In Bliss Service

LO BEHOLD!

Shamol — Thu, 14 Feb 2008 05:28:39 GMT

Lo behold the goddess in the illumined verse of current political dreams of an egoless universe. Where contractions are dissolved to sublime Truth and love the only virtues folks can mime. Ancient warrior goddess on the wisdom chariot to lead the warriors against yet another Iscariot Thirty pieces of silver scattered all over Far and near between us as the devil hover You are about to return in eternal beauty If only to hasten and bolster our filial duty Bound to the earth now being subject To utter gross and senseless neglect From our endless games of annihilation Rise o goddess in divine incarnation Of pure joy and infinite happiness For we not only seek your forgiveness But beg also your enlightened radiance Shining beacon of brilliant guidance In times of wealth and glory so ill gotten Basic tenets stepped on and forgotten Descend on this carnage so we truly wish In all the pomp and grandeur you may lavish With your grace and light this phase in time Lost in battles of egos without reason or rhyme Break asunder vile taboos for your impending rule Welcome oh goddess - our very dazzling jewel!

TRIBAL PRINCESS

Shamol — Thu, 14 Feb 2008 05:23:27 GMT

Miss you my only divine Princess Come relieve this festering abscess Oozing with lust, guilt and hate A common phenomenon of late Oh how I recall your magnificent gait As you walked a path of joyful trait Simply manifest in the rainbow way Love and light in an eternal play Rendering life so beautiful Desire shimmering bountiful I am in a painful quest to dampen This ugly geyser of lust that now happen To crown greed’s sudden blistering wound Oh how disgraceful this turn around From the days when I could happily drink From your love’s fountain to the brink Of love and hate at the feet of the lord Seemingly out of my own true accord So why this lingering doubt when I seek you Now for all this false posturing to subdue

TIME RHYME

Shamol — Thu, 14 Feb 2008 05:16:15 GMT

In this paralysis of hate and lies Beware here come again the evil spies Stoking desires beyond evil Satanic offerings to the devil Age old beliefs forgotten in the altar Of imminent thus foreseen disaster Nay eternal wisdom is at stake If only because of the follies we make Rise we all know we shall as the phoenix Out of this festering burning up bollix Of distorted lies beyond comprehension If only we could hold in sheer contemplation The love and truth that makes the divine Immune to the endless decay and decline Faith in self the just stepping stone So that we do not have to later atone For what relentlessly grows here and now From the seeds of distrust that we sow So blatantly among all our beings No sight of end to our misgivings Oh let us nurture in each other My sister and brother Simple love and truth Help among us that poor brute Transcend into a brilliant sage So we forever leave a dismal age

RAINBOW ABUNDANCE

Shamol — Thu, 14 Feb 2008 05:01:11 GMT

Rain swept streets weeping in drizzles As the hope of a new day slowly fizzles Away in a gloomy battle of the elements Spawning from the blue mixed sentiments Mother Nature on and off a stranglehold For all of us so willingly weak or bold Yet the changing light at dawn and dusk Infinite seeds of wonder seeming to husk Abundant rainbows gracefully emerging in one instant Out of the gloom of rain awhile ago so constant End to end immersed in delightful abeyance of colors Lighting the horizon mired moments ago in minds discolors Nay, the furies of wind and fire always waltz hand in hand On this glorious earthly plane if only to weave a magic wand In and out of life’s mundane journeys To wrap us in nature’s brilliant jerseys So we lest forget Divine always beget Life and love in sheer abundance A wild yet endless graceful dance Total abandon of lust and greed Sustaining every tribe and creed Here now all our ego Gone thin a while ago!

DESPONDENCY GALORE

Shamol — Thu, 14 Feb 2008 04:55:53 GMT

Imminent dark thoughts sparked by this drama Thunderbolts of light in a sheer dance of karma Out of the blue to summon a deluge for the land So parched that utter despair is left feeling bland For the joy had been wrung out of us simple folks Unseen forces seeming to force us into yokes Of fear and distrust of events in the realm Caused by them whom we put at the helm The divine right of bread and water; a place to rest Abused by this bitter struggle that at its best Can only be another fratricide in the name of faith In a truly vain show down of our worst trait This all pervading feeling of being despondent Mass hysteric gloomy disarray yet so dependent On the daily dosage of utter lies and fabrications Churned out incessantly in grandeur delusions This darkness will give away to light As long as there is left in us a fight To take a deep dive into the sea of reality And bury forever this sense of fatality In love and respect for each other All of us born sister and brother Faith and divinity are not yokes For we all are just simple folks! Until then however this gloom seem to persist A sense of the hollow being always in our midst Covering our playgrounds with shrouds Of despondenct little clouds Deluged with mindless negativities As if to wallow in mind’s inequities In mad scramble to let the ego asunder All our virtues in total surrender Step back and look to the horizon Up and aim high above the mizzen Much beyond the foremast On this boat that will last This journey called divine life Grace above the common strife So this saga of hate galore Perish away from our lore

BRIGHT TONIGHT

Shamol — Thu, 14 Feb 2008 04:49:58 GMT

Its rather unique and brilliant tonight The stars never felt before so bright Sweet and bitter memories of yonder years Mellowed by time to lullabies for the ears Indiscriminate thoughts forming into pleasant notes And then dissipating merrily into life’s anecdotes To life’s feelingly endless journey onwards Yet as if it is all poised to turn backwards To trace our hesitant steps Back to the first steppes Where the primordial being was banished From the heavens purportedly tarnished Did the light of love falter then To sent to exile our own brethren On to a perception of space here and now Leaving us constantly to strive the why and how Of an ever burgeoning habit of doleful consumption Mocking into the very soul a false sense of gumption Oh why do we always let our own go astray? Where only the love and wrath of the divine can lay In even portions that all our being may ever need To drown for ever in ecstasy of light and love indeed Only to rise yet again poised in graceful flight To the heavens so divine and bright tonight

INNOCENCE REGAINED

Shamol — Wed, 31 Oct 2007 02:21:46 GMT

This sublime feeling of radiant light and glory Seems as if arising out of a fairy story Holds us in a warm and sensual embrace Every summer as we find this blissful space Away from the habitats long gone askance Created by fellow travelers in acceptance Of music and dance along with the water falls Those grace the venue with invisible walls Shielding us from the daily strife and rigors Forming raw and pure creative energy vectors Rising in ambient crescendo of fun and joy Reminiscent of a child finding a new toy Of what is now and here moment to moment Life’s true nectar so refreshing and potent Flowing incessantly as long we are there Regaining the precious land to hold this fair In true devotion to our universal heritage Testimony within us all laid the innocent sage Nurtured and harnessed here in a cloister That all our devotion can seem to muster

BUS VILLAGE

Shamol — Wed, 31 Oct 2007 02:12:02 GMT

Endless journeys possibly in vain Despite the incessant thunder and rain Of conflict and deceit showered on us as of late. How can humanity foster such reserves of hate? But then little do us care or even fear. Our vision and wisdom crystal clear Envisioned in divine splendor by an ancient prophecy Nurtured and gifted over ages the ultimate legacy. While all evil forces struggle to be promiscuous We may quietly lay the wreath of hibiscus on the tomb stone of the grave Dug by those who are our brave Festering and suffocating in hate To forever bury this stalemate But for now it seems only a few of us At the last stop for the village bus. But hark! Do you hear voices in nature’s cathedral? Singing and dancing through myriad and polyhedral Fused by eternal devotion and brilliant worship Well versed in fellow warmth and mellow kinship. The bus will never fail to find this refuge In spite of Babylon’s incessant subterfuge Leaving behind those who still pillage Take us all away now to the bus village!

A SUFI DEJAVU

Shamol — Wed, 31 Oct 2007 01:49:52 GMT

QUOTE “Comilla 1967 . Abdur Rahman, the rickshaw puller,sits in the middle of the circle. A gaunt, grayingman, with intense, flashing eyes, he radles a dotara,the mandolin-like instrument that often accompanies performances of indigenous Bengali music. Next to him, a world-worn pushcart driver plucks his ektara, so-called for the single string from which it emits pulsing monotones in backing up a song. Others in the group, also nondescript urban laborers of rural vintage, provide percussion with little more than blocks of wood which, when struck, produce sharp resonating, rhythmic clicks, or with palm-sized brass cymbals that, clashed together by cupped hands,sound muted muffled clinks. This rhythmic ensemble, miraculously, does not drown out Abdur Rahman’s melodic lyrics, however, as he belts out, in solo fashion, yet another in his seemingly inexhaustible repertoire of tunes, loud, clear, never missing a beat or note. “Ami nouka, tumi majhi . . . ,” goes the refrain, “I am the boat, you the boatman . . . ,” implying “take me where you will.” As his voice rises in intensity, moving from moderate to rapid tempo, others in thestuffy little room respond to the music with the chanting of the name of Allah, all in mesmerizing unison: “Allah-hu, Allah-hu, Allah-hu . . . ” At the height of the music’s intensity, some rise to to sway and rock in an attempt to dance. A few teeter to a near-fall, to be caught by their fellows, themselves only slightly less enraptured, before hitting the floor. Others, including Rafiq, our host, seem to withdraw inside themselves, impervious to the near cacophony around them. I find myself being drawn irresistibly into the ecstatic atmosphere, enveloped helplessly by its sound and fury. Later, in the early morning hours of the sabbath Friday we share a parting ritual of tea and sweets before disbursing into the oncoming dawn. Ambling along the banks of the Gumti River in the warmth of the rising sun, my friend Rafiq turns to me and smiles. “I feel that if I am to die,” he said softly, “let it be now.” UNQUOTE THIS IS QUOTED WORD FOR WORD FROM PETER J. BERTOCCI'S ARTICLE : " A Sufi Movement in Modern Bangladesh". He also adds: Quote “Between late 1966 and early 1968, I was a graduate student doing field research for an anthropology dissertation in the then East Pakistan, today’s Bangladesh. During much of that period, I spent many Thursday evenings attending the musical gatherings (mahphil) of a small group of followers of the Maijbhandari Tariqa (a Sufi order or brotherhood), to which an unknown, but undoubtedly myriad, number of Bangladeshis claim some measure of adherence. The prologue with which I began this essay is a composite of my recollections of those evenings, aided by a few notes and tape recordings I made at the time. So self-contained did it seem that the connection of this group to a broad Sufi movement was not particularly apparent to me at first. Indeed, this introductionto the Maijbhandaris took place during my first year in (what would become) Bangladesh, where I was doing research for my doctoral dissertation. The acquaintance was totally happenstance, for my research was not on Bengali religion, and I did not have a major interest in or, for that matter, more than a rudimentary knowledge of, Islam. Suffice it to say that I had literally stumbled onto the little group of spiritual revelers while wandering one night around the provincial town where I was based and was invited into their midst.” Unquote I quote this in awe of an enchanting dejavu as I was also one day just like this “invited into their midst” and so blessed with amazing spiritual grace ever since…...and here follows three of Lalon's songs translated in English that I found on the web. The first one did not have haeder and the other two have romanized Bengali headers: The man after my heart lives inside me, That is why I see him everywhere. In the gaze of my eye, in the sparkle of light Oh I can never lose him -- Here, there, everywhere, Wherever I look, he is right there for me. Where shall I meet him, the Man of my Heart? He is lost to me and I seek him wandering from land to land. I am listless for that moonrise of beauty, which is to light my life, which I long to see in the fulness of vision in gladness of heart My longing is to meet you in play of love, my Lover; But this longing is not only mine, but also yours. For your lips can have their smile, and your flute its music, only in your delight in my love; and therefore you importunate, even as I am Jemon Beni The way my braid is, That's how it will stay, I won't wet my hair. I will get into the water, I'll splash water around-- But I won't touch the water. This way that way, swimming about, I go hither and yonder. I'll dive into the water and not listen to what anyone says. I'll enjoy myself, But not suffer because of it. The poet Gosain Rasaraj says, Listen you wench, That beauty leaves speechless. I won't be chaste, I won't be unchaste, Still I won't leave my Lord. Ke Banale Amon Ghar Who has constructed such a room praiseworthy is its maker Oh marvelous is the technique, oh where does that maker stay? The room has fences all around it standing erect in the air. It has another story above; whose name is "Monikotha" A gem glows day and night in that room The owner of the room is sitting inside. This room has two nice pillars Fastening ties, ropes and cords are there three and a half in number The room has fourteen "worlds" in it.

Breathe Da Bliss!!!

Shamol — Tue, 30 Oct 2007 18:24:56 GMT

http://us3.artofliving.org/nc/charlotte Always at your serviice.......

The Bliss of Service

Shamol — Mon, 29 Oct 2007 03:51:28 GMT

On a brilliant fall evening as the sun keened, a wisp of Woodstock flowed through Lake Eden in the Black Mountains of North Carolina. I had come home to the Guru, Richie Haven that amazing Saturday for I had basked in the glory of music from the divine that evening. A few simple strumming and a haunting melodious voice, ethereal in essence warmed the souls surrounding the simple stage. It was just bliss being with the Guru simply eternal in rendition of his thoughts and words yet embracing us all present in consciousness that was bright and beautiful in truth and reality. In the middle of no where that day Woodstock swooped down with a wisp of it’s wealth of love and light. Indeed I met my friend forever and now do not bear any sense of loss from not being present at the “real thing”. You bring so much love and soul into your music that reality is sublime! The elation of the spirit transcended mundane boundaries into a silent crescendo of joy and happiness, seemingly a nod to the modest yet alluring elevation of the locale. Your hearty laugh echoed in the surrounding woods harking honor and respect to the ancient relics of this enchanted land of traditions in the twilight. How patience marks the center of love and service is enlightening evidence wrought so well by your music. O truth Guru this leela from the incessant lineage of the Siddha Guru is a true manifest of service in bliss! Shanti Shanti Shanti.

AUDILE REDOLENCE

Shamol — Mon, 29 Oct 2007 03:43:32 GMT

Out on the streets feel all these sounds Cacophony of ether that always surrounds Us in a constant flow of myriad words That has fascinated among us the nerds Digitize it they said in true sincere earnest Processes not yet found in every day digest Let’s take the ether and convert it to appease Our voracious appetites subject to please This need for constant verbal communications Always swinging between reality and illusions So be it but add on some more cool features Like texts and photos to draw in more users Of this technology termed cellular or mobile Yet another manifestation of us not so audile Redolent with all this new tools and faculties We keep sliding into unforeseen difficulties As we fail to find or listen to our inner voice Prisoners of new verbal methods of choice New technology is indeed human progression But not to lead us into divine regression