Tag: grace

  • Eating the Blame

    From: After the Ecstasy, the Laundry

    By Jack Kornfield

    When we are confused or in pain, we often judge ourselves as
    “not spiritual enough.” But the awakened heart does not judge
    anything-not our family or our love, nor our pain and confusion,
    our passion or anger. “Terrible harm has been done by this
    misunderstanding,” said one Catholic monk.

    In mature spirituality we are willing to have a dialogue
    with pain, with evil, to hold them in our prayers. In
    situations Of great pain, someone has to consciously
    suffer the impact, to become the ground where the
    sorrows can be held and reworked. These things can be
    carried with grace. But it can’t be faked. If you go to
    someone with 99 percent of goodwill and are still caught
    in 1 percent anger, all they feel is the anger, and it pushes
    them from reconciliation. The heart has to willingly hold the
    whole of suffering for it to be transformed.

    In Zen, holding the suffering sometimes takes the form of
    “eating the blame.” It is illustrated by the story of a
    cook who made soup for the monks from a turtle offered by
    fishermen that morning. When the soup was ladled into the
    monks’ bowls, the roshi bellowed for the cook to come out.
    The turtle’s head, which should have been removed before
    serving, was floating in the master’s bowl. The cook bowed
    to the master, looked into the bowl, saw the problem, and
    with a deft movement of chopsticks plucked the turtle head
    out and ate it. Then he bowed to the master, the master
    back, and the cook returned to the kitchen.

    More from Jack Kornfield

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  • Pity

    By Sara Teasdale

    They never saw my lover’s face,
    They only know our love was brief,
    Wearing awhile a windy grace
    And passing like an autumn leaf.

    They wonder why I do not weep,
    They think it strange that I can sing,
    They say, “Her love was scarcely deep
    Since it has left so slight a sting.
    They never saw my love, nor knew
    That in my heart’s most secret place
    I pity them as angels do
    Men who have never seen God’s face.

    Read more poems from Sara Teasdale

    Index of poets on Allspirit

     

  • Fleeing from Love

    By Rumi

    Are you fleeing from Love because of a single humiliation?
    What do you know of Love except the name?
    Love has a hundred forms of pride and disdain,
    and is gained by a hundred means of persuasion.
    Since Love is loyal, it purchases one who is loyal:
    it has no interest in a disloyal companion.
    The human being resembles a tree; its root is a covenant with God:
    that root must be cherished with all one’s might.
    A weak covenant is a rotten root, without grace or fruit.
    Though the boughs and leaves of the date palm are green,
    greenness brings no benefit if the root is corrupt.
    If a branch is without green leaves, yet has a good root,
    a hundred leaves will put forth their hands in the end.

    From: Jewels of Remembrance, Trans. Camille and Kabir Helminski

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  • Pied Beauty

    Pied Beauty

    By Gerard Manley Hopkins

    AS kingfishers catch fire, dragonflies draw flame;
    As tumbled over rim in roundy wells
    Stones ring; like each tucked string tells, each hung bell’s
    Bow swung finds tongue to fling out broad its name;
    Each mortal thing does one thing and the same:
    Deals out that being indoors each one dwells;
    Selves—goes itself; myself it speaks and spells,
    Crying What I do is me: for that I came.

    I say more: the just man justices;
    Keeps grace: that keeps all his goings graces;
    Acts in God’s eye what in God’s eye he is—
    Christ—for Christ plays in ten thousand places,
    Lovely in limbs, and lovely in eyes not his
    To the Father through the features of men’s faces.

    Read more poems from Gerard Manley Hopkins

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  • Now is the Time

    Now is the Time

    Hafez

    Now is the time to know
    That all that you do is sacred.

    Now, why not consider
    A lasting truce with yourself and God.

    Now is the time to understand
    That all your ideas of right and wrong
    Were just a child’s training wheels
    To be laid aside
    When you finally live
    With veracity
    And love.

    Hafiz is a divine envoy
    Whom the Beloved
    Has written a holy message upon.

    My dear, please tell me,
    Why do you still
    Throw sticks at your heart
    And God?

    What is it in that sweet voice inside
    That incites you to fear?

    Now is the time for the world to know
    That every thought and action is sacred.

    This is the time for you to compute the impossibility
    That there is anything
    But Grace.

    Now is the season to know
    That everything you do
    Is sacred.

    The Gift – Poems by Hafiz the Great Sufi Master
    translations by Daniel Ladinsky

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  • Holy Sonnets – I

     

    John Donne

    THOU hast made me, And shall thy worke decay?
    Repaire me now, for now mine end doth haste,
    I runne to death, and death meets me as fast,
    And all my pleasures are like yesterday;
    I dare not move my dimme eyes any way,
    Despaire behind, and death before doth cast
    Such terrour, and my feeble flesh doth waste
    By sinne in it, which it t’wards hell doth weigh;
    Onely thou art above, and when towards thee
    By thy leave I can looke, I rise againe;
    But our old subtle foe so tempteth me,
    That not one houre my selfe I can sustaine;
    Thy Grace may wing me to prevent his art,
    And thou like Adamant draw mine iron heart.