I love you. ee cummings

 Depth & Death in One Sentence. A Poem.

l

(al

ea

fa

ll

s)

on

el

in

es

s.

l(a leaf falls)oneliness. 

The layout of ee cumming's shortest poem is presented as such. Vertically descending. 

Though the shortest poem, it probably evokes the most amount of discourse, discussions, dissections and definitions. 

Obsessed with using letters in lower case, including his name, ee cummings laid use of letters (and parenthesis's) putting them to great utility in the arrangement for optimum effect in serving the idea and the message/s intended.

What is the meaning of this one-sentenced poem? Best described as, a falling leaf interrupting the word loneliness after the first letter lowercase 'l'. To read l()oneliness

For me, it's a diss on the word 'loneliness' metamorphosing the word to 'oneliness' when we realise that a person's life, best represented by a single leaf that one day must fall to the ground. So to feel lonely is to miss the point that it is in our 'oneliness' or oneness with the all that completes the whole. 

We are never alone in this cosmos, we are always in oneness with it. 

And once we come to this realisation, we no longer wallow in loneliness but unite in 'Oneliness' with the cosmos.  

Loneliness comes when all our days are spent in self-centredness. 

The very activity of self-centredness produces loneliness.

It is narrowing the whole vast extraordinariness of life into one small 'me'.

Amen. 

I love you. Departures.

 Flight.

There are those whose wings

Learn to catch the winds

Before the rest of us.

Their world opens, vast

They soar, so fast.

(Too fast?)

And are gone, free forever.

We say "See you there"

(with a hint of despair)

For alone, we know not how.

We yearn to take flight

But we know, to earn the right

Would be to leap without fear.

Now is not our time.

For that glory so sublime

A thousand miles 

and years remain.

Let us think of the skies

And with hope in our eyes

Slowly, surely, learn to fly.

    Fifteen years have flown by, since your departure from this world. Still not a day goes by   that you are not with us. What joy you bring in your presence and in your absence.                   

             For it is in knowing and having you in our lives that make this life a lot more worthwhile and more worth living. So; Here's to living and dying and dying and living. 

            After all; Departures are Arrivals as Endings are Beginnings. See you there. Son.

 

 

 

I love you. Rumi

 Muhammad Jalaluddin Mawlana Rumi  (1207-1273)

Here is another superstar during his time. 

More writer, composer of songs, stories, than just a  poet, Rumi was celebrated as the equivalent of a blues icon. Like Miles Davis. 

Today he is the most celebrated poet of all time ranked the best selling poet in the US.

Rumi was born in Balkh, present day Afghanistan back then it was part of the great Persian empire. He wrote mostly in Persian but his work has influenced many other cultures in the Middle East. Born into a family of Islamic clerics, his father was a religious leader of traditional Islam faith. He lived as a sober scholar, nobleman, theologian and seeker of truth. 

However after a chance meeting with Shams of Tabriz, he became an impassioned seeker of universal truth and love, rising in popularity to become known as the greatest mystic poet. His work is deeply philosophical, from soulful expressions, to passionate love verses filled with desire and yearning. He also wrote anecdotes about life, moral stories, and stories from all three Abrahamic religions. 

He was a rebel, calling for breaking tradition and a soul yearning for freedom from dogma and hypocrisy. He also writes about going against the poison of fear based religions, extolling the remedy in love-based doctrine - a life journey free of guilt, fear and shame. Yet his work is not exclusive, he includes everyone. Therefore to classify or label him a Sufi is an understatement for he is more universal in his approach and is not bound by any cultural limitations. I would say he is a fully evolved human being that touches every one of us. 

Today Rumi's poems and writings are read in almost all houses of worship of all denominations.

Quotes

"Everything in the Universe is within You.

 

Ask All from Yourself"  ~ Rumi

~~ 

    "You Are Not A Drop in the Ocean,

 

You are The Entire Ocean in A Drop"  ~ Rumi

~~

"Run from What's Comfortable. Forget Safety.

 

Live Where You Fear To Live.

 

Destroy Your Reputation. Be Notorious.

 

I have tried Prudent Planning long enough.

 

From Now On I'll Be Mad." ~ Rumi

    ~~

 

Don't Grieve. Anything you Lose Comes Around in Another Form." ~ Rumi 

~~ 

"Do Not Feel Lonely, The Entire Universe is Inside You. ~ Rumi

~~

"Lovers don't finally meet somewhere.

 

they're in each other all along."  ~ Rumi

~~ 

Poetry 

I want to see you.

Know your voice. 

Recognise you when you first come round the corner.

Sense your scent when I come into a room you've just left.

Know the lift of your heel,

the glide of your foot.

Become familiar with the way you purse your lips,

then let them part, just the slightest bit,

when I lean in to your space

and kiss you.

I want to know the joy 

of how you whisper

"more"

~ Rumi

 

~~

A Life without love is a waste.

"Should I look for Spiritual love, or material or physical love?" ,

Don't ask yourself this question.

Discrimination leads to discrimination.

Love doesn't need any category or definition.

Love is a World itself.

Either you are in at the center...

Either you are out, yearning.

~ Rumi

~~

And goodbye for now....

I love you. Yesterday, today and tomorrow.

I chanced upon a rare gem as I randomly browsed through 'The Essential Gibran' hardback. The only one remaining in my bookshelf of the two copies I purchased from The Strand book store in NYC.

This piece hit me hard in the silence of the night as I read it aloud. 

So hard that I refuse to let it lay idle, lost in the pages of the hardback tucked away in a bookshelf. 

I would prefer it laid out in a post exposed to my little world in my meditations. 

And if only one person were to read and enjoy the sublime beauty it represents, I would be truly happy.

 Yesterday, today and tomorrow. ~ Khalil Gibran

I said to my friend,

    'See her leaning over his arm?

    Yesterday she leaned over my arm'.

And he said:

    'Tomorrow she will lean over mine'.

And I said:

    'See her sitting at his side;

    And yesterday she sat at my side'.

And he said:

    'Tomorrow she will sit at mine'.

And I said,

    'Don't you see her drinking from his cup?

    And yesterday she sipped from mine'.

And he said:

    'Tomorrow she will drink from mine'.

And I said,

    'Look how she glances at him with eyes full of love!

    And with just such love, yesterday she glanced at me'.

And he said:

    'Tomorrow she will glance at me likewise'.

And I said,

    'Listen to her whispering songs of love in his ears.

    And yesterday she whispered the same songs in mine'.

And he said:

    'Tomorrow she will whisper them in mine'.

And I said,

    'Look at her embracing him, and yesterday she embraced me'.

And he said:

    'Tomorrow she will lie in my arms'.

And I said, 

    'What a strange woman she is!!'

And he said:

    'She is Life'.

may i feel

Following my earlier post on the poetry of ee cummings here, 

I've stumbled upon yet another one of his love poems that borders more on the physical side of love that America's second most popular poet writes prolific. 

 

may i feel said he 

may i feel said he (i'll squeal said she, just once said he) 

it's fun said she (may i touch said he, how much said she, a lot said he) 

why not said she (let's go said he, not too far said she, what's too far said he, where you are said she) 

may i stay said he (which way said she, like this said he, if you kiss said she, may i move said he, is it love said she) 

if you're willing said he (but you're killing said she, but it's life said he, but your wife said she, now said he) 

ow said she (tiptop said he, don't stop said she, oh no said he) go slow said she, (cccome? said he, ummm said she) you're divine! said he (you are Mine said she)

Cummings always considered himself just as much a painter as he was a poet or writer. Especially in his later years, spent at his home in New Hampshire, Cummings would paint during the day and then write at night. Beginning with his years at Harvard and continuing on into the 1920s, Cummings identified with the artistic movements of Cubism, Dada, and Surrealism. He particularly admired the work of Pablo Picasso. 

 It's also his birthday today. Happy Birthday Edward Estlin Cummings. What a love fiend you are.

IF

Recently, long time friend and finance maestro Steven de Souza sent me this Kipling poem accompanied by his story which I felt magnified the beauty of the poem. It was timely and it comforted me . 

I reproduce it here verbatim.

I was given this poem before I went away to NZ. Can't remember who gave it to me but it probably gave me strength to get over the hours and days in a strange new environment.  I was 19, never ever travelled by plane. I had arrived late afternoon in Auckland with no one to meet me. I was quite prepared to sleep the night at the airport lounge as I had NZ 100 cash and knowing I could not affort to look for temp accomodation and a meal. This poem 'saved the day'. I know some of you will want to share this with a son or daughter or loved one who might be in need of morale boosting. Steve      

[IF] by Rudyard Kipling

If you can keep your head when all about you Are losing theirs and blaming it on you, 

If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you But make allowance for their doubting too, 

If you can wait and not be tired by waiting, Or being lied about, don't deal in lies, Or being hated, don't give way to hating, And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise: 

If you can dream--and not make dreams your master, If you can think--and not make thoughts your aim;

If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster And treat those two impostors just the same; 

If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools, Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken, And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools: 

If you can make one heap of all your winnings And risk it all on one turn of pitch-and-toss, And lose, and start again at your beginnings And never breathe a word about your loss; 

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew To serve your turn long after they are gone, And so hold on when there is nothing in you Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!" 

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue, Or walk with kings--nor lose the common touch, 

If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you; 

If all men count with you, but none too much, 

If you can fill the unforgiving minute With sixty seconds' worth of distance run, 

Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it, 

And--which is more--you'll be a Man, my son! --Rudyard Kipling