Find the holy heart of the moment.

Kabir The Lord is in Me

The Lord is in Me by Kabir English version by Andrew Harvey The Lord is in me, and the Lord is in you, As life is hidden in every seed. So rubble your pride, my friend, And look for Him within you. When I sit in the heart of His world A million suns blaze with light, A burning blue sea spreads across the sky, Lifes turmoil falls quiet, All the stains of suffering wash away. Listen to the unstruck bells and drums! Love is here; plunge into its rapture! Rains pour down without water; Rivers are streams of light. How could I ever express How blessed I feel To revel in such vast ecstasy In my own body? This is the music Of soul and soul meeting. Of the forgetting of all grief. This is the music That transcends all coming and going. from Perfume of the Desert: Inspirations from the Sufi Wisdom, by Andrew Harvey / Eryk Hanut

I spent much of my 20s in semi-retreat, meditating and fasting. I kept looking f or more remote places to live. Thankfully, I have an adventurous wife who was a bit of a vagabond herself at that time. We moved up into the mountains of Colora do for several years until we decided we werent built for the intense winters up there. So why not go the opposite direction? We moved to Maui and rented a small ohana (cabin) up along the slopes of Haleakala. When I wasnt working, Id walk bar efoot among the eucalyptus forests with my two dogs. I discovered a small cave h idden among the trees, not far from our place. It was just big enough for me to sit upright in. Id hike there, sit and meditate, while my dogs roamed or napped n earby.

I dont think of myself as claustrophobic, and this cave wasnt deeply recessed, but feeling all that rock and earth, all that dense silence, above my head and press ing in at my shoulders, would trigger an instinct to hop out and take a gulp of air. Meditation in a cave, within the embrace of the earth, can be like sitting with death, buried. Or in the womb, waiting to be born. Yet it is so profoundly quiet. When the body finally settles down and the sparks of mind calm, I would b ecome so sweetly still and rooted. Winter doesnt have the same meaning in Hawaii as it does in much of the world, bu t it was there, in winter, my 32nd year, during a moment of spiritual desperatio n, that some part of me just opened up. The person I normally thought of as Ivan ce ased to be. And I was flooded with the most amazing sense of bliss and radiance. It rained down like cool water from above. Then it was like a flood. Then a war m fire glowing majestically in my heart. Everything, all the world, was quietly seated in my heart. That soft sound ringing at the base of the skull became a mu sic that filled my awareness. It was as if all my life Id been a tight, cramped bud and assumed that was my nat ure. Then, in an instant, Id blossomed and found I was an entirely different, ope n being. What stunned me most was that this heaven was flowering within me, not in someon e else, not somewhere else. I knew what an unfocused mess my life Ivans life was, so how had this come to me? But it hadnt come to me. Its simply what we are, what the whole universe is, beneath the surface appearances. I remained steadily in that blissful space for several months. Normal social int eractions, work, these were a challenge at first, but I slowly began to reconstr uct an Ivan-like mask as a way to more easily interact with the world. I didnt fe el it was my role to remain withdrawn and floating in bliss. So I let it become a game, pretending to be Ivan. After a while, I noticed days when I wasnt pretend ing anymore. Sometimes you wear a mask, sometimes you imagine yourself to be the mask. Its now been ten years, with normal life dramas and the occasional crisis. Most days I am Ivan a likable, intelligent, slightly flakey guy. Then some days I rediscover myself seated in such immense bliss where no simple identity can c ontain me. I left my cave. We left Maui and returned to Colorado (but untains). I think of this as when I returned to the world. rst time entering the world, since Id spent my whole life run from it. I brought with me my love of poetry, my love and some extra bliss to hand out when no ones looking == Try re-reading this poem by Kabir now The Lord is in me, and the Lord is in you When I sit in the heart of His world A million suns blaze with light Listen to the unstruck bells and drums! Rains pour down without water To revel in such vast ecstasy I hope you can see that language like this is not simply an artistry of lovely w not back up in the mo Or maybe it was my fi up until then trying to of the human journey,

ords. This uplifting imagery is a technical language, very precise, describing s omething very real. This is the blossoming that every soul craves as the natural expression of its n ature. == Much love! Have a beautiful day! Kabir India (15th Century) Timeline Muslim / Sufi

Kabir is not easily categorized as a Sufi or a Yogi he is all of these. He is re vered by Muslims, Hindus, and Sikhs. He stands as a unique, saintly, yet very hu man, bridge between the great traditions that live in India. Kabir says of himse lf that he is, at once the child of Allah and Ram. He was born in Varanasi (Benares), India, probably around the year 1440 (though other accounts place his birth as early as 1398), to Muslim parents. But early i n his life Kabir became a disciple of the Hindu bhakti saint Ramananda. It was u nusual for a Hindu teacher to accept a Muslim student, but tradition says the yo ung Kabir found a creative way to overcome all objections. The story is told that on one particular day of the year, anyone can become a di sciple by having a master speak the name of God over him. It is common for those who live near the Ganges to take their morning bath there in the sacred waters. The bhakti saint Ramananda took his bath as he did every day, by arising before dawn. On this special day, Ramananda awoke before dawn and found his customary way down to the steps of the Ganges. As he was walking down the steps to the wat ers, a little hand reached out in the predawn morning and grabbed the saints big toe. Ramananda was taken by surprise and he expressed his shock by calling out t he name of God. Looking down he saw in the early morning light the hand of the y oung Kabir. After his bath in the early light he noticed that on the back of the little ones hand was written in Arabic the name Kabir. He adopted him as son an d disciple and brought him back to his ashrama, much to the disturbance of his H indu students, some of whom left in righteous protest. It is said that what really made this meeting the most special is that in this c ase it, was only after Kabirs enlightenment that Ramananda, his teacher, became e nlightened. Not much is known about what sort of spiritual training Kabir may have received. He did not become a sadhu or rununciate. Kabir never abandoned worldly life, ch oosing instead to live the balanced life of a householder and mystic, tradesman and contemplative. Kabir was married, had children, and lived the simple life of a weaver. Although Kabir labored to bring the often clashing religious cultures of Islam a nd Hinduism together, he was equally disdainful of professional piety in any for m. This earned him the hatred and persecution of the religious authorities in Va ranasi. Nearing age 60, he was denounced before the king but, because of his Mus lim birth, he was spared execution and, instead, banished from the region. He subsequently lived a life of exile, traveling through northern India with a g roup of disciples. In 1518, he died at Maghar near Gorakhpur.

One of the most loved legends associated with Kabir is told of his funeral. Kabi rs disciples disputed over his body, the Muslims wanting to claim the body for bu rial, the Hindus wanting to cremate the body. Kabir appeared to the arguing disc iples and told them to lift the burial shroud. When they did so, they found frag rant flowers where the body had rested. The flowers were divided, and the Muslim s buried the flowers while the Hindus reverently committed them to fire.