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Rabindranath Tagore - (81) On many an idle day have I grieved over lost time (from Gitanjali)

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Here's your Daily Poem from the Poetry Chaikhana --

 

 

 

 

 

(81) On many an idle day have I grieved over lost time (from Gitanjali)

By Rabindranath Tagore(1861 - 1941)

English version by Rabindranath Tagore

On many an idle day have I grieved over lost time. But it is never lost, my lord. Thou hast taken every moment of my life in thine own hands. Hidden in the heart of things thou art nourishing seeds into sprouts, buds into blossoms, and ripening flowers into fruitfulness. I was tired and sleeping on my idle bed and imagined all work had ceased. In the morning I woke up and found my garden full with wonders of flowers.

 

 

 

 

 

 

-- from Gitanjali, by Rabindranath Tagore

Amazon.com / Photo by juicyverve /

 

 

 

 

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Thought for the Day:

The ego is a personal myth,a story we tell ourselvesabout who we are.That story can change, expand,or grow silent.

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Here's your Daily Music selection --

Zakir Hussain

Essence of Rhythm

Listen - Purchase

More Music Selections

Hi Alan -This chapter from Tagore's Gitanjali, like most of the book, is addressed directly to God as a sort of a prayer. But Tagore is not asking for something. He is acknowledging a surprising truth, he is proclaiming to God the dawning realization that growth is taking place in his "garden" of spiritual awareness always, secretly, quietly, even when he despairs of his own efforts. He "imagined all work had ceased" -- he felt his own spiritual work had come to nothing and his deflated spirit temporarily gives up -- but he wakes up surprised to find his "garden full with wonders of flowers." This happens all the time for those striving spiritually, but why?The metaphor of a garden to represent one's spiritual awareness is an ancient one used throughout the world, and it is perfect for what is being said here. Think about a garden for a moment. What is it? First, it is a place

where things grow, a place of life. It is the opposite of death, which is the state of nonspirituality. The plants of the garden are rooted in the earth, yet they reach upward toward the light of the sun. On an even subtler level, a garden is a place of nourishment and of beauty. What grows in our spiritual gardens feeds us through its "fruitfulness," and it brings beauty, the awareness of harmony to our consciousness. The flowers of the garden represent the spiritual qualities that have opened within us, that in turn cause us to open to the Divine. The flowers are within us, and we are the flowers. From the yogic point of view, the flowers sometimes represent the chakras that open during spiritual awakening. Also, a garden is a place of contemplation and rest. It is a place where we give ourselves permission to simply be, to settle into the present moment. The garden represents the soul at rest in the living presence of the Divine.But,

returning to this verse from the Gitanjali, why is a garden such a perfect metaphor here? Because every plant of the garden grows with a life of its own. The gardener, the spiritual aspirant, may need to till the ground and plant the seeds, water them regularly, keep them free from encroaching weeds -- but for all that work, the gardener does not actually make the seeds grow and flower. The gardener just prepares the environment, but it is the divine spark of life "Hidden in the heart of all things" that nourishes "seeds into sprouts, buds into blossoms, and ripening flowers into fruitfulness."Tagore is surprised to realize that his only job is to prepare the garden bed and keep it ready, but the growth of the seeds is effortless, for the seeds are alive with the vitality of God. Even when he can conceive of no further effort, the seeds still grow. The seeds WANT to grow. And they will grow. It is their nature to grow once given the right

environment. All we have to do is prepare ourselves, make ourselves ready. The spiritual growth will happen of its own accord. Then one morning we wake up surrounded by "wonders of flowers!"==I had the great pleasure of listening to Zakir Hussain perform on tabla drums last night. That ringing, airy rhythm is still running through my mind this morning. Taa, Tin, tun, taa, ga, tin, khat, taa...Have a beautiful day!Ivan

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