I witnessed my Maker with my heart’s eye.
I asked, ‘Who are You?’ He answered, ‘You!’
For You one cannot ask, Where?
Because where is Where for You?
You do not pass through the imagination
Or else we’ll know where You are.
You are He who is everywhere
Yet You are nowhere. Where are You?
In my annihilation is my annihilation’s annihilation
And You are found in my annihilation.
Translated by Mahmood Jamal: from Islamic Mystical Poetry: Sufi Verse from the
Early Mystics to Rumi.
Mansur al-Hallaj (858-922) was born in Persia and moved to what is now Iraq, where
he took up religious studies. The authorities took offense at his poetry and teachings,
and he was condemned by a council of theologians, imprisoned for nine years, and
eventually put to death for blasphemy. Today he is considered by many to be a great
poet-saint and martyr for truth.
What if you thought of it as the Jews consider the Sabbath—the most sacred of times?
Your life is your life, don’t let it be clubbed into dank submission.
What a kindness she showers upon me, not letting me skip any steps, or leave not even one stone unturned.
The seed of life is within us all, our dance here is mundane, strange and wonderful.
A Sign of Our Times or How the Black Madonna Is Shaking Us Up for the Twenty-First Century
Many on the spiritual path rightfully long for a sudden point in time when a shift happens
Where do you see a window you can open for a subtle sacrament to slip into your day?
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