Friday, December 19, 2014
Let your attention glide
Through the centers of awareness along the spine
with adoring intent.
There is a song to each area of the body.
Listen to these sounds resonating in sweet vortexes,
long rhythmic vowels.
Ah . . . .
and Eee . . . .
Hummmm . . .
resonating on and on.
Listen to these as sounds,
then more subtly as an underlying hum,
eventually as most subtle feeling.
Then diving more deeply,
expand into freedom.
Rest the attention easily in the forehead,
in the eye that is made of light.
Follow the flow of breath outward from there
into the spaciousness before you.
Tenderly permeate that spaciousness.
Awakening attention notices it is on a bridge,
outside the little house of the skull.
Extending not only outward, but upward,
into the radiant space above . . .
Set free to travel the bridge, the small self
enters a radiant omnipresence.
This it remembers, and knows as its truth.
Gradually the luminosity of that truth
fills the body to overflowing
as it rises through the crown of the head
into a shower of light.
Embrace each of your senses in turn,
Seeing as being touched by light.
Hearing as immersion in an ocean of sound.
Tasting as enlightening.
Smelling as knowing.
Touching as electrifying.
Then leave all these behind,
and be intimate with the unknowable.
Whenever the attention rests on anything -
on the emptiness of space,
looking at a vast blue sky,
when looking on a wall
or some wonderful person,
let that attention gradually be absorbed into itself,
so that the one who is paying attention be known.
Thursday, December 18, 2014
The above is an image of ShaktiShiva at play. It is entitled "Bhairava and Devi traversing the Night Sky," (from Lotus Sculptures)
What is being described in these sutras (verses) is indeed a description of the play of Kundalini within the body as acute bliss, as lover and beloved become one.
See his website at www.lorinroche.com/
Enter these turning points
In the play of respiration and expiration,
Where the rhythms of life transform
Into each other.
Breath flows in, then surrenders to flow out again.
In this moment, drink eternity.
Breath flows out, emptying, emptying,
Offering itself to infinity.
Cherishing these moments,
Mind dissolves into heart,
Heart dissolves into space,
Body becomes a shimmering field
Pulsating between emptiness and fullness..
In any quiet moment when you are breathing,
the breath may flow out and pause of itself,
or flow in and pause of itself.
There experience opens into an exquisite vastness
with no beginning and no end.
Embrace that infinity without reservation.
Dive into it, drink deeply of it and emerge renewed.
Follow the path of the radiant life force
as she flashes upward like lightning
through your body.
to the perineum, that bright place between the legs,
to the crown of the skull,
and to that shining star-place above the head.
Notice how this living electricity becomes ever more subtle
as she rises, radiant as the morning sun
until she streams outward from
the top of the head into all-embracing gratitude.
Thus become intimate with the life of all beings.
Or trace the river of life that flows through you,
the luxuriously rising energies,
Gradually kissing each of the centers along the spine,
Savor each particle of color along the way.
Enter each area tenderly, loving as you go
and then finally, gently
dissolving in the crown of the head.
Wednesday, December 17, 2014
The Big Heart
“Too many things
are occurring for even a big heart to hold.”
W. B. Yeats
wide as a watermelon,
but wise as birth,
there is so much abundance
in the people I have
and all in their short lives
give to me repeatedly,
in the way the sea
places its many fingers on the shore,
again and again
and they know me,
they help me unravel,
they listen with ears made of
they speak back with the wine
of the best region.
They are my staff.
They comfort me.
They hear how
the artery of my soul has been severed
and soul is spurting out upon them,
bleeding on them,
messing up their clothes,
dirtying their shoes.
And God is filling me,
though there are times of doubt
as hollow as the Grand Canyon,
still God is filling me.
He is giving me the thoughts of dogs,
the spider in its intricate web,
in all its amazement,
and a slain ram
that is the glory,
the mystery of great cost,
and my heart,
which is very big,
I promise it is very large,
a monster of sorts,
takes it all in—
all in comes the fury of love.
- Anne Sexton
PoetryLovers mailing list
Tuesday, December 16, 2014
Lorin Roche--the Radiance Sutras (full version on Amazon and also on his website at www.lorinroche.com/ )
'The Vigyan Bhairav Tantra (Sanskrit: विज्ञान भैरव तन्त्र, Vijñāna Bhairava Tantra) is a key text of the Trika school of Kashmir Shaivism. Cast as a discourse between the god Shiva and his consort Devi or Shakti, it briefly presents 112 meditation methods or centering techniques (dharanas). These include several variants of breath awareness, concentration on various centers in the body, non-dual awareness, chanting, imagination and visualization and contemplation through each of the senses. A prerequisite to success in any of the 112 practices is a clear understanding of which method is most suitable to the practitioner. . .
The text is a chapter from the Rudrayamala Tantra, a Bhairava Agama. Devi, the goddess, asks Siva to reveal the essence of the way to realization of the highest reality. In his answer Siva describes 112 ways to enter into the universal and transcendental state of consciousness. References to it appear throughout the literature of Kashmir Shaivism, indicating that it was considered to be an important text in the monistic school of Kashmir Shaiva philosophy. . .
Bhairava means "terrifying" and it is an adjective applied to Shiva in his fearful aspect. Yet in Kashmir Shaivism, the three letters of this name are taken in a different manner. Bha means bharana, maintenance; ra means ravana, withdrawal and va means vamana, creation of the universe. . .
Tantra is also the name for a treatise or article.
An agama is a sacred text, a portion of a tantra.
"Lorin Roche's rendition of the Vijnana Bhairava is truly radiant, filled with insight and poetry, and illumined by the power of his practice." – Sally Kempton
“Like feeling and reading Shakti in print. I read a little bit each day, then close my eyes and do the exercise, or ponder the thought. I let the warm sweet loving words and imagery wash and heal my many layers of self.” - Lilias Folan
There there have been many translations of this ancient text, but Lorin Roche's version carries a special power. It is perhaps the most poetic, the most appealing in terms of the shakti it contains and conveys. The entire text is reprinted on his website. Here is a sample:
One day The Goddess sang to her lover Bhairava,
Beloved and radiant Lord of the space before birth,
Revealer of essence,
Slayer of the ignorance that binds us,
You, who in play have created this universe
and permeated all forms in it with never-ending truth.
I have been wondering . . .
I have been listening to the songs of creation,
I have heard the sacred sutras being sung,
and yet still I am curious.
What is this delight-filled universe
into which we find ourselves born?
What is this mysterious awareness shimmering
everywhere within it?
What are these instinctive energies
that undulate through our bodies,
moving us into action?
And this “matter” out of which our forms are made -
What are these dancing particles of condensed radiance,
Are they an illusionist's projection?
What is this power we call Life,
appearing as the play of flesh and breath?
How may I know this mystery and enter it more deeply?
Beloved, my attention is ensnared by a myriad of forms,
the innumerable individual entities everywhere.
Lead me into the wholeness beyond all these parts.
You, who hold the mysteries in your hand -
of will, knowledge and action,
Reveal to me the path of illumined knowing.
Lead me into joyous union
with the life of the universe.
Teach me that I may know it fully,
realize it deeply,
and breathe in the truth of it.
The One Who is Intimate to All Beings said,
Beloved, your questions require the answers that come
through direct living experience.
The way of experience begins with a breath
such as the breath you are breathing now.
Awakening into the luminous reality
may dawn in the momentary throb
between any two breaths.
The breath flows in and just before it turns
to flow out,
there is a flash of pure joy -
life is renewed.
Awaken into that.
As the breath is released and flows out,
there is a pulse as it turns to flow in.
In that turn, you are empty.
Enter that emptiness as the source of all life.
The life essence carries on its play
through the pulsing rhythm
of outward and inward movement.
This is the ceaseless throb, the rhythm of life -
terrifying in its eternity, exquisite in its constancy.
The inhalation, the return movement of breath,
The outgoing breath
We breathe out the old air, the old thoughts, the old feelings.
Monday, December 15, 2014
Check out Ghost Inside My Child, a new LMN series that explores the stories of children who appear to have lived a previous life, only on myLifetime.com!
If the above link does not work, then google the title of the program. I get it on DirectTV, I think on Saturday evening.
The notion of reincarnation is one that continues to intrigue many of us. Often we ourselves have had brief glimpses of such seeming recollections from other lifetimes. And sometimes we encounter others who appear to retain vivid memories of events that occurred before their birth on earth as their present identities.
A great deal has been written on this topic, but much of it focuses on children born in India or other countries where reincarnation is accepted as a believable occurrence. In America, where such is not the case, accounts have been rare and skepticism the norm.
However, a recent T. V. series sheds new light on this subject. Called "Ghost Inside My Child," this series presents children now living in the U. S. who appear to retain clear memories of their previous lives and the nature of their deaths. Many feel that they have perished in various accidents of prior times. Sometimes they are convinced they were soldiers who died in battle, or passengers who drowned when a certain large ship sank.
In the latter case, a young man successfully identified the ship he was on (not the Titanic but rather the Lusitania) and was able to locate the living mother of the presumed young man who drowned in the water. He visited with her and she believed his story and accepted him as the reincarnation of her son.
In another, a very young boy was convinced he had been killed as the pilot of a certain airplane that had been used in WWII. Ultimately, with the help of his parents, he was able to locate a picture of that particular plane, even though it was not as well known as others in service at that time.
Often these children start recalling these incidents even before they can explain it very well in speech. And many times they seem to be reliving the fear that they felt in their death trauma. Many times they draw pictures to indicate what they are talking about. In most cases, the parents are confused and disturbed by their child's behavior, since the majority have no acquaintance with the subject of reincarnation. But they are concerned that their children are unhappy, and often they are––ultimately––convinced. They want to help their children get over apparent past life trauma and get on with their new lives. Once the child is freed of such haunting memories, they can go forward in their new identities.
I am wondering if a young child I know is not such a case. When she was only three years old, her mother noticed her carrying food to a table where there was a small statue of the Buddha. When her mother asked her what she was doing, she replied that she was "feeding the Buddha." Now, I do not know if it was common practice in earlier times to "feed the Buddha," but it was often the custom in Eastern temples and ashrams to awaken, bathe, and feed sculptures of the gods and goddesses.
This child is now nine years old. Recently her grandmother was proofing some manuscripts for me and happened to read aloud a poem I wrote some years ago called "Living with Buddha." As she read, the youngster listened carefully, all the while drawing something on her tablet. She had actually created a kind of collage, incorporating many of the images and themes from the poem, such as heart, light, ascension and several others.
This is a very long poem. Many adults would not have the patience to listen to it. But this child was enthralled and created her own visual response. Somehow, I can't but wonder if she was recalling some past life when she was herself a follower of Buddha, and now was recreating some of the rituals and images that honored him.
I myself seemed to remember one past life incident which described how as a young man in eastern Tibet I had escaped a cruel master and sought refuge in a monastery. What impressed me most about this memory was how terribly frightened I was when I reached the monastery. Everything was strange and indeed intimating to me, a country lad who had never been anywhere at all but the horse ranch where I had lived. I almost wept with sympathy for him.
Then I had another glimpse of his life after he had lived at the monastery for a while. He was out collecting yak dung for fuel, using a long fork and tossing the patties into a basket on his back. He was deliriously happy, and kept repeating to himself, "I have a job! I have a job!" Again, I was very moved by his emotion and felt a strong identification with him.
Saturday, December 13, 2014
The Rhythm of Each
I think each comfort we manage-
each holding in the night, each opening
of a wound, each closing of a wound, each
pulling of a splinter or razored word, each
fever sponged, each dear thing given
to someone in greater need-each
passes on the kindness we've known.
For the human sea is made of waves
that mount and merge till the way a
nurse rocks a child is the way that child
all grown rocks the wounded, and how
the wounded, allowed to go on, rock
strangers who in their pain
don't seem so strange.
Eventually, the rhythm of kindness
is how we pray and suffer by turns,
and if someone were to watch us
from inside the lake of time, they
wouldn't be able to tell if we are
dying or being born.
- Mark Nepo
Friday, December 12, 2014
There Is No One But Us
There is no one but us.
There is no one to send,
nor a clean hand nor a pure heart
on the face of the earth,
but only us,
a generation comforting ourselves
with the notion that we have come at an awkward time,
that our innocent fathers are all dead
- as if innocence had ever been -
and our children busy and troubled,
and we ourselves unfit, not yet ready,
having each of us chosen wrongly,
made a false start, failed,
yielded to impulse and the tangled comfort of pleasures,
and grown exhausted, unable to seek the thread, weak, and involved.
But there is no one but us.
There never has been.
- Annie Dillard
Thursday, December 11, 2014
"I said Oh no! Help me!
And that Oh no! became a rope let down in my well.
I've climbed out to stand here in the sun.
One moment I was at the bottom of a dark fearful narrowness,
and the next, I am not contained by the universe.
If every tip of every hair on me could speak, I still couldn't say my gratitude.
In the middle of these streets and gardens, I stand and say and say again,
and it's all I say, I wish everyone could know what I know."
Wednesday, December 10, 2014
Please know that Lawrence Edwards, one of the major figures in our Kundalini world, will be having surgery on Thursday for his back. We met many years ago and he has been indescribably helpful to me and many, many others ever since. Please send prayers and healing thoughts for Lawrence on Thursday.
Thanks and blessings to all.
Thanks and blessings to all.
Friday, December 05, 2014
and yet helplessly
into the deepness
of the unsayable,
you look around,
stunned, and ask,
What just happened?
slowly realizing, once again,
that you've been had.
Jan December 5, 2014
Thursday, December 04, 2014
Lately, I have been thinking about how essential the subjective level is in any attempt to define "reality." Aesthetic responses are definitely subjective--the do exist, and any attempt to define a work of art by the ingredients used to paint it, or its place in the history of art, or what kind of brush strokes were employed––is doomed to failure. The entire world of literature, music, visual art, dreams, peak moments and such rests on individual perception and felt response. These responses cannot be measured or weighed. Yet they comprise our daily lives, how we navigate and interpret the world, what our lives mean to us.
Science has mainly ignored the subjective world and claimed that only that which has physical presence is "real." I think this is the great error of science. The "real" as it defines it is not real at all. The "real" includes all our personal feeling responses to outer stimuli. These feelings define the "world we live in." To claim other is to deny the validity of the human experience.
I have even been writing some preliminary thoughts on this topic, and may even try to incorporate them into a book on the topic. Here are some my initial reflections:
Kundalini and the Transcendent
In recent years, books have appeared with titles like “A Theory of Everything” or “All There is to Know About Everything That is.”
Such books are useful offerings, perhaps giving us new insights into unfamiliar ways of approaching the great mystery we call “reality.”
But somehow none of these incorporates the level of feeling itself as a (indeed, the) major component in reality itself. It is indeed impossible for any of us to know the “whole” of that vast entity we think of as the familiar universe. True, we can measure the distance of the stars, travel into outer, outer space, and reduce the molecules into atoms and even more minute bits of matter—which then turn out to be non matter or space or energy or perhaps light itself.
But these are all objective endeavors. Yes, the experimenter can control the outcome of the experiment. Yet, in truth, we ourselves are the experiment, our limits defined not only by what we think but how we experience the whole enterprise.
Yeats said, “Man (sic) can embody truth but never know it.” Embodied truth is that which is felt, realized through moments of union of divine origin, an actual somatic sometimes erotic plunging into those invisible realms where ultimate reality (the ongoing Mystery) exists.
We cannot know or adequate define God/Goddess, but we can feel her in our bodies. We can connect on an undeniable level with that great power/energy that surges through the cosmos, brings into being all that is, and lifts us into states of blissful connection that are, inevitably, beyond words, yet proof that we ourselves are not defined by the material components that make up our bodies and surroundings, but rather we are infinitesimal particles in the unfathomable forces that comprise the “everything” that is. It is our own subjective experiences that tell us that we inhabit a “cosmic love field” that is invisible and often undetected, yet is the ultimate reality that can be known once we are in proper alignment.
Thus, this is a book about and some reflections on feeling—in particular, the inner sensations of delight and joy that arise through the awakening of the of Kundalini energies within the “self”.
The ancient ones knew that it is through Kundalini that the energies are aroused and then rise to join the very crown in ecstatic delight. For the crown then opens, like a thousand petaled lotus, to receive the infusions of divine love that come pouring in, and thus join human and the invisible Other in holy union.
This state is that which the alchemists of all ages have sought to achieve. It is the divinization of matter that many have described.
It is Shiva/Shakti in ecstatic union. It is Adam Kadmon of the Caballa. It is the light body of contemporary literature, the Merkaba rider’s goal of earlier eras. It is Teilhard’s Omega point, where god and human merge. It is the Shaman’s voyage to the world beyond time.
It is a taste of Enlightenment itself, the state that many have yearned for and sacrificed much to attain.
Though such transcendent moments are often temporary, they offer to us glimpses of a condition beyond the mundane, and reveal realms that exist beyond the human ordinary. These are the times of arrival, the coming home, the knowing of who you really are.
This book is the result of on ongoing effort to reclaim the centrality of the subjective, to describe as far as possible, the feeling level of transcendent experience, and thus to validate what it is possible to “know” not only by weights and measures but by immersion into the Love Field which surrounds us and is our authentic home.
Monday, December 01, 2014
Temenos–– a Sanctuary
by Peggy Wrenn
A word called a “temenos” in the Greek language,
trips in your mouth, sounds like “tremendous”
a safe place where we willingly share confidences
This is a "sanctuary" where we meet in a field
full of red poppies with delicate vulnerabilities
a lush field, where one can’t be exploited or betrayed
Here people who come, they can only speak truth,
each one can tell her own truth and tell her story,
all her parts, inside, the whole truth, all welcome
He puts down his armor, drops his weapons,
lets his hands be empty, he hears soft lullabies,
encounters songs of unconditional love, a garden
we went seeking, instead found this surprising field
traveling along an untrammeled path, a temenos
a space neither here or there, no past nor future, yes
“Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing
there is a field. I’ll meet you there.”
Recently I was in a conversation with friends who were interested in how we perceive and are perceived by others. They pointed out that for another, we are merely this--a perception that may or not tally with the essence of the other person.
This observation made me think back to a time when I was much younger when I was fascinated by what I then called "simultaneous reality." By this I meant that each of us lives in our own world of perceptions, each observer defined and limited by what we are able to notice and integrate into our personal vision of the world. Thus the fellow fixing your car may indeed live in a very different "world" than that of the librarian who checks out your books for you or the musician who directs the symphonic orchestra.
And then I started drawing overlapping circles to illustrate just how much each of us might share with the another's world view. Thus, if two circles (representing separate visions of "reality") are placed side by side, they may overlap to some degree. In this middle space, each participant will get a glimpse of the other's special way of seeing and interpreting the universe and individual experience. Each will be comfortable with sharing some of that personal vision. Sometimes a great deal will be revealed. But outside this shared space, there will be a region (the rest of the circle, the private inner self) that will be "invisible" and indeed totally unknown to the other.
But if one of them has an encounter so far outside the other's own experience that he/she can make little or nothing of it--what then? Suspicions of all sorts may arise. Someone may be seen as "a weirdo," "off their rocker," even sent to an institution. Often the visionary may realize that he/she must not reveal their inner discoveries to others and shut down any real communication.
Something of this sort often happens when people undergo intense Kundalini awakening. Close friends and family, unable to interpret these descriptions of unfamiliar states, may become disturbed and even angry at such claims which they consider false or signs of mental disturbance. One side of the circle expands as new experience provides an expansion of how one now defines "reality." The middle section which once reflected a kind of mutual agreement between the two, shrinks significantly. The awakened one has discovered new realms of being and knowing, regions invisible to the other.
And so the awakening of Kundalini can come with many challenges. How can we reconcile the new world of insight with the old familiar notions? How can we live in the two realms (the familiar and the new) simultaneously?
How do we survive when we no longer conform to "consensus reality" and indeed violate the accepted norms of society?
I knew one woman who said that after her awakening she went home, threw out all her old clothes and started anew. We too are called on to throw out all of our "old clothes"--thoughts and mental patterns and notions of how the world "is"--and begin again as we reshape our lives into new configurations.
This process may be difficult and last for a long time, but in our heart of hearts we are grateful to have been thrust to this new level of awareness, for we know that we are meant to be explorers of these unfamiliar realms, and that we will meet others who share a similar journey and so validate our own.
Friday, November 28, 2014
(for the Beloved Within)
Some went to
India and Egypt
to seek the wonder.
They met the Sages,
entered the pyramids.
I stayed home and
felt the bliss.
You and I,
we made love
for so many days,
Our journey ended
in each other.
November 27, 2014
(Picture found on Wikipedia)
Thursday, November 27, 2014
I have been watching the dolphins
and I would like to learn from
the way they thank the ocean
with their playfulness. Or maybe from
the seagulls that thank the air
by whirling in circles. Maybe I could
learn to give thanks like surfers
that fall into a big wave laughing.
Or maybe I could praise the darkness
as the sliver of a moon slips itself
into the night sky like a brilliant
thank-you note without words.
Or the way the ocean reflects
back the glorious sun at dawn
and the way the waves sing
the Hallelujah Chorus constantly.
The world teaches us over and over
how to be thankful.
Praise with your joy – it is enough.
Wednesday, November 26, 2014
“Are you looking for me?
I am in the next seat.
My shoulder is against yours.
you will not find me in the stupas,
not in Indian shrine rooms,
nor in synagogues,
nor in cathedrals:
not in masses,
not in legs winding around your own neck,
nor in eating nothing but vegetables.
When you really look for me,
you will see me instantly —
you will find me in the tiniest house of time.
Kabir says: Student, tell me, what is God?
He is the breath inside the breath.”
Tuesday, November 25, 2014
Recently, I have been in correspondence with Rashani Re'a, a remarkable artist and visionary who has become known world wide for her beautiful collages, one of which is reprinted here. This particular poem has been reprinted in numerous anthologies and given hope and inspiration to the many who have read it. It speaks to our yearning for deep healing when we experience grief. If you turn to her website, you will find many such collages reprinted. They are indeed amazing, just as she is an amazing woman.
Rashani lives in Hawai'i, where she operates a retreat center for both men and women. She has had a remarkable life, which she describes on her site.
Recently we connected on the internet and discovered that each of us had had poems set to music by the same composer and musician in England. These were performed a few years ago in the Royal Opera house in London. Then she told me that she herself had recommended me to this composer, something I had not known before. We also both were represented in an anthology of spiritual poetry a few years back.
Go to her website and see more of her beautiful greeting cards and read more about her life and her sanctuary at:
Monday, November 24, 2014
Two workshops, and in each
the leader said to us,
“Claim your power!”
and I puzzled what this might mean.
Should I stand on a mountain top
and shout oracles?
to downhill ski?
Win a prize in a baking contest
for best chocolate cake?
“You don’t get it,”
I yearned to say.
At this age
something happens inside.
Your “power” is not just
making things happen.
It is looking around at the world,
with its miseries and concerns
with a certain compassion,
sympathy for the struggles
that never end,
but not trying to “fix it” alone or
turn it around single handed.
It is, rather, to be the silent witness,
the one who observes
and discerns the patterns,
the secret threads
that hold it all together,
encourages the others,
then the one who lets go.
Nov. 4, 2014
Sunday, November 23, 2014
Only four o’clock
the light is fading.
As if there were only a certain amount
of allotted sunshine each year
and we were approaching our limit.
On the radio Dvorak
and in here solitude,
the joy of whole minutes
“remembering who we are”
and also the vague rising from below,
what if? what if? what can we cling to
in a world riddled with uncertainties
In between numbers,
the announcer wants us to
automobiles, electronic devices,
whole houses, even.
But I can no longer drive
and don't understand
the new gadgets.
I have my tiny home.
What would one do
with an entire house?
Now, all has changed.
not from having
but from relinquishment,
preparing for the final
releasing into the light.
November 14, 2014
Thursday, November 20, 2014
Your Particular Pain
Hold on to your particular pain.
That too can take you to God.
Only a moment ago
I was floating beneath
in their flower scent.
Now I am standing
in a desert,
where nothing blooms
and no sound is heard.
I do not know
how I got here,
when I may leave.
Now all I really want to do
is to try to remember
all that has passed between us,
and kneel and weep.
January 9, 2014
(picture from internet)
Wednesday, November 19, 2014
I Am Completely Different
I am completely different.
Though I am wearing the same tie as yesterday,
am as poor as yesterday,
as good for nothing as yesterday,
I am completely different.
Though I am wearing the same clothes,
am as drunk as yesterday,
living as clumsily as yesterday, nevertheless
I am completely different.
I patiently close my eyes
on all the grins and smirks
on all the twisted smiles and horse laughs---
and glimpse then, inside me
one beautiful white butterfly
fluttering towards tomorrow.
~ Kuroda Saburo ~
(translated by James Kirkup, Burning Girraffes: Modern and Contemporary Japanese Poetry)
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