Toward Common Ground

Paradox and Wonder

Oh, this most amazing day,
a day of paradox and wonder,
of depression and delight,
when wild grapes fall into my hands
and hawks sail overhead,
when butterflies of every size and hue
and bees and hummingbirds too
celebrate color, so that little wings
carry joy with pollen, and
beauty, abundance, and pleasure
are everywhere at hand,
even as, at once, elsewhere,
improvised bombs and drones
will shower incandescent death,.
Tornado, flood, hurricane,
fire, volcano, and oil spill,
this day, add dimension and dismay,
while, even so, babies are being born,
and artists and poets are at play.
Soldiers, statesmen, comedians,
and fear mongers alike
do what they do, loved
by those who love them,
hated by many others,
all in the cacophony of this day.
Yes, this is a day when
the tumbled tower of Babel
stands up by its own effort,
so that right hates left
and light mistrusts dark
and Cain and Abel
and Israel and Ishmael
replay the ancient drama
of division and missed connection.
Yet even so, unlike at any other time
in history, using this small machine,
I can communicate with people
I don’t even know, everywhere
and anywhere in the world,
instantly, and profoundly
finding common ground.
Paradox and wonder,
in this most amazing day.

Islam, toward understanding

Of the major Semitic religions, many westerners no doubt know the least about Islam, which, in fact, comprises some 20% of the world’s population.  Unfortunately too few people actually know the connections between Judaism, Christianity, and Islam.  This gulf of ignorance has led to a great deal of prejudice and stereotypes.

For example, many people equate Muslims with Arabs.  This is not true.  In fact,  Arab countries make up a relatively small percent of the Muslim population.

The Arab-speaking population is made of the countries in the Arabian Peninsula, including Iraq, Syria, Sudan, Egypt, and most of North Africa.  A majority of the population in these countries is Muslim, but by no means all of the populations of these countries.

On the other hand, the vast majority of Muslims do not live in Arab countries.  There are many other countries that contain large Muslim populations.  India. Pakistan and Africa have more Muslims than the Middle Eastern countries, while China, Bangladesh, Indonesia, the United States, the European countries, and several of the countries of the former Soviet Republic have large Muslim populations.  The international Muslim community is rich and varied in culture and nationality.

Many westerners may also be surprised to actually learn about the teachings and practices of the Muslims.  It serves the cause of peace to begin to be better informed.

It is instructive to know, for example, that Muslims do not worship Muhammad, but consider him merely the “messenger” of God, a prophet, like the prophets of the Old Testament of the Christian and Jewish traditions.  Indeed, Muhammad taught and Muslims believe that the revelation that came to Muhammad was sent to him, like that of the revelations to the prophets of the Hebrews, because the original messages of Hebrews and Christians were valid but  had been distorted and abandoned and that people needed to get back to the right way of the original teachings.  Muhammad is thus seen as one in a long line of prophets, but the latest and most significant.  Muslims do not deny the teachings of Judaism or Christianity.

These are  the “five pillars of Islam, ” or the requirements for Muslims, as taught by Muhammad and practiced by Muslims even today.

The first pillar is the reciting before all important events a brief prayer proclaiming the oneness of God.   This prayer comes down in the Arabic language of Muhammad, in which the word Allah is the Arabic word for God, and this Allah was considered by Muhammad and his followers to be the same God that was worshipped by Hebrews and Christians alike. The prayer simply states, “There is no God but Allah, and Muhammad is the messenger of Allah.”

The second pillar requires Muslims to pray five times a day, traditional while turned toward Mecca, the holy city of Muhammad, at sunset, in the evening, at dawn, at noon, and in the afternoon.  In predominantly Muslim countries, the call to prayer is announced from a minaret atop a mosque.  A mosque is where Muslims gather to pray, although it is acceptable to pray alone.  The prayer time involves laying out a prayer mat, kneeling, bowing, and proclaiming, “God is Great!” (Allahu Akbar!), reciting the first verse of the Koran, continued prayer, and at the end, turning to either side to wish another person peace and blessings.

The third pillar is almsgiving.  Muslims are expected to give generously to the poor and sick.

The fourth pillar is fasting, especially during the month of Ramadan.  During this month-long period, food and drink are not allowed between dawn and sunset.  After sunset, only light snacks are allowed.  This is a special time of purification and religious devotion.  Alcohol and tobacco are forbidden during the month.  This is a demanding requirement of Muslims, and it shows their devotion and commitment to God and community.

The fifth pillar is the making of a pilgrimage to a sacred place or shrine, and to Mecca, the holy city, at least once in a Muslim’s life.

Muhammad’s revelations and teachings and leadership began the formal Muslim religion, which was actually an extension of  Judaism and Christianity since Muhammad considered his revelations to be clarifications and purifications of these religions in his own day (750-632 CE).

Like Judaism and Christianity, both of which  experienced internal schisms, divisions, and  holy wars, resulting in various denominations and conflicting beliefs, Muhammad’s Islam also fell into divisions after his death.

In an over-simplified statement, one could say that the two main groups are the “Shiite” group who are believed to be direct descendants of Muhammad’s relatives, and the “Sunnis,” who do not believe that the Islamic leader must be a direct physical descendant of Muhammad.

The Shiite group believes in the power of their leaders (equivalent in many ways to the power of the Catholic Pope during the Middle Ages).  The Sunnis, on the other hand, elect leaders on the basis of merit and ability, and do not put strong emphasis on the power of the leadership (perhaps like the Protestants in the Christian tradition).

Muslim leaders may be called “caliph,” (meaning successor, either of direct lineage as in Shiite or direct lineage of the teaching itself as in Sunnis), or Imams (who may or may not be successors, but are preachers).

As in Christian history, there has been much civil war between these two divisions of Muslims, the Shiites and the Sunnis, continuing into the present day, where so much of the extremist violence is against other Muslims by one group or the other.

Among the many other branches of Islam that formed after the initial division, Sufism is an important group.  It is basically the mystical branch of the religion.  And indeed, Sufism does not limit itself to Muslims, but takes in all spiritual believers in its devotional and mystical practices.  The great Sufi teacher and poet Rumi, for example, has become beloved to millions of non-Muslims the world over.

Since there has been so much controversy of late about the building of mosques, it is perhaps important to examine what a mosque is.  A mosque is the place of worship for Muslims.  Like the synagogue for Jews and the church for Christians, Muslims gather at the mosque to pray in union.  The most important gathering occurs each Friday, the Muslim Sabbath, when a sermon is given by a preacher, or Imam.

Unlike the priest or rabbi, however, the imam does not hold special status apart from other followers.  Rather, he is elected by merit of his scholarship and dedication to Islam.

Most mosques are quite small, serving local populations, but there are larger ones, often built around a large dome.  The interior is plainly furnished and the floor is covered with prayer rugs.  This allows followers to prostrate themselves in prayer.  Most mosques also provide running water or pools used for ritual washing before prayer.

Another important feature of a mosque is a tall, slender tower called a minaret.  Five times a day the call to prayer is chanted from atop the minaret by a person known as a muezzin; in many modern cities, the muezzin’s voice comes through a loudspeaker, filtering through the streets.

When Muslims pray in a mosque, they face a mihrab, a small alcove or niche, marking the direction of Mecca.  Another common feature of a mosque is a pulpit for the imam who preaches the Friday sermon.  The walls and ceilings of mosques are often inlaid with beautifully designed calligraphic inscriptions from the Koran, the Muslim holy book of the teachings of Muhammad.

Muslims believe the Koran follows the Torah and the Gospels of the New Testament in a series of holy books.  (They believe, as many Jews and Christians do) that the original teachings of the Torah and the Gospels, have been corrupted, and so they believe Muhammad’s revelation was from God, (as were, for example, Luther’s) meant to clarify and purify the meanings of the earlier revelations.  They believe the Koran is literally the Word of God as received by Muhammad.

The Koran is central to the education of a Muslim.  At an early age they begin reciting from the scripture and memorizing common prayers.  The mos t popular phrase translates, “in the name of Allah (God), the Compassionate, the Merciful.”  These words are used as daily prayers, when entering structures, and before meals. Like the Torah, the Koran has instructions for domestic life, religious practice, marriage, inheritance, duties to the poor, etc.  And like the Torah and the New Testament, the Koran has many faces, some of them gentle reminders of the loving God, some challenging and frightening reminders of what will happen in the afterlife to unbelievers and those who trespass God’s laws.

Sadly, in our time, many extremists have taken it upon themselves to extend ‘holy war’ (jihad) against unbelievers, usurping the judgment of God and taking vengence into their own hands.  Much like the Christians of the Inquisition who burned innocents whom they proclaimed to be witches, or like Nazis who exterminated Jews, or like Christian Americans who considered Native Americans to be vermin and less than human and killed them and took their land, there are Muslims who have violated the teachings of the Muslim religion and who practice terrorism and create hostility toward Islam. But such violence is not what traditional Islam teaches.

We in America are caught up in a time of great struggle between extremists of various sects and relgions, not between the teachings of Christianity, Judaism or Islam.  This is an important distinction.  People of good faith in all traditions are needed to increase their understanding of each other’s religions, as well as all spiritual traditions, to seek common ground, to live in peace, and to bring extremists back to a place of understanding and peace within themselves.

This website is meant to provide tools for this to happen.   Perhaps this post will aid in that.  For truly, we can all agree, “God IS Great,” and any messenger of that who comes in peace is a welcome voice.

(See also the entry “Islam” by clicking on “Spiritual Traditions” above.)

The Story of Evolution by Rumi

A Poem by Rumi

We began

as a mineral.  We emerged into plant life,

and into the animal state, and then into being human,

and always we have forgotten our former states,

except in early spring when we slightly recall

being green again.

That’s how a young person turns

toward a teacher.  That’s how a baby leans

toward the breast, without knowing the secret

of its desire, yet turning instinctively.

Humankind is being led along an evolving course,

through the migration of intelligences,

and though we seem to be sleeping,

there is an inner wakefulness

that directs the dream,

and that will eventually startle us back

to the truth of who we are.

Rumi, 13th Century

Xenophanes Quote-6th Century BC

“The Ethiops say that their gods are flat-nosed and black.

While the Thracians say that theirs have blue eyes and red hair.

Yet if cattle or horses or lions had hands and could draw

And could sculpture like men, then the horses would draw their gods

Like horses, and cattle like cattle, and each would then shape

Bodies of gods in the likeness, each kind, of its own.

(Translation from the original Greek by 20th century philosopher Karl Popper)

American Independence and Religious Tolerance

On this July 4th day of celebration, I meditate on the importance of the separation of church and state, and how essential it is to our democracy, and on what it takes to achieve and maintain these freedoms:

In 1820 James Madison wrote:

“…Among the features peculiar to the political system of the United States, is the perfect equality of rights which it secures to every religious sect.  And it is particularly pleasing to observe in the good citizenship of such as have been most distrusted and oppressed elsewhere a happy illustration of the safety and success of this experiment of a just and benignant policy.  Equal laws, protecting equal rights, are found, as they ought to be presumed, the best guarantee of loyalty and love of country; as well as best calculated to cherish that mutual respect and good will among citizens of every religious denomination which are necessary to social harmony, and most favorable to the advancement of truth…”

John Adams wrote to his wife on July 3, 1776:

“…The Second Day of July 1776, (when the resolution that ‘these United Colonies are and of right ought to be free and independent states‘) will be the most memorable Epocha, in the History of America—I am apt to believe that it will be celebrated by succeeding Generations, as the great anniversary Festival.  It ought to be commemorated, as the Day of Deliverance by solemn Acts of Devotion to God Almighty.  It ought to be solemnized with Pomp and Parade, with Shews, Games, Sports, Guns, Bells, Bonfires and Illuminations from one End of this Continent to the other from this Time forward forever more.  You will think me transported with Enthusiasm but I am not.—I am well aware of the Toil and Blood and Treasure, that it will cost Us to maintain this Declaration, and support and defend these States.—Yet through all the Gloom I can see the Rays of ravishing Light and Glory…”

Again, and yet again

Like the storm troopers in the movie Star Wars, they were in the multitudes and they were marching out in all directions, much to my horror.  I stood in shock, watching them, as they moved.

Squash beetles.  Overnight they had taken the life from every beautiful green squash plant that I had so carefully planted, fed, watered, those lush broad-leaved plants that had been producing  tender, delicious squashes every single day.   Yellow crooknecks and perfect zucchinis.  Now every plant was dead.

It was a stealth attack.  I was taken completely by surprise.  One day the plants were perfectly healthy, the next day they lay wilted as though someone had poured scalding water on them.

I rushed back inside the house to read up on what would cause squash to wilt.  I was informed in book and on internet to look underneath the leaves for little eggs, to look in the stem for points of entry, and to watch for mature beetles.  If many mature beetles were present, it was too late, the book said, burn the plants, beetles and all!

I went back out to the garden, to one of the squash plants, and I turned over the pitiful leaves that were so drained of greenness  that they reminded me of  the washed out watercolor in one of my “oops” attempts to rescue a botched painting.  There was no rescuing the squash plants, however.  There, under every broad squash leaf, were hundreds of little hooded beetles.  In horror, I shook the first plant.  And that’s when the beetles fell off the plant in their dozens, their hundreds, their masses; they descended, and began their march, in waves, in lines, out in all directions.  It was amazing.  Chilling.  It reminded me of too much else happening in the broader world.

I confess, I wept.  I know it may sound silly to the rest of you.  But I had worked so hard in that garden, and each of those plants were sweet spirits that I had nurtured, spoken with, pampered, and been privileged to know as I harvested the fruit of their and my collaboration.  Bright yellow and rich green squashes.  Now all destroyed.

Then, after much flailing around, making useless attempts to stop the spread of the beetles to other parts of my garden, I took the dead plants to be burned, along with whatever beetles remained on the plants (yes, I confess, I did it; I was outside my usual realm of reason and compassion, telling those beetle marauders to burn in hell as far as I cared…), and getting paid for that thought by being attacked fiercely by ants and mosquitoes and a stinging fly, so that I retreated into the house in unending tears this time.  I was remarkably undone.

For two days, it was a real funk.  The “give it up, what’s the use, why keep trying…” routine that usually represents a “last straw” kind of incident, coming on the heels of many other discouraging issues. You know the feeling, perhaps?  It’s easy to come by these days, considering all the bad news on television and in our world, all the shock and distress that we have felt lately, the loss of hope and idealism, the frustration and grief, the many, many setbacks and tragedies.  It has all felt like “The Empire Strikes Back,” and now I had all these beetle storm troopers to prove it.

So, for awhile, I gave in to it.  The super slump.  What I sometimes designate as the “go to bed and pull the covers over your head“  time,  almost the “lie down in the snow and go to sleep and don’t get up” bit.  Don’t fight it.

I’m old enough and practiced enough to know that, for me, pretty soon the tide will change, the mood will shift, the momentum for hope will return. This morning it did.

I was out dutifully attending to the rest of the garden, now absent any squash plants, but otherwise flourishing.   And there, on the edge of the garden was a chunk of wood, a piece of partially charred pine.  It was a left over part of a burn pile from when the garden area was first being prepared for planting several years ago.  The tall, elegant pine tree that the charred chunk of wood came from had been, in its prime, a beautiful and flourishing tree, and then that tree had been taken down in a storm, had been chopped up, burned, hauled off, and all that was left of that grand tree was this bit of charred wood at the edge of my garden.  And there, in that chunk of wood, in a little hollow place, I happened to notice a tiny one-inch tall pine tree seedling that had sprouted in this unlikely, almost impossible location.

I knelt down beside it, mesmerized, and again I wept, this time in awareness of how nature herself, the whole enterprise of life, has to be brave, has to endure loss and keep going, has to never give up, has to renew itself over and over in the face of the most bizarre and maddening setbacks, has to be so prolific when it comes to hope.

This is life, I thought, this is how it is.  Not always as we like it, and not ever, perhaps, perfect.  Often heart-breaking and disappointing.  But always persistently carrying on, renewing itself, despite all odds.

Could this little seedling make it?  Who knows.  But some seedling will; the vast pine forests of this land and of the entire South are proof of it.  There is evidence that hope can be fulfilled, that persistence and endurance matter.  Everywhere around us is the evidence.

The core of the pine tree is referred to as “heart pine,” rich in sap and resin.  I hope my core, my heart, too, is still rich in the “juice” that keeps life going, keeps me going, the life force that overcomes the storm troopers, the undercover attacks, the unfairness, the absurdity of trying, the grief and self-pity that goes with loss.  I hope that each of us can continue to pace ourselves in ways that allow us to withdraw from the fray when we need to, to rest and prepare ourselves for renewal, and to be receptive to the images all around us of the redeeming quality of hopefulness.

Nature doesn’t give up.  The enduring spirit of the squash and the pine, and, yes, even the beetle, these don’t give up.  Neither shall the human spirit.  Neither shall the spirit of cooperation and the desire to reach common ground–between religions, between cultures, between nations, between parties, between species.  We shall continue, one tiny seedling at a time, one day at a time, one gentle act of hope or forgiveness or courage at a time, because we too are part of nature.  Even along with the frustration and the occasional retributions and the times we are less than charitable, we carry on with absurd hope.  We make up for our mistakes somehow, or we don’t, but we keep going.  We keep loving.  We keep hoping.  It is never over.  Life and hope endure.  Let it be so, even for me.

Our grandmothers

I received this on email, and because it has long been important to me, I post it here that we may all (women and men) remember that our freedoms, including the freedom of religion, may never be taken for granted, and that prejudiced or biased groups always exist.   Here is the email being circulated on the internet.  Unfortunately, I am not aware of the person who wrote the email.  In addition to the HBO movie referred to, I recommend the PBS documentary by Ken Burns and Paul Barnes Not for Ourselves Alone.

This is the story of our Mothers and Grandmothers who lived only 90 years ago.

Remember, it was not until 1920 that women were granted the right to go to the polls and vote.

The women were innocent and defenseless, but they were jailed nonetheless for picketing the White House, carrying signs asking for the vote.

And by the end of the night, they were barely alive. Forty prison guards wielding clubs and their warden’s blessing went on a rampage against the 33 women wrongly convicted of ‘obstructing
sidewalk traffic.’

(Lucy Burns)

They beat Lucy Burns, chained her hands to the cell bars above her head and left her hanging for the night, bleeding and gasping for air.

(Dora Lewis)
They hurled Dora Lewis into a dark cell, smashed her head against an iron bed and knocked her out cold. Her cellmate, Alice Cosu, thought Lewis was dead and suffered a heart attack. Additional
affidavits describe the guards grabbing, dragging, beating, choking, slamming, pinching, twisting and kicking the women.

Thus unfolded the ‘Night of Terror’ on Nov. 15, 1917, when the warden at the Occoquan Workhouse in Virginia ordered his guards to teach a lesson to the suffragists imprisoned there because they dared to picket Woodrow Wilson’s White House for the right to vote. For weeks, the women’s only water came from an open pail. Their food–all of it colorless slop–was infested with terrible vermin.

(Alice Paul)
When one of the leaders, Alice Paul, embarked on a hunger strike, they tied her to a chair, forced a tube down her throat and poured liquid into her until she vomited. She was tortured like this for weeks until word was smuggled out to the press.
So, refresh my memory. Some women won’t vote this year because — -why, exactly? We have carpool duties? We have to get to work? Our vote doesn’t matter? It’s raining?

(Mrs. Pauline Adams in the prison garb she wore while serving a sixty-day sentence.)

Last week, I went to a sparsely attended screening of HBO’s new movie ‘Iron Jawed Angels.’ It is a graphic depiction of the battle these women waged so that I could pull the curtain at the polling booth and have my say. I am ashamed to say I needed the reminder.

(Miss Edith Ainge, of Jamestown , New York )

All these years later, voter registration is still my passion. But the actual act of voting had become less personal for me, more rote. Frankly, voting often felt more like an obligation than a privilege. Sometimes it was inconvenient.

My friend Wendy, who is my age and studied women’s history, saw the HBO movie, too. When she stopped by to talk about it, she looked angry. She was–with herself. ‘One thought kept coming back to me as I watched that movie,’ she said. ‘What would those women think of the way I use, or don’t use, my right to vote? All of us take it for granted now, not just younger women, but those of us who did seek to learn.’ The right to vote, she said, had become valuable to her ‘all over again.’

HBO released the movie on video and DVD . I wish all history,  social studies and government teachers would include the movie in their curriculum. I want it shown any where else women gather. I realize this isn’t our usual idea of socializing, but we are not voting in the numbers that we should be, and I think a little shock therapy is in order.

(Conferring over ratification of the 19th Amendment to the U.S. Constitution at National Woman’s Party headquarters, Jackson Place Washington , D.C. L-R Mrs. Lawrence Lewis, Mrs. Abby Scott Baker, Anita Pollitzer, Alice Paul, Florence Boeckel, Mabel Vernon (standing, right)

It is jarring to watch Woodrow Wilson and his cronies try to persuade a psychiatrist to declare Alice Paul insane so that she could be permanently institutionalized. And it is inspiring to watch the doctor refuse. Alice Paul was strong, he said, and brave. That didn’t make her crazy. The doctor admonished the men: ‘Courage in women is often mistaken for insanity.’

Please, if you are so inclined, pass this on to all the women you know. We need to get out and vote and use this right that was fought so hard for by these very courageous women. Whether you vote democratic, republican or independent party – remember to vote.

(Helena Hill Weed, Norwalk , Conn. Serving 3 day sentence in D.C. prison for carrying banner, ‘Governments derive their just powers from the consent of the governed.’)

Creative Recovery

When hurricane Ike ripped through Galveston, it killed more than 40,000 trees, including the magnificent stately old oaks on the main boulevard.  As those of us who love Galveston grieved this loss and the recovery got underway, the city was finally able to pay contractors to cut and remove the dead trees, leaving all those unsightly stumps that would have to be dealt with.  Enter creative artists who come to lift our spirits by turning something ugly and sad into something wonderful.  Here are a few samples of the many “stump sculptures” that Galveston artist Earl Jones, Houston artist Jim Philips, and Indiana artist Dayle Lewis, among others, have created so far.  May we all choose to create something beautiful out of our own future misfortunes!

Mother-Daughters

On this day set aside to honor mothers, I want to add my gratitude and congratulations to all those who Mother the world…not only their biological children.  Mothering is an incredible skill, one that requires, I think, every positive attribute one can dream up:  not only creativity, but also patience, foresight, courage, stamina, a willingness to sacrifice, a grasshopper mind, a sense of perspective, humility, spontaneity, the ability to set limits, a limitless love, a sense of humor, and on and on.  Bringing those qualities to bear anywhere, everywhere–that is mothering, in whatever form.  Whether one is a teacher, a man, an executive, a gardener… I honor that mothering.  As gender roles have changed, children are nurtured by many people, a whole village, sometimes.  It is the Mothering Spirit in anyone that I honor, as well as those individuals who have the special privilege of carrying Life in their own bodies and delivering a new generation to our world–biological mothers do have a unique place of honor.

And as far as biological mothers go, I think there should be a special new category to be honored:  Mother-Daughters.  I mean those who are not only mothers to young children, but also are caregivers for their elderly parents.  These middle-person mothers are pulled in both directions, and often get pulled in all directions, leaving little chance to “be my own person,” to do anything other than mothering.  But they, with great courage and difficulty and often with pain, carry on, honoring the saying from Ghana that “if your parents take care of you up to the time you cut your teeth, you take care of them when they lose theirs.”

And it’s tricky with  elders: we elders can be as unruly and difficult and moody and demanding as children, but we often won’t be bossed around or accept rules or direction from our own “children.”   Elders want and need “mothering,” even are resentful if they don’t get it sufficiently.  But their self esteem is at risk and any helpful adult child must be careful not to injure the pride of a parent or to be thought of as condescending. I remember my mother, when she was in her late seventies,after I had told her what she needed to eat to stay well; she looked up at me with an odd glance and said, “I don’t know how I managed to live this long without your instructing me, let alone how I ever kept you alive all those years.”  That gave me pause, and it comes back to me year after year, especially as I am now in my seventies.

So my special recognition today to all those Mother-Daughters in the middle.  It’s not easy finding the balance between being wife, mother, daughter, and otherwise person.

And my love and tenderness to those who wanted to be biological mothers and could not, and to all of us whose biological mothers have crossed over and are no longer here to receive, on this plane, our hugs and flowers and gratitude.  I believe we can still send that love and gratitude out to the world, where all the motherless children and daughter-less elderly will receive it somehow.

Here are a few words from the wise ones of many traditions concerning the Mothering Spirit herself:

“As truly as God is our Father, so truly is God our Mother…to the property of Motherhood belong nature, love, wisdom and knowledge, and this is God.”  Julian of Norwich

“Paradise is at the foot of the Mothers.” Hadith

“LiKe a Mother who protects her child, her only child, with her own life, one should cultivate a heart of unlimited love and compassion towards all living beings.”  The Buddha

“The Valley Spirit never dies; it is the woman, primal mother.  Her gateway is the root of heaven and earth.  It is like a veil barely seen.  Use it; it will never fail.” Lao Tzu

“She is the inmost awareness of the sage who realizes that Consciousness alone exists.  She is the life blossoming within the creatures of the universe, both macrocosm and microcosm are lost within Mother’s Womb.  When anyone attempts to know Her, the singer of this song laughs.  Can you swim across a shoreless ocean?  Yet the child in me still reaches out to touch the moon.” Ramprasad

“One vision I see clear as life before me, that the ancient Mother has awakened once more, sitting on her throne rejuvenated, more glorious than ever.  Proclaim Her to all the world with a voice of Peace and Benediction.” Vivekenanda

David Weber’s Wise Words