Poetry and Spirituality

Feb 29, 2004 - Linda Sue Grimes Poetry is the language vehicle of spirituality. Because spirituality is of a different plane of being from the physical and mental, only metaphor can attempt to express the essence of spirituality. One of the foremost poet's of the spiritual is the great yogi, Paramahansa Yogananda. And one of his most beloved volumes of poems/prayers is Whispers from Eternity. The very title draws us to a plane of extraordinary being: we can feel those "whispers" in the very depth of our souls, because they come from a place that is ever-existing. Eternity whispers and we realize that we can hear those whispers anytime, anywhere we are, but especially when we become very still and quiet. The beautiful, opening dedication of the book states: Dedicated unto Christians, Moslems, Buddhists, Hebrews, Hindus, and all other religionists, In whom the Cosmic heart is ever throbbing equally. Renowned soprano, Amelita Galli-Curci, writes in the Foreword, "The prayers in Whispers from Eternity serve to bring God closer to us, by describing the liberating feelings that arise from actual communion with Him." That was Paramahansa Yogananda's main purpose in coming the United States and his main purpose in life, to describe his own enlightenment and union with God, and to teach us how we too can have that experience. In his Introduction, the great yogi states, "I offer my simple songs at the shrine of humanity, that all share my soul joy." The first poem/song/prayer titled "Salutation to God as the Great Preceptor" follows: Full of bliss, bestowing joy transcendent, Essence of wisdom, untouched by duality, clear as the taintless sky, the Utterer of Thou art That, the One, eternal, pure immovable, the omnipresent Witness, free from nature's three qualities, beyond the reach of thought-my Divine Preceptor, I bow to Thee! After the beautiful invocation to God, the great yogi speaking his whispers enlightens us with the following titled "The melody of human brotherhood": Heavenly Spirit, we are traveling by many right roads to Thine abode of light Guide us onto the highway of Self-knowledge, to which all paths of true religious beliefs eventually lead. Often using the metaphor of "path" or "highway" to refer to the particular religion, the great yogi lets us know that all religions have the same goal, to unite our souls with God. And though the mistaken idea that one religion is better than another seems to dominate the world's attention, Paramahansa Yogananda makes it clear that all religious roads lead to the same destination.

Rabia al Basri 717-801

View: Rabia Poems Not much is known about Rabia al Basri, except that she lived in Basra in Iraq, in the second half of the 8th century AD. She was born into poverty. But many spiritual stories are associated with her and what we can glean about her is reality merged with legend. These traditions come from Farid ud din Attar a later sufi saint and poet, who used earlier sources. Rabia herself though has not left any written works. After her father's death, there was a famine in Basra, and during that she was parted from her family. It is not clear how she was traveling in a caravan that was set upon by robbers. She was taken by the robbers and sold into slavery. Her master worked her very hard, but at night after finishing her chores Rabia would turn to meditation and prayers and praising the Lord. Foregoing rest and sleep she spent her nights in prayers and she often fasted during the day. There is a story that once, while in the market, she was pursued by a vagabond and in running to save herself she fell and broke her arm. She prayed to the Lord .

"I am a poor orphan and a slave, Now my hand too is broken. But I do not mind these things if Thou be pleased with me. "

and felt a voice reply: "Never mind all these sufferings. On the Day of Judgement you shall be accorded a status that shall be the envy of the angels even" One day the master of the house spied her at her devotions. There was a divine light enveloping her as she prayed. Shocked that he kept such a pious soul as a slave, he set her free. Rabia went into the desert to pray and became an ascetic. Unlike many sufi saints she did not learn from a teacher or master but turned to God himself. Throughout her life, her Love of God. Poverty and self-denial were unwavering and her constant companions. She did not possess much other than a broken jug, a rush mat and a brick, which she used as a pillow. She spent all night in prayer and contemplation chiding herself if she slept for it took her away from her active Love of God. As her fame grew she had many disciples. She also had discussions with many of the renowned

religious people of her time. Though she had many offers of marriage, and tradition has it one even from the Amir of Basra, she refused them as she had no time in her life for anything other than God. More interesting than her absolute asceticism, however, is the actual concept of Divine Love that Rabia introduced. She was the first to introduce the idea that God should be loved for God's own sake, not out of fear--as earlier Sufis had done. She taught that repentance was a gift from God because no one could repent unless God had already accepted him and given him this gift of repentance. She taught that sinners must fear the punishment they deserved for their sins, but she also offered such sinners far more hope of Paradise than most other ascetics did. For herself, she held to a higher ideal, worshipping God neither from fear of Hell nor from hope of Paradise, for she saw such self-interest as unworthy of God's servants; emotions like fear and hope were like veils -- i.e. hindrances to the vision of God Himself. She prayed: "O Allah! If I worship You for fear of Hell, burn me in Hell, and if I worship You in hope of Paradise, exclude me from Paradise. But if I worship You for Your Own sake, grudge me not Your everlasting Beauty.

Rabia was in her early to mid eighties when she died, having followed the mystic Way to the end. By then, she was continually united with her Beloved. As she told her Sufi friends, "My Beloved is always with me"

Sri Chinmoy Discusses Poetry

This talk is published on the occasion of a presentation of readings from the poetry of Sri Chinmoy given at the United Nations, Dag Hammarskjold Auditorium 7 November 1990. Sponsored by the United Nations Staff Recreation Council Society of Writers.

Poetry-Poem-Poet

Prose you can write. Prose he can write. Prose even I can write. But God writes poetry through you, through him and even through me. Poetry is the shortcut to reach the subtle and tangible goal of goalsDelight infinite. A poem starts in streaming tears and ends in soaring smiles. The poet beckons tomorrow's dream-dawn and then transforms tomorrow's dream-dawn into today's reality-day. It is a deplorable mistake we make when we try to understand poetry. Poetry is not to be understood. Poetry is to be felt. Poetry is to be loved. To try to understand a poem is like touching a rose with innumerable thorns. To try to feel a poem is to lovingly hold a rose without a single thorn. And to love a poem is to grow immediately into the beauty and fragrance of the rose itself. The soul of the poet creates. The heart of the poet originates. The eyes of the poet initiate. Inside each human being there is a poet. This poet can bring dawn the loftiest heights of truth and, at the same time, can powerfully eclipse the darkest falsehood if and when necessity demands. Poetry whispers, "O my friends, O my admirers, adorers and lovers, metres and metrical dance-foot-movementsiambus, trochee, anapaest, spondee and othersare my fondness-children. They can scale the measureless height, fathom the deepest depth and run the farthest length. Let us embark on Eternity's voyage with my children, my fondness-children." When we write a poem or-read a poem self-givingly, we spend a quiet moment with God the Beauty, God the Compassion and God the Satisfaction. I am a poet. I started writing poems right from my infancy. Before I write a soulful, powerful and significant poem, I concentrate with my vision-eye, I meditate with my liberation-heart and I contemplate with my realisation-soul. And then I focus my life-camera on God's transcendental Divinity and God's universal Beauty. After I have written the poem soulfully and devotedly, the Absolute Poet Supreme, to my extreme surprise, tells me that He has prepaid my ticket to reach the highest height of boundless ecstasy. When I read a poem in absolute silence, the soul of the poem tells me, "Come in, come in. Ah, you have come to see the real in me, to see the real me." There are poetsordinary poets, great poets. Again, there are seer-poets. The seer-poets are of supreme heights. A seer is he who envisions the present, the past and the future all at once. The great difference between music and poetry is this: music is a universal language. I do not have to learn a particular Language in order to appreciate the melody, the soulfulness and the fulness of the music. Just because music has a universal appeal, I can appreciate, admire and love the music. But the poetry that has a universal appeal is the creation of a seer-poet. Seer in Sanskrit is Drashtahe who has a free access to the past, present and future and has the rare capacity to divinely grow and supremely glow. It is said that poets are born and not made. Unfortunately I do not and cannot subscribe to this view. There are many, many poets I have seen in my lifetime who were not born as poets but, by

virtue of their hearts' climbing cries and one-pointed dedicated lives, have become excellent poets. So, as it is true that poets are born, even so, it is equally true that poets can be made. Now, here in the audience, I am sure there are some who are not poets but, at the same time, have a genuine desire to become poets. To them I wish to offer a few humble and soulful suggestions. You want to be a poet. You can be a poet. You are bound to be a poet. Do not allow yourself to be ensnared by doubt. Self-criticismno, no, no; self-enthusiasmyes, yes, yes. Try to free your mind for a few minutes from the coil of thought. Just for a few minutes try to keep your mind silent. I am not saying for a few hours, far from it. Just for four or five minutes keep your mind silent. And then place your silent mind on the beautiful, illumining and fulfilling throne that your heart has created for you.

When you write a poem, you can read it time and againas many times as you want. Each time you read if, you can try to increase your heart's joy with your imagination-power. Imagination is a world of its own. The Creator has created His creation. He is observing His creation and He is enjoying His creation. In exactly the same way, you can create a poem, you can observe it and you can enjoy it. You are the creator, you are the observer and you are the enjoyer. There are critics here, there and everywhere. You must not heed the chorus of impossible critics. Critics, it is said, are the worst failures. There is considerable truth in this. Our goal is perfection. It is enthusiasm and not criticism that can perfect us. Self-criticism is not the correct way. What we constantly need is an inner cry. It is through self-search and self-illumination that we can arrive at perfection. What we need at every moment is enthusiasm in measureless measure and not criticism by others or even self-criticism. Poetry is humanity's aspiration-cry and poetry is Divinity's satisfaction-fruit. There are many, many planes of consciousness from where poems can descend. And again, the poet can also climb up like a bird-high, higher, highest-and enter into these planes of consciousness and bring down the loftiest truth, light and delight. A poet can write a poem from the mind proper. He can write a poem from the intuitive mind. He can write a poem from the higher mind. He can write a poem from the overmind and even from the supermind. But when a poet enters into Sat-Chit-AnandaExistence-Consciousness-Blisswhich is higher than all the planes that I have mentioned, the poet feels that he has covered the longest possible distance. It is like making a long-distance telephone call. But once he reaches this highest plane of consciousness, the Absolute Lord Poet Supreme tells him, "My poet-child, you are mistaken, completely mistaken. Once you reach the Highest, once you become one with the Highest, your journey's start and the Highest are not at two different places. They are at one place." So it is not a long-distance telephone conversation. You can say it is a local call. On the strength of your heart's immense cry, you as a poet have reached the ultimate height. Once you reach the ultimate height, the journey's start and the journey's close become inseparably one.

"My poet-child, I want you to sing with Me: I barter nothing with time and deeds. My cosmic Play is done. The One Transcendental I was. The Many Universal I am. I am the Soul-Flower of My Eternity. I am the Heart-Fragrance of My Infinity." By: Sri Chinmoy

Mysticism
Study mysticism if you want to. It will give your heart joy, your mind inspiration and your life a true, fulfilling and soulful assurance. But do not try to define it. Do not try to interpret it. If you try to define mysticism, you are bound to fail. If you try to interpret mysticism, you will most deplorably fail.

We get experiences: from science, scientific discoveries; from history, historical revelations; from philosophy, philosophical data; from religion, religious doctrines. In these experiences, we see the presence of subject and object, essence and existence, vision and reality. But a mystic experience, which is immediate oneness, transcends all such distinctions. This experience is the constant oneness with the Beyond, the ever-transcending Beyond that always remains ineffable. Mysticism, poor mysticism! When it is oversimplified and underestimated, it comes down from its original sphere and stands beside religion. But even here if a person is sincere, he will realise that his highest religious experience is nothing more than an uncertain, obscure and faint perception of Truth; whereas, no matter what kind of mystical experience he has, he will feel the intensity, immensity and certainty of Truth.

We have also to learn that religious ecstasy and mystical ecstasy do not play the same role in our inner life. Religious ecstasy deals mostly with the human in us. This ecstasy is confined to the body-consciousness, the disciplined or undisciplined vital, the illumined or unillumined mind, the pure or impure heart. But the mystical ecstasy transports us at once into the Beyond, where we are embraced by the eternal Life, fed by the all-nourishing Light and blessed by the transcendental Truth. Primitive religion offered ecstasy to the vital in the physical mind and in the desiring heart. Mysticism fully advanced is now offering its ecstasy in infinite measure to the liberated souls and in abundant measure to the souls who are on the verge of liberation.

Poor Hinduism. Whenever and wherever mysticism is looked down upon, Hinduism is considered the main culprit. There are many sophisticated Westerners who not only fail to

understand the lofty Hindu mysticism, but badly misunderstand it. To them I want to say that Hindu mysticism is not, as they think, self-hypnotism or self-deception, but rather soulful oneness with Immortality's Life, Infinity's Heart and Eternity's Breath. To know Hinduism well, one has to practise Yoga, usually under the direct guidance of a spiritual adept.

Mysticism in Buddhism has been considerably inspired and influenced by Hindu mysticism. Hence, far from being diametrically opposed, the two traditions practically come to realise the same Truth. Nirvana transcends pain and pleasure, birth and death. The blessedness of Nirvana is the highest mystic oneness with the Liberator. A Hindu mystic, on the strength of his selfrealisation, also becomes one with the Absolute and is freed forever from the snares of pleasure and pain, birth and death.

The Sufi mysticism of Islam expresses itself in the strongest intoxication of the inner vital and in the truth-laden symbolic love between bride and bridegroom. This kind of mysticism perhaps brings one considerably closer to the actual possibility of experiencing oneness with the One. Yet it also wants to tell us that the Allah of the Koran demands a strict self discipline and a selfcontrolled life. According to its adherents, this mysticism eventually leads to free access to Him, which is a very rare achievement.

The glowing mysticism of Judaism is the Kabbalah. This mystic lore is founded on the occult interpretation of the Bible and it has been successfully handed down as an esoteric doctrine to the initiated.

Christianity owes its mystical urge not to Judaism, but to the Greek world. Some scholars are of the opinion that the New Testament is wanting in mystical experience. I find it difficult to agree with them. I wish to say that the New Testament is replete with mystical experiences. What they are actually missing in the New Testament, because of their inability to enter into the depth of its messages, is the key that opens the mystical door that leads to union with God. In Spain, Teresa of Avila offered to the world something profoundly mystical. Her mystical experience is the most successful culmination of the divine marriage between the aspiring soul and the liberating Christ, and it is here that man's helpless crying will and God's omnipotent allfulfilling Will embrace each other.

Mysticism is not the sole monopoly of Hinduism. Christianity and other religions also discovered the Wealth of mysticism.

The Spirituality of Emily Dickinson

Emily Dickinson referred to herself as a pagan. Some biographers would go so far as to label her a druid for her worship of nature. But was this apparently stubborn heathen life really built on atheism? On the surface what seems a blatant rebellion against the Christian reforms sweeping New England in the 19th Century could be misinterpreted as a lack of spiritual inclination. If we look beneath even a single veneer we will undoubtedly find true spirituality at the heart of her endeavour; far from snubbing God, but simply insisting on no less than a first-hand experience of Him. The poet shunned religious doctrine, but did she shun religion? Certainly not as a whole, and even then it may be merely a matter of syntax. The words religion and spirituality may at times be used interchangeably, and at others a fine distinction must be made. Charles Anderson chooses to make no distinction, using the word religion in its broadest, and perhaps most primal sense: The final direction of her poetry, and the pressures that created it, can only be described as religious, using that word in its dimension of depth. Emily inherited the Puritan traits of austerity, simplicity, and practicality, as well as an astute observation of the inner self, but her communication with her higher Self was much more informal than her God-fearing forefathers would have dared. The daughter of the Squire of Amherst, she came from a line of gritty, stalwart pioneers, carrying what was almost considered the blue blood of America. Her family was far from poor, but she did not lead a lavish life, for the Puritans abhorred luxury and waste (even a waste of words, which trait the poet did well to inherit).

She accepted the Puritan ideals of being called or chosen by God, and fully embraced the merits of transcending desire, but not the concept of being inherently sinful: While the Clergyman tells Father and Vinnie that this Corruptible shall put on Incorruption it has already done so and they go defrauded. She had faith in her own divinity, so perhaps she was yet more certain of God than her peers. She did not claim to fully understand Him, or even to have perennial faith in all His Waysher poetry bears a continuing strain of doubtbut she certainly did not fear Him. The inner freedom this afforded herrare for a woman of her timebrought her to the point of being almost cheeky in her familiarity and certainty. This confidence fed her poetry sumptuously, and gave it the well-known child-like quality. To her, truth was in nature. In that beauty she could see and feel God directly: Some keep the Sabbath going to Church I keep it, staying at Home With a Bobolink for a Chorister And an Orchard, for a Dome Some keep the Sabbath in Surplice I just wear my Wings And instead of tolling the Bell, for Church, Our little Sexton sings. God preaches, a noted Clergyman And the sermon is never long, So instead of getting to Heaven, at last Im going, all along. Emily did actually attend church regularly, sometimes traveling to hear some of the rousing and charismatic preachers who stamped their mark on that era. She was often moved by these sermons, perhaps as compelled by the speakers delivery and the construction of words as the message within them. But this was not enough to entice her to succumb to the fierce religious revival. One by one her friends received an inner calling and were saved, officially accepting Christianity. Members of her close-knit family eventually followed suit, including her strongwilled father, and finally her brother, Austin, perhaps her closest ally. Emily would not commit to something she could not sincerely feel, even under the unthinkable social pressure that surrounded her. Until the age of 30 she continued going to church, although she was excluded from certain meetings and services open only to those who had been saved. She became increasingly reclusive throughout her 30s. It is tempting to see her seclusion as further evidence of spiritual asceticism. Her spiritual path was certainly intensely lonely in such a social climate, but she craved aloneness more and more, and seclusion somehow formed a symbiotic relationship with her art. Increasingly her art became an expression of her spirituality.

Immortality (the Flood Subject as she called it) consumed Emilys consciousness. Dwelling on death was natural in those times as illness and general hardship frequently took lives around her, her awareness heightened further by the many years spent in a house adjoining a cemetery. But dwelling on death was also almost a spiritual practice, a graveyard meditation, a means of focus, breathing life into the concepts of Eternity, Infinity and Immortality. Poet and philosopher Sri Chinmoy said of the poet: Emily Dickinson wrote thousands of psychic poems. One short poem of hers is enough to give sweet feelings and bring to the fore divine qualities of the soul. With a deep sense of gratitude, let me call upon the immortal soul of Emily Dickinson, whose spiritual inspiration impels a seeker to know what God the Infinite precisely is. She says: The infinite a sudden guest Has been assumed to be, But how can that stupendous come Which never went away? From Patriots of America by Sri Chinmoy What drove her consistently was that she needed truth, and at any cost. She needed to see it with her own eyes and feel it with her own heart, not grasp at it in the words of a clergyman but explain it to herself through her own words. It seems she was even ready to die for her cause: I died for beauty, but was scarce Adjusted in the tomb, When one who died for truth was lain In an adjoining room. He questioned softly why I failed? For beauty, I replied. And I for truth, the two are one; We brethren are, he said. And so, as kinsmen met a night, We talked between the rooms, Until the moss had reached our lips, And covered up our names. Emilys truth-seeking was a spiritual quest that governed her inner life, and naturally blossomed through her poetic works. Her own words, in a letter to a friend, succinctly claim Eternity and Immortality as her own. Perhaps they also presage the enduring spiritual appeal of her writing, far beyond the short span of her life: So I conclude that space & time are things of the body & have little or nothing to do with our selves. My Country is Truth.