VIDEO: A New Dawn
Thanks to David Klamph for posting this on the Heart of Matter FB groupApril 22, 2009
Blasts from the (Recent) Past
Dear Lover of Life:
There's a lot more content on this blog than you've probably seen so far (307 postings altogether).
To access what's here, just log on, scroll down, and click on the archives links in the sidebar. (You can also search content by category).
If this sounds like too much work, click on any of the links below for a sampling...April 21, 2009
VIDEO: Every Breath
People who receive Knowledge from Prem Rawat, aka Maharaji, (and practice it) tend to become happy, grateful, and fulfilled. And those qualities do not always need to be spoken to communicate a message...April 20, 2009
The Book of Hearts
"Within you is the perfect book -- The Book of Hearts. It is so perfect that even the illiterate can read it. It is so well-written that even the blind can read it. The paper that it is written on never deteriorates. The ink never fades away. The Book of Hearts has never been revised and it never will be. It has been commented on, and every person who has read The Book has understood it. It is the only book that gives you answers, not questions." (Prem Rawat, aka Maharaji)
Thanks to Denise Mitchell for posting this quote hereApril 19, 2009
VIDEO: One Breath at a Time April 15, 2009
By the Time We Got to Woodstock
I speak today as a resident of Woodstock -- a town known far and wide for peace -- a place now metaphor for the highest aspirations of the human race.
What I have to say existed long before speech, long before teachers and those who thought they needed to be taught.
I speak of the time before time, before "us" and "them," before otherness, separation, and the need to make amends.
Pure presence there was back then. Isness. First light. What the wise ones among us call by many names according to their faith. But it has no name, this impulse to be, this pulsation of life -- what poets feel before they pick up their pens, why dancers -- quivering in their own skin -- look around the room for space in which to leap.
Back then, before the yes and no, the good and bad, the black and white, the East and West.... back then before our addiction to naming and knowing and the curious claim people make that God is on their side and their side only -- there was only one thing, one infinite expanse of grandeur, one breath.
The human voice was silenced with awe before it.
I speak of presence and wonder and the state of divine receptivity. I speak of being at home in ourselves and with each other -- what children feel before they sleep, alone in their bed, knowing their parents are awake in the next room. I speak of the place where no fear of death abides, and even more importantly, no fear of life.
In this beginning is life -- this fresh start that comes with every breath, the only path there is, the one we make by walking on it.
The path Buddha walked. And Jesus. The path of Krishna, Moses, Rumi, Kabir, Lao Tzu, The Ba'al Shem Tov, Hafiz, Mother Theresa, Masters known and unknown, YOU, your neighbors and your friends -- each on fire with the possibility of living life as it was meant to be, each ignited by the very same power some call God -- the God whose name lovers, no matter what their path, scream at the height of their passion.
The God of Abraham, Isaac, Jacob and Gypsy Rose Lee. The God of Wizards. The God of Fools. Why the earth turns and the Sufis and the seasons.
It is this unreasonable force, this power of love, this mirror of our selves to whom we pray even when we sleep, that joins us all together here today -- why men with beards dig deeper underground half a world a way and others penetrate the sky, each fueled by what they think is noble enough to die for.
The question, my friends, is not what to die for, but what to live for. What is your calling? Your dream? Your gift? What is your personal responsibility?
The choice, as always, is yours. The messenger abides within you... comes to your threshold... sneaks past the guards you've posted at love's door and speaks:
"The cave you seek is the cave of the heart. The air you patrol is your breath. Walk whatever path you choose, but know that each step is also an arrival. Slow down. Breathe deep. Trust. Give roses to people you barely know. Make someone tea. Embrace humanity all you want, but don't forget to embrace each other -- NOW, the only time there is.
Let your weapon of choice be cupid's bow. See God in everyone. Have fun. Be real! Let go! Live as if this was the first day of your life... or the last.
Men, be men. Women, be women. Win the war inside you -- the battle between darkness and light. Rejoice in the undeniable fact that you are alive. Find your voice. And when you do, use it wisely. Sing! Praise! Dance!
Do whatever you can, with all your might, to wake up from the dream.Get a Big Canvas and Paint!
April 13, 2009
Welcome to Mississauga!
Maybe you've been meditating for 30 years... maybe you've read the Bhagavad Gita... maybe you've experienced the peace that passes all understanding. But have you ever been an 88 year old mayor with a 92% approval rating, gotten hit by a truck, and starred in your own music video? Check this out. Hazel rocks!!!April 12, 2009
Maharaji in Kathmandu April 11, 2009
Mankind is No Island
This wonderful video was shot totally by a cell phone in New York City and Sydney, Australia. Makes you do more than stop and think. Makes you stop and FEEL.
Thanks to Aine McIteer for posting this on FBApril 10, 2009
Happy Next Breath!
From Quote of the DayApril 09, 2009
Today I wrote the most beautiful poem in the world,
something so pure I wouldn't mind dying --
the perfect song of praise
hewn from the dark forest of my secret heart.
Not a wasted word it was,
rhythmic, elegant, and holy,
poetry for the ages,
why sages dance,
timeless in its pauses,
with a long white beard and a thousand Santa Clauses
ringing their bells for love.
Yes, I wrote this poem today
or rather, it wrote me,
flooding through my body
onto a singular white page,
which I, amazed at having said it all
and having signed my name,
left, for a moment, on my favorite chair
beneath the willow tree,
then turned inside again and took my leave
to celebrate this unexpected visitation of my muse
by listening, with great respect,
to Mozart in the living room.
I did not hear the rain.
Not a single drop.
It was only later, after dinner, I discovered
the many ways ink drips down a white page
in a sudden, summer shower.
I could see, I think, small patches of blue,
a cloud, a flower, a silhouette,
perhaps a word or two,
my perfect poem now watercolor --
the many colors of my love for you.
Holi in Jaipur April 07, 2009
VIDEO: Where the Story Begins