love is sacrifice of will

Posted in Dimension Yoga on May 3, 2013 by DimensionYoga
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Good and bad

Posted in Dimension Yoga on May 2, 2013 by DimensionYoga

Your grief for what you’ve lost lifts a mirror up to where you’re bravely working. Expecting the worst, you look, and instead, here’s the joyful face you’ve been wanting to see. Your hand opens and closes and opens and closes. If it were always a fist or always stretched open, you would be paralyzed. Your deepest presence is in every small contracting and expanding, the two as beautifully balanced and coordinated as birdwings.–Rumi (Shams of Tabriz)

The springtime of Lovers has come,
that this dust bowl may become a garden;
the proclamation of heaven has come,
that the bird of the soul may rise in flight.

The sea becomes full of pearls,
the salt marsh becomes sweet as kauthar,
the stone becomes a ruby from the mine,
the body becomes wholly soul. -rumi

There is no Love greater than Love with no object.
For then you, yourself, have become love itself.
Rumi

How should spring bring forth a garden on hard stone? Become earth, you may grow flowers of many colors. For you have been a heart-breaking rock. Once, for the sake of experiment, be earth!

Good and bad
Good and bad are mixed. If you don’t have both,
you don’t belong with us.


We are
We are pain and what cures pain both.


Only Love
Only Love and the lover
can resurrect beyond time.

It is
It is Love that holds everything together.

fall in love in such a way that it frees you from any connecting. -Rumi

Posted in Dimension Yoga on March 29, 2013 by DimensionYoga

Let go of your worries
and be completely clear-hearted,
like the face of a mirror
that contains no images.
If you want a clear mirror,
behold yourself
and see the shameless truth,
which the mirror reflects.
If metal can be polished
to a mirror-like finish,
what polishing might the mirror
of the heart require?
Between the mirror and the heart
is this single difference:
the heart conceals secrets,
while the mirror does not.

From:
The Divani Shamsi Tabriz, XIII

In the friend place, nothing true can be “said”

Posted in Dimension Yoga on January 22, 2013 by DimensionYoga

florida  juno beach

Juno Beach, FL  sept2010

high clouds

It is at the edge of a petal that love waits

Posted in Dimension Yoga on November 15, 2012 by DimensionYoga

Whom we love best, to them we can say least.

In summer, the song sings itself.
– William Carlos Williams

No one will take the one who is destined for you.
Italian proverb

It is at the edge of a petal that love waits.
– William Carlos Williams

Love is like an hourglass, with the heart filling up as the brain empties.
-Jules Renard

Think lovingly, speak lovingly, act lovingly, and every need shall be supplied.
-James Allen

Love is a fruit in season at all times, and within the reach of every hand.
-Mother Teresa

I would rather have eyes that cannot see, ears that cannot hear, lips that cannot speak, than a heart that cannot love.
-Robert Tizon

JOY AT SUDDEN DISSAPOINTMENT

Posted in Dimension Yoga on October 22, 2012 by DimensionYoga

Having nothing produces provisions

you took away my grief and i was grieved

-Rumi

Walt Whitman – excerpts from Leaves of Grass.

Posted in Dimension Yoga on August 18, 2012 by DimensionYoga

5
This is the female form,
A divine nimbus exhales from it from head to foot,
It attracts with fierce undeniable attraction,
I am drawn by its breath as if I were no more than a helpless vapor,
all falls aside but myself and it,
Books, art, religion, time, the visible and solid earth, and what
was expected of heaven or fear’d of hell, are now consumed,
Mad filaments, ungovernable shoots play out of it, the response
likewise ungovernable,
Hair, bosom, hips, bend of legs, negligent falling hands all
diffused, mine too diffused,
Ebb stung by the flow and flow stung by the ebb, love-flesh swelling
and deliciously aching,
Limitless limpid jets of love hot and enormous, quivering jelly of
love, white-blow and delirious nice,
Bridegroom night of love working surely and softly into the prostrate dawn,
Undulating into the willing and yielding day,
Lost in the cleave of the clasping and sweet-flesh’d day.

This the nucleus–after the child is born of woman, man is born of woman,
This the bath of birth, this the merge of small and large, and the
outlet again.

Be not ashamed women, your privilege encloses the rest, and is the
exit of the rest,
You are the gates of the body, and you are the gates of the soul.

The female contains all qualities and tempers them,
She is in her place and moves with perfect balance,
She is all things duly veil’d, she is both passive and active,
She is to conceive daughters as well as sons, and sons as well as daughters.

As I see my soul reflected in Nature,
As I see through a mist, One with inexpressible completeness,
sanity, beauty,
See the bent head and arms folded over the breast, the Female I see.

6
The male is not less the soul nor more, he too is in his place,
He too is all qualities, he is action and power,
The flush of the known universe is in him,
Scorn becomes him well, and appetite and defiance become him well,
The wildest largest passions, bliss that is utmost, sorrow that is
utmost become him well, pride is for him,
The full-spread pride of man is calming and excellent to the soul,
Knowledge becomes him, he likes it always, he brings every thing to
the test of himself,
Whatever the survey, whatever the sea and the sail he strikes
soundings at last only here,
(Where else does he strike soundings except here?)

The man’s body is sacred and the woman’s body is sacred,
No matter who it is, it is sacred–is it the meanest one in the
laborers’ gang?
Is it one of the dull-faced immigrants just landed on the wharf?
Each belongs here or anywhere just as much as the well-off, just as
much as you,
Each has his or her place in the procession.

(All is a procession,
The universe is a procession with measured and perfect motion.)

Do you know so much yourself that you call the meanest ignorant?
Do you suppose you have a right to a good sight, and he or she has
no right to a sight?
Do you think matter has cohered together from its diffuse float, and
the soil is on the surface, and water runs and vegetation sprouts,
For you only, and not for him and her?

} Spontaneous Me

Spontaneous me, Nature,
The loving day, the mounting sun, the friend I am happy with,
The arm of my friend hanging idly over my shoulder,
The hillside whiten’d with blossoms of the mountain ash,
The same late in autumn, the hues of red, yellow, drab, purple, and
light and dark green,
The rich coverlet of the grass, animals and birds, the private
untrimm’d bank, the primitive apples, the pebble-stones,
Beautiful dripping fragments, the negligent list of one after
another as I happen to call them to me or think of them,
The real poems, (what we call poems being merely pictures,)
The poems of the privacy of the night, and of men like me,
This poem drooping shy and unseen that I always carry, and that all
men carry,

I Am He That Aches with Love

I am he that aches with amorous love;
Does the earth gravitate? does not all matter, aching, attract all matter?
So the body of me to all I meet or know.

4
I have perceiv’d that to be with those I like is enough,
To stop in company with the rest at evening is enough,
To be surrounded by beautiful, curious, breathing, laughing flesh is enough,
To pass among them or touch any one, or rest my arm ever so lightly
round his or her neck for a moment, what is this then?
I do not ask any more delight, I swim in it as in a sea.

There is something in staying close to men and women and looking
on them, and in the contact and odor of them, that pleases the soul well,
All things please the soul, but these please the soul well.
——-WALT WHITMAN, FROM “I SING THE BODY ELECTRIC”

“I am always doing things I cannot do, that’s how I get to do them.” Pablo Picasso