Monthly Archives: May 2016

Look Homeward, Angel

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Lionel Barrymore and Joan Crawford

Lionel Barrymore and Joan Crawford

 

Look Homeward, Angel

“Look homeward Angel, now
And melt with ruth.’
–John Milton (Lycidas)

Even though “proven” a lie
I still believed it

It was too beautiful not to believe . . .
And so the “lie” was the truth

Go figure

~.~.~

Hazrat Inayat Khan’s Invocation:

“Towards the one, the perfection of love, harmony and beauty, the only being, united with all the illuminated souls who form the embodiment of the master, the spirit of guidance.”

~.~.~

Hazrat Inayat Khan’s Prescribed Daily Mantra:
“My thoughtful self: Reproach no one. Bear malice towards no one. Hold a grudge against no one. Be wise, tolerant, considerate, polite, and kind to all.”

~.~.~

Gentle Readers,
First, forgive me for the delay in blog posts. I have been fighting on several fronts lately, and my health and poetry production comes first. (It’s part of my pantheistic religion!)

Anyway,

Last post (April 22, I believe) I promised to reveal the identity of the subject for my drawing, the lady popular with the Anatolian (In Turkey) Sufis. It is the virgin Mary. Here’s the link for that post, if any wish to review it: https://rumi-nations.com/2016/04/02/rachmaninoffs-huge-hands/

But on to today’s theme:

Hazrat Inayat Khan said,

“What is really good? The answer is, there is no such thing as good or evil. There is beauty. That which is beautiful, we call good. That which is ugly compared with the beautiful, we call evil: whether it is custom, idea, thought or action. This shows that this whole phenomenon of the universe is the phenomenon of beauty. Every soul has an inclination to admire beauty, to seek for beauty, to love beauty, and to develop beauty.”
–Hazrat Inayat Khan

“There is no such thing as evil. Only relative degrees of good.”
–Meher Baba

There is a truth and there is a deeper truth. Inayat Khan used to tell the story of a lady (using the term loosely) who justified her hurting others’ feelings saying in her justification , “I only tell the truth.”

And Inayat Khan said something like the essence of truth is beauty. And what sort of beauty is there then when with this “truth” it “hurts as hard as a hammer?”

Or to phrase it another way, cadging from John Keats,
“Truth is beauty
Beauty is truth”*

And to put things in a synchronistic perspective, I want to mention the movie “Grand Hotel” which was Meher Baba’s favorite. (And not only Baba, it won best picture Oscar for 1930. I mention synchronicity because just after I got these above words off my chest, and was taking a break,  next thing in my face was the movie Grand Hotel, at the end of which has old, lonely, and dying-soon (and knows it) Klingalein, who is suddenly best friends with the much younger and beautiful-but-with-a-good heart Miss Flemmchen. And as the movie ends Klingalein with flowing tears and in the teeth of his imminent death, says, “I never thought anything this beautiful could come to me.”
How’s that for putting beauty in perspective?

God be with you,
Eric Halliwell

*Here’s the John Keats
poem that’s from:

Ode on a Grecian Urn

THOU still unravish’d bride of quietness,
Thou foster-child of Silence and slow Time,
Sylvan historian, who canst thus express
A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme:
What leaf-fringed legend haunts about thy shape 5
Of deities or mortals, or of both,
In Tempe or the dales of Arcady?
What men or gods are these? What maidens loth?
What mad pursuit? What struggle to escape?
What pipes and timbrels? What wild ecstasy? 10

Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard
Are sweeter; therefore, ye soft pipes, play on;
Not to the sensual ear, but, more endear’d,
Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone:
Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave 15
Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare;
Bold Lover, never, never canst thou kiss,
Though winning near the goal—yet, do not grieve;
She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss,
For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair! 20

Ah, happy, happy boughs! that cannot shed
Your leaves, nor ever bid the Spring adieu;
And, happy melodist, unwearièd,
For ever piping songs for ever new;
More happy love! more happy, happy love! 25
For ever warm and still to be enjoy’d,
For ever panting, and for ever young;
All breathing human passion far above,
That leaves a heart high-sorrowful and cloy’d,
A burning forehead, and a parching tongue. 30

Who are these coming to the sacrifice?
To what green altar, O mysterious priest,
Lead’st thou that heifer lowing at the skies,
And all her silken flanks with garlands drest?
What little town by river or sea-shore, 35
Or mountain-built with peaceful citadel,
Is emptied of its folk, this pious morn?
And, little town, thy streets for evermore
Will silent be; and not a soul, to tell
Why thou art desolate, can e’er return. 40

O Attic shape! fair attitude! with brede
Of marble men and maidens overwrought,
With forest branches and the trodden weed;
Thou, silent form! dost tease us out of thought
As doth eternity: Cold Pastoral! 45
When old age shall this generation waste,
Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe
Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say’st,
‘Beauty is truth, truth beauty,—that is all
Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.’ 50