Poems to God


This poem is written in the old Eastern form to God

 

You found your pearl in the wine

But you became the vessel to carry by lilac

When in the ocean of purple wisdom

I look for my myself being lost and drifted

The vessel that contains the True-Love finds within distilled wine

O Beloved

Hold my wine as an ’embryo’beholds all that Truth’

As for the pearl, I am the womb…

And you are born each night being the pearl within me…, that ‘the night vigil’

As I evaporate in you

and you contain me-for the room is for one only,

Oh my beloved, my Murshid, my son

I am the oyster, you are the pearl

Born  each night, within the wine the ‘very you’ hold for me

Being the vessel, containing the ocean within…

I was meant to find you,

Beyond the horizon of right and wrong, truth or lie

Beyond all that is ‘limitless’

I will meet you there floating on the notes of pure music

Will hold you hands, whether it is paradise of not

The womb will meet the drop of wine which creates the ‘Best of the Pearls’.

—Naajnin Soofian

sufism

 

 

Oysters and Pearls

Oysters and Pearls

Love is the way messengers

from the mystery tell us things,

Love is the mother.

We are her sons and daughters.

She shines inside us,

visible-invisible, as we trust

or lost trust, or feel it start to grow again.

— Rumi

Divine Love


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“Wherever I go, thou art my companion.

Having taken me by the hand thou moves me.

I go alone depending solidly on thee.

Thou bearest too my burdens.

If I am likely to say anything foolish, thou makest it right.

Thou hast removed my bashfulness and madest me self-confident.

O Lord, all the people have become my guards, relatives and bosom friends.

Tuka says, I now conduct myself without any care.

I have attained divine peace within and without.”

—Book of Prayers, M. K. Gandhi

 

What makes up Divine Love

What makes up Divine Love

 

“All things in creation and manifestation, even all things in existence, are held together by Ishk. This is Divine Love. It is difficult to express it in such a limited way, but we know that sunlight contains electricity, magnetism and numerous other forces or aspects of cosmic force.”

—From Spiritual Brotherhood, Samuel Lewis

 

“Gravitation, light, attraction, adhesion, and cohesion are all aspects of this Divine Love in the physical world. But even these aspects extend far into the unseen, and it cannot be said that Divine Love is limited or qualified by its mental aspects and characteristics…Behind all mysteries, behind all activity and behind all life is Love or Agape or Karuna which holds all things and persons together, which creates the beauty and harmony of this cosmos.”

—Samuel Lewis

Desire

 

“I desire you

more than food

or drink

 

My body

my senses

my mind

hunger for your taste

 

I can sense your presence

in my heart

although belong to all the world

 

I wait

with silent passion

for one gesture

one glance

from you. ”

—Rumi, The Love Poems of Rumi

 

 

Open up your heart

Open up your heart

 

“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.”

—-The words of Rumi

 

 

You are a child of the Universe. Get out there and shine.

You are a child of the Universe. Get out there and shine.

 

“Love is the greatest component of life. It unifies everything. It attracts and draws to us all that is good. Through love we become more aware and responsive to the needs of humanity. We see the oneness, commonality, and the spark of God in each person. We can begin with our family, friends, and coworkers. We can love them even if we think they have done something wrong. We can be there for them, with compassion, kindness, gentleness and acceptance. That is how we demonstrate our human love.”

—James Van Praagh

 

Divine Love is everywhere.

Divine Love is everywhere.

This is What I Always Say…


Hello everyone,

I am writing today to share something that many of you who have followed me here at WordPress have heard me say before. We are not born racist.  We are born completely loving and accepting of goodness. We are born not seeing each other differently but as a version of ourselves. We are not racist at birth. What happens? Well, we are taught by others, by adults to be racist. We are taught to care what color we are and what color others are. We are taught that color has value. Some colors are more important than others.

 

Being a painter as well as a photographer, color is important to me. The color of a flower, a bird, a tree, the color of sand at the beach, the color of the majestic mountains which scrape the sky. When I am painting, I often mix two or perhaps three colors to create the perfect color for what I am painting in the world. One color is not needed more than others. Some colors are needed in just a little dab. Sometimes you wash a little color over what you have already painted to enhance the color. It doesn’t really change it. It deepens or accentuates the color. Every color on my palate is just as important to me as the next one. Yes, they are different, but each has equal value to the heart and to this beautiful Universe.

 

I included the Iris below because it is an unusual color. I raised it and photographed it. It not a common color for an iris, but it is a pretty color. And the photograph is my gift to you. I can’t really give you a gift but this is as close as I can come. Please accept it in the spirit in which it is given.

 

Golden Iris. Photograph and copyright by Barbara Mattio, 2014

Golden Iris. Photograph and copyright by Barbara Mattio, 2014

 

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I am also writing this blog in memory of every human being, adult or child, who has suffered in any way or has been killed because of the color of their skin. I am writing for every grief stricken parent who will never be able to fill the hole within themselves. I am writing for every sibling left behind because their sister or brother is dead because of the color of their skin. I am writing for every lost sibling who will never laugh together over a private joke. I write today for everyone who is different in some manner and is afraid that one day someone will kill them for their differences.

 

I am writing this today for a young man. A young man who worked for me along time ago. He was a hard worker, he had a good sense of humor, he had a good and loving heart. He offered someone a ride home one evening and the person slit his throat because he was different. He bled out all alone. I am sure he was afraid, and wondering why? Why? Why?

Because he was different and this person hated him for being different. Labels were applied by the stranger who killed him and so he slowly bled out behind the wheel of his car alone. Alone and gone too soon.

 

“Immature grapes are made by the breath of the Master.

Then the sourness of duality, hate, and strife disappears,

and they are peeled of their skins to become one in the wine.”

—Rumi

Today We Thank Mother Earth


“Lord, the air smells good today, straight from the mysteries

within the inner courts of God.

A grace like new clothes thrown

across the garden, free medicine for everybody.

The trees in their prayer, the birds in praise,

the first blue violets kneeling.

Whatever came from Being is caught up in being,

drunkenly forgetting the way back.”

 

—Rumi

 

Zinnias grown, photographed and copyrighted by Barbara Mattio 2014

Zinnias grown, photographed and copyrighted by Barbara Mattio 2014

 

 

The beauty of the earth is everywhere, mankind has not destroyed what we have been given. Photographed and copyrighted by Barbara Mattio 2015

The beauty of the earth is everywhere, mankind has not destroyed what we have been given. Photographed and copyrighted by Barbara Mattio 2015

 

 

“too much industry

too much eats

too much beer

too many cigarettes

 

Too much philosophy

too many thought forms

not enough rooms—

not enough trees

 

Too much Police

too much computers

to much hi fi

too much Pork

 

Too much coffee

too much smoking

under slate grey roofs

Too much obedience

 

Too many bellies

Too many business suits

Too much paperwork

too many magazines

 

Too much industry

No fish in the Rhine

Lorelei poisoned

Too much embarrassment.

 

Too many fatigued

workers on the train

Ghost Jews scream

on the street corner

 

Too much old murder

too much white torture

Too much one Stammheim

too many happy Nazis.

 

Too many crazy students

Not enough farms

not enough Appletrees

Not enough nut trees

 

Too much money

Too many poor

turks without vote

“Guests” do the work

 

Too much metal

Too much fat

Too many jokes

not enough meditation.”

 

—Allen Ginsberg, twentieth century Beats poet

 

 

The skies are filled with the beauty of Mother Earth. Photographed and copyrighted by Barbara Mattio 2015

The skies are filled with the beauty of Mother Earth. Photographed and copyrighted by Barbara Mattio 2015

 

May we all remember to thank Mother Earth for what we have been given. May we ask forgiveness for what we have destroyed. May we do restitution to our planet to undo what we have destroyed. May our words, prayers and actions make a difference.

Female lion on watch. Photographed and copyrighted by Barbara Mattio 2015

Female lion on watch. Photographed and copyrighted by Barbara Mattio 2015

If Death Were a Woman


This poem grabbed me.  I wasn’t thinking about Death, but the beauty of the words — the possibility of it — captured my imagination today.

We all will face Death, one day — some of us sooner than others — but how we face it, how we accept it or fight it, can be as important as how we live on the way there.

Death is scary.  It isn’t something I want to do, any time soon — I have grandchildren to watch grow up, great-grandchildren to welcome many years from now — but when it comes, it would be nice to think it would be like this poem.  Nice to think that those I’ve loved and lost were welcomed to the Other Side in so gentle and beautiful a fashion.

Namaste,

Barbara

 

 

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If Death Were a Woman

–Ellen Kort

I’d want her to come for me smelling of cinnamon

wearing bright cotton      purple maybe       hot pink

 

a red bandana in her hair          She’d bring

good coffee         papaya juice       bouquet of sea grass

 

saltine crackers and a lottery ticket      We’d dip

our fingers into moist pouches of lady’s slippers

 

crouch down to see how cabbage feel when wind

bumps against them in the garden     We’d walk

 

through Martin’s woods      find the old house

its crumbling foundation strung with honeysuckle vines

 

and in the front yard     a surprise     jonquils

turning the air yellow     glistening and ripe

 

still blooming for a gardener long gone

We’d head for the beach wearing strings of shells

 

around our left ankles     laugh at their ticking

sounds     the measured beat that comes with dancing

 

on hard-packed sand     the applause of ocean and gulls

She’d play ocarina songs to a moon almost full

 

and I’d sing off-key     We’d glide and swoop

become confetti of leaf fall     all wings

 

floating on small whirlwinds     never once dreading

the heart-silenced drop     And when it was time

 

she would not bathe me     Instead we’d scrub the porch

pour leftover water on flowers     stand a long time

 

in sun and silence     then      holding hands

we’d post for pictures     in the last light

 

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