He (she) is my................?

An Indian painter said of her husband that he was her roof, and of her lover that he was her sky. Which would most of us prefer of a spouse I wonder, or can some people be both roof and sky to others? 

Dawn

The waning moon hung in the apricot tree

like a giant orange left by some cuckolding squire.

The fragile branches seemed too frail

to bear the burden of its’ gold.

Ten minutes and the sky paled for dawn,

the tree now Cinderella in the morning light.

The crows croaked asthmatically to tell the world

the early rays shone low, the air hung cold. 

Twelve hours of reality to steer

till the return of intimacy and fun,

the night of illusion when the world is what we make it,

a place of love, of mystery, or horror,

a time for stories, make-believe, and laughter.

Silence waits unseen

for eyes, now blinded by the world,

to know again its secrets till the morrow.        

     http://www.amazon.co.uk/Gleanings-ebook/dp/B009YHVXSI/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1370369044&sr=1-1&keywords=Gleanings%2F+Hashmi

Le Grand Meaulnes - translation

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Big-Meaulnes-Grand-Translated-ebook/dp/B009W5PSD8/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1365949591&sr=1-1&keywords=Le+Grand+Meaulnes+Jennifer+Hashmi

Near our house

A stench from the soul?

Unbridled hate is a visible sign of an insidious form of inner suicide.

I want more

If there's one thing history and life teach it is that embedded in the nature of things nemesis lies in wait for unbridled greed.

Journeys

The clock in the hall struck ten

as I climbed up the stairs to my bed,

and I thought of the thousands of times

I had slept and got up to its’ chime. 

My father was born in this house

and Grandfather lived here too,

and my daughter just then in her sweet sixteenth year

had grown up to the tick of that clock. 

We all reached our prime and declined

while its’ fingers pressed on round its’ face,

but what was its’ native connection

with the grey hairs adorning my head?

What had it even to do

with the rolling and vast universe?

If I marched now away through the stars

in my trendy seven-light-year-stride boots

my body would age, I am told,

with its’ personal velocity rate.

The planets would revolve many more times

to each new grey hair on my head.

If I carried the clock on my back

its’ tick would keep time with my boots. 

A super-giant star blooms and fades

to a rather deep scary black hole,

and a rose in the park flares and dies,

each fulfilling its’ own given nature.

Fruition, decay, are the law

which we cannot escape or reverse.

 

But that’s not the end of the story.

The decomposed matter remains

arranging itself in new forms

in an orderly cycle of birth out of death

and recomposed life from the dead.

Kierkegaard's crowd

I refered to Kierkegaard's book "The Crowd is Untruth" in my previous entry. Here I will quote a paragraph as an indication of what he says for those who may be interested.

          "A crowd - not this or that,  one now living or long dead, a crowd of the lowly or of nobles, of rich or poor, etc., but in its very concept - is untruth, since a crowd either renders the single individual wholly unrepentant and irresponsible, or weakens his responsibility by making it a fraction of his decision. Observe, there was not a single soldier who dared lay hands on Caius Marius; this was the truth. But given three or four women with the consciousness or idea of being a crowd, with a certain hope in the possibility that no-one could definitely say who it was started it, then they had the courage for it, what untruth! The untruth is first that it is "the crowd" which does what only the single individual in the crowd does. For a crowd is an abstraction which does not have hands; each single individual, on the other hand, normally has two hands, and when he, as a single individual, lays his two hands on Caius Marius, then it is the two hands of this single individual, not after all his neighbour's, even less the crowd's, which has no hands. In the next place, the untruth is that the crowd had "the courage" for it, for never at any time was even the most cowardly of all single individuals so cowardly as the crowd always is. For every single individual who escapes into the crowd, and thus flees ......contributes his share of cowardice to "the cowardice" which is the crowd.
          The crowd is untruth. There is therefore no-one who has more contempt for what it is to be a human being than those who make it their profession to lead the crowd."

          Copenhagen Spring 1847

          I have quoted here from the kindle edition and do not have the page number, but this passage is near the beginning. I have omitted a few lines where the dots are to cut down the length.  There is much more on this subject. In notes at the end of the book he clarifies,

          "I have never denied, that is in relation to all temporal, earthly, worldly ends the crowd can have validity, even its validity as a decisive court of last resort. But I am not speaking of such things. Seen ethico-religiously the crowd is untruth when it is taken as a valid court of last resort for what "the truth" is. "The crowd" here is understood as a purely formal conceptual definition, not what one otherwise understands by "the crowd". "The crowd" is the number. As soon as the numeral is at work, the "crowd" is "the crowd"."

 

The individual and the crowd

          I feel it is vital for children to learn to know themselves as individuals capable of thinking for themselves. They are tribal by nature and tend to follow anyone displaying leadership, but some seem to have degenerated into packs looking for prey. Their homes are failing to teach them self-worth and self-respect, so they can't stand alone on their own feet. They look for an identity in the pack.
          So (without government funding) I feel children in school need to be talked to by their teachers as individuals. In class they can be invited to stand up in turn to talk about some issue and end their account with a personal opinion. Or this may take the form of a debate with others invited to speak in response. The rest of the class will be expected to listen with respect.
          In private maybe children could be asked how they feel about any problems in the school or elsewhere, anything said in private being completely confidential. Where classes are unruly this might be the only way to start with.
          Hopefully in this way children can be challenged to think as individuals and have the originality not to follow a crowd for the sake of it.

          See "The Crowd is Untruth"  Kierkegaard

A Wedding Song

The river, dark, and brown, and deep,

flowed slow and heavy down the creek.
Beyond rose Holly Berry hill,
and on its’ peak the tower.

And then I saw a small green boat
emerge from out the hanging trees,
and at its’ oars a young girl sat
too still to row a boat.

As she neared I saw her hand,
and in its’ grasp a red-stained cloth,
her face was white as porcelain,
her cloak as black as silt.

Then with alarm I saw her slip
deep down inside the boat.
As just ahead the rapids plunged
I leapt into the brook,

and as we rushed towards the brink
I grasped the maid and pulled her out,
then dragged her back towards the shore
and laid her on the bank.

She began to wail and cry,
"Oh leave me Sir to do my will.
I have a mind to join them both
in payment for my sin."

"What ails you Mistress that you weep
and beg so young to leave this life?"
"My love lies dead in yonder tower,
my father sick with grief.

My suitor came with merry step
to meet my father old and frail,
to ask him for permission free
to marry me next June.

My brother leapt in mighty rage
and slew him with a shaft.
I flew at him and struck him down
 – the brother whom I loved.

So now they’re dead because of me,
and I must die for them."
"And this napkin? Whose is this?"
"’Tis from my loved one’s hand."

"But Maid wherefore your brother’s ire?
Why kill a suitor bold and fair?
How doth your father old and frail
left now without an heir?"

"John said he was a lying cheat
whom all the girls adored.
He loved me true, I know he did,
and would have been my lord.

John said he loved my face and wealth
and not my inner soul.
My father lies a-bed and weak,
and now I must be gone."

"Sweet maid how can I leave you here?
You’re wet and cold and need a fire.
Come to my house and I will send
a message to your Sire."

I took her to my humble cot
and did not tell her next of kin.
She milks my cows, and cooks my meals.
Next June I’ll have an heir.

So hey tra-la, tra-la-la-la-la-la,
one day I’ll climb yon mountain lane,
and claim my rightful place as lord
of tower and domain.

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Gleanings-ebook/dp/B009YHVXSI/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1370370536&sr=1-1&keywords=Gleanings+%2F+Hashmi

A Maiden's Lament

Four maidens dancing o’er the lea
beneath the moon and silver tree
came singing sweet a wild lament,
“We’ll follow where our dear lads went.

They sailed beyond the broad lagoon
and promised they’ld be home by June,
but now the frost and silver gleam
in frozen hope and broken dream.

They said they’ld bring us crocks of gold,
and we’ld be wed before the cold,
and snug we’ld be by hearth and fire
when Winter came in white attire.

The butterfly which soared and spun
would crumple when its’ day was done,
while we poor fools went dancing on
not knowing that our time was gone.

So now we dance in bridal train
with wreaths of frost and wild refrain.
We’ll follow where out true loves led
and sleep tonight in marriage bed.”

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Gleanings-ebook/dp/B009YHVXSI/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1370370536&sr=1-1&keywords=Gleanings+%2F+Hashmi
 

Signposts

To arrive at the Real, point downwards towards the central point.The point is sub-atomic in size. It is also invisible, but we have its' location so we dive towards it. The way is that of unknowing because the destination is unknown. We press on in faith. not in anything but in nothing. (See St. John of the Cross) We may not know what we will find there but we know it is our root. We are on a journey of discovery of our self, to discover who we are, and to discover where we are going. The point has no dimensions. From that point there is no retreat. The only way forward is via the routes which lead from the point of the soul by reason of its' own nature. Thus we travel on a journey of discovery. The terrain is the terrain of our own soul. We see for the first time what nature of landscape this is, or spiritscape. There may be several routes but each leads from the soul's centre. Each is true to one's self. We are free to choose which to take but the routes diverge. The choice is crucial. We can't wander without purpose. That leads to disorientation of the psyche. We left the world of commerce and have forgotten how it works. The life we have discovered from the centre is by its' nature a journey. To think we can sit down and go no further is an illusion. To sit down is to be lost. To find the road again involves returning to the centre. Then possibly one may take one of the alternative branches from the centre. The centre is the fine point of the soul. Its' root.

Starflight

"Will you wander with me, love,

in the wonderland of night?"
"I will come if you can take me
to the paths of milky light."

"Close your eyes and I will bear you
swiftly there in soaring flight."
"Hold my hand lest I should fall
and plunge down crumbling slopes of fright."

"See now where the flowers spread
their billion petals for your sight,
and lay their heads before your feet
and bid you kneel in sweet delight."

"They are soft and frail and tender.
Tell me why they shine so bright?"
"Let us lie here where they grow
and wallow in their fleecy white."

"I will follow further still
through the shadows of the night."

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Gleanings-ebook/dp/B009YHVXSI/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1370370536&sr=1-1&keywords=Gleanings+%2F+Hashmi
 

The kingdom of darkness

          "Another time I asked again about personal  evil in spiritual domains. We were sitting again on the thin scrap of silk with legs dangling over the abyss. Darkness enveloped us and I clung to A. We heard sort of fiendish voices. A indicated that a power-struggle was going on in the darkness with various leaders fighting for supremacy, and forming camps. They sense God as a threatening power but can’t see his Light. They vie for human souls, especially if they seem to be veering towards this unknown super-power, as they sense God to be. He is a mystery and nameless and faceless, but sensed as power is perceived as a threat.   These spirits form corporal bodies to win souls, and are in that sense personal. They think darkness is the reality. They are dead or dying. They live in hell. They challenge the power of God because God ‘s Light is swallowing the darkness, rolling it back. So they are trying to annex all the support they can win to prevent their domain from being rolled back."

        "A Spiritual Diary"