Reflections /Das

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In a message dated 6/27/01 11:50:03 AM Pacific Daylight Time,

nomadeva writes:

 

<< Sant tulasidas, the author of Ramcharitmanas, says a

similar thing. No two people are directly related to

each other. Like two spokes on a hub, they are related

to each other only through the Lord, and not

otherwise.

>>

This reminds me of two favorite passages of mine....

 

Kahlil Gibran on Marriage

>From Kahlil Gibran's The Prophet

 

Then Almitra spoke again and said, And what of Marriage, Master?

And he answered saying:

You were born together, and together you shall be forevermore.

You shall be together when the white wings of death scatter your days.

Ay, you shall be together even in the silent memory of God.

But let there be spaces in your togetherness,

And let the winds of the heavens dance between you.

 

Love one another, but make not a bond of love:

Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls.

Fill each other's cup but drink not from one cup.

Give one another of your bread but eat not from the same loaf.

Sing and dance together and be joyous, but let each one of you be alone,

Even as the strings of a lute are alone though they quiver with the same

music.

 

Give your hearts, but not into each other's keeping.

For only the hand of Life can contain your hearts.

And stand together yet not too near together:

For the pillars of the temple stand apart,

And the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other's shadow.

 

THE INVITATION

by Oriah Mountain Dreamer

 

It doesn't interest me what you do for a living; I want to know what you ache

for, and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart's longing.

 

It doesn't interest me how old you are; I want to know if you will risk

looking like a fool for love, for your dream, for the adventure of being

alive.

 

It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if

you have touched the center of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by

life's betrayals, or have become shrivled and closed from fear of further

pain.

 

I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to

hide it or fade it or fix it.

 

I want to know if you can exist with joy, mine or your own, if you can dance

with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and

toes without cautioning us to be careful, to remember the limitations of

being human.

 

It doesn't interest me if the story you are telling me is true.

 

I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself, if you

can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul; if you can

be faithful and therefore trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see beauty, even when it's not pretty, every day,

and if you can source your own life from its presence.

 

I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine, and still stand

on the edge of the lake and shout to the silver of the moon "YES."

 

It doesn't interest me to know where you live or how much money you have. I

want to know if you can get up, after the night of grief and despair, weary

and bruised to the bone, and do what needs to be done to feed the children.

 

It doesn't interest me who you know or how you came to be here. I want to

know if you will stand in the center of the fire with me and not shrink back.

 

It doesn't interest me where or what or with whom you have studied. I want to

know what sustains you, from the inside, when all else falls away.

 

I want to know if you can be alone with yourself, and if you truly like the

company you keep in the empty moments.