Poetry can be dangerous, especially beautiful poetry, because it gives the illusion of having had the experience without actually going through it.
Beautiful days do not come to you. You must walk towards them.
We have a huge barrel of wine, but no cups. That’s fine with us. Every morning we glow and in the evening we glow again. They say there’s no future for us. They’re right. Which is fine with us.
But there are those in bodies who are pure soul. It can happen. These messengers invite us to walk with them. They say, You may feel happy enough where you are, but we cannot do without you any longer. Please. So we walk.
Are you fleeing from love because of a single humiliation? What do you know of love except the name? Love has a hundred forms of pride and disdain, and is gained by a hundred means of persuasion. Since love is loyal, it purchases one who is loyal: it has no interest in a disloyal companion.
God put thorns around love’s door to stop anyone who’s not a lover from entering.
The world’s existence is not in the world.
God has given us a dark wine so potent that, drinking it, we leave the two worlds.
I walk into a huge pasture. I nurse the milk of millennia.
You might get clever and say, “My doubting God’s existence was willed by God.” Only half true. You also chose to doubt.
It’s not me that’s glorified in acts of worship. It’s the worshipers! I don’t hear the words they say. I look inside at the humility. That broken-open lowliness is the reality, not the language! Forget phraseology. I want burning, burning.
Dance when you are perfectly free and enjoy every step along the way.
Although you appear in earthly form Your essence is pure Consciousness. You are the fearless guardian of Divine Light. So come, return to the root of the root of your own soul.
Your noise is my silence.
Whether slow or speedy, he that seeks will find. Always apply with both hands the pursuit. For search is an excellent guide.
Whatever happens. Whatever what is is is what I want. Only that. But that.
Fortunate is he who does not carry envy as a companion.
To the mind there is such a thing as news, whereas to inner knowing, it’s all in the middle of its happening. To doubters, this is a pain. To believers, it’s gospel. To the lover and the visionary, it’s life as it’s being lived.
When was the last time you found treasure coffers ensconced in your own house? Treasures always hide among old ruins and wreckage.
There are two intellects! One is acquired from teachers and books, from repetition and sciences, granting a sense of superiority yet the effort to sustain it becomes a great burden. It ends just as the water supply coming from outside a house stops once the source has dried up. The other intellect is God’s gift. With a fountainhead in the heart of Spirit the water of knowledge bubbling from within can never become stagnant or old. Seek that fountain within yourself!
The lover’s ailment is separate from all other ailments: love is the astrolabe of the mysteries of God.