How many a generous rain has poured,
so that the sea could scatter pearls!
How many a sun of blessing has shone,
so that clouds and seas might learn generosity!
The sunbeams of Wisdom struck the soil,
so that earth might receive seed:
the soil is faithful to its trust—
whatever you sow, you reap.
The soil’s faithfulness comes from that Faithful One,
since the Sun of Justice shines on it.
Until springtime brings the touch of God,
the earth doesn’t reveal her secrets.
[Mathnawi I: 501-511, tr. Kabir & Camille Helminski, The Rumi Daybook]
Without making me realize My soul’s anguished history, You slip into my house at night, And while I am sleeping, You silently carry off All my suffering and sordid past In Your beautiful Hands.” – Hafiz
Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments. Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove: O no! it is an ever-fixed mark That looks on tempests and is never shaken; It is the star to every wandering bark, Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken. Love’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks Within his bending sickle’s compass come: Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, But bears it out even to the edge of doom. If this be error and upon me proved, I never writ, nor no man ever loved. – William Shakespeare
The soul has been given it’s own ears to hear things the mind does not understand. — Rumi
If I speak in the tongues of men and angels, but have not love, I have become sounding brass or a tinkling symbol. And if I have prophecy and know all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith so as to remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. And if I dole out all my goods, and if I deliver my body that I may boast but have not love, nothing I am profited. Love is long suffering, love is kind, it is not jealous, love does not boast, it is not inflated. It is not discourteous, it is not selfish, it is not irritable, it does not enumerate the evil. It does not rejoice over the wrong, but rejoices in the truth – Corinthians 13 Lov
Slowly to start then firm and fast
“The heart is a The thousand-stringed instrument That can only be tuned with Love.” – Hafiz
The only lasting beauty is the beauty of the heart. – Rumi
Love seeketh not itself to please, Nor for itself hath any care, But for another gives its ease, And builds a Heaven in Hell’s despair.
I am mad with love And no one understands my plight. Only the wounded Understand the agonies of the wounded, When the fire rages in the heart. Only the jeweller knows the value of the jewel, Not the one who lets it go. In pain I wander from door to door, But could not find a doctor. Says Mira: Harken, my Master, Mira’s pain will subside When Shyam comes as the doctor. – Mirabai
A Dark Wine So Potent God has given us a dark wine so potent that, drinking it, we leave the two worlds. God has put into the form of hashish a power to deliver the taster from self-consciousness. God has made sleep so that it erases every thought. God made Majnun love Layla so much that just her dog would cause confusion in him. There are thousands of wines that can take over our minds. Don’t think all ecstacies are the same! Jesus was lost in his love for God. His donkey was drunk with barley. Drink from the presence of saints, not from those other jars. Every object, every being, is a jar full of delight. Be a conoisseur, and taste with caution. Any wine will get you high. Judge like a king, and choose the purest, the ones unadulterated with fear, or some urgency about “what’s needed.” Drink the wine that moves you as a camel moves when it’s been untied, and is just ambling about. By: Rumi Mathnawi IV, 2683-96 The Essential Rumi, Coleman Barks
I dream’d in a dream I saw a city invincible to the attacks of the whole of the rest of the earth, I dream’d that was the new city of Friends, Nothing was greater there than the quality of robust love, it led the rest, It was seen every hour in the actions of the men of that city, And in all their looks and words. by: Walt Whitman
Yet in the exact Inconscient’s stark conceit, In the casual error of the world’s ignorance A plan, a hidden Intelligence is glimpsed. There is a purpose in each stumble and fall; Nature’s most careless lolling is a pose Preparing some forward step, some deep result. Ingenious notes plugged into a motived score, These million discords dot the harmonious theme Of the evolution’s huge orchestral dance – Sri Aurobindo, Savitri, p.658
I love to get and give massage – definitely in a sensual manner, not to leave out any pieces of the body
Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep; No more; and by a sleep to say we end The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks That flesh is heir to, ’tis a consummation Devoutly to be wish’d. To die, to sleep; To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there’s the rub; For in that sleep of death what dreams may come When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, Must give us pause: there’s the respect That makes calamity of so long life; – William Shakespeare (extract, Hamlet (III, I, 65-68)
“Doubt thou the stars are fire; Doubt that the sun doth move; Doubt truth to be a liar; But never doubt I love.” ― William Shakespeare, Hamlet