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In your light I learn how to love. In your beauty, how to make poems. You dance inside my chest, where no one sees you, but sometimes I do, and that sight becomes this art. Rumi is one of many who claim the ecstatic vision. This poetry and this philosophy have an understandable appeal, but alas, I have to agree with you, Jim. Even in your most harshest comments, I find myself agreeing, because I do think a lot of harm can be done. It's a funny coincidence, because I spent New Year's Eve with an old premie friend I hadn't seen in three years. She no longer practices Knowledge, but she had just spent a month at Esalen, and she mentioned Rumi, who she is currently reading. She has not visited the ex-premie website, but asked me for a few details. Since she is a vegan, I told the Amaroo campfire story where Rawat roasts a whole cow. She had ordered the Keys, but could only get through one and a half cd's. But for her, and for me, Rawat's antics and his current propagation teachings really are beside the point, and the point is more specifically the feelings of the inner sanctuary. She and I both still maintain a private approach. It's not hidden deep within and you don't need anybody to show you the way. By the way, the only real positive that my friend mentioned about her Esalen month was a sence of community, which she craves.
Modified by Will at Thu, Jan 05, 2006, 13:05:23
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Hey you
lot, leave Rumi alone. He was a great poet and wrote some beautiful stuff.
Never mind it was all mystical and airy fairy, it was good poetry- not at all
like the amateur, forced rhyming, banal crap produced by some modern cult leaders. Jim, I’d be
interested if your friend has a similar opinion of other poets who wrote in the
same realm, William Blake jumps to the top of the list. Just wondering if the
problem is with poetry, rather than Rumi in particular. Is the roof
of the Sistine Chapel, or the incredible Norman cathedral at Notre Dame, or Michelangelo’s
David, somehow devalued because they deal with “spiritual” or as I prefer to
call it nowadays, mythological imagery. Will, that lovely bit of Rumi you included in your post: In your light I learn how to love. In your beauty, how to make poems. You dance inside my chest, where no one sees you, but sometimes I do, and that sight becomes this art. Imagine
someone is saying these words to their wife, or husband, or baby, who they love
more than words can say. Well Rumi is trying to say it. Maybe they are about
the sea, or a sunset, or the stars. Poetry speaks to the individual. Like a
painting, or a piece of music. It can mean one thing to one person, something
completely different to another. Come on
guys, if you want to attack “poison” in the world, poets are a soft target, and
I don’t believe poetry does harm like you suggest. How about having a go at
some real poison like the radioactive stuff we’re scattering all over Iraq, or
the fridge junk we’re wrecking the ozone layer with, or the poison we pump from
our four wheel drives on the way to the supermarked, or the poison we feed our
children and spray on our crops, or dump in our oceans.. Leave the
poets alone. We need them more than ever. (And anyway, if you piss them off they’ll
immortalise you in an uncomplimentary verse.) Hi
Jim and Will. Hope you had a good pagan midwinter intoxicated orgy, or at least
saw a decent movie. I’m in Cornwall
at the moment, so can’t pull some Rumi off the shelf and sock you with one. Having said
that, I completely agree with your sentiment of great relief and eternal
gratitude at escaping Captain Rawat’s wacky cult and finding I still have some
life left where I can be myself and think my own thoughts, without squeezing
them through Rawat’s mindless Playdoh machine- where everything comes out the
same shape and is a soft, lumpy texture, with a strange plastic type smell. Praise the
Lord and pass the rhyming pentameters. Anth the
born again atheist with 19 syllables and some zen soup.
(My post seems to have been reformatted, dropping each paragraph down after a couple of words, but it looks appropriately "poetic" so I'm going to leave it how it is. Ah- the independence of the muse...the plastic clatter of life...)
Modified by AJW at Fri, Jan 06, 2006, 06:28:45
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Well - my problem with poets is that far too often their works are comforting lullabies, siren songs that smooth the way to rocky shores (hows that for bit of woosy imagery?). Rimbaud and Bukovsky might give us a bit of rudery and an antodote to the ethereal ramblings of the mystics but where are the exhortations to rage, to challenge of tyrants and demands for justice ? All put to music I guess. Rumi is, in my not very humble opinion somewhat rheumy, I'll make do with occaisional recourse to John Cooper Clarke and Theocritus. Nik
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in answer to this: 'where are the exhortations to rage, to challenge of tyrants and demands for justice ?' as he was seen by the cogniscenti of the time as the great challenge to the autocracy in Russia. However, I could never easily locate the material in question, and think his real commentary came through prose, such as The Bronze Horseman. His successor Lermontov was exiled to the Caucasus as a line officer (he had been a Guards officer), for writing a poem called Death of a Poet, concerning Pushkin's death in a duel, which was widely regarded as a conspiracy by the court, but his legacy, too, seems to be prose (A Hero Of Our Time). In Russian terms the major opposition to injustice and tyranny (vast in literary circles) seems to have predominantly centred around prose, and particularly the novel (Pushkin and Gorky through to Pasternak). The reason why it was this way, and not through verse is maybe quite simple. Lyric verse is extremely personal, and usually centres on intimate themes, such as personal love, and transcendental experience. The stuff you seek certainly abounded in the 60s, with guys like Adrian Mitchell and quite a lot of others, and the original Larkin's morbid self-questionings, often in blank, and sometimes excellent verse. However, lyric verse seems to remain the realm of the deep personal confession/revelation. Probably the doyen of social justice in the English poetic pantheon, Blake often used virtual doggerel, as in Auguries of Innocence. The ballad is probably the preferred tool of social commentary, and exemplified most greatly recently by Bob Dylan. Though put to music, many of his songs read very well as straight poetry (Chimes of Freedom, Gates of Eden, etc.). But the lyric form seems reserved by its very nature for the extremely personal, which verges naturally into the transcendental or spiritual. Incidentally, George Orwell said that under any form of tyranny, probably the first casualty poetically will be the lyric form, as it is the inevitable mode of expressing the intensely personal. Consequently, we either like Rumi (at his best) and find it deeply affecting, or reject it as bathos. I like his best, but can quite happily intersperse it with the Pogues. A fine spread of genres is much happier for the would-be balanced poetic admirer, I find.
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Anthony (& AJW earlier) I don't disagree with all your points, but have little appetite for critical analysis when it comes to 'pertreh' (as they call it in educated circles). Like with the Pogues, either the poem gets you, and you get it, or it doesn't. And Rumi doesn't get me just there, if you know where I mean. It reminds me of stuff the girls in my fifth form Eng Lit class used to write (BTW: no sexist innuendo there - fifth form boys just don't write poetry), with Enya doing the soundtrack. I think the main problem is there's no acknowledgement of pain in the human condition, alongside the flowery-flowery biz. The frustrations and doomed aspirations...grief...consolation...hope. Regular human stuff, rather than this idealised, roccoco, dreamland twaddle. Nothing much to empathise with - unless, perhaps, you are a premie whose real emotions are so long suppressed that any smiley-twinkly offering from the likes of Rumi will float your boat for a moment - kind of light relief from the dry-as-a-desert Rawat oevre (as they say in pertreh circles) But, otherwise, naaah... >Consequently, we either like Rumi (at his best) and find it deeply affecting, or reject it as bathos. The latter, on balance. Nige
Modified by Nigel at Fri, Jan 06, 2006, 20:24:06
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pouring over Rumi, as it is obviously very repetitive and stuck in one vein.
However, there is the odd line or couple which stick firmly in mind: For example: By Allah!
I long to escape the prison of my ego
and lose myself
in the mountains and the desert.
These sad and lonely people tire me.
I long to revel in the drunken frenzy of your love
and feel the strength of Rustam in my hands. I don't think you need to be a premie or a born-again Sufi to find that particular stanza rather wickedly phrased. If one wants to find expressions of the totality of the human experience, you can find it by opening any poetry book - I recommend it to anyone. I'm very eclectic and like anything from Shelley to that bloke Larkin who posts here. I also enjoy Kipling.
Musically, anything from Rachmaninov to Elvis. I agree, single tone is very boring. When you look again at that particular stanza, Rumi is actually expressing frustration rather than love.
I've just peeped into The Love Poems of Rumi, and a lot of them actually make me shudder - they are so banal. There are a few gems linguistically amid much sappiness, which is why I never originally got beyond about page 15. I agree very much that we should live in the totality of our experiences, rather than the very frighteningly self-absorbed aspiration after something always just beyond which some of the premies obviously still do. The destructiveness of this type of mental preoccupation needs no commentary. Sorry if this post is long and rambly - I didn't have time to write a shorter one. I'm just hurriedly checking the snail mail and email prior to breakfast. I must say - I agree very much with the general thrust of your post. Anyway, nice to talk. I have passed on my regards recently in emails with Moley. I feel that a few pints is probably long overdue. Why not get in touch in the New Year, and we can arrange something. Cheers, Anthony (you know who) 
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Hi Nigel, Jim and others.I agree with Anth, Rumi was a great poet for my money. Yes, you have to make a distinction between the mushy stuff he is used to support nowadays and his poetry. If you can make that distinction, then he is great. If you can 't, well then, yes he is mushy and twaddle, as you say. Jim, I thought your analysis of your big mistake believing Rawat was spot on - great. Here are some quote from Rumi which mention pain, and others. I love them, they give me goosebumps: Love means to reach for the sky and with every breath to tear a hundred veils. Love means to step away from the ego, to open the eyes of inner vision and not to take the world seriously.[Rumi 'Rumi, Hidden Music' translated by Azima Melita Kolin and Maryam Mali (Thorsons 2001) page 18 (Original Persian: Shafii Kadkani 'Selection of Divan' (Amir Kabir Publishers,Tehran, Iran 1996) page 313)] When you see the face of anger, look behind it, and you will see the face of pride. Bring anger and pride under your feet, turn them into a ladder and climb higher. There is no peace until you become their master. Let go of anger, it may taste sweet but it kills. Don't become its victim, you need humility to climb to freedom. [Rumi 'Rumi, Hidden Music' translated by Azima Melita Kolin and Maryam Mali (Thorsons 2001) page 70 (Original Persian: Forouzanfar 'Divan Shams' (Amir Kabir Publishers,Tehran, Iran 1957) page 2197)] I said what about my eyes? 'Keep them on the road.' I said what about my passion? 'Keep it burning.' I said what about my heart? 'Tell me what you hold inside it.' I said pain and sorrow. He said: 'stay with it.' [Rumi 'Rumi, Hidden Music' translated by Azima Melita Kolin and Maryam Mali (Thorsons 2001) page 90] Why are you so afraid of silence, silence is the root of everything. If you spiral into its void, a hundred voices will thunder messages you long to hear. [Rumi 'Rumi, Hidden Music' translated by Azima Melita Kolin and Maryam Mali (Thorsons 2001) page 131] Your mistakes can also lead you to the truth. [Rumi 'Rumi, Hidden Music' translated by Azima Melita Kolin and Maryam Mali (Thorsons 2001) page 182] -- Mike
www.MikeFinch.com
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Mike, To me, those passages prove my point. The guy is a clever wordsmith who conjurs romantic, dramatic imagery of what is still an inherently false and potentially destructive belief system. And I include within it the very idea that there is some powerful cosmic "love" that we must find. See, I know, the idea that it's called "love" seems so positive. How can it be so bad to imagine something so good? But it's not good, is it, if it's a, not true; and b, used to ultimately drive us mad searching on a wild love chase? Horror books and movies are great because we know they're fake, we can put them down or walk out when they're finished and go back to enjoying the real world. But this spiritual drama undermines and confuses our sense of reality and that's dangerous. Fun, exciting but still confusing and dangerous.
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Hi JimThe problem with Rumi peddling an: inherently false and potentially destructive belief system. is that we don't really know what he believed. From what I have read of Rumi, his beliefs and how he expressed it, he was considerably more sophisticated and subtle than how he is now interpreted. There is no question that he is interpreted now in exactly the way you describe, and he is hijacked by modern-day gurus and those into the mushy love-is-everything trip. But he was a poet, and expressed himself poetically. So if you are saying he is used by followers of 'false and potentially desctructive belief systems' then I agree. In fact, if you even say that it is *easy* to read him in that way, I also agree. But I am at liberty to interpret his poetry how I think, which is in fact as a great poet expressing himself in metaphor and vivid imagery, even though I am well aware that the vivid imagery can be too easily read as supporting a belief system that I think is false. How can it be so bad to imagine something so good? But it's not good, is it, if it's a, not true; and b, used to ultimately drive us mad searching on a wild love chase? As to (a), we imagine lots of things we know are not true, or at least whose truth we are not certain of. Part of living in this world is to do the best we can with concepts and beliefs that we use 'on trial' as it were, trying overall to be truthful but not getting hung up on each and every individual concept. Your point (b) is more serious, dangling a promise in front of us that drives us mad on a 'wild love chase'. But as I say, because he is used these days by many people to give credibility to just such a promise, does not mean he should be condemned himself. He is not here to defend himself, and we have not heard him. Maharaji, on the other hand, is here, and those of us who have followed him know very well what his belief system and rationale is. And that *is* to dangle a false promise in front of us to 'drive us mad searching on a wild love chase' as you so eloquently put it. But this spiritual drama undermines and confuses our sense of reality and that's dangerous. Fun, exciting but still confusing and dangerous. Yes, it certainly can do, and that is dangerous. Much philosophizing is wading through deep and distubing shit, but with the aim of getting some clarity and understanding at the end of it, at least personally. Aren't philosophers the most at risk proportionally to commit suicide (or is that psychologists!)? None of the above, by the way, detracts from your main point, that following M's belief system was the worst thing you ever did. And was the worst thing I ever did, I think. What would life have been like without it? Of course, it could have been a lot worse, who knows, maybe I would have got involved in a much worse cult (there are worse ones). But forgetting the maybe's, of all the things that I *did* do, following M was certainly the stupidest. -- Mike
www.MikeFinch.com
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Rumi is the most popular poet in the United States so I can only guess that people want goosebumps. We obviously need escapism. We need to get away from our daily routines and often tedious work. Feel-good movies like It's a Wonderful Life and Casablanca are Hollywood's bread and butter. Even the Godfather movies are escapism, and what about passionate and moving CDs like Abby Road and Moondance? IMO the world would be a pretty dreary place without film, literature and music. So it's really sad to hear that you consider romantic and dramatic imagery to be inherently false and destructive. Geez, what kind of bleak and barren world do you live in?
Related link: http://usembassy.state.gov/posts/in1/wwwhspmayjune9.html
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So it's really sad to hear that you consider romantic and dramatic imagery to be inherently false and destructive. Geez, what kind of bleak and barren world do you live in?
I didn't say romantic and dramatic imagery is inherently false and destructive. I didn't say that at all. What I said was:
The guy is a clever wordsmith who conjurs romantic, dramatic imagery of what is still an inherently false and potentially destructive belief system.
suggesting that some romantic and dramatic imagery, in this case Rumi's, was bad because it was used to support a false and potentially destructive belief system.
None of your examples have this problem (although, it might be argued that the Godfather movies come close to the extent that they mislead anyone to think it's cool to be in the mafia).
Modified by Jim at Sat, Jan 07, 2006, 12:48:26
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Does a film like The Wizard of Oz promote an inherently false and potentially destructive belief system? Or is it an escape from our often monotonous and boring routines? There is plenty of horror in the world (including the movie variety) and IMO horror is definitely more traumatic, confusing and dangerous than love. And when you think of it, maybe what really drives people mad is the sense that their existence is insignificant and meaningless – that unrelenting Groundhog Day. Rumi is the most popular poet in the United States so you are absolutely in the minority on this one. He is providing a need people have. I guess you could dismiss them all as fools. That’s your choice. But if you think that love (interpersonal or spiritual) is simply a false and potentially destructive belief system that undermines and confuses our sense of reality, then I feel sorry for you? End of story.
Modified by Steve at Sat, Jan 07, 2006, 13:41:59
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What a garbled bunch of insults. I gave you the benefit of the doubt at first that you just misunderstood me. Now I see that there's some bigger problem. Too bad for you, fella.
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Rumi is a clever wordsmith who conjures romantic, dramatic imagery of an inherently false and potentially destructive belief system. I assume you mean that the reality (not the belief system) of which he speaks, does not exist. Well that’s your opinion, not mine. There is no such thing as a powerful cosmic “love” and if there was, it is impossible to find, and if we look for it, we will ultimately go mad searching. Well some people think that there is such thing as powerful cosmic “love.” It exists for them. They have experienced it via meditation, falling out of a tree, therapy, prayer, a near death experience etc. Without this “transcendent” they would go mad. The spiritual drama Rumi writes about undermines and confuses our sense of reality and that's confusing and dangerous. The spiritual drama is fun and exciting, but still confusing and dangerous. Maybe having our nose to the grindstone 24/7 is what drives us mad. Spiritual drama, like all drama, may be confusing and dangerous, but the sense of clarity, peace and ecstacy that spirit brings is worth it for many people. Rumi is writing for them. Hope you don't find this too insulting.
Modified by Steve at Sat, Jan 07, 2006, 14:33:59
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Yes, Steve, it is my opinion that the reality believed in that belief system is false. If you think it isn't, fine. May I ask, have you realized Knowledge yet? Have you merged with that greater love inside that's hidden by your mind? Well some people think that there is such thing as powerful cosmic “love.” It exists for them. They have experienced it via meditation, falling out of a tree, therapy, prayer, a near death experience etc. Without this “transcendent” they would go mad.
Here, you're talking as if something exists just because people think it does. Sorry, that doesn't comport with the English language I use -- although I'm well aware that the distinction between what's real and what's believed is often lost or downright abandoned in certain spiritual circles. And then I wonder what you mean by "mad". I'm tending to think we might not be talking the same language there either.
Modified by Jim at Sat, Jan 07, 2006, 14:47:10
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ALBUQUERQUE, New Mexico (AP) -- A panel of linguists has decided the word that best reflects 2005 is "truthiness," defined as the quality of stating concepts one wishes or believes to be true, rather than the facts. Looks like they're coining the term just as we speak. What do you know, eh? "Truthiness" - yeah right.
Related link: CNN on
Modified by Jim at Sat, Jan 07, 2006, 14:54:03
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Jim, you obviously think that spirituality is a belief system and that the spirit is something “out there” that you can check into like a hotel. I think that concepts point toward reality like a menu points toward a meal. The map is not the territory. You obviously think that spirituality has something to do with drama and you are having difficulty making a distinction between an experience and an idea. In my opinion the mind is a neural computer. Approximately 80% of what we see hear and feel is influenced by our unconscious mental conditioning, only 20% is unfiltered. Meditation turns down the volume on repetitive, unhelpful thought patterns and puts me more at ease making me a more caring person. No, I haven’t realized Knowledge yet? I haven’t merged with that greater love inside that's hidden by my mind (my conditioning). But I can get off the merry-go-round (i.e. stop my personal Groundhog Day) now and then, and that’s enough for me. There is often a measure of freedom in my life that I didn’t have before. The physical universe is fluid – there is no solidity anywhere. Everything changes. The clarity that spirituality brings puts me in touch with that unchanging and peaceful aspect of life. With this clarity I can truly value the romance, beauty of the world. As a spiritual ex it's obviously apparent that I’m wasting my time here. Let's agree to disagree. I am going to step out and get into read mode for a while. Thanks for the conversation.
Modified by Steve at Sat, Jan 07, 2006, 16:47:39
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It's grossly unfair to project a bunch of ideas onto someone, especially as inaccurately as you've done to me just now, and expect that to be the final word. Think about it. Anyway, seeing as you don't want a discussion, I'll limit myself to correcting your false impressions of what I think. No, I don't think that spirituality is a belief system as such. I'd say it's a set of all sorts of belief systems. I don't think that spirit is something "out there" that you can check into like a hotel. Rather, I think it's a figment of your imagination. Further, I don't think that spirituality has something to do with drama, necessarily, although I think there's all sorts of drama in the spiritual world. And I don't have any difficulty distinguishing between an experience and an idea, thanks anyways. You're welcome.
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No, I don't think that spirituality is a belief system as such. I'd say it's a set of all sorts of belief systems. Spirituality, true spirituality has nothing to do with belief. It has to do with clarity, peace, deconditioning, nothingness. And just for the record, the word "nothingness" is not nothingness. I don't think that spirit is something "out there" that you can check into like a hotel. Rather, I think it's a figment of your imagination. Wrong again! Imagination has the word "image" in it - image-in. No graven images in true spirituality - religion yes. And I don't have any difficulty distinguishing between an experience and an idea, thanks anyways. I think you do. I think you confuse the map and the territory big time. It's right there in your posts.
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I thought we were done but if not, fine. I'm happy to continue. For now anyway: Spirituality, true spirituality has nothing to do with belief. It has to do with clarity, peace, deconditioning, nothingness. And just for the record, the word "nothingness" is not nothingness. Like so many other spiritual people I've known and loved, you seem prone to use words for effect without really adhering to their actual meaning. I know that passes for wisdom in some quarters. Or wit. At least entertainment. But it's damn trouble in an actual discussion or debate. Thus when you say "Spirituality, true spirituality has nothing to do with belief" I know it'd just be a waste of time to confront you with actual definitions and prove you wrong. Call me prejudiced but one of the things I've also picked up from your type is the wonderful faculty of never having to be wrong about anything. Anyway, spirituality does indeed have all sorts of things to do with belief. As for "nothingness" not not being nothingness, sorry, but I just get all shivery when someone talks that way to me and I remember how, for a few brief years, I, too, played that silly ad hoc game of zen one upmanship. I shudder at the thought of having gotten stuck in that pattern for years, even decades. Now that's got to take a toll on a person. Yikes! I don't think that spirit is something "out there" that you can check into like a hotel. Rather, I think it's a figment of your imagination. Wrong again! Imagination has the word "image" in it - image-in. No graven images in true spirituality - religion yes. Using words like play-doh, Steve, is not an adult thing to do. I know it's a thrilling new age hobby that never ceases to amaze but, really, must we? And I don't have any difficulty distinguishing between an experience and an idea, thanks anyways. I think you do. I think you confuse the map and the territory big time. It's right there in your posts. Okay, I read you just fine on that one. Yeah, sure I do. See this is just provocative bullshit which I can't even talk with you about because you don't speak English properly, you speak New Age, the language that's useful for anything but clear communication.
Modified by Jim at Sat, Jan 07, 2006, 18:52:02
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In my opinion the mind is a neural computer.
Well, perhaps you could claim that maybe the brain is some sort of computer. Computers and brains are both material objects. But a mind or consciousness is not material -- so it's quite literally nothing like a computer, materially speaking.
And even the claim that the brain works like a computer seems unlikely. Computers just run algorithms, that is, they merely follow rules. But it's fairly easy to prove that just following algorithms does not and cannot give rise to all of mathematics.
To put it another way, it can be demonstrated that minds can grasp truths that cannot be derived algorithmically; truths that cannot be derived by mechanically following rules. Kurt Godel first showed this, and Roger Penrose has written a fair bit about the implications.
There's more to having a mind than just being able to follow rules. But that's all a computer ever does.
Modified by jonti at Sun, Jan 08, 2006, 05:22:20
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I agree with you Jonti. You are not your software.
That's very agreeable of you. But just to be clear, I was responding to your view that the mind is a neural computer. It's been a popular view these last few decades, but it really doesn't make much sense.
I do not think it helpful to think of the mind or brain as a computer, and nor do I think it helpful to regard the mind as software that runs on the brain computer.
Programs are simply instructions for calculation, and are nothing like what it is to be conscious. An experience, you might say, is not a set of instructions
Modified by jonti at Sun, Jan 08, 2006, 15:59:41
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Honestly Jonti my understanding of the thinking behind neural nets is obviously very different from yours.
The whole notion of self organizing systems for one, ie Autopoeisis etc etc
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Steve,
Romance, beauty and love are wonderful, and life would be emptier without them, but using images of romance, beauty and love to promote a belief system that these are to be found exclusively 'within inside' us, and that the real life versions are but shadows and illusions, is potentially destructive. Of course, whether Rumi was doing this is debatable, but there is no doubt that Rawat is guilty of leading us to devalue the romance, beauty and love of the world, and that we should be wary of others who try to do this.
Your example of great films is not relevant, as they do not try to make us believe in a reality outside this world. In fact, they do the opposite and make us appreciate the wonder of human creativity. Not something that Rawat ever did.
John.
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Your example of great films is not relevant, as they do not try to make us believe in a reality outside this world. In fact, they do the opposite and make us appreciate the wonder of human creativity. Not something that Rawat ever did. John, where do films take place? On the screen or in the heart and mind of the viewer?
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John, where do films take place? On the screen or in the heart and mind of the viewer?Well, Steve, since I moved to Latvia, most take place on my satellite tv system, although I have watched a few in the cinema in Riga. But of course I understand what you are saying, and I have no problem with poets, directors, singers, actors, painters, sculptors, architects, authors, and even evolution creating works that evoke wonderful feelings in me. I do have a problem with people telling me that all those wondrous things and the feelings they evoke are illusions; and that I should turn my back on thse things and engage in some wild goose chase for something better inside my consciousness. This morning I awoke to find four deer eating the rotten frozen apples in the snow under the apple trees under my bedroom window. I don't need Rawat or any other spiritual peddler to help me appreciate the wonder and beauty of that, although I do wonder about the taste of three month old rotten apples. John.
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... although I do wonder about the taste of three month old rotten apples. I was going to say! LOL!
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I appreciate that such delicacies are enjoyed (if that's the right word) by insects and bacteria, but that nice creatures like deer should also find them tasty and worth the risk of approaching human habitation (and they do, pretty much every day) is a little surprising for a city boy like me.
But even more surprising is that deer and other large animals survive winters in such climates.
I have this theory about appreciating beauty in nature - we are the descendents of those creatures who by random chance found sunsets and stuff enjoyable. Those who found nature depressing didn't bother breeding and died off. I mean, imagine finding sunsets, and forests, and meadows, and animals excruciating ugly - what a bummer!
John.
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It's probably the alcohol they're after. There are quite a few animals who eat rotting fruit and get pissed.
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Hi Nik,
Poetry is a garden with many plants. If it's rage to challenge the tyrants you're looking for, I'd go no further than this years Nobel prize winner for literature, none other than Britains own Harold Pinter.
Here they go again,
The Yanks in their armoured parade
Chanting their ballads of joy
As they gallop across the big world
Praising America's God. The gutters are clogged with the dead
The ones who couldn't join in
The others refusing to sing
The ones who are losing their voice
The ones who've forgotten the tune.
The riders have whips which cut.
Your head rolls onto the sand
Your head is a pool in the dirt
Your head is a stain in the dust
Your eyes have gone out and your nose
Sniffs only the pong of the dead
And all the dead air is alive
With the smell of America's God.
Harold Pinter January 2003 The first world war poets expressed strong sentiments too, although when poets write about war, they seem to go beyond simple anger.
Let me know what you think of the poem, I personally delivered a copy to Tony Blair, along with 10,000 other anti-war poems. Harolds' was the only one on paper.
There are poems as angry as you want to get, then there are some even angrier that you and I would think more useful for lighting the stove.
I loved your comment on Rumi Nik, brought a smile to my stanzas and sent a Shakespearian shiver through me sonnets..
anth the pent up gas meter.
Modified by AJW at Sat, Jan 07, 2006, 05:56:27
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which shouldn't be mentioned in the same breath with Wilfrid Owen and the other WW1 poets.
Apart from the oceanic difference in quality, another reason being that they were expressing horror at war in general, and not from some factional viewpoint. It reminds me of George Orwell's comments about Auden and Spender (was it?) and the other English 30s poets who wrote about war and death in Spain without having been near there. Still, I don't suppose we can prevent him from expressing what he feels about Iraq just because he hasn't been there. I read his Nobel speech with a great deal of interest, and thought he gave a great analysis of American capitalism and foreign policy over the decades. I just can't help wondering when or if he is planning some similar poem about the Chechen dead and disappeared, or talking about religious fundamentalism. In other words, presenting a more comprehensive analysis of the roots of human aggression, mendacity and greed than just from the perspective of American capitalism. He wrote good plays, though.
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...don't always mix so well, true enough. Let Yeats be Yeats, for instance, and the other chaps with the guns up on the barricades fo their thing. That worked quite well for Ireland. A poet who managed, most of the time, to remain a poet along with being a feminist, is Adrienne Rich. Give her a go, those of you who might not know her work. Is this OT? Maybe not, if you think how we are reclaiming our intelligence and love of the arts after years of being captured by a cult! Cheers, Shelagh
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Hi Anthony,
Needless to say I disagree. I put the poem up in response to Nik's question, above, "but where are the exhortations to rage, to challenge of tyrants and demands for justice ?" I also cited the first world war poets as examples.
But Anthony, I'd challenge your statement that Pinters poem is crap. (I think it partly is about religious fundamentalism anyway- christian fundamentalism) You may not like it, and you may disagree with the sentiment, but it's a good poem- in comparison to a bad poem- see Prem Rawats pretentious bollocks for examples of bad poems.
It's Pinters plays I have more problems with.
Anyway, you read any Keats? He died in his early 20s, wrote some great stuff- not a war poet. And as I said below, Ackroyds biography of Shakespeare is worth reading.
anth the anthony
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Pinter's just a bombastic buffoon, IMO. Good job he had time to sit down and write his totally biased Nobel address because whenever I've ever seen/heard him discussing matters with people ( whether they be Left, Right or Centre) he can barely string a sentence together. He only ever resorts to schoolboy-ish bouts of incoherent " rage" when his biased views are challenged. read his Nobel speech with a great deal of interest, and thought he gave a great analysis of American capitalism and foreign policy over the decades. I just can't help wondering when or if he is planning some similar poem about the Chechen dead and disappeared, or talking about religious fundamentalism. In other words, presenting a more comprehensive analysis of the roots of human aggression, mendacity and greed than just from the perspective of American capitalism. As you so clearly point out his analysis is never fair and comprehensive yet he has the nerve to pin the badge of " truth" to it. Well, partial truth, perhaps, but the whole truth and nothing but the truth ? Nope. This thread is just totally OT....I'll( hopefully) stop here
Modified by Dermot at Sat, Jan 07, 2006, 15:34:02
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Anth, I was just being lazily provocative - knowing full well that 'poets' have more than able defenders on these pages. My grouch is really about how certain gardeners and certain plants dominate so much of the 'poetic garden'. At one level it is unfair to blame poor Rumi - dead for centuries - for the misuse of his rhyme by Rawat or any other mealy mouthed would be demigod. Yet Rumi the philosopher might have been greater had he foreseen that his fine words would be snaffled up and twisted by lesser men. And Rumi the poet would have been greater had he left the world some semblance of righteous rage about how great thoughts and fine words are perverted by the venal minded. I quite like Pinter's poem and Anthony's comparison with Owen et al seems to me to miss the point that language belongs as much to its time as it does to class and culture. The 'polite' outrage of 1916 has no capacity to impact upon the impervious war machine of 2006 - nor upon the mass ranked of passive observers. Pinter has the necessary vitriol. My criticism of Pinter's poem is rather that it is too like Owen - it is in a language of a Class that, while that Class may send some of its sons and daughters as tribute to the war machine, that Class will not itself ever have to clean the "dead from the clogged gutters". I'm not suggesting that the language of any Class or culture is less legitimate than any other but in the same way that Rawat can never speak authentically about Rumi because Rawat simply doesn't inhabit the same philosophical universe that Rumi did - neither Own nor Pinter can speak authentically for those whose language is other than theirs. I have another criticism of Pinter's poem which is unfair but nevertheless it is 'real' - that is it the work of an old man, and I agree with Robert Graves, that a poet's best work is done when he or she is young - something which also applies to mathematics which I would say is a closely related field - both poetry and mathematics are concerned with patterns. Of course both poets and mathematicians can still do good work even in their dotage but there always seems something ponderous in it that was not there in youth. The only poem which I personally find to be complete in a challenge to the notion of war is not at anti war poem at all, but it does grasp the language of the participants of war - at least those who participated on the part of the British Empire - that is Kipling's Thin Red Line. Mostly my distaste with poetry stems from the loss of the common voice of the Anglo Saxon - the song of Beowulf buried under layers of Court French, centuries of whiffling troubadours and a mountain of Elizabethan sonnetising - bleuch ! Nik
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Hey, Anth. 3 of my grandparents came over from Cornwall and Mom used to make Cornish pasties quite often for dinner. Haven't had one in quite some time. I saw Brokeback Mountain to start off the new year on a sad note. I'm surprised how people are accepting this movie - besides the gay content, the sadness quotient is higher than for any other movie I know.
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Hi Will,
Do you know which bit of Cornwall your grandparents came from? It's a unique part of Britain, quite wild and beautiful. The Cornish don't really consider them English at all, they had their own language, spoken until about a century ago- only kept alive in clubs and societies nowadays. They have a beautiful word called "drekly", which means, "an indeterminate time in the future", it's usually used in answer to a question starting "When...?". Not to be confused with the english, "directly" which means "straight away."
anth, Home Rule for Cornwall, Drekly.
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Aunt Betty and Uncle Jack did go back to the town where my grandparents came from, but I don't know its name. My people were all miners. I think tin. Evidently something went wrong and they moved to the Black Hills of South Dakota to work in the Homestake Gold Mine. My grandparents names, not to get personal but just to give the flavor of the names, were Ethel White, Ernest Curnow, and John Williams. (My other grandmother came over from Finland).
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Hi Anth, The holidays were great, thanks. Christmas with family, New Year's was wild. I'm back finishing this trial I've been doing in Vancouver, coming home weekends. The best movie over the holidays was "Downfall" about Hitler's last days which I think will become a Christmas tradition. Laurie tells me she needs your address which we only have in bits on the back of a scrap of a train pass. Email it? Rumi's poison if you take him literally. That excerpt Will posted is just what I mean. That is clearly not an ode to his wife, etc. but to some imaginary God inside who, the story goes, we'd be able to see and feel more clearly if only we could "purify" our evil selves. Of course it's pretty, of course it's romantic. That's what makes it so dangerous. It's no saving grace that he, and pretty well all the other mystics for that matter, say it better than Rawat. In fact, aren't we lucky that Rawat doesn't have more talent, that his siren song isn't as clever as Rumi's version? To the extent that anyone ever took these guys seriously, it was a path of unwarranted self-deprecation leading to full on madness with just the right dedication. And yes, I pretty much feel that way about the old religious art too. I look at that stuff and appreciate it on a simple asthetic level but shudder to think how oppressive it must have been to live in a world that worshipped God through this medium. Sure there are lots of other dangers and poisons in the world but why change the subject? My only point was that what Rawat tricked us into doing, looking "within" for something that just isn't there and faulting ourselves for not finding it, just like other spiritual teachers before him, was extremely self-destructive. Anyway, we're closing this trial out this week and I'm trying to get Laurie to come to Vancouver with me and watch "24" Season Four with me in the hotel while I wait for a verdict. I can't wait to see this season because the Secretary of Defence, who gets kidnapped I've heard, is named Jim Heller and that'll be kind of fun. Big hug to Dot!
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Hi Jim,
I wrote to Laurie already.Hope all is well over there. Dot and I plan on showing up unannounced, penniless, sick and hungry in about 18 months. We'll stay until you kick us out, if that's OK. I'm really looking forward to it. We can drink wine and put the world to rightsfollowing our established, preferred conversation form, where we both talk loud at the same time, non-stop.
Ok, let's put Rumi to bed. I wasn't trying to change the subject, merely point out your inappropriate use of the word, "poison" to describe his poetry.
The only poetry I'd describe as poisonous, is some very right wing, racist shite I read on a US website- just as I'd describe some of the anti-semetic movies they made in Germany in the 30s, in the same way.
People do use art and artistic media- film, novels, songs, for example, to push a political or a personal agenda. When it comes to religion, some of the greatest Art in the history of humanity has been inspired by religion. To love and appreciate the art, doesn't mean you have to embrace the religios beliefs of the artist. Maybe the African sculpture you love is actually praising a chief who killed half a dozen of his wives- or, to bring it closer to home. Hans Holbein did a wonderful painting of Henry VIII. He was one of our chiefs who also murdered half a dozen of his wives, or so. This doesn't mean you can't appreciate the painting.
Anyway, art is more like nature than politics of philosophy. You can't really pin it down. One thing is for sure, life would be grey and dead without art and artists. Who'd want to live in a world without stories, music, pictures, plays, films, poems, songs.
We can like and dislike whatever we want, and nobody can tell us we're wrong. However, when anyone tells me what I can and can't look at, listen to, watch etc, then I take issue with it. (Not that I'm suggesting that's what you're doing Jim. )
And as regards "Arti", well, you can call it a poem, but I'd rather describe it as an old Vedic hymn, often used by gurus to give themselves status. And we all know about hymns don't we? Did you ever hear "Jerusalem"? You'll love that one. The first line is about "the feet".
Jerusalem And did those feet in anciet time.
Walk upon England's mountains green:
And was the body Lamb of God.
On Englands pleasant pastures seen!
And did the Countenance Divine,
Shine forth upon our clouded hills?
And was Jerusalem builded here,
Among these dark Satanic Mills?
Bring me my Bow of burning gold:
Bring me my Arrows of desire:
Bring me my Spear: O cloud unfold!
Bring me my Chariot of fire!
I will not cease from Mental Fight,
Not shall my Sword sleep in my hand:
'Till we have built Jerusalem,
In Englands green & pleasant Land.
Anth in pleasant pastures green
Modified by AJW at Sat, Jan 07, 2006, 05:41:33
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Stomp upon many an artist’s mind…I rather liked Rodin’s sculptures as a young lass. It was pictures of his later work that I saw, strong evocative flowing lines and rough craggy surfaces. I was truly impressed though when I saw his earlier work. Talk about perfect. And yet he gave up that flawless finish as he went, and that impressed me even more than his extraordinary skill. Yet it was Michelangelo I turned to when I started doing sculpture myself. And why wouldn’t you, what an artist… He’s not much cop at women though is he? I don’t know if Rodin was a god believer or not but it seems very likely Michelangelo was. So do we thank his religiosity for the Pieta or do we mourn what might have been, a life’s work in which Micky gave up on agony and ecstacy and got all earthy instead.
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..by writing this poetry Rawat is committing himself. One read of his writings and at a stroke Mr Rawat loses his precious claims of universality of message . He commits himself to his own theology just like every other player in the public spiritual arena.He can be clearly evaluated, and just like the rest of us, located on the shelves! And of course if at the author's book signing session we are requested to line up and kiss his feet, or maintain pin-drop silence, perhaps even offer up the odd secret prayer, we, the common people, have legitimate reason to ssquawk:"Hey you! Platonist, megalomaniac, poet! What's your game then?!". Certain glaring contradictions and excesses can then be openly pointed out. And then too, without explicitly playing the "I am the master, a law unto myself" card the megalo platonist extremist doesn't have a leg to stand on. He shines forth clearly for what he is! Qed. Of course the above has a large component of wishful thinking in it! People would rather be lied to than ignored, so Rawats bumf will always have an uncritical audience, and straight talk never really comes into it. Pity. But its the same with the reviews of PPSR's book too. They reveal neatly and on paper the particular philosophical angle that the reviewer favours most out of his masters particular thelogical scheme. Whatever Love Bryn
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Shakepeare's sonnets have more credibility, and are classier. This (#147) could be talking about meth addction, or that guru obsession.
My love is as a fever, longing still
for that which longer nurseth the disease,
Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill,
Th'uncertain, sickly appetite to please.
My reason, the physician to my love,
Angry that his prescriptions are not kept,
Hath left me, and I desperate, now approve
Desire is death, which physic did except.
Past cure I am, now reason is past care,
And frantic-mad with evermore unrest;
My thoughts and my discourse as madmen's are,
At randon from the truth vainly expressed;
For I have sworn thee fair, and thought thee bright,
Who art as black as hell, as dark as night.
Modified by jonti at Fri, Jan 06, 2006, 08:26:51
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at least for me, was Dickinson, e.g.: He fumbles at your spirit
As players at the keys
Before they drop full music on;
He stuns you by degrees,
Prepares your brittle substance
For the ethereal blow,
By fainter hammers, further heard,
Then nearer, then so slow
Your breath has time to straighten,
Your brain to bubble cool, --
Deals one imperial thunderbolt
That scalps your naked soul.
or the famous:
Because I could not stop for Death—
He kindly stopped for me—
The Carriage held but just Ourselves—
And Immortality. We slowly drove—He knew no haste
And I had put away
My labor and my leisure too,
For His Civility— We passed the School, where Children strove
At Recess—in the Ring—
We passed the fields of Gazing Grain—
We passed the Setting Sun— Or rather—He passed Us—
The Dews drew quivering and chill—
For only Gossamer, my Gown—
My Tippet—only Tulle— We paused before a House that seemed
A Swelling of the Ground—
The Roof was scarcely visible—
The Cornice—in the Ground— Since then—'tis Centuries—and yet
Feels shorter than the Day
I first surmised the Horses' Heads
Were toward Eternity— for more: http://quotations.about.com/cs/poemlyrics/a/Death_Sets_A_Th.htm
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...we might just be on the same wavelength, Will. (Hmm, with one or two reservations, maybe, but good shit is good shit. Got any John Donne?) Nige
Modified by Nigel at Fri, Jan 06, 2006, 19:28:30
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Get with child a mandrake root
Tell me where all past years are
Or who cleft the devil's foot.. Ah yes, Donne (sigh).
There are also Marvel and Lovelace among those old turned on metaphysical(lish) dudes. One of the great discoveries which I made some years back (actually via a poem on the car radio - Old House) was the inestimable Derek Walcott. All you can do is melt in admiration if you read The Schooner Flight.
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Agreed Anth ...Walcott is truly superb. I first got into him via a back drop on a record album John Donne too.Keats I love. As for Ackroyd, though, I really enjoyed his London book but not his Shakespeare biog, I'm afraid. Just coudn't get into it at all. That's not because I have doubts about the Stratford guy either.Sure he was a theatre guy/business man but the great bard? I think not. Not that I'm sure who exactly did write the stuff. Going to treat myself to a read of the James/Rubinstein book with Sir Henry Neville as a candidate. I'm not in any camp...Bacon, Marlowe, De Vere etc...but just find it all interesting.I know the works stand on their own but, like I say, it just interests me. Ackroyd went down in my estimation when he said he didn't even want to read the Neville book. Well, he was touting his Stratford biog, wasn't he?
Modified by Dermot at Sun, Jan 08, 2006, 02:06:54
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Hi Jonti,
There's a great biography of Shakespeare out, by Peter Ackroyd- he also wrote a brillian and very readable history of London.
Anth, believe me for mine honour, and have respect to mine honour that you may believe. Censure me in your wisdom and awake your senses that you may the better judge. If there be any friend here, any dear friend of Rawat, to him I say that Anth's love for Rawat was no less than his. If then that premie demand why Anth rose against Rawat, this is my answer, not that I loved Rawat less, but that I loved life more.
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Tomorrow, and tomorrow and tomorrow Creeps in this petty darshan line from day to day To the last syllable of recorded satsang; And all our agyas have lighted fools The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief Arti-candle! Prem’s but a walking shadow, a poor player That struts and frets his hour upon the stage And then is heard no more. It is a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, Signifying nothing. (BlackDeath, Act V, sc. V.)
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Kabir, and all those other poets and sages he quoted--all for his own ends--that's what needs to be questioned. All assumed to be predecessors and "voices in the wilderness" preparing the way for..ta-da! Him! Whether or not these poets set us up for a big scam by making it look like such miracles of love and devotion are real...that's a question to be asked. I have to laugh about how many of us in the old days of my premie times acquired and secretly read these poets! I worked in a book store at the time, and even some of the head honchos were ordering copies. Wearing big fur coats and expensive watches, they were going to learn something from a poor potter of some centuries ago who said some things that were so contrary to fur coats and expensive watches, it must have been strange reading--but hey, the Lord was quoting this stuff left right and center, so... I do remember one quote from Kabir that I find useful to remember now: (the translation by Robert Bly I do believe) "Now my love-energy is actually mine!" It's about ownership--not possession. ~Shelagh P.S. do you remember how Rawat used to brag about never having read the Bhagavad Gita? That was another thing he quoted all the time. And there I was, busily suppressing a lifelong love of great literature and poetry (not to mention my own intelligence!) in order to "get" this thing about knowledge?! Twisted into a pretzel, that's what! ~Shelagh
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Prem boasts his ignorance of literature (if the Gita qualifies as such) which is made patently evident thirty years down the line, when he has a go himself. The results were hardly a disappointment. How could they be? But when you said: I have to laugh about how many of us in the old days of my premie times acquired and secretly read these poets! The whole of my cult years involved stealing moments of guilty non-cult pleasure, whether poetry, books, art or music - with that ghastly filter always working away in your brain, where you try to make the truths you encounter in the work of artists 'fit' somehow with the THE truth, (ie. Maharaji's warped version). Like buying Third World's 'Now that we've found love' whilst secretly preferring XTC ('Making plans for Nigel', of course.) I remember starting the Grapes of Wrath whilst a premie and giving up, because I could tell pretty early on it wasn't going to reaffirm my convictions of a benign universe where a sustaining life force will connect us all up and make things better... (Steinbeck's now my favourite novelist - up there with Dickens and Joseph Heller, and the Grapes of Wrath, which I recently finished for the first time, has to be one of the best books ever written. I also read Of Mice and Men twice straight through in an afternoon a couple of years back. The sheer bliss of liberation from bullshit, eh?) 'Twisted into a pretzel' just about says it. Nige
Modified by Nigel at Fri, Jan 06, 2006, 16:43:44
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Hi Shelagh,
Asimilar spin is involved in the concept of "Perfect Master" Only premies believe in the existence of this strange character, who is, "always with us". Only premies believe there is a direct link, passed down between all the great "masters", like Jesus, Buddha, Mohammed, Nanak, Krishna etc, finishing up with the present perfect master, our very own Captain Rawat . Boy oh boy, that one stretches credibility somewhat, not to mention how offensive it must be to people who believe in Christ the Prophet or Buddha.
anth, I just believe in me and Yoko.
Modified by AJW at Sat, Jan 07, 2006, 06:17:01
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you're confronted with the idea that there's a "xxxx" inside you that -- guess what? -- that's right, you can't quite feel fully, don't you know. It's there, trust me. It's there, deep inside, and it's so much better than your normal state of mind, well, let's be honest now, your so-called normal state of mind (because it's all up for grabs now) is rather dark and trashy compared to this xxxx, don't you know
But, of course, there's nothing inside. Within, is only the perceiver -- that which is perceived is forever external to the perceiver.
Look within, and what do you find? Nothing. Nothing at all. Introspect for one's knowledge or memories, and even though one may have an library or two of accumulated knowledge, a lifetime of memories, there is at best only a fitful stirring within. But let one only find oneself in a situation that demands use of that knowledge or whatever memory and it arises, unbidden, into the conscious mind.
Am I sad about some bad things that have happened to me? Not right now, no. Could I be? Ah, well, wait a moment. Yes, the grief, and anger, arises within me, just as I turn my thoughts to the injustices I've felt. Am I happy in the love of my family? Wait a moment ... now joy arises within me, as I turn my thoughts to the happy times we have.
There are no lakes or reservoirs of emotion within. No wells of grief, no fountains of joy. What there is is the *capacity* to have those feelings in response to one's current thoughts and perceptions.
And yes, it is poisonous -- or at least absurd (much the same thing, in the realm of consciousness), to pretend otherwise. It is wrong to pretend there is something within, apart from the perceiver, which is there to be uncovered.
There is only experience, and we make *that* up as we go along. To imagine and depict inner lakes of feelings waiting to be felt is to imagine a nonsense, and a dangerously deluded nonsense at that.
Jonti
--never a premie
Modified by jonti at Sat, Jan 07, 2006, 16:03:17
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