|
| |
krishnamurti_blurbs_and_rumi_poems
|
|
|
amy
|
i'm not espousing or dispousing, this is just one of the things i'm currently studying. in these first examples, they "trust" time differently, and they are both rather forceful.
K says:
The whole field of the mind is the result of time; it is the result of conflicts and adjustments, of a whole series of acceptances without full comprehension. Therefore, we live in a state of contradiction; our life is a process of endless struggle. We are unhappy, and we want to be happy. Being violent, we practice the ideal of nonviolence. So there is a conflict going on --- the mind is a battlefield. We want to be secure, knowing inwardly, deeply, that there is no such thing as security at all. The truth is that we do not want to face the fact that there is no security; therefore, we are always pursuing security, with the resutlant fear of not being secure.
R writes:
Time's knife slides from the sheath,
as a fish from where it swims.
Being closer and closer is the desire
of the body. Don't wish for union!
There's a closeness beyond that. Why
would God want a second God? Fall in
love in such a way that it frees you
from any connecting. Love is the soul's
light, the taste of morning, no me, no
we, no claim of being. Those words
are the smoke the fire gives off as it
absolves its defects, as eyes in silence,
tears, face. Love cannot be said.
|
080924
|
| |
... |
|
|
amy
|
Here, they are almost diametrically opposed to one another. almost. it could always be a not-quite-right translation. K. is more radical. K always leaves you feeling like you need to hear more. R. satiates and accepts incarnation more easily.
K:
Mind is held in a pattern; its very existence is the frame within which it works and moves. The pattern is of the past or the future, it is despair or hope, confusion and Utopia, the what has been and the what should be. With this we are all familiar. You want to break the old pattern and substitute a "new" one, the new being the modified old... You want to produce a new world. It is impossible. You may deceive yourself and others, but unless the old pattern is broken completely there cannot be a radical transformation. You may play around with it, but you are not the hope of the world. The breaking of the pattern, both the old and the so-called new, is of the utmost importance if order is to come out of this chaos. That is why it is essential to understand the ways of the mind....
R:
Look how desire has changed in you,
how light and colorless it is,
with the world growing new marvels
because of your changing. Your soul
has become an invisible bee. We
don't see it working, but there's
the full honeycomb! Your body's height,
six feet or so, but your soul rises
through nine levels of sky. A barrel
corked with earth and a raw wooden
spile keeps the oldest vineyard's wine
inside. When I see you, it is not so
much your physical form, but the company
of two riders, your pure-fire devotion
and your love for the one who teaches you;
then the sun and moon on foot behind those.
|
080925
|
| |
... |
|
|
amy
|
two more of these for a "magic" 4. i know i can't go on and on with this... i'm just going in order of two books, no effort put into the juxtaposition. here, i am confused by the diamond metaphor and find myself wishing i could read the Rumi poem in its original language. the books are The Book of Life by K and The Glance by R. I picked up the Glance at Bailey/Coy in Seattle, where it seemed to scream out at me! I rather like their poetry and spiritual inspiration section.
K: To know the mind, the mind must know itself, for there is no "I" apart from the mind. There are no qualities separate from the mind, just as the qualities of the diamond are not separate from the diamond itself. To understand the mind you cannot interpret it according to somebody else's idea, but you must observe, how your own total mind works. When you know the whole process of it -- how it reasons, its desires, motives, ambitious pursuits, its envy, greed, and fear -- then the mind can go beyond itself, and when it does there is the discovery of something totally new. That quality of newness gives an extraordinary passion, a tremendous enthusiasm that brings about a deep inward revolution: and it is this inward revolution which alone can transform the world, not any political or economic system.
R:
A nightingale flies nearer the roses.
A girl blushes. Pomegranates ripen.
Halla will be executed. A man walks
a mountain path, solitary and full of
prayer. Trust grows for nine months,
then a new being appears. Narcissus
at the edge, creekwater washing tree
roots: God is giving a general intro-
ductory lecture. We hear and read it
everywhere, in the field, through the
branches. We'll never finish studying.
Neither of us has a penny, yet we're
walking the jewelers' bazaar seriously
considering making a purchase! Or
shall I say this with other metaphors?
A barn crowded with souls. Quietness
served around a table. Two people talk
along a road that's paved with words.
|
080926
|
| |
... |
|
|
amy
|
gotta end with Shams. i don't understand Shams in the least. I've decided I'm a Krishnamurtist, but think I'd be far cooler and happier and more creative if I were Rumi-like. at least here they seem to agree. Rumi, what do you mean, no more phoenix rising from the ash??
K-
There is in fact only one state, not two states such as the conscious and the unconscious; there is only a state of being, which is consciousness, though you may divide it as the conscious and the unconscious. But that consciousness is always of the past, never of the present; you are conscious only of things that are over. You are conscious of what I am trying to convey the second afterwards, are you not? You understand it a moment later. You are never conscious or aware of the now. Watch you own hearts and minds and you will see that consciousness is functioning between the past and the future and that the present is merely a passage of the past to the future.
R-
A moth flying into the falmes says
with its wingfire, Try this. The wick
with its knotted neck broken tells you
the same. A candle as it diminishes
explains, Gathering more and more is
not the way. Burn, become light
and heat and help, melt. The ocean
sits in the sand letting its lap
fill with pearls and shells, then empty.
The bitter salt taste hums, This.
The phoenix gives up on good-and-bad,
flies to next on Mount Qaf, no more
burning and rising from ash. It sends
out one message. The rose purifies
its face, drops the soft petals, shows
its thorn, and points. Wine abandons
thousands of famous names, the vintage
years and delightful bouquets, to run
wild and anonymous through your brain.
Empty, the flute closes its eyes
to Hamza's nothing. Everything begs
with the silent rocks for you to be
flung out like light over this plain,
the presence of Shams-i Tabriz.
|
080927
|
