Matter and Spirit - Misc...

Of what is the body made?  It is made of emptiness and rhythm.
At the ultimate heart of the body, at the heart of the world, there
is no solidity.  Once again, there is only the dance.

At the unimaginable heart of the atom, the compact nucleus,
we have found no solid object, rather a dynamic pattern of
tightly confined energy vibrating perhaps 1022 times a second:
a dance...

George Leonard
excerpt from Wake up and Laugh

with thanks to Love is a Place

Photo - Mystic Meandering

In the point of rest at the center of our being, we encounter a 
world where all things are at rest in the same way.  Then a tree
becomes a mystery, a cloud a revelation, each man a cosmos of
whose riches we can only catch glimpses...

Dag Hammarskjold
Swedish Diplomat

with thanks to Love is A Place

Photo - Mystic Meandering

The spiritual world is one single spirit who stands like unto

a light behind the bodily world and who, when any single
creature comes into being, shines through it as through a 
window.  According to the kind and size of the window,
less or more light enters the world..

Aziz Nasafi
Persian mystical thinker

with thanks to Love is a Place

Photo - Mystic Meandering

All that lives is spirit and all that dies is matter;
and all that dies in spirit is matter and all that lives
in matter is spirit...

Hazrat Inayat Khan
Sufi Mystic

from - The Mysticism of Sound and Music

With thanks to Rays

Photo - unknown

 

Death - J Krishnamurti

.....can you look at death without the image of death?
As long as the image exists from which springs thought,
thought must always create fear.  Then you either rationalize
your fear of death and build a resistance against the inevitable
or you invent innumerable beliefs to protect you from the fear
of death.  Hence there is a gap between you and the thing of
which you are afraid.  In this time-space interval there must be
conflict which is fear and anxiety...

Thought, which breeds fear of death says, 'Let's postpone it, let's
avoid it, keep it as far away as possible, let's not think about it' -
but you are thinking about it.  When you say, 'I won't think about
it', you have already thought out how to avoid it. You are frightened
of death because you have postponed it.

We have separated living from dying, and the interval between the
living and dying is fear.  The interval, that time, is created by fear.
Living is our daily torture, daily insult, sorrow and confusion, with
occasional opening of a window over enchanted seas.  That is 
what we call living, and we are afraid to die,  which is to end this
misery. We would rather cling to the known than face the unknown
- the known being our house, our furniture, our family, our
character, our work, our knowledge, our fame, our loneliness, our
gods - that little thing that moves around incessantly within itself
with its own limited pattern of embittered existence.

We think that living is always in the present and that dying is
something that awaits us at a distant time.  But we have never
questioned whether this battle of everyday life is living at all.
We want to know the truth about reincarnation, we want proof
of the survival of the soul, we listen to the assertion of clairvoyants
and to the conclusions of physical research, but we never ask, never,
how to live - to live with delight, with enchantment, with beauty
every day.

We have accepted life as it is with all its agony and despair and
have got used to it, and think of death as something to be carefully
avoided.  But death is extraordinarily like the life we know how to
live.  You cannot live without dying.  You cannot live if you
don't die psychologically every minute.  This is not an intellectual
paradox.  To live completely, wholly, every day as if it were a new
loveliness, there must be dying to everything of yesterday, otherwise
you live mechanically, and a mechanical mind can never know what
love is or what freedom is.

Most of us are frightened of dying because we don't know what it
means to live.  We don't know how to live, therefore we don't 
know how to die.  As long as we are frightened of life we shall be
frightened of death.  The man who is not frightened of life is not
frightened of being completely insecure for he understands that
inwardly, psychologically, there is no security.  When there is no
security there is an endless movement and then life and death are
the same.  The man who lives without conflict, who lives with
beauty and love, is not frightened of death because to love is to
die.

Jiddu Krishnamurti (1895-1986)

Freedom from the Known

with thanks to No Mind's Land

~

Photo - Mystic Meandering

 

Suffering - Francis Weller

No one escapes suffering in this life.
None of us is exempt from loss, pain, illness and death.
How is it that we have so little understanding of [and empathy for]
these essential experiences?  How is it that we have attempted
to keep grief separated from our lives and only begrudgingly 
acknowledge its presence at the most obvious of time, such as
a funeral.

It is the accumulated losses of a lifetime that slowly weigh us
down - the times of rejection, the moments of isolation when we felt
cut off from the sustaining touch of comfort and love.  It is an ache
that resides in the heart, the faint echo calling us back to the times of
loss.  We are called back, not so much to make things right, but to
acknowledge what happened to us.

Grief asks that we honor the loss and, in doing so, deepen our
capacity for compassion.  When grief remains unexpressed, however,
 it  hardens, becomes as solid as stone.  We, in turn, become rigid and
stop moving in rhythm with the soul.... with the flow of life.  Grief is
part of the dance.

As we begin to pay attention, we notice that grief is never far from
our awareness.  We become aware of the many ways it arrives in
our daily lives. It is the blue mood that greets us upon waking.  It
is the melancholy that shades the day in muted tones.  It is the
recognition of time's passing, the slow emptying of our days.  It
is the searing pain that erupts when someone close to us dies -
It is the confounding grief when our life circumstances are
shattered by the unexpected....  the ground beneath us opens,
shaken by violent rumblings.  Grief enfolds our lives....

It is essential for us to welcome grief, whatever form it takes.
When we do, we open ourselves to our shared experiences in life.
Grief is our common bond.  Opening to our sorrow connects us
with everyone, everywhere.  There is no gesture of kindness that
is wasted, no offering of compassion that is useless.  We can be
generous to every sorrow we see.  It is sacred work.

Francis Weller

from The Wild Edge of Sorrow:
Rituals of Renewal and the Sacred Work of Grief;
The Threshold Between Loss and Revelation
Richard Rohr's Daily Meditation

with thanks to The Beauty We Love

~

Photo - Mystic Meandering

 

Be Still and still moving - T.S. Eliot

Home is where one starts from.  As we grow older
The world becomes stranger, the pattern more complicated
Of dead and living.  Not the intense moment
Isolated, with no before and after,
But a lifetime burning in every moment
And not the lifetime of one man only
But of old stones that cannot be deciphered.
There is a time for the evening under starlight,
A time for the evening under lamplight
(The evening with the photograph album).
Love is most nearly itself
When here and now cease to matter.

Old men ought to be explorers
Here or there does not matter

We must be still and still moving
Into another intensity
For a further union, a deeper communion
Through the dark cold and the empty desolation,
The wave cry, the wind cry, the vast waters
Of the petrel and the porpoise.
In my end is my beginning.

~  T.S. Eliot

from East Coker - section V

with thanks to The Beauty We Love

~

Photo - created with a visualizer to the sound of music

 

The Mystery of Death...

We are a mist, a vapor that appears and disappears,
like an aurora borealis - here and gone;
a moment in the sky,
then absorbed into Space.

We are a breath of Spirit,
the Breath of Life Itself,
in-spired at birth,
expired in one long sigh at "death."

We are energy that dances in the wind -

for a time - and then gone.  Gone, gone, gone beyond,
absorbed by the Primordial Womb again.
"Returned" to Source.
Exhaled and inhaled by the Primordial Breath.

"We" go - Life Itself goes back to the Cosmic Womb
again, and again, and again - to the Energy
that suspends all life in Its Embrace...

Energy to Energy
Breath to Breath
Life to Life

One movement in the Dance of Life...

A Mystery...

Mystic Meandering

Sept. 2009

This was written only a few weeks after our old cat,
Yodi Bodhi "died."  

~

Photo - South Pole Aurora Borealis 
from the Internet

 

Reorientation - May Sarton

I am not ready to die.

But I am learning to trust death
As I have trusted life.
I am moving
Toward a new freedom
Born of detachment,
And a sweeter grace -
Learning to let go.

I am not ready to die.

But as I approach sixty (73 😊)
I turn my face toward the sea.
I shall go where tides replace time,
Where my world will open to a far horizon.

Over the floating, never-still flux and change.
I shall go with the changes,
I shall look far out over golden grasses
And blue waters...

There are no farewells.

[.....]

May Sarton

With thanks to Death Deconstructed

Photo from the Internet

 

Traveling Toward Life - Richard Wehrman

He was surprised
to see the gray clouds,
for the sunrise was clear
with blue sky, and he
assumed, as he always had,
that the sky moved
as the sun moved, east
to west, yet here the clouds
came. traveling west to
east, and he thought of
the trajectory he imagined
his life took, of birth
to death, infancy to old age,
and he wondered if he
had missed something,
if the winds moved
differently than he supposed,
if death also traveled
toward life, if there were,
more currents than he
could imagine, and if
imagining itself, setting
a distinct course, one he
planned in advance, kept
him from seeing; if he
were at this moment
actually growing younger,
at the same time he grew
older; if he was in fact
moving in ways he could
barely sense, into another
life, into other worlds.

Richard Wehrman
From: Being Here
Original title: "Traveling"

~

Photo - Mystic Meandering

 

Innately...

 Everything lives according to
its Innate Rhythm:
The flowers know when to bloom -
innately...

The leaves leaf out of the trees -
innately...

die and go dormant
innately...

So too our own body lives and dies
in sacred cycles of opening, unfolding, and
falling apart - innately; a lifespan...
Reorganizing its energy in different ways -
innately...

And "we", we continue our innate pull to Wholeness.

Dying is in the life of everything...

The Grand Mystery of Life living ItSelf...

...innately.

Mystic Meandering

Summer Solstice 2021

~

Photo - Mystic Meandering