Tag Archives: Sufism

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!

Water Has a Good Attitude

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Lud Dimpfl’s Sufi Mureeds (Initiated 1973)

New Start–171

Something From the North Star

“Spring is like a perhaps hand . . .”
–E. E. Cummings

I keep telling myself
Be like flowing water easily
Engulfing even boulders in its path

Or in another guise as perhaps glaciers
With their little known habitat of flowing too
Like slow tears

Which also abrade a channel
Taking something from the North Star
And heading south to an eternal spring

~.~.~

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,
Here where I live in Guatemala (para precisar, Panajachel*) the electricity is out again. It’s lately been a too frequent thing. But I philosophize saying well there is a price for everything. And I do have a wonderful apartment surrounded by a beautiful garden with roses other suchlike flowers and a persimmon tree, lawn you could play croquet on, etc. all for $350 a month. But lately electricity has occasionally been a problem. The scuttlebutt is that it gets shut down for repairs to the lines. And so there is if so hope for the future. And it only has happened say three times in three months, and it only lasts a day at a time, usually back on for the evening thus not interfering with my free cable tv (comes with the rent) and the classic movie channel, etc.

And nuisances like this do train me to be like water which simply flows around a jutting rock in the stream (water has a good attitude). And too it does break my internet habit a bit.

But it was out again last night and I had to make do (for illumination) with candles and a fire in my fireplace. (Yup, have that too) And my computer batteries allowed me to view movies from my impressive dvd collection (to pass the time). I saw Tender Mercies in which Robert Duvall showed he could sing, playing the role of a (for alcoholism) washed up erst famous country music singer a la Loretta Lynn or Emmy Lou Harris. And the night being still young, I also saw the Clint Eastwood movie, “Unforgiven.” It got a lot of Oscars as I recall.

Tender Mercies was more “spiritual.” The title phrase referred to what the leading lady Duvall’s new wife, was grateful for, from God. Which though happy in the present was oddly contrasted with the fate of her first husband who had been killed in Vietnam. And we also see a young and sweet Ellen Barkin, as Duvall’s daughter from an earlier disaster marriage, who chose wrong (another alcoholic) and died in a car crash when her new husband was drunk driving. Which mightily upset Duvall, saying he was the one who should have died instead, being an alcoholic like her drunk driving husband.

Yes these things can look complicated. It does help to believe in reincarnation, a thing of importance in the brand of Sufism I was initiated into.**

Her second husband the one in the movie was as I say Robert Duvall who played a washed up and sloshed up alcoholic. But the Tender Mercies lady threw Duvall a rope and was the winch that then pulled him out of his quicksand of despond, giving him a job around the gas station she ran, with the proviso that he had to give up drinking. Which he did, falling in love with her hence doing it for the proverbial “some dame” of Guys and Dolls fame.

As for Unforgiven, it was an odd title considering that to forgive someone it’s likely necessary they ask for forgiveness or at least show some repentance, which was the farthest thing from the minds of this movie’s villains. But then I guess that justifies the title.

Speaking of Clint Eastwood, if you look to the right you will see something titled my favorite quote, also from a Clint Eastwood movie (For a Fistful of Dollars): “Things always look different from higher up.”

Which Hazrat Inayat Khan (the founder of my Sufi order) often stressed as perhaps the most important Sufi truth. (rhymes with ruth***)

But back to Guatemala, the electricity is still out the day after, being Sunday, and the electricians not working on Sunday.

So I console myself with sunlight and chai and home made cookies. Thanks to my maid or really more like my all purposely useful butler person Adelina. (Yes I can afford that too, two days a week) relaxing in the garden reading Margaret Atwood’s (she of the Handmaid’s Tale) novel, “Cat’s Eye.” It’s about a lady painter. (Interesting story how she got there. As Shakespeare would say, “Thereby hangs a tale.”)

Not so much there in the way of tender mercies. As I say, this life stuff is complicated. But it makes for an interesting story that helps one grapple with pain and sorrow.****

And all I have to do is get to the bottom of my first rate frustration from a bout of electricity scarcity. (Life is best with a challenge)

This reminds me of an oft told story of my Murshida (denombre Ivy Duce) of her master, Meher Baba, who upon her complaining of the myriad disasters in her life*****held up his hand two fingers almost together saying “Can’t you take this much?”

I now refer you to the photo shown above of my Sufi class. Notice the sign on the wall, whose letters are too small to read from here. It’s an old Jewish proverb that says, “God forbid that we should ever have to bear all that we are capable of bearing.” I am the dark haired guy in the back row partially blocking out the white left door jamb. The man in front and center was Lud Dimpfl, my beloved preceptor. (We Sufis were divided up into smaller groups (300 Sufis being too much for Murshida Duce to juggle all at once). I was fortunate to have been in his class of thirtyish.

And then there’s the issue of premature judgment. For instance my hit-by-a-car episode at age 15. Compound fracture (bones splintered and open to the air) of tibia and fibula (the two calf bones) which though it resulted in a shorter left leg and nine months in a cast, yet kept me out of the war in Vietnam (better than bone spurs!)

I don’t know how hip you gentle folk are to the Vietnam War, but in my opinion I was thus saved from likely emerging either dead or hugely insane brought on by My Lai massacre sightings and such.

God be with you,
Eric Halliwell

*Panajachel lies on the shore of world famous Lake Atitlan which I read in Yahoo travel was number nine in an article titled “The Ten Most Sacred Spots on the Planet.” In 1932 Aldous Huxley declared Aritlan as the second best lake in the world, losing out to Lake Como in Italy because “Atitlan was too much of a good thing.” Of course I bet they hadn’t cut down the trees then.
See
https://www.foxnews.com/travel/10-most-sacred-spots-on-earth
(I guess it was picked up by Yahoo)

**Founded circa 1920 by Hazrat Inayat Khan who while never addressing reincarnation directly, certainly connoted that given the long span of time perforce implied as the course of the development of spiritual awareness. Indeed, the order later was turned over by Inayat Khan’s chosen successor Murshida Martin, to a Parsi mystic named Meher Baba, who she said was the “Qutub” (Sufi lingo for the highest spiritual authority on the planet). And Meher Baba quite explicitly talked of reincarnation, describing how it worked.

***Ruth is an archaic word which means pity, compassion, remorse. Famously a line from Milton’s poem Lycidas, (alluded to in the famous Thomas Wolfe novel, “Look Homeward, Angel”) The line went, “Look homeward, angel, and melt with ruth.”

****Are you hip to the Kahlil Gibran book “The Prophet?” In it (just like in the Tao Te Ching by Lao Tzu) A holy man wants to go away, seeking solitude, but before he does is prevailed upon to address some pressing spiritual questions, among which was “Speak to us of pain and sorrow.” As I recall he said these things excavated a reservoir which would define our capacity for joy.

***** As told in Murshida Duce’s book, “How a Master Works.” In which the said “this much” referred to the true tale of the myriad “one damned thing after another” stories she related in the book.