Contents Editorial
3
Message from the National Representative
4
Hejirat. An excerpt from the biography of Hazrat Inayat Khan
6
The Journey of Life by Nuria
8
The Journey by Azad
10
To Be A Follower by Karim
14
Breath by Kalyani
20
Come to the Edge by Christopher Logue, contributed by Thamir
21
Hejirat Retreat poster
22
Dargah Retreat poster
23
International Sufi Movement in Australia 2020 Retreat poster
24
Contacts
25
Photo credits: Royalty-free photos from unsplash.com Cover photo by Taneli Lahtinen on Unsplash London Underground. Photo by Mona Eendra on Unsplash Escalator lines and shadows. Photo by Verne Ho on Unsplash Earthquake. Photo by Sunyu Kim on Unsplash Girl jumping. Photo by Sammie Vasquez on Unsplash Steamship in Queenstown. Photo by Holger Link on Unsplash Soldiers. Photo by Menglong Bao on Unsplash Tomb of Jalal ad-Din Muhammad Rumi; Mevlâna mausoleum; Konya, Turkey Photo by Georges Jansoone. This file is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 Unported license. Bowl of Reflections with Rumi's poetry, early 13th century. Brooklyn Museum. Man walking in the countryside. Photo by David Marcu on Unsplash Earthquake photo courtesy of the China Earthquake Administration. The Dark Hedges, Stranocum, United Kingdom Photo by Trevor Cole on Unsplash Leonard Cohen. Photograph by Rama, Wikimedia Commons, Cc-by-sa-2.0-fr Buddhist monks. Photo by Ivån Tejero on Unsplash Tunnel and light. Photo by Steven Wei on Unsplash Mask. Photo by Viktor Talashuk on Unsplash Seagulls and beach, San Diego, California. Photo by Frank Mckenna on Unsplash Figure in water. Photo by Joshua Earle on Unsplash Illustrations by Hannah Baek Wha
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Editorial The theme for this newsletter is Journeys and is inspired by Hejirat Day which we celebrate every year on the 13th of September. It marks the day in 1910 that Hazrat Inayat Khan left India and brought Sufism to the West. Hijrah, also spelt Hegira, Hejira or Hijra, means a migration or journey, and generally refers to the journey that the prophet Muhammad and his followers took from Mecca to Yathrib, later renamed Medina, in the year 622. Hazrat Inayat Khan’s account of his momentous journey to the West is recounted on page 6. He spoke not only of the physical journey but also of the spiritual striving, and the metaphysical and sacred journey that we all undertake when we set forth upon the spiritual path: The journey one takes in the inner life is as long as the distance between the beginning of life and death, it being the longest journey one ever takes throughout life; and one must have everything prepared, so that after reaching a certain distance one may not have to turn back. We each have our own journeys written in our hearts, and the words of the prayer Khatum come to mind: Disclose to us Thy divine light which is hidden in our souls that we may know and understand life better. Nuria, Azad and Karim have graciously shared with us their experiences on their individual journeys. You can read their accounts on pages 8-19. Poems submitted by Kalyani and Thamir follow on pages 20 & 21. I hope that this issue inspires you on the path towards the light. Yaqin
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Beloved Sisters and Brothers Spring 2019 Spring is almost upon us and the blossoms are just appearing – the days are getting longer. I love the topic for this newsletter as it is something that I have been thinking of. How life is a journey, both inner and outer. Inner and outer realms feed one another and what happens in the inner life has an affect on our outer life, and vice versa. In the ancient tales this is very evident. Sometimes it is hard to know which is which. Jung believed life was not a series of random events but rather an expression of a deeper order. This deeper order led to the insights that a person was both embedded in a universal wholeness and that the realisation of this was more than just an intellectual exercise, but also had elements of a spiritual awakening. From the religious perspective, synchronicity shares similar characteristics of an intervention of grace. Jung also believed that in a person's life, synchronicity served a role similar to that of dreams, with the purpose of shifting a person's egocentric conscious thinking to greater wholeness. Synchronicity seems to happen more when we are in tune with the universe, or the Divine One. Jung described it as an acausal connecting principle; the simultaneous occurrence of events which appear significantly related but have no discernible causal connection, but which has a meaningful connection. Synchronicity often feels miraculous, indeed some people think that it is a sign we are on the right path. I will discuss this more in my article. When I was about eight years old, I asked my mother why we are here, in effect the purpose of life. She gave me an answer which was basically, that she was here, to give me birth and I was here to have my own children. Oh dear, that did not satisfy me at all. There had to be more to life than that. But for refugees from Hitler’s Vienna, survival was fundamental and they did not have time to consider deeper meanings. Having been brought up in sectarian Northern Ireland, the Christianity I experienced did not hold any attraction. It was about politics and fighting. So, at fourteen years of age I took myself to the library to find a better religion. I decided on Buddhism but then realised that, as I knew no Buddhists, I really could not learn about it. Some years later I had a vision of a dark bearded man, a picture of him up on the top of a wall. I thought it might be Jesus and told my father about it. He was alarmed. He did not want me to ‘get religious’. Now I believe this image was of Hazrat Inayat Khan. I read Lobsang Rampa as many did back then. I just loved his ideas and concepts. I was building a belief system. It was not until I had married, migrated to South Africa, had my two sons, and divorced, that I was again open to search for the spiritual. Page 4 Spirit Matters Volume 23 Issue 3 September 2019
I found the Spiritualist Church and discovered the inner realms and experienced the unity of all beings, even plants. When I came to Australia in 1977 a new world opened up to me. I wanted to do a course on comparative religion at the council of adult education. The course was full, so I joined one on C.J. Jung, whom I had never heard of. A new discovery. I did the advanced course, made a new friend and joined the Jung Society. Eventually I undertook almost seven years of analysis and decided to become a psychologist. Life changing. I tried again to enrol in the course on comparative religion. It was again full, so I did a course on Carlos Castaneda, whom I had never heard of either, and quickly read all of his books. Wow! Another mind-altering experience! Following this I took part in a course on The Epic of Gilgamesh, an account of an inner and outer journey of many lifetimes, which is at least five thousand years old. Things have come full circle, as I am now writing a Jungian, spiritual interpretation of this work. This seems to be the purpose I was looking for. With my newly found Jungian friend, we discovered Siddha Yoga, learned to chant, sing, meditate and drink chai! This led to a discovery of Sufism and the long search for a Sufi group. How I found one is also synchronicity, a miracle, but that is another story. Each experience led to the next over the years. It is wonderful to find my spiritual ‘home’ and continue to learn and evolve. To be part of a spiritual community of likeminded people. Learning to be a Sufi and living a Sufi life is challenging. I read the other day, that the only way into the deep realms of being are through the Shadow. We must face up to our inner demons and complexes, kill the dragon, to get to that beautiful, loving and inner peace. Bon voyage, Nuria
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Hejirat An excerpt from the biography of Hazrat Inayat Khan
I was transported by destiny from the world of lyric and poetry to the world of industry and commerce on the 13th of September 1910. I bade farewell to my motherland, the soil of India, the land of the sun, for America the land of my future, wondering: “perhaps I shall return some day,” and yet I did not know how long it would be before I should return. The ocean that I had to cross seemed to me a gulf between the life that was passed and the life which was to begin. I spent my moments on the ship looking at the rising and falling of the waves and realizing in this rise and fall the picture of life reflected, the life of individuals, of nations, of races, and of the world. I tried to think where I was going, why I was going, what I was going to do, what was in store for me. “How shall I set to work? Will the people be favorable or unfavorable to the Message which I am taking from one end of the world to the other?” It seemed my mind moved curiously on these questions, but my heart refused to ponder upon them even for a moment, answering apart one constant voice I always heard coming from within, urging me constantly onward to my task, saying : “Thou art sent on Our service, and it is We Who will make thy way clear.” This alone was my consolation.
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This period while I was on the way was to me a state which one experiences between a dream and an awakening; my whole past in India became one single dream, not a purposeless dream but a dream preparing me to accomplish something toward which I was proceeding. There were moments of sadness, of feeling myself removed further and further from the land of my birth, and moments of great joy, with the hope of nearing the Western regions for which my soul was destined. And at moments I felt too small and little for my ideals and inspirations, comparing my limited self with this vast world. But at moments, realizing Whose work it was, Whose service it was, Whose call it was, the answer which my heart gave moved me to ecstasy, as if I had risen in the realization of Truth above the limitations which weigh mankind down.
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The Journey of Life by Nuria Looking back over my life, it seems to me now, that there has been a loving intelligence guiding me from birth, the Spirit of Guidance/Allah. The path is not easy, we learn that there is good in the bad, and there is bad in the good. In reality there is no ‘bad’ or ‘good’, everything just is, and leads to the ultimate goal or purpose.
When I first saw my husband (the first one) waiting for me at the top of the escalator in Leicester Square tube station in London, where we were to meet on a blind date arranged by his mother, I ‘knew’ with certainty that this was the man I would marry and that he would ‘die’ when in his late twenties. Had I not followed this intuition, I would not have had my twin sons, and emigrated to South Africa, which it seems I needed to do. We divorced when we were in our late twenties! I had so much to learn from these experiences, painful as they were. In my innocence and naivety, I had to discover the ways of the world. The lessons get ever harder when they are not learned. People have said to me that I was very brave emigrating to Australia on my own with my two boys, but the fact is that I would not have done all that I did, if I did not have my sons to bring up and care for. There was no-one to turn to for help. My ex husband never contributed at all, he remarried twice more and had another family. So this was true freedom, another word for nothing left to lose! I could do whatever needed to be done. The good in the bad! After my divorce, I met a young man, who put me back together again, like Humpty Dumpty. Page 8 Spirit Matters Volume 23 Issue 3 September 2019
He had started a safari business running tented safaris into the Okavango delta in Botswana and I was working in Johannesburg where my sons were at school. One Wednesday evening I was home reading The Power of Positive Thinking and trying very hard to send loving thoughts to my friend somewhere in Botswana and wishing fervently that he was with me. According to the book, this could happen if I wished hard enough! On the following Saturday morning there was a knock on my door and there he stood. He told me that he had been sitting by the campfire having a drink after the people had gone to their tents to sleep, on the Wednesday evening. He felt the most powerful urge to come and see me, so when the safari was over, he came all that way to be with me. I was astounded! My thoughts were really received by him! I now understood that there is truly a connection between us all at a deep level that Jung has called the Collective Unconscious. It was a powerful experience.
Another powerful experience I would like to share with you, occurred when I was with the Spiritualist Church in Johannesburg. They had told me that I was a healer, so I was being trained. In truth, I was sceptical of the mediums and their claims of communicating with spirits. There was one medium who had a favourite spirit guide, who was Chinese and loved cats. She would ‘stroke’ the cat and speak in a gruff voice when she was channelling him. I wasn’t convinced! However, one evening a small group of us trainees were sitting in a circle in trance; one of the women, new to us, started to freak out. She ‘saw’ buildings falling, shaking, and people falling terrified to their deaths. It was horrifying! The medium knew what was happening – she told the woman that she was a ‘rescue medium’ and that there was a terrible disaster unfolding somewhere in the world. Because it was so sudden and unexpected, these spirits did not know what to do or where to go. They did not know they were dead and needed guiding to the light. It was a mass rescue. The poor woman was traumatised and never returned to the church. The next morning, I heard on the radio that there had been terrible earthquakes in China, with many dead. This must have been the 1970 Tonghai earthquake which killed 10,000 people. I was stunned. Another confirmation that we are all connected and that we are all One. We can know what is happening anywhere in the world, thought is instantaneous, and this can only be if we are all One. We are part of God and God is part of us. Nothing else exists. I must say that I am very happy that I am not a rescue medium. There have been many experiences and synchronicities for me since then, but I have really only fully understood all of this since being on the spiritual path and becoming a Sufi.
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The Journey by Azad
I hadn’t planned on writing this, or any other article, for this issue of Spirit Matters but through a series of little coincidences, or synchronicities, thought that perhaps I should. The journey along ‘the path’ for some people can be seen as a tortuous one and for others – depending on your personality – hard yakka or a very meaningful experience as we enter the final years of our life cycle. On a personal note I think that I have trodden all of the above at various stages of my life’s journey. Now as I am on the final stage (perhaps?) it is time for a bit of an assessment or deliberation on my part as to what my journey has been. All in all, it has been an interesting journey, which has added to my life experiences in a positive way. Coming from Northern Ireland were religion is perceived as a badge of identity with all that it implies, as regards belief systems, religious beliefs, political beliefs, moral and ethical beliefs, it was quite an experience to come to Australia, supposedly as a mature man, and find my life experiences and beliefs – or lack of beliefs - being challenged and questioned. Nuria had returned to Ireland for a brief holiday and we met in my hometown of Derry. I had first met her when I was 14 years old and had then worked in her parent’s shop for about six years. Anyway, we met and we spent a few days travelling (or Page 10 Spirit Matters Volume 23 Issue 3 September 2019
journeying) all over Donegal, visiting all the places where her parents had taken her during her childhood years. So we stayed in touch over the year by audio tapes and the occasional phone call. The following year she wrote to ask me if I would fancy meeting up with her in Turkey as she was going on a bus tour, which included a visit to Rumi’s tomb. I had no idea who Rumi was, but the outcome was that we met in Istanbul at the Sheridan hotel and the following day we were off on the journey around Turkey.
Nuria had given me a book of Rumi poems. One Handed Basket Weaving was its title, and I found that on reading it that it touched me and made me quite emotional to the point of tears, which I found to be quite embarrassing. Likewise when we visited his tomb I was a bit overwhelmed with it, so much so, that we have never revisited it since. Likewise when we visited the tomb of Haji Bektash (it was his Urs) the devotion of the people around this and the informality and friendliness of them – they gestured for us to enter his dargah and one man, on his knees, devotedly kissed his way all round the tomb. This was a real culture shock for me, but a pretty impressive and lasting memory of my first Turkish visit. So, where am I going with all this? A good question! Other than to say that I always had a vague passive interest in poetry and when I
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returned to Derry with a promise to travel to Australia the following February for a wedding of one of Nuria’s sons. I bought some more books of Rumi poetry. Some time later I also saw a poem in the Guardian by Derek Walcott and I sent this to Nuria. It was called Love after Love and I took a certain meaning, or interpretation, of this poem, so much so, that some time later I gave copies of this poem, printed on parchment, to the Sufi group in Melbourne. Dear Ananda had it read out at her funeral service. May she rest in peace. Find it on the Internet and see what you think yourself. Especially: to the stranger who has loved you all your life, whom you ignored for another, who knows you by heart Nuria always maintains that when she received it, she said that I was a Sufi, whether I knew or not!
Nuria also introduced me to the poetry and music of Leonard Cohen and we went to two of his concerts here in Melbourne. Happy memories. May he also rest in peace. We bought his ‘farewell’ CD ‘You Want It Darker’ and there is little doubt that he knew that he was dying, as it is a thoughtful and yet uplifting canon of songs, which are sombre, and yet inspiring!
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Again in the song Traveling Light we hear: But if the road leads back to you Must I forget the things I knew When I was friends with one or two Traveling light, like we used to do I’m traveling light’…. So what is the point of this little article? Well the other night I woke up very early and the word ‘insouciance’ had somehow or other entered my head! I didn’t even know what this word meant, so I looked it up and amongst various meanings I found that it meant ‘mindlessness’. Having done an eight week mindfulness course a few years ago I found this interesting and it set me off on this particular course of thinking, and this was basically that on this journey there are many things – hints or clues – that accompany us on this particular journey. These can give us pleasure, reassurance, be they in a poem or a song. Taking a walk in nature, plus a myriad of other things, if we just stop and take the time to enjoy and relish the fact that we are alive in the physical sense and also alive in the spiritual sense, and that we should focus our attention on that simple fact. The punch line to all this is that I just looked up the meaning of insouciance again on the computer, as before, and there is now no mention or reference to mindlessness in the dictionary or thesaurus. I kid you not! Azad
Bowl of Reflections with Rumi's poetry, early 13th century. Brooklyn Museum.
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To Be (A Follower) Or Not To Be (A Follower): That is The Question by Karim
What does it mean, “to be a follower” and what happens when “following” dies? * When I was a young man I spent a number of years in the military. Never ‘front line’ of course, but – never the less – I know what it means to be a “follower” (in this case “of orders”). One didn’t question those orders – at least not openly – that’s not how military life works! However, there are some similarities here between following orders and being a follower in a ‘spiritual’ sense, not the least of which is the need for discipline, whether imposed by an external “agency” or self-imposed. In spiritual circles one meets all kinds of “devolved” authority, from ‘group-leaders’ to selfappointed upholders of the truth as given by the guru/teacher figure. Of course, that is not to say - like in the military sense – that one didn’t question the “authority” assumed or otherwise, just that to question openly the role such people played would often lead to conflict which in turn was seen as a mark of one’s indiscipline (and therefore lack of “understanding”). I remember once, many years ago now, being on a Buddhist retreat with some famous American “teachers” (who were themselves, in this instance, just other attendees coming to listen to the words of a yet more renowned Burmese Buddhist teacher). At lunch one day I happened to be sitting at a table with one of these people and made the ‘mistake’ of making eye-contact, only to see them collect their plate and move to another table – I clearly was unfit company! In another situation we members of a “Sufi group” were expected to show our respect (adhab) towards the teacher by never allowing our heads to be at a higher point than theirs (which involved the ludicrous situation of virtually having to crawl from place to place if one needed to move at any time)! Page 14 Spirit Matters Volume 23 Issue 3 September 2019
Is this what it means, “to be a follower?” The teacher in this latter case never, of course, spoke of the need to perform as stated in front of him, however, a sheet of instructions given to all new group members on the correct forms of behaviour in front of a teacher certainly did. My own initiator – the youngest son of the great Indian Sufi teacher Hazrat Inayat Khan – never at any point either explicitly or implicitly expressed such a view. He believed in what he called “spiritual democracy” and lived as he believed. I remember one period – a very painful one for me personally – where a dispute had sprung up amongst certain of these assumed authority figures which involved me in some fashion (the details of which I have conveniently forgotten!). I had decided after this had gone on for some time that I couldn’t in all honesty attend the (then) upcoming “Summer School” that would involve these people in various ways. I never learned the “game” – the one that would position me near the centre of power that all followers crave – but I did have a dream. It was a few nights prior to this Summer School, just mentioned, the upcoming annual get-together to join with others in “practicing the Presence.” In this dream I was dressed in gold robes, striding hurriedly across a large paved square towards a gateway. Slightly ahead of me – to my right – the figure of another friend on the path also dressed in a similar fashion. He was already a ‘recognised’ teacher. We were both hurrying to a talk given by the head of our mutual Order, my beloved initiator. When we arrived at the place where he was speaking – in a sort of miniature sunken Page 15 Spirit Matters Volume 23 Issue 3 September 2019
amphitheatre – I was unable to find a seat that was low enough for me to sit on (in relation to the position of my teacher). I realised that I needed/wanted to be lower than his feet. Quite literally I needed to be/felt myself to be, was lower than the dust beneath his feet! * Afterwards these ‘others’ all lined-up to be greeted by him personally. I joined with them somewhat reticently, towards the back. I wondered as he proceeded to greet them individually, would he greet me, recognise me? He seemed to be passing by but then his beautiful wife, a murshida in her own right, noticed me (it was she who – at my initiation had said afterwards to me, “Now the work begins!”). Strangely it seemed to me, on reflection later, both were dressed with a kind of white lace covering over their heads. The dream ends. * I know now, this part of the dream probably relates to the ‘afterlife meeting’ that I know is to come. Will he/will they “recognise” me when the face I wear in this world is gone and all that is left is who I really am, what I have made of ‘it all’ – taken to heart? * My last meeting in this life with my teacher was a fairly brief affair. We (my wife and I) had travelled to Europe on holiday to visit my daughter and her family. As part of this trip we also went to Holland to see our mutual teacher. We both knew it would probably be for the last time. He knew of course that I had become a Muslim since I had last seen him some 8 years prior, and he was not pleased with me (echoes of a previous encounter in Goragowan and the old man who, after asking me my ‘religion’, not pleased with my answer, said to me, “You should stick with the religion of your birth!”). Pir-O-Murshid greeted us in a private meeting, saying directly (to me), “Why did you come here? What do you want with us now (in an ironic tone of voice)?” I took the inference to be that, ‘hadn’t I made the decision to commit to Islam? In which case, what further need did I have of him?’ I was a little shocked, but not dismayed. I responded: “How could I not? You are my initiator (into Sufism); where you go I will follow. Even beyond death.” He spoke then more softly. “You have touched my heart,” he replied. We said our goodbyes. My wife had experienced the meeting as a powerful ‘confrontation’ which had left her shaking inwardly. I felt it as our last meeting, which indeed it was; we left that same day. In its own way it was beautiful. I hadn’t expected it or intended it. The dream had already happened some years earlier, so it was clear to me that we would meet again, although perhaps not in this life. So it turned out to be. He died some years later aged ninety nine; he had lived one year for every ‘Name of God.’ May God be pleased with him! * This, then, is what it means, “to be a follower,” in the final analysis. What, then, of the : “I wonder if he’ll recognise me?” Of course, at one level, this meant, “will he elevate me to any kind of role within the organisation in line with those “others” mentioned, all Page 16 Spirit Matters Volume 23 Issue 3 September 2019
gathered to greet him. Indeed - at our next meeting (8 years previous to this last one just described) – this too had happened. However, this was the lowest level of the meaning contained in the word ‘recognition.’ After death, according to Emanuel Swedenborg, the ‘face’ we wear in this world – call it our ‘persona’ if you prefer, or that which we present to others in this world – is removed. We cannot continue to wear such a mask (continue to hide behind a ‘façade’). What, then, is left behind? Only that remains which is most truly ‘us’, that which is closest to our heart, those things that we have ‘taken to heart’ and thus made our own: beautiful if that to which we are drawn is thus, ugly if we have been drawn to the darker things of life. It is this new face that now represents me, that was involved in this “act of recognition.” Did he/would he/they recognise this ‘me’? Of course this relates also to the finding of one’s ‘community’ in the afterlife – to what extent was I, am I representing or a representative of Inayati Sufism as he himself saw and understood it and took to his heart?
After the dream mentioned earlier I/we only had a day or so to get ourselves ready and off to the Summer School that I had been avoiding committing to. We quickly packed our things and headed off. This is what it means, “To be a follower.” * What then of the second question, “What happens when following dies?” Page 17 Spirit Matters Volume 23 Issue 3 September 2019
This is more difficult to speak of in some ways because I now know what the former means. The latter, the death of following, was/is really still a ‘work in progress.’ Is it now fully part of my life? I’m not certain of this yet. What I do know, can say, is that the beginning of it was ‘initiated’ by another “act” – this one a recapitulation – of a story “As old as time,” the “Fall”. Mine of course was one whereby something very prosaic happened and only time itself has revealed it to be this “recapitulation” I speak of here. I would, however, like to emphasise, re-emphasise, that this “fall” of and in itself requires a concomitant loss, a very big loss (as the original version – the expulsion from the Garden – did also). In this latter case of course, it is the distance from God, Allah, The One. In my case it was something similar at one level at least: that of the complete removal of the desire to continue to pray the five daily prayers required of a Muslim. It is as if – at a single stroke (or push) – my fall, naked as I was, initiated this complete cessation of something which – to this point – I would have said upheld what I felt it was ‘to be a man of God, a follower of the ‘straight path,’ and so on. My perceived “manhood” was stripped away from me.
What was left for me? It is to this latter point that my (new) life now turned. I could no longer force myself to do the daily prayers, to turn towards God in this manner. I searched my heart to see if there was any sign that I was missing. I found nothing. I turned next to the prayers examining closely what they said, not only in Arabic in so far as I knew what it meant, but particularly in English – my language – but found no fault, only beauty wherever I looked, listened. What had left me was the desire to pray, to listen to others in the way that a follower does. I still knew I loved God, the One, more than anything else in life. That was the most important part of me, that which mattered. Page 18 Spirit Matters Volume 23 Issue 3 September 2019
Years passed. Years of a kind of darkness and depression I had not experienced before in my life. I felt – quite literally – that half of me had died and I could literally draw a line down the centre of myself and feel, know this, not merely as ‘a turn of phrase.’ Slowly the emptiness turned into something else. Slowly I feel – now (it’s still unfolding) – that my life has meaning again, indeed “it” never left me completely. What has gone is this idea, this ‘practice’ of “being a follower.” I no longer desire, perhaps require, a ‘direction home’, that someone, something else has laid out for me. Finally I am, have become, my own person. Someone who has to take full responsibility for himself, not only for the physical aspects of life, but – far more importantly – for the metaphysical ones also: the so-called ‘spiritual’ or ‘soul’ work that must still be done.
It’s as if the mould has been cast, the content poured and set, now the mould has been stripped away, revealing that which went into its makeup. The final ‘form’ still requires some work to clean it all up, to remove those odd bits that are no longer needed or necessary, and to clean up the whole thing to reveal this ‘final form’ to the world, for what it’s worth! I am what I am, will be whatever that is (that which this process is revealing). I have taken to heart and made my own what I have, what I am capable of, and – in so doing – have changed, adapted, added bits that are uniquely my own. I have/am in a sense, discovering the Name that I was before the Beginning. And it is enough – almost! Only death can really show that this last really is so. This, for me, is what it means, “when following dies.” * Will, then, he recognise me, when I meet him after death? The answer to this is yet to be revealed, but my “dream” says yes, perhaps, maybe. But I now realise that this is dependant not only on me, but on him also. It is enough. Page 19 Spirit Matters Volume 23 Issue 3 September 2019
Breath by Kalyani
The joy of living, struggles with responsibility. To whom one could ask? A deep inner responsibility, maybe to God, maybe to me. Don’t torture yourself with past struggles, and time lost. Don’t torture yourself with food, and lack of self-worth. “Be good” as ET said, and prepare to “go home”. Walk the walk, talk the talk, of duty yet to unfold, and direction yet to find, or be given. Self love is a struggle, but gratitude should always outweigh the emptiness of time lost and dreams unfulfilled. Gratitude just to be here on this beautiful earth, where worms cruise the compost and birds fly in the sky, and people give the gift of love and kindness in the face of adversity. Where edges meet at the equator as it heats up at the centre point of imaginings, where polar bears live in white wonder, and domestic animals forfeit the struggle of the wild. I am grateful for little lives shared in a cosmos of possibilities. May the wisdom of time, and the mingling of lives shared, be representative of possibilities, in a world of gratitude. In a world of acknowledged breaths, in a world of existence. However badly lived, however many dreams unmet. Where I breathe, and for this alone, I am grateful. Page 20 Spirit Matters Volume 23 Issue 3 September 2019
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