Monday, October 5, 2015
Our son and daughter-in-law will not allow us to see the grandchildren. It stemmed from something my husband did last summer. He is not willing to apologize. What can I do?
Sunday, October 4, 2015
Saturday, October 3, 2015
We’ve been married for two months and I just found out that my husband is gambling and using drugs. What now?
Friday, October 2, 2015
On the night when you cross the street
from your shop and your house to the cemetery,
you will hear me hailing you from inside
the open grave, and you will realize
how we have always been together.
I am the clear consciousness-core
of your being, the same in ecstasy
as in self-hating fatigue.
That night, when you escape the fear of snakebite
and all irritation with the ants,
you will hear my familiar voice,
see the candle being lit,
smell the incense, the surprise meal
fixed by the lover inside all your other lovers.
This heart-tumult is my signal
to you igniting in the tomb.
So don't fuss with the shroud
and the graveyard road dust.
Those get ripped open and washed away
in the music of our finally meeting.
And don't look for me in a human shape.
I am inside your looking. No room
for form with love this strong.
Beat the drum and let the poets speak.
This is a day of purification for those
who are already mature and initiated
into what love is.
No need to wait until we die.
There is more to want here than money
and being famous and bites of roasted meat.
Now, what shall we call this new sort of gazing-house
that has opened in our town where people sit
quietly and pour out their glancing
like light, like answering?
Posted by Kathy at 6:46 AM
How can you deal with alcohol addiction in a marriage, especially when that person doesn’t think they have a problem?
Thursday, October 1, 2015
Learn the alchemy true human beings know.
The moment you accept what troubles
you've been given, the door will open.
Welcome difficulty, as a familiar comrade.
Joke with torment brought by the Friend.
Sorrows are the rags of old clothes
and jackets that serve to cover,
and then are taken off.
and the naked body underneath,
is the sweetness that comes after grief.
Posted by Kathy at 6:16 AM
Wednesday, September 30, 2015
Posted by Kathy at 1:52 PM
you that transcend logic, come.
I am only an arrow. Fill your bow with me
and let fly. Because of this love for you,
my bowl has fallen from the roof.
Put down a ladder and collect the pieces.
People ask, Which roof is your roof?
I answer, Wherever the soul came from
and wherever it goes back to at night,
my roof is in that direction.
From wherever spring arrives
to heal the ground, from wherever searching rises
in a human being. The looking itself is a trace
of what we are looking for.
But we have been more like the man
who sat on his donkey and asked the donkey where to go.
Be quiet now and wait. It may be the ocean one,
the one we want so to move into and become,
it may be that one wants us out here
on land a little longer
going our sundry roads to the shore.
*September 30 is Rumi's birthday, in 1207.
Posted by Kathy at 7:22 AM
Tuesday, September 29, 2015
Self-Portrait with Bandaged Ear and Pipe
Vincent Van Gogh
Put your vileness up to a mirror and weep.
Get that self-satisfaction flowing out of you.
Satan thought, I am better than Adam,
and that better than is still strongly in us.
Your streamwater may look clean,
but there is unstirred matter on the bottom.
Your guide can dig a side channel
that will drain that waste off.
Trust your wound to a teacher's surgery.
Flies collect on a wound. They cover it,
those flies of your self-protecting feelings,
your love for what you think is yours.
Let a teacher wave away the flies
and put a plaster on your wound.
Don't turn your head. Keep looking
at the bandaged place.
That is where the light enters you.
And don't believe for a moment
you are healing yourself.
Posted by Kathy at 7:21 AM
Monday, September 28, 2015
Childhood Friends (3)
Women Mending Nets in the Dunes, Vincent Van Gogh
He took the mirror from his robe
where he was hiding it.
What is the mirror of being? Non-being?
Always bring a mirror of non-existence as a gift.
Any other present is foolish.
Let the poor man look deep into generosity.
Let bread see a hungry man.
Let kindling behold a spark from the flint.
An empty mirror and your worst destructive habits,
when they are held up to each other, that is when
the real making begins. That's when art and crafting are.
A tailor needs a torn garment to practice his expertise.
The trunks of trees must be cut and cut again,
so they can be used for fine carpentry.
Your doctor must have a broken leg to doctor.
Your defects are the ways that glory gets manifested.
Whoever sees clearly what is diseased in himself
begins to gallop on the way. There is nothing worse
than thinking you are well enough. More than anything,
self-complacency blocks the workmanship.
Posted by Kathy at 7:41 AM
Sunday, September 27, 2015
Starry Night over the Rhône, by Vincent Van Gogh
Then Joseph began questioning his friend,
What have you brought me? You know a traveler
should not arrive empty-handed at the door
of a friend like me. That is like going
to the grinding stone without your wheat.
God will ask at the resurrection, Did you bring me
a present? Did you think you wouldn't see me?
Joseph keeps teasing, Let's have it.
I want my gift.
The guest began, You cannot imagine
how I have looked for something for you.
Nothing seemed appropriate. You don't take gold
down into a goldmine, or a drop of water
to the Sea of Oman. Everything I thought of
was like bringing cumin seed to Kirmanshah
where cumin comes from. You have all seeds
in your barn. You even have my love
and my soul, so I cannot bring those.
I have brought you a mirror.
Look at yourself and remember me.
Posted by Kathy at 7:20 AM
Saturday, September 26, 2015
Peasant and Peasant Woman Planting Potatoes, by Vincent Van Gogh
A close childhood friend came once to visit Joseph.
They had shared all the secrets that children
tell each other when they are lying on their pillows
at night before they go to sleep. These two
were completely truthful with each other.
The friend asked, What was it like when you realized
that your brothers were jealous and what they planned to do?
I felt like a lion with a chain around his neck,
not degraded by the chain, and not complaining,
just waiting for my power to be recognized.
How about down in the well, and in prison,
how was it then? Like the moon when it is
getting smaller, yet knowing the fullness to come.
Like a seed pearl ground in the mortor for medicine
that knows it will now be the light in a human eye.
Like a wheat grain that breaks open in the ground,
then grows and gets harvested, then crushed
in the mill for flour, baked and then crushed again
between teeth to become a person's understanding.
Lost in love, like the songs the planters sing
the night after they sow the seed.
Posted by Kathy at 8:12 AM
Friday, September 25, 2015
There is a basket of fresh bread on your head,
yet you go door to door asking for crusts.
Knock on the inner door. No other.
Sloshing knee-deep in clear streamwater,
you keep wanting a drink from other people's waterbags.
Water is everywhere around you,
but you see only barriers that keep you from water.
A horse is moving beneath the rider's thighs,
yet still he asks, Where is my horse?
Right there, under you. Yes, this is a horse,
but where's the horse? Can't you see? Yes,
I can see, but whoever saw such a horse?
Mad with thirst, he cannot drink from the stream
running so close by his face.
He is like a pearl on the deep bottom
wondering, inside the shell, Where is the ocean?
His mental questionings form the barrier.
His physical eyesight bandages his knowing.
Self-consciousness plugs his ears.
Stay bewildered in God and only that.
Posted by Kathy at 7:02 AM
Thursday, September 24, 2015
If you want to learn theory,
talk with the theoreticians. That way is oral.
When you learn a craft, practice it.
That learning comes through the hands.
If you want dervishhood, spiritual poverty,
and emptiness, you must be friends with a sheikh.
Talking about it, reading books, and doing practices
do not help. Soul receives from soul that knowing.
The mystery of spiritual emptiness
may be living in a pilgrim's heart,
but the knowing of it might not yet be his.
Wait for the illuminating openness,
as though your chest were filling with light.
Do not look for it outside yourself.
There is a milk fountain inside of you.
Do not walk around with an empty bucket.
You have a channel into the ocean,
yet you ask for water from a little pool.
Beg for the love-expansion.
The Qur'an says, And he is with you. (57:4)
Posted by Kathy at 7:34 AM
Wednesday, September 23, 2015
The place that Solomon made to worship in,
called the Far Mosque, is not built of earth
and water and stone, but of intention and wisdom
and mystical conversation and compassionate action.
Every part of it is intelligent and responsive
to every other. The carpet bows to the broom.
The door knocker and the door swing together
like musicians. This heart sanctuary
does exist, though it cannot be described.
Solomon goes there every morning
and gives guidance with words,
with musical harmonies, and in actions,
which are the deepest teaching.
A prince is just a conceit,
until he does something with his generosity.
Posted by Kathy at 6:26 AM
Tuesday, September 22, 2015
Constant slow movement teaches us
to keep working like a small creek
that stays clear, that does not stagnate,
but finds a way through numerous
Deliberation is born of joy
like a bird from an egg.
Birds do not resemble eggs.
Think how different the hatching out is.
A white leathery snake egg, a sparrow's egg,
a quince seed, an apple seed.
Very different things look similar at one stage.
These leaves, our bodily personalities,
seem identical, but the globe
of soul fruit we make,
each is elaborately
Posted by Kathy at 7:02 AM
Monday, September 21, 2015
Orthodox priest, by Bennett Hart
A friend remarks to the prophet, Why is it
I always make bad business deals?
It's like a spell. I become distracted
by business talk and get led into wrong decisions.
Muhammad replies, Stipulate with every transaction
that you need three days to make sure.
Deliberation is one of the qualities of God.
Throw a dog a bit of something.
He sniffs to see if he wants it.
Be that careful. Sniff with your wisdom-nose.
Get clear. Then decide.
The universe came into being gradually
over six days. God could have just commanded: BE.
Little by little a person reaches forty and fifty
and sixty and feels more complete.
God could have thrown full-blown prophets
flying through the cosmos in an instant.
Jesus said one word, and a dead man sat up,
but creation usually unfolds like calm breakers.
Posted by Kathy at 7:19 AM