TRIUMPH OF SPIRIT IN LOVE, NATURE & ART

Spirituality

Sadhguru’s Cure for a Spiritual Lobotomy

Another invisible illness silently
sapping quality of life
vertigo and acute nausea
now join
constant migraines
and, with Aspergers, I am
more of a recluse than ever
But my beloved stands by me
A few weeks ago
I wanted to die
Bipolar, too, you see
too sick to sleep
too long a wait
to see a doctor
My beloved, my savior
keeps me going.
But I must fight on my own
and have enlisted Sadhguru
an Indian mystic and Yogi and guru
who promises bliss.

Meditating and chanting every day
with my beautiful husband
whose love
pulls me through
My husband the healer
who worked
with the poorest of the poor
the dejected and rejected
the condemned
My husband who married me
despite my mental illness.

Sadhguru says my mind
can poison my body
Sadhguru, my last best hope
I meditate and chant Aum
with him daily
living the life of a hermit
in a 3 room box in New York City
rather than in a cave in the Himalayas
Desperately seeking
the spirituality of years ago
before antipsychotic medication
gave me a spiritual lobotomy
A trade off
it offered me
some sort of stability
to have a quasi normal life
with my devoted husband
of 28 years.

Why can’t you have
pharmacological sanity
that allows you to love
AND spirituality???
I am going to try…
With Sadhguru.


Flitting and Flirting on a Flower

Butterflies mating
on a flower petal bed
The perfume of love
in a plethora of hues
Fleeting moments
of life
of the present
past in a blink
of the eye
or the flutter
of a butterfly wing.


Stormy Weather

 

Taking a break from blogging for awhile.  Following a class with the famous yogi, Sadhguru, on Inner Engineering which is quite wonderful and I plan on spending lots of time on.  A sample of his way of thinking is below.


Messages from God

Sue at Silent Eye recently posted a discussion of bibliomancy on her blog…

https://thesilenteye.co.uk/2017/06/04/divination-by-the-book/

As a former librarian, I had an experience of bibliomancy with an encyclopedia. It was at a time in my life when I was in a sort of parallel universe. In any case, I had the distinct feeling of a prickly scalp and I wanted to do what I called “readings” which meant basically opening a book randomly to anything looking for messages from God. So I did just that and opened to a page with a picture of Christ and His crown of thorns. I can’t remember how I interpreted it but I knew I was “connected” to something way bigger than my mind.

I had many such experiences and they are delineated in my book, Eye-locks and Other Fearsome Things.


Happy Mother’s Day!

Happy Mother’s Day!

Love and pride in the mother’s eyes, complete trust in the infant’s sleep


Infrared Spring

and one lone color red


From Death to Life

Another rebirth


A Barn in Winter

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Bare branches
yearning towards
turquoise sky
with fast floating
sunlit white clouds
white above
white below
the snow
hides the land
of insects
and mice
and moles
and snakes
and in the vernal pool
next door
turtles sleep
in their hernaculum
while frogs lay
dormant in the mud
I sit in sleepy
surrender
glad to be
in our little hideaway
in the woods
of our young dreams
wondering
if we will all
awaken
to another Spring.

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A Procedure

 

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A brown bag
so fragrant
full of presents
and the smells
of India
crammed full
with treasures
fills me
with such desire
I inhale deeply
and go “under”
falling into the ether
of the subcontinent

Machines beeping
the anesthesiologist
himself an Indian
calms me down
speaking softly
plumping my pillow
a routine exam
so much kindness
as he pumps
anesthesia
through my veins

I awaken
fresh from the arms
of Mother India
in the land
of Morpheus
as I lie before
a wide expanse
of grey sky
over the Hudson
and see God
as boats drift by

Beep… Beep…

Oh to always
see the sky
and the river
and God
and to breathe
the intoxicating
smells of
the India
of my dreams.


all that is born

A wonderful post, close to my heart, from Tiramit at Dhamma Footsteps.com

dhamma footsteps

img_3877POSTCARD #244: New Delhi: Early morning light, people wrapped in shawls, long scarves bound around the head and tied under the chin. Dark faces, eyes looking out and they see me for an instant in a diamond eye-lock as I struggle to look away. They look with curiosity; I think they see me as one of those lost in maya, not in the real world for them, I’m living in a dream. They might laugh to themselves, but not in a hurtful way – I’m pretty sure they see me as a naïve person, like a grown up child, dependent on support mechanisms I pay for with an impossible wealth, as far as they’re concerned, removed from everyday values. They’re right, from where they stand. It’s true, and I’m in awe of them, their existence is unreachable. The actuality of their lives, I know nothing about. My ongoing practice…

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