Kundalini Splendor

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Tuesday, May 10, 2016

Kabir––Ecstatic Poems 

Kabir has long been one of my all time favorites, along with Rumi and Hafiz.  The CD entitled "The Chord of Love" contains Ram Dass reading the first poem below (along with other selections) against the background of beautiful musical accompaniment.  Just listening to this CD is itself a deep meditation.  For a long time, it was very difficult to obtain this recording, but I believe it is now available on Amazon.  It is also available on Youtube if you want to hear it: "Ram Dass and Amazing Grace, The Chord of Love."  If you don't know this presentation, you should listen right away!  The bliss currents may flow.

Kabir was considered both a Sufi and a Brahman saint.  Like many other Sufi writers, he speaks of the One as Friend, Guest, and Lover.  The latter term applies as well to anyone experiencing the rapture of Kundalini.  At that time, one feels as though the Beloved is making love to you from within in a highly convincing way. 

Dear Dorothy,

Kabir gave voice to the Eternal through his poetry. His words continue to serve as portals to the Divine for millions of seekers from all traditions. 

These poems are from a collection by Robert Bly. They are his renderings of these ecstatic poems of Kabir.

 Kabir: Ecstatic Poems
 Versions by Robert Bly 

Are you looking for me? I am in the next seat.
My shoulder is against yours.
You will not find me in stupas, not in Indian shrine rooms, nor in synagogues, nor in cathedrals:
not in masses, nor kirtans, 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.

The spiritual athlete often changes the color of his clothes,
and his mind remains gray and loveless.

He sits inside a shrine room all day,
so that the Guest has to go outdoors and praise the rocks.

Or he drills holes in his ears, his beard grows 
enormous and matted,
people mistake him for a goat...
He goes out into the wilderness areas, strangles his impulses,
and makes himself neither male nor female...

He shaves his skull, puts his robe in an orange vat,
reads the Bhagavad-Gita, and becomes a terrific talker.

Kabir says: Actually you are going in a hearse to the
country of death,
bound hand and foot!

Have you heard the music that no fingers enter into?
Far inside the house
entangled music - 
What is the sense of leaving your house?

Suppose you scrub your ethical skin until it shines, 
but inside there is no music,
then what?

Mohammed's son pores over the words, and points out this
and that,
but if his chest is not soaked dark with love,
then what?

The Yogi comes along in his famous orange.
But if inside he is colorless, 
then what?

Kabir says: Every instant that the sun is risen, if I stand in the temple, or on a balcony, in the hot fields, or in a walled garden, my own Lord is making love with me.

(The above poems were sent to me by Lawrence Edwards of Anam Cara.)

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