“Celui qui vit dans l’atmosphère trépidante de la ville ignore tout de la vie des villageois de la montagne.

Nous sommes emportés par le courant de l’existence urbaine jusqu’à oublier les rythmes paisibles d’une simple vie campagnarde, mûre en automne, reposante en hiver et imitant la nature dans tous ses cycles.

En or et en argent, nous sommes plus riches que les villageois, mais ils sont plus riches que nous sur le plan spirituel.

 Ce que nous semons, nous ne le récoltons pas. Eux récoltent ce qu’il sément.

Nous sommes les esclaves du profil, et eux, les enfants de la satisfaction.

Ce que nous buvons dans la coupe de la vie est mêlé d’amertune et de désespoir, de crainte et de lassitude.

Eux boivent le pur nectar de l’accomplissement de l’existence. “

“Les trésors de la sagesse”
de Khalil Gibran, directeur de collection André dib Sherfan
Editions de Mortagne

Publié par notre Terre Mère

Depois de um tempo parado com o blog, o peso na consciência.

Nessa horas, só o Gibran me acalma:
“E como vos elevareis acima de vossos dias e de vossas noites se não quebrardes as cadeias com que, na madrugada de vosso entendimento, prendeste vossa hora meridiana?
Em verdade, aquilo que chamais liberdade é a mais forte destas cadeias, embora seus elos cintilem ao sol e vos deslumbrem.

E do que é que quereis livrar-vos para serdes livres, senão de pedaços de vós mesmos?“

Khalil Gibran, O Profeta

Sim… o blog, um diário dos dias inquietos e desligados do tempo. Que ache o seu próprio caminho por aí, nessa grande inteligência coletiva, difusa e ainda desconexa do seu corpo.

Among the hills, when you sit in the cool shade of the white poplars, sharing the peace and serenity of distant fields and meadows – then let your heart say in silence;

“God rests in reason.”

And when the storm comes, and the mighty wind shakes the forest, and thunder and lightning proclaim the majesty of the sky, – then let your heart say in awe;

“God moves in passion.”

And since you are a breath in God’s sphere, and a leaf in God’s forest, you too should rest in reason and move in passion

Khalil Gibran

The Prophet – Gibran

Then said a teacher, “Speak to us of Teaching.”

And he said:

No man can reveal to you aught but that which already lies half asleep in the dawning of our knowledge.

The teacher who walks in the shadow of the temple, among his followers, gives not of his wisdom but rather of his faith and his lovingness.

If he is indeed wise he does not bid you enter the house of wisdom, but rather leads you to the threshold of your own mind.

The astronomer may speak to you of his understanding of space, but he cannot give you his understanding.

The musician may sing to you of the rhythm which is in all space, but he cannot give you the ear which arrests the rhythm nor the voice that echoes it.

And he who is versed in the science of numbers can tell of the regions of weight and measure, but he cannot conduct you thither.

For the vision of one man lends not its wings to another man.

And even as each one of you stands alone in God’s knowledge, so must each one of you be alone in his knowledge of God and in his understanding of the earth.

I recently, while browsing through net discovered this real genius, Khalil Gibran. I’ve heard of him in the past but recently read his awesome work. You can follow the link at the bottom of this post and download his work which is really worth having.

So here he goes, ON LOVE:

When love beckons to you, follow him,
Though his ways are hard and steep.
And when his wings enfold you yield to him,
Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you.
And when he speaks to you believe in him,
Though his voice may shatter your dreams
as the north wind lays waste the garden.

For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you. Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning.
Even as he ascends to your height and caresses your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun,
So shall he descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth.

Like sheaves of corn he gathers you unto himself.
He threshes you to make you naked.
He sifts you to free you from your husks.
He grinds you to whiteness.
He kneads you until you are pliant;
And then he assigns you to his sacred fire, that you may become sacred bread for God’s sacred feast.

All these things shall love do unto you that you may know the secrets of your heart, and in that knowledge become a fragment of Life’s heart.

But if in your fear you would seek only love’s peace and love’s pleasure,
Then it is better for you that you cover your nakedness and pass out of love’s threshing-floor,
Into the seasonless world where you shall laugh, but not all of your laughter, and weep, but not all of your tears.
Love gives naught but itself and takes naught but from itself.
Love possesses not nor would it be possessed;
For love is sufficient unto love.

When you love you should not say, “God is in my heart,” but rather, “I am in the heart of God.”
And think not you can direct the course of love, for love, if it finds you worthy, directs your course.

Love has no other desire but to fulfill itself.
But if you love and must needs have desires, let these be your desires:
To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night.
To know the pain of too much tenderness.
To be wounded by your own understanding of love;
And to bleed willingly and joyfully.
To wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving;
To rest at the noon hour and meditate love’s ecstasy;
To return home at eventide with gratitude;
And then to sleep with a prayer for the beloved in your heart and a song of praise upon your lips.

From: The Prophet by Khalil Gibran

Image source: Getty Images

“A szenvedéstől megerősödik a lélek, a legerősebb jellemeket sebek borítják.”

Khalil Gibran

Conflicting views from trusted sources, what does one do in this regard? Follow the heart or follow the mind? Its a dilemma, Khalil Gibran says “There is a waiting in the going and a going in the waiting” How profound is that? His writings have an indelible influence on me, its a solace to learn from them, he makes it look all so easy.

Pity the nation that is full of beliefs and empty of religion;

Pity the nation that wears a cloth it does not weave;

That eats a bread it does not harvest;

Pity the nation that acclaims the bully as hero;

Pity the nation that despises a passion in its dreams, yet submits in its awakening;

Pity the nation that raises not its voice save when it walks in a funeral;

That boasts not except among its ruins;

Pity the nation that will rebel not save when its neck is laid between the sword and the block;

Pity the nation whose statesman is a fox, whose philosopher is a juggler,

and whose art is the art of patching and mimicking;

Pity the nation that welcomes its new ruler with trumpeting,

and farewells him with hootings, only to welcome another with trumpeting again;

Pity the nation divided into fragments, each fragment deeming itself a nation.

Khalil Gibran

.
.
.
I am forever walking upon these shores,
Betwixt the sand and the foam,
The high tide will erase my foot-prints,
And the wind will blow away the foam.
But the sea and the shore will remain
Forever.

I am afraid for my seas and shore….!

By Anupama

At times mood goes haywire, things appear to be dull and monotonous. In those times books, movies, music and other such things come to our rescue. Last night, to overcome mental lowness I peeped into one of my book cartons and picked up The Prophet! We get attached to some books so much that the pleasure of reading them never diminishes, ideas conveyed appear to be new and ever inspiring. The Prophet is one of such books I love to read again and again.

The Prophet is a book of twenty six poetic, philosophical essays written in English in 1923 by the Lebanese artist, philosopher, and writer Khalil Gibran. In the book, the prophet Almustafa who has lived in the city of Orphalese for twelve years is about to board a ship which will carry him home. He is stopped by a group of people, with whom he discusses many issues of life, humanity, its nakedness. The issues discussed include love, friendship, work, joy and sorrow, reason and passion, self-knowledge, teaching, treasure, marriage, beauty, crime and punishment and so on. I enjoy reading this small and beautiful book which gives an insight into philosophy of life.

Below are the few lines picked from the book The Prophet,

On Joy and Sorrow

Some of you say, “Joy is greater than sorrow”, and others say, “Nay, sorrow is the greater”. But I say unto you, they are inseparable. Together come, and when sits alone with you at your board, remember that the other is asleep upon your bed.

On Love

Love gives naught but itself and takes naught but from itself,
Love possesses not nor would it be possessed:
For love is sufficient unto love.

On Work

Always you have been told that work is a curse and labour a misfortune.

But I say to you that when you work you fulfill a part of earth’s furthest dream, assigned to you when that dream was born,

And in keeping yourself with you are in truth loving life,

And to love life through labour is to be intimate with life’s inmost secret.

On Talking

When you meet your friend on the roadside or in the market-place, let the spirit in you move your lips and direct your tongue.

Let the voice within your voice speak to the ear of his ear:

For his soul will keep the truth of your heart as the taste of the wine is remembered. When the color is forgotten and the vessel is no more.

On Beauty

And beauty is not a need but an ecstasy. It is mouth thirsting nor an empty hand stretched forth, but rather a heart inflamed and a soul enchanted. It is not the image you would see nor the song you would hear,

But rather an image you see though you close your eyes and a song you hear though you shut your ears.

People of Orphalese, beauty is life when life unveils her holy face.

But you are life and you are the veil.

Beauty is eternity gazing at itself in a mirror.

But you are eternity and you are the mirror.

Thanks to one of my friends who gave this wonderful book!

I wrote this around the time of the Turkish earthquake [1]. I don’t remember much about the time, my memory is shot to pieces anyway , but I do know that every time I play it I feel quite overcome from the feeling expressed by the lyrics. There are no words for the chorus intentionally, because there’s nothing I can say better than “la de da” to sum it all up.

Oh yeah, and that bit about “helping out the people who need it the most”, that’s a reference to us working harder for less so that it keeps greedy people in the manner they are accustomed to. I actually think they need more help than someone with tons of rubble on top of them and only minutes to live, because at least that person has some idea of how precious life is. Living with greed must be like living the half life of a hungry ghost.

“Is not dread of thirst when your well is full, thirst that is unquenchable?” [2]

Everything’s great

Everything’s great
I saw it on TV
They laughed and they joked
While on Channel 6
They choked underneath the rubble
Must’ve been too much trouble
To think about someone else
For a change

Everyone’s down
I heard it on the news
Too much stress and depression
Apprehension ’bout job security
So they give their time for free
Helping out the people
That need it the most

La dee da dee da (x4)

Everywhere I go
Everyday I see
Someone else unhappy
Living out someone else’s fantasy
When are we going to learn?

C F7 Am F Fm
C F Dm Ab

Copyright 1999 by Iain Barnett

[1] 1999 İzmit earthquake
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/1999_%C4%B0zmit_earthquake

[2] Giving, The Prophet, Khalil Gibran
http://leb.net/~mira/works/prophet/prophet5.html

A few days back, I posted some of my favorite poems. Now is the time to append that list with stuff suggested by others, and some that I mistakenly left out. This selection will be somewhat more spiritual and self-reflection oriented than earlier, just so you know before you tread further

I loved the Song of Six Perfections by Milarepa, which I came across through Nisheeth’s blog. Reproduced below, it is a concise, practical expression for enlightened living.

A Song on the Six Perfections, by Milarepa

For generosity, nothing to do,
Other than stop fixating on self.

For morality, nothing to do,
Other than stop being dishonest.

For patience, nothing to do,
Other than not fear what is ultimately true.

For effort, nothing to do,
Other than practice continuously.

For meditative stability, nothing to do,
Other than rest in presence.

For wisdom, nothing to do,
Other than know directly how things are.

Dhaarini was kind enough to remind me of the beautiful poem Desiderata by Max Ehrmann. It is another gem of love and wisdom, that begins with these simple lines:

Go placidly amid the noise and the haste,
and remember what peace there may be in silence.

As far as possible, without surrender,
be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly;
and listen to others,
even to the dull and the ignorant;
they too have their story.

We all go in to the noise and haste, and get caught up. But to go placidly, and to remember the peace that there may be in silence… is the essence. To me, “remember” here does not mean to keep thinking about silence, but to go in to the world, with a deep-seated inner peace, and let the external stay confined to waves on the surface of a deep ocean. I could go on meditating on these lines, each one for some time, but well… Here is how the poem ends:

With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.

It is still a beautiful world. In the 13.7 billion years of the cosmos’s known existence, we are born in the one tiny window of time where we can comprehend, travel, witness, communicate, share, love and celebrate. Most of all, a fact that is often forgotten, we are in the best conditions that there have ever been to live.

Gibran’s Prophet is another favorite. It is a poem with chapters on topics like work, love, self-knowledge and more. In one of the chapters, Gibran shares brilliant insights on Good and Evil:

You are good when you are one with yourself.
Yet when you are not one with yourself you are not evil.
For a divided house is not a den of thieves; it is only a divided house.
And a ship without rudder may wander aimlessly among perilous isles yet sink not to the bottom.

I have not read much of Rumi, but here are the verses that I found very close to my own reflections on cosmic unity.

A stone I died and rose again a plant;
A plant I died and rose an animal;
I died an animal and was born a man.
Why should I fear? What have I lost by death?

I begin to digress, but the work below is another testament to the genius of Rumi — from a poem on love: Like This

If anyone wonders how Jesus raised the dead,
don’t try to explain the miracle.
Kiss me on the lips.

Like this. Like this.

Update(s)

Kabir’s couplets bring the esoteric to the confines of our comprehension. Brief and subtle, they have a haiku-like feel, their essence somewhere far beyond the words. I’ll reproduce two of them here (translations from Rajender Krishan):

Bura Jo Dekhan Main Chala, Bura Naa Milya Koye
Jo Munn Khoja Apnaa, To Mujhse Bura Naa Koye

Translation:
I searched for the crooked, met not a single one
When searched myself, “I” found the crooked one

Chinta Aisee Dakini, Kat Kaleja Khaye
Vaid Bichara Kya Kare, Kahan Tak Dawa Lagaye

Translation:
Worry is the bandit that eats into one’s heart
What the doctor can do, what remedy to impart?

Pity the nation that is full of beliefs and empty of religion.
Pity the nation that wears a cloth it does not weave,
eats a bread it does not harvest,
and drinks a wine that flows not from its own wine-press.

Pity the nation that acclaims the bully as hero,
and that deems the glittering conqueror bountiful.
Pity a nation that despises a passion in its dream,
yet submits in its awakening.

Pity the nation that raises not its voice
save when it walks in a funeral,
boasts not except among its ruins,
and will rebel not save when its neck is laid
between the sword and the block.

Urechea mea auzise vorbindu-se de Tine; dar acum ochiul meu Te-a văzut.

[Iov 42.5]

Durerea este cea care sparge carapacea ce îți îngrădește înțelegerea.

Khalil Gibran

Cuvîntul Meu, care iese din gura Mea, nu se întoarce la Mine fara rod

I read this today on Radio Free School.

Then my cousin posted this on Facebook.

It’s like planets colliding in my head… which as not as disasterous as it sounds.  It makes nice little new planets.

“And ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation.”

-Khalil Gibran – The Prophet

>jules

En el dia del Amigo, leí este post, que copio a continuación, en otro blog que se llama Awaken! (Despiertos!).  Es un cuento de Khalil Gibran, de su obra “El Loco” [1918].  Esta obra es muy corta, es de un hombre que se consideraba loco así mismo y en los capítulos de la historia comentaba varias anécdotas. Consta de una introducción hecha por él mismo y 34 capítulos también muy extremadamente pequeños. Al final de este cuento, que es el capitulo 2, está el enlace para descargar el libro completo y un link al autor también.

 Amigo mío…, yo no soy lo que parezco. Mi aspecto es sólo un traje que llevo puesto, un traje hecho cuidadosamente; que me protege de tus preguntas, y a ti, de mi indiferencia.

El “Yo” que hay en mí, amigo mío, mora en la casa del silencio, y en ella permanecerá por siempre, inadvertido, inabordable.

No quisiera que creyeras en lo que digo ni que confiaras en lo que hago, pues mis palabras no son otra cosa que tus propios pensamientos, hechos sonido; y mis acciones, tus propias esperanzas convertidas en acción.

Cuando dices: ” El viento sopla hacia el oriente”, yo digo: ” Sí, sopla hacia al oriente”; pues no quisiera hacerte saber que mi mente no mora en el viento, sino en el mar. Tú no puedes comprender mis navegantes pensamientos, ni me interesa que los comprendas. Prefiero estar a solas en el mar.

Cuando es de día para ti, amigo mío, es de noche para mí; sin embargo incluso así, hablo de la luz del mediodía que danza en las montañas y de la sombra escarlata que se abre paso sigilosamente por el valle; pues tú no puedes oír los cantos de mi oscuridad ni puedes ver mis alas que se agitan contra las estrellas. Y no me interesa que me oigas ni que me veas en mí. Deseo estar a solas con la noche.

Cuando tú asciendes a tu Cielo, yo desciendo a mi Infierno. Incluso entonces tú me llamas a través del infranqueable abismo que nos separa: “Mi compañero, mi camarada”, y yo te respondo: “Mi camarada, mi compañero”, porque no quiero que veas mi infierno. Las llamas te cegarían y el humo te ahogaría. Y me gusta mi Infierno; lo amo tanto al grado de no dejar que lo visites. Prefiero estar a solas en mi Infierno.

Tú amas la Verdad, la Belleza y la Justicia; y yo sólo por complacerte te digo que es bueno amar esas cosas; pero en el fondo de mi corazón me río de tu amor por estas entidades. Sin embargo, no te dejo ver mi risa: Prefiero reír a solas.

Amigo mío, tú eres bueno, discreto y sensato; es más: eres perfecto, y yo a mi vez hablo contigo con sensatez y discreción, pero… estoy loco. Solo que enmascaro mi locura. Prefiero estar loco a solas.
Amigo mío, …tú ni siquiera eres mi amigo, pero, ¿cómo hacer que lo comprendas?.

Mi senda no es la tuya y, sin embargo, caminamos juntos, tomados de la mano…

Links

☛ Download El Loco [.zip]
☛ Gibran Khalil
☛ El Loco