Who can with eyes and mind fathom
The depths of God who lies within
The hearts of all as Seer sole?
They say that goal of man is God,
But who is God and how is He
Contacted by efforts of men?
If Being Whole is God's essence,
What alignment can then suffice
To be the being which is God?
Do not all things enjoy being,
As they exist which is being?
Since Beingness is everywhere,
How does one enter Being's Self?
Is not restraint of self the way
To reach the Self intriguingly? The control, then, is self's return
To itself as the lone Knower,
Since knowing what is not oneself
Sunders the self as knower-known,
A contradiction in the Self.
Some say it is sense-abstraction,
Which signifies the wrenching act
Of senses from the object world
This deed of self would keep the world
Apart from itself as other
Than its own being as if things
Have no being, but void they are. If things are naught, where is the need
To draw the self from their clutches?
The secret, then, is not withdrawal,
But communion of Self with Self
Which uncleaved ranges in and out.
Here is a feat which mind's powers
Do not unwary can perform,
Sharp, subtle as a razor's edge.
As trackless track of birds in sky
Or fish in brine invisible,
Is this the blessed path to God.
Caution, then, seeker, be awake,
And know the Truth by Grace Divine.
Swami Krishnanada
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5 comments:
O Swan-Soul, Where Are You Going?
Swan, I'd like you to tell me your whole story!
Where you first appeared, and what dark sand you are going toward,
and where you sleep at night, and what you are looking for...
It's morning, swan, wake up, climb in the air, follow me!
I know of a country that spiritual flatness does not control,
--- nor constant depression,
and those alive are not afraid to die.
There, wildflowers come up through the leafy floor,
and the fragrance of "I am he" floats on the wind.
There the bee of the heart stays deep inside the flower,
and cares for no other thing.
-- Version by Robert Bly, The Kabir Book, Beacon Press
The wild swan's death-hymn took the soul
Of that waste place with joy
Hidden in sorrow: at first to the ear
The warble was low, and full and clear; ...
But anon her awful jubilant voice,
With a music strange and manifold,
Flow’d forth on a carol free and bold;
As when a mighty people rejoice
With shawms, and with cymbals, and harps of gold...
The Dying Swan
LORD ALFRED TENNYSON
I hear the countless voices of the human heart
Flying unseen,
From the dim past to the dim unblossomed future
Hear, within my own breast,
The fluttering of the homeless bird which,
In company with countless others,
Flies day and night,
Through light and darkness,
From shore to shore unknown
Flying Swans in Bengali is known as Hamsa Baalaka ! In Hinduism, the flight of a swan is a metaphor for the human soul winging its way to its heavenly resting-place.
Yes! The soul is always longing for a place to rest! Is that the origin of the oft repeated phrase 'Restless soul' ......
on this day of Guru Purnima !
'Mother, here is Thy knowledge and here is Thy ignorance.
Take them both and give me only pure love.
Here is Thy holiness and here is Thy unholiness.
Take them both, Mother, and give me pure love.
Here is Thy good and here is Thy evil.
Take them both, Mother, and give me pure love.
Here is Thy righteousness and here is Thy unrighteousness.
Take them both, Mother, and give me pure love'.
I mentioned all these, but I could not say:
'Mother, here is Thy truth and here is Thy falsehood. Take them both'.
I gave up everything at Her Feet,
but could not bring myself to give up truth".
shri Ramakrishna
shri Gurubyo namaha!
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