June 13th, 2026

How Simple ~
 The Masters Make It Seem

My Feeble Attempts, Word upon Word, needlessly honing, searching for the Right Word to Describe that, Which if it Could be expressed in Words ~Wouldn't Be 

I feel at times, as the Masters Expounds on the Nature of Realty, The Turn Nature of Mind. Pointing to the Full Moon as a metaphor, and all I can see is the finger. But yet nod my head as if, I understand. 

""مَنْ عَرَفَ نَفْسَهُ فَقَدْ عَرَفَ رَبَّهُ

Pronounced: Man 'arafa nafsahu faqad 'arafa rabbahu).

"He who knows himself
knows his Lord."

------

The Guest House

By Jalaluddin Rumi

Translated by Coleman Barks

This being human is a guest house.

Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,

some momentary awareness comes

as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!

Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows,

who violently sweep your house

empty of its furniture,

still, treat each guest honorably.

He may be clearing you out

for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,

meet them at the door laughing,

and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes,

because each has been sent

as a guide from beyond.

------

"Go to the Limits of Your Longing"

by Rainer Maria Rilke

God speaks to each of us as he makes us, then walks with us silently out of the night.

These are the words we dimly hear:

You, sent out beyond your recall, go to the limits of your longing. Embody me.

Flare up like flame and make big shadows I can move in.

Let everything happen to you: beauty and terror. Just keep going. No feeling is final. Don't let yourself lose me.

Nearby is the country they call life. You will know it by its seriousness.

Give me your hand.

"Go to the Limits of our Longing" by Ranier Maria Rilke, from Rilke's Book of Hours: Love Poems to God. Riverhead Books, 2005.

------

**Khuda / Ek**

The word lands

before meaning does ~

before I reach for it.

Not the God of argument.

Not the God with a face.

Just this ~

arriving.

~

What is powerless before 

Khuda / Ek

is everything

that thought itself separate.

Including me ~

especially me.