07-18-2013, 07:52 AM
Join Date: Feb 2013
My dear Friends....I am saddened to hear this news. No matter how enlightened we are, for a human . . . loss and letting go of attachment is always such a tremendous heartache. The beautiful tragedy of being human. What an experience, eh?
I've not been a part of your community very long (and I've been absent for the last week or so), but Lura was one of the first to warmly welcome me here and--in particular--engage with me in my musings in the Books Encounter Board threads.
This morning prior to meditation, I read the following Rumi poem just after learning of Lura's crossing and the loss of this community. I think the poem--in part--contemplates that subtle separation (that delicate veil) between this bodily life and the spirit's life where everything is sound/music, where poems find root, and that we do have the ability to open that window and find our connection to that spirit world.
May those who knew and loved Lura most find that connection and let those spirits fly in and out of your individual hearts and your collective heart:
"Where Everything is Music" - Jalaluddin Rumi (trans. Coleman Barks)
Don't worry about saving these songs!
And if one of our instruments breaks,
it doesn't matter.
We have fallen into the place
where everything is music.
The strumming and the flute notes
rise into the atmosphere,
and even if the whole world's harp
should burn up, there will still be
hidden instruments playing.
So the candle flickers and goes out.
We have a piece of flint, and a spark.
The singing art is sea foam.
The graceful movements come from a pearl
somewhere on the ocean floor.
Poems reach up like spindrift and the edge
of driftwood along the beach, wanting!
from a slow and powerful root
that we can't see.
Stop the words now.
Open the window in the centre of your chest,
and let the spirits fly in and out.
Namaste from the Midwest and two hands together _/|\_
"I wasn't going to spend my life doing what had already been done." - Georgia O'Keeffe
"What will be wants
to push through your fingers.
The light you seek hides
in your belly."
- "The Head of the Year," Marge Piercy