THE SILENCE THAT IS SOURCE
AN INAUDIBLE, INVISIBLE OVERFLOWING SMILE OF ORIGIN
BE THE LISTENING, OVERFLOWING SMILE OF SILENCE
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And what strange power did
he offer to fifteen people on a desperate quest?
John Godfrey, retired lawyer in a large midwestern city,
erects a beautiful marble sanctum
as a monument to his late wife. Inside,
behind an electronic screen
that hides him from each visitor, is
the unknown one who sits. . .and listens.
The surface of the earth is the shore of the cosmic ocean.
Some part of our being knows this is where we came from.
We long to return, and we can because the cosmos is
also within us.
We are made of star stuff.
A fleeting, intricate presence riding a tiny speck of water
and rock, out here in the dark, sailing the ship of wonder
ever more deeply into the void from which we came...
Whitley Strieber and Jeffrey J. Kripal
The Super Natural: A New Vision of the Unexplained
When riverside trees sparkle in sunlight,
So close in my heart their shadows fall,
Then I know
That the Universe is a floating lotus
In the holy lake of my mind.
Then I know:
I am the voice within the Voice,
The song within the Song,
The life within the Life,
The light breaking through the heart of darkness.
from - "A Flight of Swans"
translated by Aurobindo Bose
...like a star without a name...
Move across the night sky
with those anonymous lights...
what we believe affects what our perception is...
All quotes above in this font from:
AFTERLIFE EXPRESSING AS FORM "...toward the immeasurable." "....crystal clearness." ".. Silence of Nothing-ness." May 23, 2019
CtrlClick above link (or below) to open above OceanSpeak
Some speak of the unprovable,
And ask you to have faith.
Others hold forth their “beliefs”,
As if they were facts.
Some break out a whiteboard,
Asserting, “All is Consciousness.”
If you’re lucky, you’ll meet a poet,
Who makes no sense at all.
Luckier still, you’ll meet one,
Who, without speaking a word…
Ignites the Ember in your Heart.
In the Garden of The Beloved
May 20 at 5:14 PM ·
to my longing.
I am just as ecstatic as they are,
but with nothing to say.
Please, universal soul, practice
some song, or something, through me.
complaining. Why is it
you never criticise the nightingale?
Because my way, the nightingale explains
for Solomon, is different.
Mid-March to mid-June I sing.
The other nine months,
while you continue chirping,
I am silence.
of every ritual. God, I have no hope.
I am torn to shreds. You are my first,
my last and only refuge.
Do not do daily prayers like a bird
pecking its head up and down.
Prayer is an egg.
the total helplessness inside.
As you start to walk out on the way
the way appears.
As you cease to be,
true life begins.
As you grow smaller,
this world cannot contain you.
You will be shown a being
that has no you in it.
A YEAR WITH RUMI
The Listener & More