Day of the guardian goddess of Albion (Great Britain), Prytania, or Britannia, whose image appears on British coins. Also the day of the guardian of heaven, Heimdall, or the Archangel Gabriel. A day of orderliness. — The Pagan Book Of Days, Nigel Pennick
“The tendency of people to be fearful of those experiences they call apparitions or assign to the ‘spirit world,’ including death, has done infinite harm to life. All these things so naturally related to us have been driven away through our daily resistance to them, to the point where our capacity to sense them has atrophied… Fear of the unexplainable has not only impoverished our inner lives, but also diminished relations between people; these have been dragged, so to speak, from the river of infinite possibilities and stuck on the dry bank where nothing happens. For it is not only sluggishness that makes human relations so unspeakably monotonous, it is the aversion to any new, unforeseen experience we are not sure we can handle.” — Letters To a Young Poet, Rilke
We’re talking about all of the layers. But that the day-to-day — we’re doing this, we’re doing that, keeping to this schedule, we’re making this appointment, cleaning up this mess — all of that stuff that takes up our time and that are part of our day. And the deep reality is that there’s much more going on — much more that we could tap into to help us understand the path that lays before us, that we’re on, and that we want. — T.S.
“Often what happened in western religions as they came along, they brought about this big attention to God and very codified ways of being in contact with Him through specially ordained people. And then it was really frowned upon that a person had his or her own personal relationship with God. That was considered to be heresy, not to go through the Imam or the priest. And so when these believers began to express these feelings, they were often treated very rudely, tortuously, by the prevailing and dominant forces or religion because it didn’t follow the doctrines.
“Mysticism was really frowned upon. And there were crusades against it, as in southern France. So the idea of what is real — in the mystic world, the Real is the spiritual and the form is merely a vehicle, it’s not the real world. But, because our senses are so strong, the physical is often what gathers most of our attention.
“So, I see you as being able to walk in these two worlds and often disconnect with the form, the world of form. And you’re seeing deeper. The only way you get to do that, is you’ve had to suffer. That’s the only way a person really sees into that deeper world is through the suffering.” — T.S.
“The wound is the place where the Light enters you. — Rumi
The Beholder/DerSchauende — Rilke
I can tell by the way the trees beat, after
so many dull days, on my worried windowpanes
that a storm is coming,
and I hear the far-off fields say things
I can’t bear without a friend,
I can’t love without a sister.
The storm, the shifter of shapes, drives on
across the woods and across time,
and the world looks as if it had no age:
the landscape, like a line in the psalm book,
is seriousness and weight and eternity.
What we choose to fight is so tiny!
What fights with us is so great!
If only we would let ourselves be dominated
as things do by some immense storm,
we would become strong too, and not need names.
When we win it’s with small things,
and the triumph itself makes us small.
What is extraordinary and eternal
does not want to be bent by us.
I mean the Angel who appeared
to the wrestlers of the Old Testament:
when the wrestlers’ sinews
grew long like metal strings,
he felt them under his fingers
like chords of deep music.
Whoever was beaten by the Angel
(who often simply declined the fight)
went away proud and strengthened
and great from that harsh hand,
that kneaded him as if to change his shape.
Winning does not tempt that man.
This is how he grows: by being defeated, decisively,
by constantly greater beings.
My Sweet, Crushed Angel — Hafiz
You have not danced so badly, my dear,
Trying to hold hands with the Beautiful One.
You have waltzed with great style,
My sweet, crushed angel,
To have ever neared God’s heart at all.
Our Partner is notoriously difficult to follow,
And even His best musicians are not always easy
So what if the music has stopped for a while.
If the price of admission to the Divine
Is out of reach tonight.
So what, my dear,
If you do not have the ante to gamble for Real Love.
The mind and the body are famous
For holding the heart ransom,
But Hafiz knows the Beloved’s eternal habits.
For He will not be able to resist your longing
You have not danced so badly, my dear,
Trying to kiss the Beautiful One.
You have actually waltzed with tremendous style,
O my sweet,
O my sweet crushed angel.