Saturday, 12 September 2009



Our Mother Divine lifts her sacred cup,
She pours pellucid, precious, potent balm,
Curing, healing, lifting pilgrim’s spirit up.

With power of Love, perfect, peaceful, calm,
She holds poor palsied pilgrim in her palm,
And plies him with pure nectar, honey sweet,

So pouring from her silver grail a potion warm,
To soothe all cares and salve his blistered feet,
With Love’s ointment: oh, perfect Paraclete!


Feeling his fiery steed between his knees,
He watches restless spirit’s breathing flow;
The stallion settles and he reins with ease.

Now tamed, he canters where he wants to go,
To Himalayan summits crowned with snow,
A pure white splendour glowing bright in light,

Above dark turmoil of dormant worlds below.
He arrives at awesome Selfhood, blazing bright,
Sun burst of splendour, ends soul’s dark night.

Now, White Knight hoists on high his pointed lance,
To joust with Death, a fierce Titanic tilt.
As he mounts his steed in martial prance

He strikes hard at dragon, up to the hilt,
To end all dark sorrow, fear and guilt.
Free from sense of doership, an act replete

With holy knowledge, a temple truly built
To worship God, he kneels to kiss the feet
Of Death’s slayer; such a sacred blessed feat.


Wielding his spear of sharpest concentration,
The God-love soldier plunges its silver blade,
With mighty force of lucid sheer attention,

Deep into the dragon’s heart. Unafraid,
Delivering the coup de grace, vile ego’s laid!
Well honed with dispassionate discrimination,

Whetted with ardent zeal, no wavering shade
Of cowardice, his steel, with keen anticipation,
Slays his wayward mind of Self alienation.


He twangs the bow of Self-Enquiry, to enter
A sharp arrow of clearly aimed insight,
Zinging to the bull’s eye of Truth at centre.

Dispelling all doubts in error free flight,
He finds Love, a beckoning beacon light,
Glowing within his inner cave of heart.

Such marksmanship is God-Warriors right,
To win this vision, the true martial art,
Holy war, waged ‘til soul and body part.


Water bearer draws deep from Rachel’s well,
A jar of truth for pilgrim’s thirst to slake.
Raising the cup he hears the temple bell

Which calls him home to pray and penance make
To God, whom he adores for His own dear sake
Alone, and free from lust for selfish boon.

His love showers rain of grace, and fills the lake
Where sails the white swan of devotion, soon
To glow beneath the golden harvest Moon.


Primordial Sage, in silence, takes his seat,
Emitting waves of God-like love to those
Who sit surrendered at his lotus feet.

His mystic vision’s sure, and truly knows
The sure destruction of all disciples’ woes,
That halt the climb to Self’s most blissful place.

His merciful love abundantly flows,
Ever granting pilgrim power to trace
His own Self ablaze, in a sea of grace.


So bold pilgrim ascends the mountain path,
His friends are unconditional faith and trust.
Gentle compassion rains, a healing bath

Of grace, cleansing his feet of mundane dust,
Freeing him from greed, ego, anger, lust.
Fearless he walks, awakened, to his goal,

Unattached, discriminating, and so just,
‘Til attaining consummation with the Whole,
He finds, hidden deep at heart, Eternal Soul!


Friday, 11 September 2009



My hymn is sung to that great and holy One,
Who dwells in splendour, a radiant light,
That shines in every heart, and every Sun
Of Self-effulgent beauty, blazing bright.
Thou art All, and Thy mighty will be done!
Make our actions worthy in Thy holy sight.

Oh Lord, we pray to keep Thee ever in our sight,
Oh Thou, whom we adore, our God, the holy One.
Thy rays of grace and love are always bright
In strength and power, as in the golden Sun.
Keep us from wavering, fix our hearts on light,
Thou art All, and Thy mighty will be done!

Thou art All and Thy mighty will be done!
Not foolish will of ego, lest it darkens sight
And screens us from Thee, oh majestic One.
Thy blinding brilliance of eternity bright
Is stronger, deeper, than summer’s noon-day Sun.
Let’s bathe in Thy blissful balm of blessed light.

Lead us from nescient dark to conscious light!
Thou art All, and Thy mighty will be done!
And ever mindful, we’re resting in Thy sight;
Thou art father, mother, friend, oh holy One,
Thy perennial fire is shining clear and bright,
Deep in our hearts, flames Thy splendid inward Sun.

Thou within us, who hides, is also in the Sun,
Dark clouds are dispelled by thy beacon light.
On bended knee we praise Thee, primordial One,
Who through grace revealed, demists our frosted sight.
Thou art All, and Thy mighty will be done!
Polish the mirrors of our souls, make them bright.

Oh jewel of faith, that sparkles diamond bright,,
And shines fiercely like our bosom friend, the Sun,
Thaw our frigid hearts with warmth and light,
Thou art All and Thy mighty will be done!
Oh, let our deeds be worthy in Thy holy sight,
To hymn our love for Thee, oh great and holy One.

Praise to the wondrous One, burning beryl bright,
Make Thy wisdom light to guide us, as the Sun,
And may Thy will be done, in Thy all knowing sight!

Thursday, 10 September 2009


A Free Versification from the Mathnawi of Rumi
> Work is not just a word, nor exertion a vain fancy.
> From whom shall we flee? from ourselves? how absurd,
> From whom shall we run away? From God? such a crime.
> Let us consider the efforts of all the Prophets,
> God prospered their exertion and saved them from
> oppression,
> Their plans were perfect, all performed by good men
> excells,
> They snared the Paradise Bird, weaknesses were
> expelled.
> Exert yourself following the lead of Prophets and Saints!
> Endeavour is’nt a war against fate ; fate’s laid her
> trials on us,
> Be a rebel no one is lost while treading the path of
> faith.
> Your head won’t be broken and doesn’t need a
> bandage,
> Perform good works and laugh until everlasting life!
> He sought an evil haven that sought this world,
> He sought a good state that sought heaven to come.
> Plans for gaining goods in this world are worthless,
> Plans for renouncing this world are God inspired.
> The right plot is to dig a hole in one’s jail to escape,
> If one fills up that hole it’s an idiotic mistake.
> This world’s the prison, dig a tunnel, set yourself
> free!
> What’s life worth forgetting God? It isn’t just
> girls or boys and gold.
> As for religious wealth, how pure are self- righteous
> riches?
> Water in the boat sinks the unfortunate vessel,
> Water beneath the boat supports it on the voyage.
> Since Solomon cast from his heart the wish for wealth
> This King didn’t call himself by any other name but
> ‘poor’.
> The sealed jar floats on water, it’s heart is empty,
> When poverty sits within, one’s at peace on
> life’s water.
> Although the All is one’s kingdom, at heart it’s as
> nothing,
> So seal the mouth of one’s heart, and fill it with
> God’s air.
> Effort is a reality, so are disease and its antidote.
> The sceptic, by denial of effort, also makes an effort.
> That which God taught bees is not the way for the lion and
> wild ass,
> If the bee makes a hive of honey, God taught it that
> skill,
> How God taught worms to weave silk isn’t for elephants.
> Adam learned knowledge from God which shot beams to
> heaven,
> Adam broke the name and fame of angels to end all doubt,
> God even made Lucifer a muzzle for that young calf,
> So he couldn’t drink the milk of religious knowledge
> And might not graze around that hallowed lofty palace.
> The science of the followers of external common sense
> Became a muzzle, so that belief in sense knowledge
> Would prevent drinking milk from that sublime source.
> But into the ruby core of his heart there fell a precious
> jewel,
> For how long will you plead?, hasn’t your truth seeking
> soul advanced,
> If human beings were men of virtue through form alone,
> Then Ahmad and Bu Jahl would be exactly the same.
> A portrait is like Adam, see from its form what it lacks.
> If spirit’s missing, dive for that precious pearl so
> rarely found!
> The world’s lion heads were laid low whn God gave a hand
> To the mongrel of Ahmad’s Companions of the Cave.
> Where is the loss from an ugly shape, if the spirit’s a
> blaze of light?
> Its not for words to describe the excellent outward
> form,
> Qualities like learned and just are the spiritual essence,
> The Sun of Self strikes the body from where place does not
> exist,
> The Sunbeams of Self are not contained in the blue of
> sky.
> Knowledge is the seal of King Solomon, the world is the
> form,
> Esoteric knowledge is buried secret treasure.
> Because of this virtue, spirits of sea, hill and plain.
> Are helpless before the wisdom of God knowing men.
> The leopard, lion, mouse and crocodile all fear
> them,
> Even devils and demons seek refuge and hide.
> Man has many secret foes, the prudent man is wise,
> There are hidden creatures, wicked and good, in every
> heart,
> At every moment perverse voices are seducing the will.
> If you bathe in fresh water a thorn will still prick,
> The thorns of angelic inspirations and satanic
> temptations,
> Are from thousands of beings, not only just one.
> The thorn is low in the stream but you know when it
> stings.
> Wait patiently for your bodily senses to be transformed,
> So you may know hidden things and problems can be solved.
> You’ll see whose words you rejected and whom you made
> your Chief!


A free versification from Rumi's Mathnawi

> Whoever starts an evil path, malediction swiftly pursues,
> When the righteous depart, they leave good behind them,
> When the wicked leave, injustice and devilry soon
> ensues.
> Until Judgement Day the face of each congener of sin
> Is turned towards those congenial to his own particular
> kin.

> Sweet and bitter waters are separated vein by vein at last
> Flowing in God’s Creatures 'til the final golden trumpet's
> blast.
> The righteous gain the delight of thirst quenching waters sweet
> That inheritance is now, for His servants who value
> this book complete.
> Reflect! the supplications of God’s seekers are sunshine's
> rays,
> Emanating from the veritable substance of Prophethood's days,
> These rays are circling the substantial, from which they
> spring
> And return to that substance’s source which is everything.
> Window light brightens the house as the Sun winds its
> way,
> He who feels affinity with a planet resonates
> correspondingly each day,
> If his ascendent is Venus, then his tendency is for love
> and joy,
> If it’s Mars, then he’s a warmonger seeking enmity, wicked by!.
> Beyond our planets are many in which there’s no sinister
> aspect,
> Planets moving in other heavens not the seven that we
> know with which to connect.

> Some immanent in Divine radiance are at One with
> infinity,
> If one’s ascendent is from them , his soul drives away
> infidelity ,

> His anger is not martial nor desiring domination,
> The dominant light of Saints is between God’s two
> fingers,
> That light shines over all souls , by grace some are
> blest.
> The fortunate who receive that mercy turn only to
> God,
> They who lack a skirt of love don’t share in His
> largesse.
> Others turn towards Unity like nightingales love the rose,
> The ox is brown, in a man seek red and yellow hues within,
> These tones are from the vat of purity, the bad are dyed
> black,
> The blessings of God are subtle colours ,his curse is a bad
> smell.
> That which comes from sea returns to that same sea,
> From the mountain peaks flow swift rushing torrents,
> And from our body returns the soul mingled with
> love.
> The idol of your petty self is the mother of all idols,
> The material idol is a snake, the spiritual is a brass
> dragon.
> The petty self is iron and flint stone, it produces fire.
> The materialistic idol is a spark quenched by water,
> How should this stone and iron be dampened by water?
> How should man bearing these weights feel safe and
> secure?
> The idol is the black murky water in a clay pot,
> The ego is a constant fountain spouting jet black
> water,
> That sculptured ego is like the grimey black torrent
> The idol making self is a fountain from which filth
> flows,.
> A single piece of stone like David’s which
> slew Goliath
> Will crack open many thousand clay jugs and pots,
> But the fountain spews filthy black water incessently.
> It is easy to break idols as did Samson with
> the Philistines,
> But it isn’t easy to subdue an ego. To think so, is
> folly,
> If you seek to know the ego’s form read the tale of seven
> hells,
> Every moment it commits a thought of guile and
> deceit.
> A hundred Pharoahs can be drowned with their horsemen,
> So flee to the God of Moses,and do not betray his Faith
> By drinking fountain spills from Pharoah’s dirty water .
> So cleave to the One God and Ahmad, flee the tyrant of a body

Wednesday, 9 September 2009


Native American Wisdom - A Spiritual Tradition at One with Nature
edited by Alan Jacobs
Watkins Publishing
ISBN 978-1-905857-86-9
Published January 2008 - Hardcover - 186 pages - $8.95

Whoever holds the key to wisdom in the full sense of the word, will you please open the door? We're in dire need of some as we're really stupid when it comes to running our lives. By "we" I mean people in general. Just look at what we've done to ourselves, our fellow humans, our animals, and to the planet on which we're supposed to exist! Are we dumb or what? Now, there are enlightened ones among us but, for reasons unknown (fear and/or ignorance?), we don't listen or consider their words or deeds. The words of others don't have to be just about religion either; it seems we're immune to the common sense gene. However, many derive comfort, security, and assurance from a multitude of denominations, and I say, each to his own and live and let live. The dustjacket of this book says, "Although there are major differences in the lifestyles of the numerous Native American nations, they share fundamental beliefs. The spiritual wisdom of these people is based on a love and reverence for Nature, a belief in a Supreme Being, and a spirit world which interacts with human activity." Makes perfect sense to me as they've been around longer than you and me, and certainly know a thing or two. Tribal words featured in this charming book come from the Apache, Sioux, Cherokee, Zuni, Comanche, Kiowa, Pequot, Onondaga, Navajo, Lakota, and more. I loved this quote: "Liberty don't work as good in practice as it does in speeches." In this little book you'll find one-liners, poems, prayers, songs, and more. I liked this line from Chief Luther Standing Bear: "The white race today is but half civilized and unable to order his life into ways of peace and righteousness." (1931). Ain't that the truth! It's refreshing to know that some people are grateful and are not ashamed or afraid to express their gratitude for the land.
Conclusion - Uplifting with an overall theme of peace and respect for each other and everything around us. As it should be. Basic common sense.

Tuesday, 8 September 2009



> Since the rose has withered and the garden lies forlorn
> From whom shall we breathe the fragrance of the rose?
> When God is out of sight, Prophets are his Vicars,
> Yet the Prophet and God are one without a second,
> They are two only if you worship the bodily form
> They're one for all who've passed beyond that perception.
> When you look at the form your eye has double vision
> Look at the eye’s light which grew single from the Self.
> If ten lamps are lit in one hall each differs in form,
> To see the light of each is well nigh impossible
> When you stare at the fully blazing candelabra.
> If you count a hundred freshly picked, ripe red apples,
> They become as one when crushed in the cider press.
> In spiritual matters there are no numbers or parts,
> There is no false division nor any individuals.
> Sweet is the oneness of the Friend with his friends ,
> Clutch and cling to the naked feet of this spirit,
> Forms are opposed to realisation of spiritual unity .
> Make headstrong form waste away with trial and tribulation,
> So beneath it you may discover unity like buried treasure,
> And if you fail His bountiful grace will surely conquer.
> My heart is His slave, He shows himself to our hearts,
> He mends the torn and tattered robe of the Dervish.
> We were single, and all from one substance without heads,
> We were one substance like the Sun, knotless like water.
> When that light took form it multiplied like shadows off a
> wall.
> Smash the wall with a catapault that the shadows will
> crash.
> I would have made these points with greater vigour
> But feared weaker minds may stumble from my rigour.
> The points are sharp as a razor’s edge,if you catch the
> sense,
> So turn within and flee from this dream of a world.
> Do not come without a strong shield against this keen
> blade,
> The warrior’s sword is never afraid of execution ,
> I place my scmitar in its sheath so none may mistake
> The true meaning of my munbling metaphors and discourse .
> Keep company with the followers of Reality to win
> That gift and be generous in surrendering your will to
> God,
> In this body, spirit exiled from the Self is a wooden
> sword,
> When sheathed it seems strong but when needed its use is
> firewood.,
> Don’t wield a wooden sword in battle, have one of real
> steel,
> The sword of Reality is the weapon of prophets and Saints,
> The wise Sage is divine compassion to lost human beings.
> If you would purchase a pomegranate make sure its ripe,
> Open and laughing so you can view its interior seeds,
> This happy fruit makes the garden joyous and blooming.
> Unblest is the openness of the red anemone, black at
> heart,
> ‘Though you be a rock, when you meet the Saint you’ll
> be a jewel.
> Plant the love of Holy Ones in your heart and avoid
> dispair,
> Don’t enter darkness,there are Suns blazing in the world
> of men.
> Follow the body and it will lead you into the prison house
> of clay and water,
> Give your heart to converse with an awakened Sage.

Monday, 7 September 2009


A rich merchant had his pretty Polly prisoned in a gilded cage.
One day he prepared to pack his trunk and go to mystic India.
Through his generosity he said to his male and female slaves,
What shall I bring home for you, please tell me your heart’s desire!?
Each one craved for some precious object,which he vowed to fetch.

He asked Pretty Polly Parrot what she would like most from India?
She said, when you see the other free parrots tell them of my plight,
Say “ a parrot who is longing to join you is locked up in a cage
By the preordained will of some heavenly supreme command.
She pleas for help and mercy and begs to learn the means of escape,
Is it fair that I should yearn for freedom and soon die in exile ?
Is it just that I suffer in grief while all of you fly in green trees ?
Is this the fruit of faith ? I’m in jail while you’re in the rose garden,
Remember me, then pray and drink a cup of morning dew in the sunshine.

It’s joyous for a friend to be remembered when their beloved
Is the beautiful Layla and I am like her lover Majnun.
You, who dine with your adorable one, while I drink my blood,
Sip one cup of ruby wine for me if you desire fair justice,
Or at least shed one drop on your soft carpet of emerald green.
In memory of this suffering wingless bird who snores in the dust.

Where’s your vowed covenant and the land of milk and honey?
If having abandoned this slave because of some harmful service,
When you harm the harmer, the master is the same as his serf?
Yet the ill you do in wrath is sweeter than harpist’s music.
Your cruelty is better than felicity, your anger sweeter than life.
If this is your fire, then how dazzling must be your light,
If this is your mourning, how glad must be your celebration?

With regard to the ineffable delight of your cruelty
And your idescribable beauty, no one can plumb your depths,
I fear, lest you believe me and make my suffering less,
I am in love with the opposites of violence and gentility,
It is indeed a wonder that I can be enamoured of both,
If I can fly from the thorn of sorrow to the rose of joy,
I shall pine to moan like the plaintive lovesick nightingale,
What a marvellous bird to munch roses and thorns in one gulp!
He is a lover of the Universal, and is himself the Universal,
He is in love with his own Self and seeking his own love!".

Such is the plight of Polly. Where's he who can counsel the
Where is the weak and innocent dove that is waitimg there within
For the Great King of Kings and all his glorious host to arrive?


Sunday, 6 September 2009


This is a free versification from Reynard Nicholson's literal translation of the Mathnawi.


Whoever is awake to the material world
Is fast asleep to the spiritual world.
This wakefulness is far worse than sleep,
When our soul’s asleep to God, it’s a door
Closing, to prevent the entry of His grace.
All day we suffer from a host of fantasies,
Thoughts of loss, gain or degeneration.
For the Soul there is neither joy nor peace
Nor a way of progression heavenwards.
The sleeper has his hope in each vain fancy
And converses idly with these foolish voices.

The bird of the soul flies cheerily on high
While its shadow is speeding upon Earth,
Some fools hasten to chase their shadow
And rushing hurriedly become exhausted,
Not understanding that it’s a reflection,
Nor knowing from where it originates.

They vainly shoot arrows at this phantom,
His quiver soon empties from the long quest.
The contents of his worried life become a void,
Time passes in chasing after this grey shadow.
But when God’s shadow becomes a nurse maid.
It saves him from fantasies and illusion.
God’s shadow is the true servant of God.

Dead to this world yet living through Him.
Take hold of His hem quickly so your skirt
May also be saved at the end of your days.
Never enter this dark valley of the shadow
Without a guide who’s a true son of God.
Desert the grey shadow, gain the bright Sun
Hold the hem of the orb of Shams Tabriz.

If you don’t know the way to the bridal feast
Enquire into God’s radiance named l’Haqq.
If envy grabs you by the throat on the way
It is Satan who reaches beyond all bounds.
Because from green envy he hates Adam
And he’s at constant war with happiness.

On the way there’s no harder bridge to cross.
Happy is he who hasn’t made envy his friend.
The body is a mansion packed full of hate,
The family and servants are all tainted.
Yet Almighty God made the body to be pure
So sweep clean His house. The purified heart
Is a true treasure and Earth’s gold talisman.

If you indulge in guile, deceit and envy
Against one who’s without a hint of blame,
Then black stains swell up in your heart.
So rest as dust under the feet of a Sage
Amd scatter the dust on envy’s bald head.

Any fool who mtorments his body is unfit
For comprehending the spiritual life .
The nose catches fragrance leading to truth
That scent is the God revealed religion.
If he’s whiffed this perfume with ingratitude,
It comes and destroys his organ of perception.

Give thanks! be a slave to those who are grateful,
Be in their presence as one truly steadfast.