sadd’ening creed of herited Sin
 spilt o’er the world its cold grey spell;
“In every vista showed a grave,
 and ’neath the grave the glare of Hell;

“Till all Life’s Po’esy sinks to prose;
 romance to dull Real’ity fades;
“Earth’s flush of gladness pales in gloom
 and God again to man degrades.

“Then the lank Arab foul with sweat,
 the drainer of the camel’s dug,
“Gorged with his leek-green lizard’s meat,
 clad in his filthy rag and rug,

“Bore his fierce Allah o’er his sands
 and broke, like lava-burst upon
“The realms where reigned pre-Adamite Kings,
 where rose the Grand Kayânian throne.15

15 Kayâni—of the race of Cyrus; old Guebre heroes.

“Who now of ancient Kayomurs,
 of Zâl or Rustam cares to sing,
“Whelmed by the tempest of the tribes
 that called the Camel-driver King?

“Where are the crown of Kay Khusraw,
 the sceptre of Anûshirwân,
“The holy grail of high Jamshîd,
 Afrâsiyab’s hall?—Canst tell me, man?

“Gone, gone, where I and thou must go,
 borne by the winnowing wings of Death,
“The Horror brooding over life,
 and nearer brought with every breath:

“Their fame hath filled the Seven Climes,
 they rose and reigned, they fought and fell,
“As swells and swoons across the wold
 the tinkling of the Camel’s bell.”

There is no Good, there is no Bad;
 these be the whims of mortal will:
What works me weal that call I ‘good,’
 what harms and hurts I hold as ‘ill:’

They change with place, they shift with race;
 and, in the veriest span of Time,
Each Vice has worn a Virtue’s crown;
 all Good was banned as Sin or Crime:

Like ravelled skeins they cross and twine,
 while this with that connects and blends;
And only Khizr16 his eye shall see
 where one begins, where other ends:

16 Supposed to be the Prophet Elijah.

What mortal shall consort with Khizr,
 when Musâ turned in fear to flee?
What man foresees the flow’er or fruit
 whom Fate compels to plant the tree?

For Man’s Free-will immortal Law,
 Anagkê, Kismet, Des’tiny read
That was, that is, that aye shall be,
 Star, Fortune, Fate, Urd, Norn or Need.

“Man’s nat’ural state is God’s design;”
 such is the silly sage’s theme;
“Man’s primal Age was Age of Gold;”
 such is the Poet’s waking dream:

Delusion, Ign’orance! Long ere Man
 drew upon Earth his earliest breath
The world was one contin’uous scene
 of anguish, torture, prey and Death;

Where hideous Theria of the wild
 rended their fellows limb by limb;
Where horrid Saurians of the sea
 in waves of blood were wont to swim:

The “fair young Earth” was only fit
 to spawn her frightful monster-brood;
Now fiery hot, now icy frore,
 now reeking wet with steamy flood.

Yon glorious Sun, the greater light,
 the “Bridegroom” of the royal Lyre,
A flaming, boiling, bursting mine;
 a grim black orb of whirling fire:

That gentle Moon, the lesser light,
 the Lover’s lamp, the Swain’s delight,
A ruined world, a globe burnt out,
 a corpse upon the road of night.

What reckt he, say, of Good or Ill
 who in the hill-hole made his lair,
The blood-fed rav’ening Beast of prey,
 wilder than wildest wolf or bear?

How long in Man’s pre-Ad’amite days
 to feed and swill, to sleep and breed,
Were the Brute-biped’s only life,
 a perfect life sans Code or Creed?

His choicest garb a shaggy fell,
 his choicest tool a flake of stone;
His best of orn’aments tattoo’d skin
 and holes to hang his bits of bone;

Who fought for female as for food
 when Mays awoke to warm desire;
And such the Lust that grew to Love
 when Fancy lent a purer fire.

Where then “Th’ Eternal nature-law
 by God engraved on human heart?”
Behold his simiad sconce and own
 the Thing could play no higher part.

Yet, as long ages rolled, he learnt
 from Beaver, Ape and Ant to build
Shelter for sire and dam and brood,
 from blast and blaze that hurt and killed;

And last came Fire; when scrap of stone
 cast on the flame that lit his den,
Gave out the shining ore, and made
 the Lord of beasts a Lord of men.

The “moral sense,” your Zâhid-phrase,
 is but the gift of latest years;
Conscience was born when man had shed
 his fur, his tail, his pointed ears.

What conscience has the murd’erous Moor,
 who slays his guest with felon blow,
Save sorrow he can slay no more,
 what prick of pen’itence can he know?

You cry the “Cruelty of Things”
 is myst’ery to your purblind eye,
Which fixed upon a point in space
 the general project passes by:

For see! the Mammoth went his ways,
 became a mem’ory and a name;
While the half-reasoner with the hand17
 survives his rank and place to claim.

17 The Elephant.

Earthquake and plague, storm, fight and fray,
 portents and curses man must deem
Since he regards his self alone,
 nor cares to trace the scope, the scheme;

The Quake that comes in eyelid’s beat
 to ruin, level, ’gulf and kill,
Builds up a world for better use,
 to general Good bends special Ill:

The dreadest sound man’s ear can hear,
 the war and rush of stormy Wind
Depures the stuff of human life,
 breeds health and strength for humankind:

What call ye them or Goods or Ills,
 ill-goods, good-ills, a loss, a gain,
When realms arise and falls a roof;
 a world is won, a man is slain?

And thus the race of Being runs,
 till haply in the time to be
Earth shifts her pole and Mushtari18-men
 another falling star shall see:

18 The Planet Jupiter.

Shall see it fall and fade from sight,
 whence come, where gone no Thought can tell,—
Drink of yon mirage-stream and chase
 the tinkling of the camel-bell!

All Faith is false, all Faith is true:
 Truth is the shattered mirror strown
In myriad bits; while each believes
 his little bit the whole to own.

What is the Truth? was askt of yore.
 Reply all object Truth is one
As twain of halves aye makes a whole;
 the moral Truth for all is none.

Ye scantly-learned Zâhids learn
 from Aflatûn and Aristû,19
While Truth is real like your good:
 th’ Untrue, like ill, is real too;

19 Plato and Aristotle.

As palace mirror’d in the stream,
 as vapour mingled with the skies,
So weaves the brain of mortal man
 the tangled web of Truth and Lies.

What see we here? Forms, nothing more!
 Forms fill the brightest, strongest eye,
We know not substance; ’mid the shades
 shadows ourselves we live and die.

“Faith mountains move” I hear: I see
 the practice of the world unheed
The foolish vaunt, the blatant boast
 that serves our vanity to feed.

“Faith stands unmoved”; and why? Because
 man’s silly fancies still remain,
And will remain till wiser man
 the day-dreams of his youth disdain.

“’Tis blessèd to believe”; you say:
 The saying may be true enow
And it can add to Life a light:—
 only remains to show us how.

E’en if I could I nould believe
 your tales and fables stale and trite,
Irksome as twice-sung tune that tires
 the dullèd ear of drowsy wight.

With God’s foreknowledge man’s free will!
 what monster-growth of human brain,
What powers of light shall ever pierce
 this puzzle dense with words inane?

Vainly the heart on Providence calls,
 such aid to seek were hardly wise
For man must own the pitiless Law
 that sways the globe and sevenfold skies.

“Be ye Good Boys, go seek for Heav’en,
 come pay the priest that holds the key;”
So spake, and speaks, and aye shall speak
 the last to enter Heaven,—he.

Are these the words for men to hear?
 yet such the Church’s general tongue,
The horseleech-cry so strong so high
 her heav’enward Psalms and Hymns among.

What? Faith a merit and a claim,
 when with the brain ’tis born and bred?
Go, fool, thy foolish way and dip
 in holy water burièd dead!

Yet follow not th’ unwisdom-path,
 cleave not to this and that disclaim;
Believe in all that man believes;
 here all and naught are both the same.

But is it so? How may we know?
 Haply this Fate, this Law may be
A word, a sound, a breath; at most
 the Zâhid’s moonstruck theory.

Yes Truth may be, but ’tis not Here;
 mankind must seek and find it There,
But Where nor I nor you can tell,
 nor aught earth-mother ever bare.

Enough to think that Truth can be:
 come sit we where the roses glow,
Indeed he knows not how to know
 who knows not also how to ’unknow.

Man hath no Soul, a state of things,
 a no-thing still, a sound, a word
Which so begets substantial thing
 that eye shall see what ear hath heard.

Where was his Soul the savage beast
 which in primeval forests strayed,
What shape had it, what dwelling-place,
 what part in nature’s plan it played?

This Soul to ree a riddle made;
 who wants the vain duality?
Is not myself enough for me?
 what need of “I” within an “I”?

Words, words that gender things! The soul
 is a new-comer on the scene;
Sufficeth not the breath of Life
 to work the matter-born machine?

We know the Gen’esis of the Soul;
 we trace the Soul to hour of birth;
We mark its growth as grew mankind
 to boast himself sole Lord of Earth:

The race of Be’ing from dawn of Life
 in an unbroken course was run;
What men are pleased to call their Souls
 was in the hog and dog begun:

Life is a ladder infinite-stepped,
 that hides its rungs from human eyes;
Planted its foot in chaos-gloom,
 its head soars high above the skies:

No break the chain of Being bears;
 all things began in unity;
And lie the links in regular line
 though haply none the sequence see.

The Ghost, embodied natural Dread
 of dreary death and foul decay,
Begat the Spirit, Soul and Shade
 with Hades’ pale and wan array.

The Soul required a greater Soul,
 a Soul of Souls, to rule the host;
Hence spirit-powers and hierarchies,
 all gendered by the savage Ghost.

Not yours, ye Peoples of the Book,
 these fairy visions fair and fond,
Got by the gods of Khemi-land20
 and faring far the seas beyond!

20 Egypt; Kam, Kem, Khem (hierogl.), in the Demotic Khemi.

“Th’ immortal mind of mortal man!”
 we hear yon loud-lunged Zealot cry;
Whose mind but means his sum of thought,
 an essence of atomic “I.”

Thought is the work of brain and nerve,
 in small-skulled idiot poor and mean;
In sickness sick, in sleep asleep,
 and dead when Death lets drop the scene.

“Tush!” quoth the Zâhid, “well we ken
 the teaching of the school abhorr’d
“That maketh man automaton,
 mind a secretion, soul a word.”

“Of molecules and protoplasm
 you matter-mongers prompt to prate;
“Of jelly-speck development
 and apes that grew to man’s estate.”

Vain cavil! all that is hath come
 either by Mir’acle or by Law;—
Why waste on this your hate and fear,
 why waste on that your love and awe?

Why heap such hatred on a word,
 why “Prototype” to type assign,
Why upon matter spirit mass?
 wants an appendix your design?

Is not the highest honour his
 who from the worst hath drawn the best;
May not your Maker make the world
 from matter, an it suit His hest?

Nay more, the sordider the stuff
 the cunninger the workman’s hand:
Cease, then, your own Almighty Power
 to bind, to bound, to understand.

“Reason and Instinct!” How we love
 to play with words that please our pride;
Our noble race’s mean descent
 by false forged titles seek to hide!

For “gift divine” I bid you read
 the better work of higher brain,
From Instinct diff’ering in degree
 as golden mine from leaden vein.

Reason is Life’s sole arbiter,
 the magic Laby’rinth’s single clue:
Worlds lie above, beyond its ken;
 what crosses it can ne’er be true.

“Fools rush where Angels fear to tread!”
 Angels and Fools have equal claim
To do what Nature bids them do,
 sans hope of praise, sans fear of blame!

There is no Heav’en, there is no Hell;
 these be the dreams of baby minds;
Tools of the wily Fetisheer,
 to ’fright the fools his cunning blinds.

Learn from the mighty Spi’rits of old
 to set thy foot on Heav’en and Hell;
In Life to find thy hell and heav’en
 as thou abuse or use it well.

So deemed the doughty Jew who dared
 by studied silence low to lay
Orcus and Hades, lands of shades,
 the gloomy night of human day.

Hard to the heart is final death:
 fain would an Ens not end in Nil;
Love made the senti’ment kindly good:
 the Priest perverted all to ill.

While Reason sternly bids us die,
 Love longs for life beyond the grave:
Our hearts, affections, hopes and fears
 for Life-to-be shall ever crave.

Hence came the despot’s darling dream,
 a Church to rule and sway the State;
Hence sprang the train of countless griefs
 in priestly sway and rule innate.

For future Life who dares reply?
 No witness at the bar have we;
Save what the brother Potsherd tells,—
 old tales and novel jugglery.

Who e’er return’d to teach the Truth,
 the things of Heaven and Hell to limn?
And all we hear is only fit
 for grandam-talk and nursery-hymn.

“Have mercy, man!” the Zâhid cries,
 “of our best visions rob us not!
“Mankind a future life must have
 to balance life’s unequal lot.”

“Nay,” quoth the Magian, “’tis not so;
 I draw my wine for one and all,
“A cup for this, a score for that,
 e’en as his measure’s great or small:

“Who drinks one bowl hath scant delight;
 to poorest passion he was born;
“Who drains the score must e’er expect
 to rue the headache of the morn.”

Safely he jogs along the way
 which ‘Golden Mean’ the sages call;
Who scales the brow of frowning Alp
 must face full many a slip and fall.

Here èxtremes meet, anointed Kings
 whose crownèd heads uneasy lie,
Whose cup of joy contains no more
 than tramps that on the dunghill die.

To fate-doomed Sinner born and bred
 for dangling from the gallows-tree;
To Saint who spends his holy days
 in rapt’urous hope his God to see;

To all that breathe our upper air
 the hands of Dest’iny ever deal,
In fixed and equal parts, their shares
 of joy and sorrow, woe and weal.

“How comes it, then, our span of days
 in hunting wealth and fame we spend
“Why strive we (and all humans strive)
 for vain and visionary end?”

Reply: mankind obeys a law
 that bids him labour, struggle, strain;
The Sage well knowing its unworth,
 the Fool a-dreaming foolish gain.

And who, ’mid e’en the Fools, but feels
 that half the joy is in the race
For wealth and fame and place, nor sighs
 when comes success to crown the chase?

Again: in Hind, Chîn, Franguestân
 that accident of birth befell,
Without our choice, our will, our voice:
 Faith is an accident as well.

What to the Hindu saith the Frank:
 “Denier of the Laws divine!
“However godly-good thy Life,
 Hell is the home for thee and thine.”

“Go strain the draught before ’tis drunk,
 and learn that breathing every breath,
“With every step, with every gest,
 something of life thou do’est to death.”

Replies the Hindu: “Wend thy way
 for foul and foolish Mlenchhas fit;
“Your Pariah-par’adise woo and win;
 at such dog-Heav’en I laugh and spit.”

“Cannibals of the Holy Cow!
 who make your rav’ening maws the grave
“Of Things with self-same right to live;—
 what Fiend the filthy license gave?”

What to the Moslem cries the Frank?
 “A polygamic Theist thou!
“From an imposter-Prophet turn;
 Thy stubborn head to Jesus bow.”

Rejoins the Moslem: “Allah’s one
 tho’ with four Moslemahs I wive,
“One-wife-men ye and (damnèd race!)
 you split your God to Three and Five.”

The Buddhist to Confucians thus:
 “Like dogs ye live, like dogs ye die;
“Content ye rest with wretched earth;
 God, Judgment, Hell ye fain defy.”

Retorts the Tartar: “Shall I lend
 mine only ready-money ‘now,’
“For vain usurious ‘Then’ like thine,
 avaunt, a triple idiot Thou!”

“With this poor life, with this mean world
 I fain complete what in me lies;
“I strive to perfect this my me;
 my sole ambition’s to be wise.”

When doctors differ who decides
 amid the milliard-headed throng?
Who save the madman dares to cry:
 “’Tis I am right, you all are wrong?”

“You all are right, you all are wrong,”
 we hear the careless Soofi say,
“For each believes his glimm’ering lamp
 to be the gorgeous light of day.”

“Thy faith why false, my faith why true?
 ’tis all the work of Thine and Mine,
“The fond and foolish love of self
 that makes the Mine excel the Thine.”

Cease then to mumble rotten bones;
 and strive to clothe with flesh and blood
The skel’eton; and to shape a Form
 that all shall hail as fair and good.

“For gen’erous youth,” an Arab saith,
 “Jahim’s21 the only genial state;
“Give us the fire but not the shame
 with the sad, sorry blest to mate.”

21 Jehannum, Gehenna, Hell.

And if your Heav’en and Hell be true,
 and Fate that forced me to be born
Force me to Heav’en or Hell—I go,
 and hold Fate’s insolence in scorn.

I want not this, I want not that,
 already sick of Me and Thee;
And if we’re both transform’d and changed,
 what then becomes of Thee and Me?

Enough to think such things may be:
 to say they are not or they are
Were folly: leave them all to Fate,
 nor wage on shadows useless war.

Do what thy manhood bids thee do,
 from none but self expect applause;
He noblest lives and noblest dies
 who makes and keeps his self-made laws.

All other Life is living Death,
 a world where none but Phantoms dwell,
A breath, a wind, a sound, a voice,
 a tinkling of the camel-bell.

How then shall man so order life
 that when his tale of years is told,
Like sated guest he wend his way;
 how shall his even tenour hold?

Despite the Writ that stores the skull;
 despite the Table and the Pen;22
Maugre the Fate that plays us down,
 her board the world, her pieces men?

22 Emblems of Kismet, or Destiny.

How when the light and glow of life
 wax dim in thickly gath’ering gloom,
Shall mortal scoff at sting of Death,
 shall scorn the victory of the Tomb?

One way, two paths, one end the grave.
 This runs athwart the flow’ery plain,
That breasts the bush, the steep, the crag,
 in sun and wind and snow and rain:

Who treads the first must look adown,
 must deem his life an all in all;
Must see no heights where man may rise,
 must sight no depths where man may fall.

Allah in Adam form must view;
 adore the Maker in the made.
Content to bask in Mâyâ’s smile,23
 in joys of pain, in lights of shade.

23 Illusion.

He breaks the Law, he burns the Book,
 he sends the Moolah back to school;
Laughs at the beards of Saintly men;
 and dubs the Prophet dolt and fool,

Embraces Cypress’ taper-waist;
 cools feet on wavy breast of rill;
Smiles in the Nargis’ love-lorn eyes,
 and ’joys the dance of Daffodil;

Melts in the saffron light of Dawn
 to hear the moaning of the Dove;
Delights in Sundown’s purpling hues
 when Bulbul woos the Rose’s love.

Finds mirth and joy in Jamshid-bowl;
 toys with the Daughter of the vine;
And bids the beauteous cup-boy say,
 “Master I bring thee ruby wine!”24

24 That all the senses, even the ear, may enjoy.

Sips from the maiden’s lips the dew;
 brushes the bloom from virgin brow:—
Such is his fleshly bliss that strives
 the Maker through the Made to know.

I’ve tried them all, I find them all
 so same and tame, so drear, so dry;
My gorge ariseth at the thought;
 I commune with myself and cry:—

Better the myriad toils and pains
 that make the man to manhood true,
This be the rule that guideth life;
 these be the laws for me and you:

With Ignor’ance wage eternal war,
 to know thy self forever strain,
Thine ignorance of thine ignorance is
 thy fiercest foe, thy deadliest bane;

That blunts thy sense, and dulls thy taste;
 that deafs thine ears, and blinds thine eyes;
Creates the thing that never was,
 the Thing that ever is defies.

The finite Atom infinite
 that forms thy circle’s centre-dot,
So full-sufficient for itself,
 for other selves existing not,

Finds the world mighty as ’tis small;
 yet must be fought the unequal fray;
A myriad giants here; and there
 a pinch of dust, a clod of clay.

Yes! maugre all thy dreams of peace
 still must the fight unfair be fought;
Where thou mayst learn the noblest lore,
 to know that all we know is nought.

True to thy Nature, to Thy self,
 Fame and Disfame nor hope nor fear:
Enough to thee the small still voice
 aye thund’ering in thine inner ear.

From self-approval seek applause:
 What ken not men thou kennest, thou!
Spurn ev’ry idol others raise:
 Before thine own Ideal bow:

Be thine own Deus: Make self free,
 liberal as the circling air:
Thy Thought to thee an Empire be;
 break every prison’ing lock and bar:

Do thou the Ought to self aye owed;
 here all the duties meet and blend,
In widest sense, withouten care
 of what began, for what shall end.

Thus, as thou view the Phantom-forms
 which in the misty Past were thine,
To be again the thing thou wast
 with honest pride thou may’st decline;

And, glancing down the range of years,
 fear not thy future self to see;
Resign’d to life, to death resign’d,
 as though the choice were nought to thee.

On Thought itself feed not thy thought;
 nor turn from Sun and Light to gaze,
At darkling cloisters paved with tombs,
 where rot the bones of bygone days:

“Eat not thy heart,” the Sages said;
 “nor mourn the Past, the buried Past;”
Do what thou dost, be strong, be brave;
 and, like the Star, nor rest nor haste.

Pluck the old woman from thy breast:
 Be stout in woe, be stark in weal;
Do good for Good is good to do:
 Spurn bribe of Heav’en and threat of Hell.

To seek the True, to glad the heart,
 such is of life the HIGHER LAW,
Whose differ’ence is the Man’s degree,
 the Man of gold, the Man of straw.

See not that something in Mankind
 that rouses hate or scorn or strife,
Better the worm of Izrâil25
 than Death that walks in form of life.

25 The Angel of Death.

Survey thy kind as One whose wants
 in the great Human Whole unite;26
The Homo rising high from earth
 to seek the Heav’ens of Life-in-Light;

26 The “Great Man” of the Enochites and the Mormons.

And hold Humanity one man,
 whose universal agony
Still strains and strives to gain the goal,
 where agonies shall cease to be.

Believe in all things; none believe;
 judge not nor warp by “Facts” the thought;
See clear, hear clear, tho’ life may seem
 Mâyâ and Mirage, Dream and Naught.

Abjure the Why and seek the How:
 the God and gods enthroned on high,
Are silent all, are silent still;
 nor hear thy voice, nor deign reply.

The Now, that indivis’ible point
 which studs the length of inf’inite line
Whose ends are nowhere, is thine all,
 the puny all thou callest thine.

Perchance the law some Giver hath:
 Let be! let be! what canst thou know?
A myriad races came and went;
 this Sphinx hath seen them come and go.

Haply the Law that rules the world
 allows to man the widest range;
And haply Fate’s a Theist-word,
 subject to human chance and change.

This “I” may find a future Life,
 a nobler copy of our own,
Where every riddle shall be ree’d,
 where every knowledge shall be known;

Where ’twill be man’s to see the whole
 of what on Earth he sees in part;
Where change shall ne’er surcharge the thought;
 nor hope defer’d shall hurt the heart.

But!—faded flow’er and fallen leaf
 no more shall deck the parent tree;
And man once dropt by Tree of Life
 what hope of other life has he?

The shatter’d bowl shall know repair;
 the riven lute shall sound once more;
But who shall mend the clay of man,
 the stolen breath to man restore?

The shiver’d clock again shall strike;
 the broken reed shall pipe again:
But we, we die, and Death is one,
 the doom of brutes, the doom of men.

Then, if Nirwânâ27 round our life
 with nothingness, ’tis haply best;
Thy toils and troubles, want and woe
 at length have won their guerdon—Rest.

27 Comparative annihilation.

Cease, Abdû, cease! Thy song is sung,
 nor think the gain the singer’s prize;
Till men hold Ignor’ance deadly sin,
 till man deserves his title “Wise:”28

28 “Homo sapiens.”

In Days to come, Days slow to dawn,
 when Wisdom deigns to dwell with men,
These echoes of a voice long stilled
 haply shall wake responsive strain:

Wend now thy way with brow serene,
 fear not thy humble tale to tell:—
The whispers of the Desert-wind;
 the tinkling of the camel’s bell.

What is the potential of a house/home?

"I sometimes dream of a larger and more populous house, standing in a golden age, of enduring materials, and without gingerbread work, which shall still consist of only one room, a vast, rude, substantial, primitive hall, without ceiling or plastering, with bare rafters and purlins supporting a sort of lower heaven over one's head -- useful to keep off rain and snow, where the king and queen posts stand out to receive your homage, when you have done reverence to the prostrate Saturn of an older dynasty on stepping over the sill; a cavernous house, wherein you must reach up a torch upon a pole to see the roof; where some may live in the fireplace, some in the recess of a window, and some on settles, some at one end of the hall, some at another, and some aloft on rafters with the spiders, if they choose; a house which you have got into when you have opened the outside door, and the ceremony is over; where the weary traveller may wash, and eat, and converse, and sleep, without further journey; such a shelter as you would be glad to reach in a tempestuous night, containing all the essentials of a house, and nothing for house-keeping; where you can see all the treasures of the house at one view, and everything hangs upon its peg, that a man should use; at once kitchen, pantry, parlor, chamber, storehouse, and garret; where you can see so necessary a thing, as a barrel or a ladder, so convenient a thing as a cupboard, and hear the pot boil, and pay your respects to the fire that cooks your dinner, and the oven that bakes your bread, and the necessary furniture and utensils are the chief ornaments; where the washing is not put out, nor the fire, nor the mistress, and perhaps you are sometimes requested to move from off the trap-door, when the cook would descend into the cellar, and so learn whether the ground is solid or hollow beneath you without stamping. A house whose inside is as open and manifest as a bird's nest, and you cannot go in at the front door and out at the back without seeing some of its inhabitants; where to be a guest is to be presented with the freedom of the house, and not to be carefully excluded from seven eighths of it, shut up in a particular cell, and told to make yourself at home there -- in solitary confinement. Nowadays the host does not admit you to his hearth, but has got the mason to build one for yourself somewhere in his alley, and hospitality is the art of keeping you at the greatest distance. There is as much secrecy about the cooking as if he had a design to poison you. I am aware that I have been on many a man's premises, and might have been legally ordered off, but I am not aware that I have been in many men's houses. I might visit in my old clothes a king and queen who lived simply in such a house as I have described, if I were going their way; but backing out of a modern palace will be all that I shall desire to learn, if ever I am caught in one."

Henry David Thoreau

Kill the one who grieves

Q: If a loved one dies, grief results. Could we avoid such grief by either loving all alike or by not loving at all?

M: If one dies, there is grief for the other who lives. The way to get rid of grief is not to live. Kill the one who grieves. Who will then remain to suffer? The ego must die. That is the only way. The two alternatives amount to the same state. When all is the Self, who is there to be loved or hated?

Ramana Maharishi

Ruskin - I keep coming back to Ruskin

I feel like my journey in India has some connection with Ruskin.
Here are a few excerpts from his writings (first a little bio):

John Ruskin - 1819 - 1900

He was the Prophet of the Nineteenth century. He warned against atmospheric pollution, advocated free schools and libraries, proposed the National Trust, and showed by example the benefits of fair rents and security of tenure.

He championed the Pre-Raphaelites and introduced the English public to the early Italian painters. He advocated education for the working man, and was benefactor and tutor in Working Men's Colleges. He established the Guild of St George and its museum in Sheffield, and he became the Slade Professor of Fine Art at Oxford.

"It may be proved with much certainty, that God intends no man to live in this world without working: but it seems to me no less evident that He intends every man to be happy in his work. It is written, "in the sweat of thy brow," but it was never written "in the breaking of thine heart...." Now in order that people may be happy in their work, these three things are needed. They must be fit for it: They must not do too much of it: and they must have a sense of success in it - not a doubtful sense, such as needs testimony of other people for its confirmation, but a sure sense, or rather, knowledge that so much work has been done well, and fruitfully done, whatever the world may say or think about it. So that in order that a man may be happy, it is necessary that he should not only be capable of his work, but a good judge of his work."

Pre-Raphaelitism 1851

"Let every dawn of morning be to you as the beginning of life, and every setting sun be to youas its close:- then let every one of these short lives leave its sure record of some kindly thing done for others - some goodly strength or knowledge gained for yourselves; so from day to day, and strength to strength, you shall build up indeed, by Art, by Thought, and by Just Will, an Ecclesia of England, of which it shall not be said, "See what manner of stones are here," but "See what manner of men."

Lectures on Art, 1870

"John Ruskin is one of the most remarkable men, not only of England and our time, but of all countries and all times."

Leo Tolstoy

The purpose of Symbols in wisdom

To point to that which is beyond the limitations of material existence. To that which transcends the limits of thought.

The Book of John - Chapter 11

"Jhn 11:1 Now a certain [man] was sick, [named] Lazarus, of Bethany, the town of Mary and her sister Martha.
Jhn 11:2 (It was [that] Mary which anointed the Lord with ointment, and wiped his feet with her hair, whose brother Lazarus was sick.)
Jhn 11:3 Therefore his sisters sent unto him, saying, Lord, behold, he whom thou lovest is sick.
Jhn 11:4 When Jesus heard [that], he said, This sickness is not unto death, but for the glory of God, that the Son of God might be glorified thereby.
Jhn 11:5 Now Jesus loved Martha, and her sister, and Lazarus.
Jhn 11:6 When he had heard therefore that he was sick, he abode two days still in the same place where he was.
Jhn 11:7 Then after that saith he to [his] disciples, Let us go into Judaea again.
Jhn 11:8 [His] disciples say unto him, Master, the Jews of late sought to stone thee; and goest thou thither again?
Jhn 11:9 Jesus answered, Are there not twelve hours in the day? If any man walk in the day, he stumbleth not, because he seeth the light of this world.
Jhn 11:10 But if a man walk in the night, he stumbleth, because there is no light in him.
Jhn 11:11 These things said he: and after that he saith unto them, Our friend Lazarus sleepeth; but I go, that I may awake him out of sleep.
Jhn 11:12 Then said his disciples, Lord, if he sleep, he shall do well.
Jhn 11:13 Howbeit Jesus spake of his death: but they thought that he had spoken of taking of rest in sleep.
Jhn 11:14 Then said Jesus unto them plainly, Lazarus is dead.
Jhn 11:15 And I am glad for your sakes that I was not there, to the intent ye may believe; nevertheless let us go unto him.
Jhn 11:16 Then said Thomas, which is called Didymus, unto his fellowdisciples, Let us also go, that we may die with him.
Jhn 11:17 Then when Jesus came, he found that he had [lain] in the grave four days already.
Jhn 11:18 Now Bethany was nigh unto Jerusalem, about fifteen furlongs off:
Jhn 11:19 And many of the Jews came to Martha and Mary, to comfort them concerning their brother.
Jhn 11:20 Then Martha, as soon as she heard that Jesus was coming, went and met him: but Mary sat [still] in the house.
Jhn 11:21 Then said Martha unto Jesus, Lord, if thou hadst been here, my brother had not died.
Jhn 11:22 But I know, that even now, whatsoever thou wilt ask of God, God will give [it] thee.
Jhn 11:23 Jesus saith unto her, Thy brother shall rise again.
Jhn 11:24 Martha saith unto him, I know that he shall rise again in the resurrection at the last day.
Jhn 11:25 Jesus said unto her, I am the resurrection, and the life: he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live:
Jhn 11:26 And whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die. Believest thou this?
Jhn 11:27 She saith unto him, Yea, Lord: I believe that thou art the Christ, the Son of God, which should come into the world.
Jhn 11:28 And when she had so said, she went her way, and called Mary her sister secretly, saying, The Master is come, and calleth for thee.
Jhn 11:29 As soon as she heard [that], she arose quickly, and came unto him.
Jhn 11:30 Now Jesus was not yet come into the town, but was in that place where Martha met him.
Jhn 11:31 The Jews then which were with her in the house, and comforted her, when they saw Mary, that she rose up hastily and went out, followed her, saying, She goeth unto the grave to weep there.
Jhn 11:32 Then when Mary was come where Jesus was, and saw him, she fell down at his feet, saying unto him, Lord, if thou hadst been here, my brother had not died.
Jhn 11:33 When Jesus therefore saw her weeping, and the Jews also weeping which came with her, he groaned in the spirit, and was troubled,
Jhn 11:34 And said, Where have ye laid him? They said unto him, Lord, come and see.
Jhn 11:35 Jesus wept.
Jhn 11:36 Then said the Jews, Behold how he loved him!
Jhn 11:37 And some of them said, Could not this man, which opened the eyes of the blind, have caused that even this man should not have died?
Jhn 11:38 Jesus therefore again groaning in himself cometh to the grave. It was a cave, and a stone lay upon it.
Jhn 11:39 Jesus said, Take ye away the stone. Martha, the sister of him that was dead, saith unto him, Lord, by this time he stinketh: for he hath been [dead] four days.
Jhn 11:40 Jesus saith unto her, Said I not unto thee, that, if thou wouldest believe, thou shouldest see the glory of God?
Jhn 11:41 Then they took away the stone [from the place] where the dead was laid. And Jesus lifted up [his] eyes, and said, Father, I thank thee that thou hast heard me.
Jhn 11:42 And I knew that thou hearest me always: but because of the people which stand by I said [it], that they may believe that thou hast sent me.
Jhn 11:43 And when he thus had spoken, he cried with a loud voice, Lazarus, come forth.
Jhn 11:44 And he that was dead came forth, bound hand and foot with graveclothes: and his face was bound about with a napkin. Jesus saith unto them, Loose him, and let him go.
Jhn 11:45 Then many of the Jews which came to Mary, and had seen the things which Jesus did, believed on him.
Jhn 11:46 But some of them went their ways to the Pharisees, and told them what things Jesus had done.
Jhn 11:47 Then gathered the chief priests and the Pharisees a council, and said, What do we? for this man doeth many miracles.
Jhn 11:48 If we let him thus alone, all [men] will believe on him: and the Romans shall come and take away both our place and nation.
Jhn 11:49 And one of them, [named] Caiaphas, being the high priest that same year, said unto them, Ye know nothing at all,
Jhn 11:50 Nor consider that it is expedient for us, that one man should die for the people, and that the whole nation perish not.
Jhn 11:51 And this spake he not of himself: but being high priest that year, he prophesied that Jesus should die for that nation;
Jhn 11:52 And not for that nation only, but that also he should gather together in one the children of God that were scattered abroad.
Jhn 11:53 Then from that day forth they took counsel together for to put him to death.
Jhn 11:54 Jesus therefore walked no more openly among the Jews; but went thence unto a country near to the wilderness, into a city called Ephraim, and there continued with his disciples.
Jhn 11:55 And the Jews' passover was nigh at hand: and many went out of the country up to Jerusalem before the passover, to purify themselves.
Jhn 11:56 Then sought they for Jesus, and spake among themselves, as they stood in the temple, What think ye, that he will not come to the feast?
Jhn 11:57 Now both the chief priests and the Pharisees had given a commandment, that, if any man knew where he were, he should shew [it], that they might take him."

Faith is something profound.
Only the pure heart can know this.
It is not a subject for intellectual analysis.

Arrogance is to believe that you are right and everyone else is wrong.
Discrimination, when married with honesty, is capable of seeing folly - whether in oneself or another.

What we cannot explain - we tend to either denigrate or make into an icon.
Wisdom does not do this.

The essence of wisdom is that it is beyond condemnation and persuasion. It calmly goes to the root of things. It sees what is true - what actually is. It has nothing to defend. It is beyond the rigid laws of belief systems. It has a relationship with the real. It is focused and beyond limitation - but also - importantly - beyond temptation (there are many miracle workers who are attached to their psychic powers - but that is not the highest - wisdom is very aware of this and supremely attentive to any sense of attachment that might develop in the mind as direct consequence).

The Book of John - Chapter 10 - The Good Shepherd

Parable of the Good Shepherd

1"Truly, truly, I say to you, he who does not enter by the door into the fold of the sheep, but climbs up some other way, he is a thief and a robber. 2But he who enters by the door is a shepherd of the sheep. 3To him the doorkeeper opens, and the sheep hear his voice, and he calls his own sheep by name and leads them out. 4When he puts forth all his own, he goes ahead of them, and the sheep follow him because they know his voice. 5A stranger they simply will not follow, but will flee from him, because they do not know the voice of strangers." 6This figure of speech Jesus spoke to them, but they did not understand what those things were which He had been saying to them.

7So Jesus said to them again, "Truly, truly, I say to you, I am the door of the sheep. 8All who came before Me are thieves and robbers, but the sheep did not hear them. 9I am the door; if anyone enters through Me, he will be saved, and will go in and out and find pasture. 10The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly.

11"I am the good shepherd; the good shepherd lays down His life for the sheep. 12He who is a hired hand, and not a shepherd, who is not the owner of the sheep, sees the wolf coming, and leaves the sheep and flees, and the wolf snatches them and scatters them. 13He flees because he is a hired hand and is not concerned about the sheep. 14I am the good shepherd, and I know My own and My own know Me, 15even as the Father knows Me and I know the Father; and I lay down My life for the sheep. 16I have other sheep, which are not of this fold; I must bring them also, and they will hear My voice; and they will become one flock with one shepherd. 17For this reason the Father loves Me, because I lay down My life so that I may take it again. 18No one has taken it away from Me, but I lay it down on My own initiative. I have authority to lay it down, and I have authority to take it up again. This commandment I received from My Father."

19A division occurred again among the Jews because of these words. 20Many of them were saying, "He has a demon and is insane. Why do you listen to Him?" 21Others were saying, "These are not the sayings of one demon-possessed. A demon cannot open the eyes of the blind, can he?"

In my spiritual journey, one of the things that has most bothered and aggravated me has been fundamentalism of any kind. I have always felt that only by looking carefully at the nature of the mind and learning therein - can there be any possibility of transformation or spiritual awakening.

In the above passage Jesus is talking about the Christ energy. He identified completely with the inner Christ within him.

"I am the door of the sheep. 8All who came before Me are thieves and robbers, but the sheep did not hear them. 9I am the door; if anyone enters through Me, he will be saved, and will go in and out and find pasture. 10The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly."

I am the door of the sheep = I am the door for the humble who seek spiritual sustenance.

I am the door = I am the pure heart - the Christ within each one

The sheep represent humanity. When their heart is seen to be maturing then you have an earnest and serious human being who seeks true perception and the guiding light of the Christ-energy. When that heart awakens to its true nature with humility and reverence it comes upon the door of Christ wisdom. That door opens to the beauty and light inherent in our true nature. If we settle for anything less than that door - we settle for second best - we don't go the whole way, we compromise and we are the thieves and robbers of our own perfection.

The thief is he who has motives and expectations - who acts out of self-interest - he cannot pass through the door of unconditional love - he is that which blocks spiritual awareness in the human mind. He is represented in human nature by what the Buddhists call the "kilesas" - and the yogis call the "klesas" - that which defiles, which causes problems,which supports and sustains the ego - the mental blocks to clarity...the "sins"/misperceptions (in the language of Christianity) of ego/fear based perception - rather than the wisdom of pure perception. He is represented in religion by the ego-driven priest; the guru who wants followers and adoration; the preacher who persuades; the religious believer who believes that he and his chosen savior have a monopoly on the truth...

I feel that many Christians miss the point.
(I am inspired by the example of Jesus' life but I identify as a humanist interested in all paths to wisdom - but not identifying with any in particular. Committed to truth - not doctrine - Ramana sums up my position in this dialogue:
Q: What is death? Is it not the falling away of the body?
M: Do you not desire that in sleep? What goes wrong then?
Q: But I know I shall wake up!
M: Yes, thought again! There is the preceding thought: 'I shall wake up.' Thoughts rule one's life. Freedom from thoughts is one's true nature: Bliss. Death is a thought and nothing else. One who thinks raises problems. Let the thinker say what happens to him in death. The real "I" is silent. One should not think, "I am this, I am not that." To say "this" or "that" is wrong. They are also limitations. I AM alone is true. Silence is "I.")

They feel that in this parable Jesus is talking about himself as an entity - as the Son of God who died for our sins - and who is the savior of mankind. This line of thinking presupposes that we are all terrible beings and that Jesus is beyond comparison and beyond reproach. What I find uncomfortable about this ideal is that such people have never met Jesus and yet they have these blind convictions. They don't seem to have the subtlety of intelligence to really go carefully into what he is saying - and so they don't appreciate the beauty and subtlety of the parable. They have no real understanding of of the "Christ" energy. We are part of the Christ energy - but our egos blind us to that truth.

Love has its own intelligence. Jesus's life represents a pure example of that intelligence. In that sense he is the savior of mankind and he did die as a consequence of other's misperceptions/sins - because his mind was cleansed of all fear and limitation - he had nothing to defend (though he could have brought down legions of angels to destroy the Roman empire if he had wanted to). His destiny was to teach "love thine enemy as thyself."

His life was an example of pure defenseless - which is the essence of love. We only attack and defend when we are caught in the dualities of like and dislike, attachment and fear etc. Defenseless is born of a state free of expectations. It has totally transcended the state of lack. He died on the cross also to rise again. To show that spirit is beyond the limitations of the body. He died to show that sin(another word for misperception - in the wisdom of the Christ light there is no sense of guilt in sin - it is simply a state of mind, informed by the ego's thought system - which is incapable of seeing without the blind sights of fear and vested interest. It associates itself with the body and cannot go beyond the mind or the sense telephones - hence sin/misperception)has no foundation in truth. That we are all sinless in essence. He represented who we might rise to be through right action and right discrimination - by the undoing of all that is false within our minds.

In this parable he is saying - follow my example - rise to the heights of your own beauty and dignity...become one with the light of Christ wisdom. This is wholly different thing to bowing down and saying "oh I am not worthy" and blindly following the dogma of a hypocritical and evangelical church (I use the word "evangelical" in its modern sense). The use of the analogy of sheep by Jesus was to convey the pliability of the human mind - as well as its vulnerabilty - only a shepherd who marries the right qualities of love and wisdom can be a real shepherd and herd his sheep safely through the perils of life. Sheep will only come to know the real and lasting value of trust/surrender in such a one...though they may be fooled and taken advantage of by others...(ie we are duped by our own misperceptions - they are the thieves which constantly betray us along life's road - until - we finally come upon the door of Christ wisdom. We can only come to that door when our heart is pure and when our mind is no longer decieved by the pitfalls of the senses.

The Baghavad Gita represents another beautiful allegory on the challenges in the battle between the higher nature and worldly/bodily influences. Here the Christ wisdom is represented by Krishna - another monad representing the enlightened state -from a different culture. The challenges of the human experience are universal. Each enlightened culture has evolved its own solutions to the same challenges of the human system - and when empathy and intuition is alive in us - they all look remarkably similar - because, in essence, they are! (ie whether it be Socrates, Jesus Christ, Krishna, Ramana Maharishi or Mr J. Krishnamurti or Lao Tzu - they all point to the same ineffable source)).

Ramana Maharishi on Death

"There will be no pain if the physical outlook is given up and if the person exists as the Self. Mourning is not the index of true love. True love is shown by the certainty that the object of love is in the Self and that it can never become non-existent. Still it is true, pain on such occasions can only be assuaged by association with the wise."

Ramana Maharishi

Prophecy and Iraq

1. The garden of Eden was in Iraq.

2. Mesopotamia, which is now Iraq, was the cradle of civilization!

3. Noah built the ark in Iraq.

4. The Tower of Babel was in Iraq.

5. Abraham was from Ur, which is in Southern Iraq!

6. Isaac's wife Rebekah is from Nahor, which is in Iraq!

7. Jacob met Rachel in Iraq.

8. Jonah preached in Nineveh - which is in Iraq.

9. Assyria, which is in Iraq, conquered the ten tribes of Israel.

10. Amos cried out in Iraq!

11. Babylon, which is in Iraq, destroyed Jerusalem.

12. Daniel was in the lion's den in Iraq!

13. The three Hebrew children were in the fire in Iraq (Jesus had been in Iraq also as the fourth person in the fie ry furnace!)

14. Belshazzar, the King of Babylon saw the "writing on the wall" in Iraq.

15. Nebuchadnezzar, King of Babylon, carried the Jews captive into Iraq.

16. Ezekiel preached in Iraq.

17. The wise men were from Iraq.

18. Peter preached in Iraq.

19. The "Empire of Man" described in Revelation is called Babylon, which was a city in Iraq!

And you have probably seen this one. Israel is the nation most often mentioned in the Bible. But do you know which nation is second? It is Iraq! However, that is not the name that is used in the Bible. The names used in the Bible are Babylon, Land of Shinar, and Mesopotamia. The word Mesopotamia means between the two rivers, more exactly between the Tigris and Euphrates Rivers . The name Iraq, means country with deep roots.

Indeed Iraq is a country with deep roots and is a very significant country in the Bible.

No other nation, except Israel, has more history and prophe! cy assoc iated it than Iraq.

And also... This is something to think about! Since America is typically represented by an eagle. Saddam should have read up on his Muslim passages...

The following verse is from the Koran, (the Islamic Bible)

Koran (9:11) - "For it is written that a son of Arabia would awaken a fearsome Eagle. The wrath of the Eagle would be felt throughout the lands of Allah and lo, while some of the people trembled in despair still more rejoiced; for the wrath of the Eagle cleansed the lands of Allah; and there was peace."

(Note the verse number!) Hmmmmmmm?!

The goal of yoga is: peace beyond this world

The attitude that is essential for this:

Never get attached.
To anything.

Stay focused.

Never give up.

Never give up.

Never give up...

Stay focused.

Ramana on the significance of wisdom and death

"Our experience of happiness is only during profound sleep when we have ceased to think of our bodies. Even a jnani (one who has realized the Self) speaks of disembodied liberation. Therefore, a wise one, a jnani, looks forward to casting off his body. Just as a coolie who carries a load on his head feels relieved soon after he reaches his destination and puts it down, so a jnani bides his time until he may cast off this load of his flesh and blood embodiment."

Ramana Maharishi

Changes Needed in Economic Polices by Firdos J.Mubaraki

This is a brilliant book - a very simply argued and insightful discussion on the archaic tax laws and terrible budget deficits that weigh on national economies -which lead to corruption and such a terrible waste of resources and man hours in our modern econmies; using India as a model for change, this is a brilliant book which new and old students of economy and welfare can use as a starting point of discussion to come together for meaningful communion on critical issues of economy and liberty.

Highly recommended.

Check out these websites:

The following points are taken from

"Freedom From Intrusive Taxes (FFIT)

Introduction : FFIT Program is not associated with any political party, neither do we have any intention of forming our own political party. FFIT program consists of concepts which is free for any independent politician or political party to adopt and implement for the betterment of the Indian citizen and for the benefit of the country as a whole.

The main concepts of FFIT program are as follows:

Get Freedom from Intrusive taxes by abolishing Income Tax, Excise, Sales Tax, Octroi and VAT, all over India.

Replace with one non-intrusive tax throughout India. Work towards abolishing this non-intrusive tax within 10 years by implementing the following steps.

Make all Public Sector Units (PSU) profitable within 3 years time or sell them off and use money to pay off foreign loans (World Bank, IMF and others).

Make all Public Assets profitable and use this money to reduce and pay off foreign debts.

Make Politicians and Bureaucrats accountable to the people, not the other way around.

Change the election system whereby every Indian elects the Prime Minister, the Chief Ministers and Mayor directly.

Make the judicial system efficient and quick to deter all kinds of crimes.

All of the above points are explained in the book "Changes needed in Economic Policies" by Economist Firdos J. Mubaraki."

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Mind is the closest thing to our Reality...Be careful how you use it. Businessman, yogi, teacher, addicted to laughing...