Tag Archives: Reincarnation

Finally the Cat Is Out of the Bag!

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Lud Dimpfl’s Sufi class (circa 1973)

I am the dark guy in the back row just in front of the left door jamb.

 

 

Lud Dimpfl with Meher Baba

 

New Start—419
Let Hell Go To Its Favorite Abyss

What if you were a writer when
(You had an imagination)
You imagined a new way backwards

(For a new way towards)
To examine the apparently soulless behavior
Of someone who couldn’t budge

Because who had kept dammed his heart and if
Then instead of damning him for his lack of savior
What if instead of that you understood better

Who he really was or at least you understood that
To judge is to fetter
(Yourself as well and to them too)

And so then you stepped toward this bliss:
You let hell go (to its favorite abyss)
You let flow your tear-salted water

From your oceanic heart and then
(It’s a start)
You wept?

 

~.~.~

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.”

~.~.~

Note to Gentle Readers:

The company that administers this website blind-sided me with a new format for posting stuff which I didn’t understand. For that, this post is very much behindtime. (but all is better now. (Ojala and inshallah)

Apologies.

Gentle Readers,
Perhaps you haven’t been following my blog “religiously.” (There’s that nasty word again) And so perhaps a brief bit about my background is in order. In order that is to better understand where I am coming from, and better put my musings in the context of a useful framework.

So here’s why this is a “Sufi” website:

I was an initiate in a Sufi order in northern California, from 1972 to 1979. (If you aren’t familiar with “Sufism,” if it helps to place this in context, Rumi was a Sufi). This order was co-founded by Hazrat Inayat Khan, sent to the west (England, The United States, etc.) in 1914, by his murshid, Madani, as I recall, in Hyderabad, India. The mission was to establish a Sufism beachhead in the west.*

In Sufism, the “guru” is called a murshid. Or, in the case of a woman, a murshida.

Inayat Khan died in 1927 and in 1948 the then murshida, Rabia Martin, (Inayat Khan’s chosen successor), when dying of cancer directed that the order be put under the aegis of Meher Baba (which means, compassionate father) in India. She was convinced he was “The Qutub,” which means in Sufism, the highest spiritual authority on the planet at the time. He was of the large Parsi community in India. They had centuries earlier fled from their native Persia where they were ostracized by the Islamic influences that took over Persia, and as is frequent worldwide in these cases of differing religions, did not show tolerance to the “infidel” Parsis, who didn’t wish to renounce their ancient devotion to the prophet Zoroaster, not even in favor of Mohammed..

Meher Baba conducted then the order from a physical distance, (its headquarters being in San Francisco) naming Ivy Duce as the new murshida. When I joined, Ivy Duce was about seventy five years old. Basically we followed the practices which had been set forth by Hazrat Inayat Khan, with some changes–mostly additions prompted by Meher Baba (I can’t think of any subtractions).  Oops. Yes I can. One thing. Meher Baba wanted omitted some of the arcane practises which if taught to people not spiritually advanced enough to use them safely, could abuse them, both to their and others’ detriment.

And so we revered Inayat Khan (Hazrat is a title bestowed in the east upon one who is respected as a holy person). We studied his writings, and sang his Zikr to start each meeting. It was a round–or canon (like the famous canon in D by Pachelbel, or more familiarly (and aptly, the last line) “Row Row, Row Your Boat.” And we said his invocation also at the start of a meeting. This was, “Toward 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.”

As you may notice these are pantheistic in tone, and the invocation I do believe ranks as the most ecumenical of invocations. As such it is often the case that fundamentalists in their respective religions, take objection. As do others who imagine that “religion” inherently is imposed upon one from without, whether by a person such as Christ or Buddha, or usually, by mere priests of one sort or another who purport to speak for God.

Inayat Khan neatly sidesteps this (as do most Sufis I have come across in my readings) by the expedient of declaring that God has a way of adapting to the belief of the individual, who is encouraged to use the full range of her imagination to conceive of God as the embodiment of whatever most moves her heart. Since as Inayat Khan repeatedly emphasizes, the temple of God is the heart of man. Along these lines, he often quotes the Prophet Mohammed who said “Every man has his own religion.”

One of the practices prescribed by Inayat Khan is daily to say to oneself, “My thoughtful self, reproach no one, hold a grudge against no one, bear malice toward no one; Be wise, tolerant, considerate, polite, and kind to all.”

And this brings us to today’s theme, that of judgment. (Ha! Finally the cat is out of the bag!) Of course some religions or philosophies emphasize the concept of reincarnation (e. g. Jainism, Hinduism, Taoism, Buddhism, some subsects of Islam, and others. Most recently–to my knowledge–also, Meher Baba.) Indeed, though Inayat Khan never explicitly references such a doctrine, in my opinion, his philosophy connotes this. He often refers to the human being’s gradual development in terms that simply haven’t a possible timeline without reincarnation. I suspect this stemmed from the fact of Sufism being born of Islam, and steeped in a tradition of obfuscation. So as to avoid fundamentalist persecution—an example being poetry ostensibly written to an opposite sex beloved, or reference to “wine” when the cognoscenti knew what was meant was to a reference to God or divine intoxication. And had Inayat Khan spoken directly of reincarnation, it would have aroused controversy and Sufis are noted for keeping a low profile.

And again sticking to the no no of judgment, once one is hip to reincarnation there obtain obvious corollaries, such as the concept of “young souls” or “old souls.” The older souls, for their greater experience, are wiser. And a corollary to that is the injustice of judging a “young soul” by the standards of an older one. It would be like demanding calculus from a kindergartner. Because we are all on different rungs of the ladder, as it were. And God knows (as opposed to we) who is higher and who is lower or by how much. There can then be no absolute standards of even good and evil. Inayat Khan says the virtue of a regular person would likely be a sin for a saint. And Meher Baba has said, “There is no such thing as evil. Only relative degrees of good.”

God be with you,
Eric Halliwell

*By an interesting coincidence, Inayat Khan’s wife was either the cousin or sister (I forget which) to Mary Baker Eddy who founded Christian Science.

Of Such Is the Kingdom of Happiness

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New Start–134

The Sacred Duty to Be Happy

Sure we hear all the military talk
About enforcing discipline
Dry stuff it is too so of course
I prefer to bother with yet wet babies

Who have not gotten confused from the blather
Of the bathwater
I mean sure it’s a wonderful thing
This discipline

But it’s an unmilitary irony that
The discipline we are most duty bound to enforce
Is the one that stands with happiness
Which doesn’t betray happiness

Like Benedict Arnold did when he turned
Over his fort to the British
And we must not turn over our heart
To its enemies

Which though legion (and ironically un-American)
All bear this mark of Cain:
This ignoring the cries of our purple
(Yes wounded) heart

Whose oak leaf clusters symbolize
Wood from the true cross
Testifying to the sacred duty
To be happy

~.~.~

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,
If you go to the word cluster on the right look for “happiness.”

It’s in pretty big letters, is it not? Which means there are lots and lots of emphasis (read blog posts) on that.  Which you can access by clicking on the word.

Indeed still embedded (with redirects bringing you to the final product: rumi-nations.com) in my title files for this blog is the original concept (yes I was going to call the blog “Happiness Poetry.”

And an early post (circa 2013) was one titled, “Sufism, the Science of Happiness.”

Because it is a science in the sense of you keep trying things, and gradually the water runs clear, the gold appears, more and more types of gold.

It’s a long haul of course. I have done a lot of mouthing lately about doing “my next” post about reincarnation. (But like the carrot on the donkey stick it seems to recede each time when juxtaposed with a new idea.

Like today’s out of the blues try at discussing the concept of happiness. (Happiness uber alles!)

This popping up is not surprising since happiness has been a big question mark (you might say, an obsession ) for me all my thinking life (starting when I was a grown up adolescent.)

Which brings us to my famous acid trip back in the day.*

I was a hippie in Berkeley and so I took some LSD. But at least I used it for a purpose. One night I meditated all night (on acid!) pondering the issue of why I didn’t have many friends (just one, really) and consequently was lonely. Well I had an insight. Maybe people were repelled by the fact that I insulted them (for instance). Also you must know I had taken to wearing bell bottom pants and a pea coat imitating the Beatles (thinking it would make me cool) It was cool all right at least insofar as my reception from people. Who knew they didn’t like phonies?)

That night I got the gut for naught feeling of the shallow nihilism of posing as what I was not.

So, two upshots.

Two resolutions.

As for the problem of posing (in this case via clothing options) I hit on the simple expedient of always wearing the same clothes. So I bought sets of jeans and blue work shirts, which became my de rigueur attire. My uniform, you could say.

And as for the friend problem, I would try a radical experiment. I would be sweet to people instead of insulting. (who knew?)

I guess this begs the question of why was that ever even an impulse.

I think it’s a chicken and egg thing. I was mean to people out of resentment for feeling they didn’t like me. And they didn’t like me because I was mean to them. (Full disclosure: I had a chip on my shoulder perhaps related to my mother putting me in an orphanage for a few years–age five through nine.

Anyway, it worked. That night’s epiphany pulled me out of the quagmire. Of course it helped a lot when I noticed it  was fun being nice.

I guess this leads to a discussion of gratitude but this post is too long in the tooth to add a different theme.

So happiness has always been my goal. Except in the eighties I took one of those human potential seminars and they had everybody write down what was their bedrock goal, and I wrote “inner peace.”

But then maybe of such is the kingdom of happiness.

God be with you,
Eric Halliwell

*I do not of course recommend LSD but I was a hippie (In Berkeley!) and inspiration is where you find it. See, I figure God in a pinch can make honey out of horseshit. And the LSD did give me what felt like a powerful focus on the issue. But my older brother Jim the musical genius, now he took massive doses and perhaps not coincidentally became certified insane and died young in a mental hospital.

The Nuts and Lightning Bolts of Getting Happy

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My painting of Meher Baba

 

 

 

New Start–85

Imagine Something Mysterious

Imagine something mysterious
Imagine a situation where you saw
That what you’d needed and was necessary
Even what you’d merely wanted

(Due to blindsight that’s not always the same thing)
Was always or usually supplied
(Especially if you looked back and died with laughter
After twenty years of wisdom and hindsight)

By an invisible and nearly silent agent
And when you tried to speak to it
You felt good for the effort or just
For the lack of hell of it even though

Perforce your speech must have no response
Like we do get from friends be it a smile
Or a laugh or tears no not that sort of friend here
But friendly anyway with scent of heaven on her

Know what I mean? Think upon it . . .
No? Why so? you may yet say
Well that’s the mysterious part but somehow you knew
Through some subtle undertow of knowing

It’s love that fits like gloves that makes your ego glow
(Like stars are flame-sublime when showering)
And then you sigh–you want to dance and sing
And cry at the same time

~.~.~

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, I apologize if I have been arrogating Sufi philosophy and passing it off as my own. I hope it’s understood that I merely have been exposed to Sufism officially for seven years in the 1970’s, and as such, studied Sufis such as the founder, Hazrat Inayat Khan (circa 1920’s) and the more recent co-founder, Meher Baba. (Who dropped his body in 1969).

My reading of that study was that my adopted form of Sufism has an implicit or (again, more recently) explicit belief in reincarnation. Which “we” talked a bit about last time. Enough at least to open the reincarnation door or can of worms as is sometimes the case. Thus I had every intention of dedicating this post to reincarnation.

However,

This morning I got let’s call it a door knocking thing such as I get when a poem is there. And it’s against my religion not to answer such calls dropping any famous “other plans.“* And so I will postpone the reincarnation chat in favor of what I was thinking about this morning. But first I had to ponder, was it a poem I was writing or would it be so long and unwieldy-windy (as is my wont) that it would be too long a poem. (Generally I write poems of a page or less. My working hypothesis there is that’s a function of attention span limitations)

But I fancy myself a good prose writer (I got an A plus in college!) and so when the words they just kept on coming and then head-smackingly I realized by golly very soon a new blog post is due. So you do the math and here we are about to consider a chat about my hobby, a mere matter of the nuts and lightning bolts of getting happy. You see I had a sad semi-abandoned childhood, and devising Rapunzel-type hair ladders to climb out of there has come to be a constant and absorbing hobby.

Pero estoy andando por las ramas (Beating around the bush)**

But back to describing my “hint” to start writing. It was a little kick in the butt I felt from (I suspect) some weak legged small thing with fairy wings. Sometimes I think the path to wise is just to start focusing in on subtlety. I say “start” because that’s all that’s needed since the Theseus-type thread you saw glimmering on the ground is made of golden but blasted to a strength more like steel.

But I digress. (Yes, like a tigress defending her cubs)

So we were talking about subtlety. I often play a game I call subtlety du jour.

Which is to home in on myself. ( I am a handy and willing model) Yup play detective. Everybody is a crack detective you know, when it comes to what they really want. And all my life I knew I wanted to be happy. That was what it was all about.

And here’s why I stick to Sufism: It could be paraphrased as “The Science of Happiness.” And everyone claims to be seeking that . . .

But to examine “happiness” you have to see it in action. And so you have to poke through to beyond the veils.

Let me give you an example, from my own life. I get ennui. Fortunately it’s getting subtler (My theory is that’s because I am getting wiser)

Ennui used to be losing a wife and having to wear sunglasses at work for a year so people wouldn’t trouble me with questions like “What’s wrong?” or why have you been crying? Or much later, even waiting by the phone hoping for a call from some probably succubus I thought I was in love with.

It had looked too real! But it lacked an important earmark of love (the cure, in Sufism, for ennui and worse) to wit: Peace. Or at least the piece of peace behind even tragic things.

So I pretended I was a doctor and then got hip to the admonition, “Physician, Heal thyself!”

And so I made it my hobby to study myself. Of course you have to love yourself in order to cure yourself. But I always remember the line from Desiderata: “You have a right to be here, no less than the trees and the stars.”

You know what Inayat Khan thought was the best meditation? The one a mother has, thinking of her child, caring for her child, or (just for entertainment) watching day by day how their heart is unfolding. He said she doesn’t need training in focusing her attention. Love taught her that.

And when you come to love yourself, you become to yourself as your child. And so let’s now stipulate that a good hobby (to focus on) is getting rid of any angst of clouds that block your sun.

An example? Well how about impatience?*** It’s interesting to analyze where that comes from, and fun to concoct cures (Remember, in this hobby we are doctors)

And the synthesis is simple just for instance wonder at what’s the big deal, a little delay. Which incidentally can (amusingly) be used to commune with angels or with any of other such messengers from God (like the trees and the stars).

Which is a lot more fun (and energy-generating) than the false feeling of succumbing to an angst who thinks he’s boss. And who can blame him, considering what he has been so regularly allowed to get away with?

God Be With You,
Eric Halliwell

Ps And now I am going to boldly state that the best cure I’ve found for filling spaces invaded by impatience is make it like a blue mosaic, fill those gaps with your conception of God (and God man! use your imagination as a rope to climb out of hell in reverse, like with Rapunzel’s hair. And get the hell out of there!)

*I refer to the tragic John Lennon quote, “Life is what happens while you are making other plans.”

**I confess, living in Guatemala all these years has given me an itch to throw in Spanish. But I wonder is it pretentious? I tell myself E. E. Cummings sprinkled his poetry with lots and lots of French not to mention Greek and with its bizarre looking alphabet!

***Inayat Khan said that patience was the most important virtue!