Extract from Kahlil Gibran’s The Prophet
And now you ask in your heart,
"How shall we distinguish that which is good in pleasure from that which is not good?"
Go to your fields and your gardens, and you shall learn that it is the pleasure of the bee to gather honey of the flower,
But it is also the pleasure of the flower to yield its honey to the bee.
For to the bee a flower is a fountain of life,
And to the flower a bee is a messenger of love,
And to both, bee and flower, the giving and the receiving of pleasure is a need and an ecstasy.
People of Orphalese, be in your pleasures like the flowers and the bees.
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The following video is a reading of a poem - THE GREAT REALIZATION - by Tomos Robert - and how the Covid Virus changed the world in a good way:
The Great Realization | Storytime Read Aloud - YouTube
"Tell me the one about the virus again, then I'll go to bed..." It's storytime! The Great Realization, Tomos Robert’s message of hope and resilience during the coronavirus pandemic, has resonated with millions online. Now he’s partnered with award-winning illustrator Nomoco to bring his inspirational poem into a beautiful picture book that’s perfect for anyone, of any age, who needs to see why hindsight is 2020.
This is another poem that Oriah Mountain Dreamer used in her book What We Ache For - besides really liking the poem - the last two lines I really love and will take to heart.
Things to Think, by Robert Bly
If the phone rings, think of it as carrying a message
Larger than anything you've ever heard,
Vaster than a hundred lines of Yeats.
Think that someone may bring a bear to your door,
Maybe wounded and deranged: or think that a moose
Has risen out of the lake, and he's carrying on his antlers
A child of your own whom you've never seen.
When someone knocks on the door, think that he's about
To give you something large: tell you you're forgiven,
Or that it's not necessary to work all the time, or that it's
Been decided that if you lie down no one will die.
The author/poetess Oriah Mountain Dreamer likes to refer to the poetry of others to make a point in several chapters of her book The Dance. The following - by the Sufi poet Hafiz - was found in Chap 5:
It Felt Love
How
Did the rose
Ever open its heart
And give to this world
All its
Beauty?
It felt the encouragement of light
Against its
Being,
Otherwise,
We all remain
Too
Frightened.
– Hāfiz e Shīrāz
As another soul returns to its dwelling place above
And its note seeks its corresponding note
In both rthythm and chord across the Space below.
Upon and across the crests of time
Knowing not when its notes
Will form the melody once more.
In Eternity are the unlimited spirals of time
Mentally constructed by Man
Removed by Love and rhyme.
But joy divine returns to that human heart
Which finds its true voice in their other,
Where melody begins once more.
Like torrents in a sacred well
The sounds finally blend like blood and wine
To be drunk in loving verse.
Love at First Bite
The below poem - To The Temple of Alden - was mentioned in The Essenes Digest article - The Essene Lineage in California: Carmelites and Rosicrucians at Carmel in 1602 - by Richard Schultz, Ph.D., F.R.C. and seems it was written by HSL under a pen name of Royle Thurston. Overall the article is quite compelling besides being a good read.
https://b1e36bcd2b2f667c32cd-4fb9b5302a048ee02dcf5b2b1a8e57f9.ssl.c...
To The Temple of Alden
Royle Thurston (H. Spencer Lewis)
Reprinted from The American Rosae Crucis Vol. 3, No. 2 (May 1920), p. 26
The old Rosicrucian “Temple of Alden” is situated in the oldest section of California among
primitive ruins on a hill overlooking the Pacific Ocean. Alden was its first Master and
founder in 1603.
The coastline ranges far, the skies unfold;
The mountains rise in glory, stair on stair;
The setting sun sheds Gold Rays as of old
In thickets dark where roses bloom most fair.
The ancient sea, deep wrinkled, ever young,
With salt-lip kisses still the silver sand.
In ruined Temple dwells the Master with silent tongue
And alchemists with strange fire shake the land.
An hundred generations here have come,
And wandered o’er these hills and faced the light;
An hundred times slight man from mortal womb
Has leapt and lapsed again into the night.
Here tribesmen dwelt, and fought and cursed their star,
And scoured both land and sea to sate their needs;
Prophetic eyes of Alden gazed here afar,
And laid the cornerstone of mystic deeds.
Nor dreamed this mystic mortal of his Past,
Nor the deep sources of his life divined;
Watching his herds, or nets in ocean cast,
Deaf to the ancestral voices down the wind;
Nor guessed what strange young likeness should arise
Self of himself, far in the future years
With his own soul within his sunlit eyes,
And in his heart his secret hopes and tears.
Yet, Alden saw—Yea, from his lofty stand
He saw each life continuous extend
Beyond its mortal bound and reach a hand
To others and to others without end
He saw the generations, like a river
Flow down from age to age, and all the vast
Complex of human passion float and quiver
A wondrous mirror where incarnations glassed.
And still through all the ages scarce a change
Has touched those mountain slopes or seaward curve,
And still the folk beneath the old laws range,
And from the ancient customs hardly swerve;
Still Life and Death, veiled figures, hand in hand,
Move o’er men’s heads, dread, irresistible,
To ope the portals of that other land
Where Peace Profound and Alden dwell.
Inside the Great Mystery that is,
We don’t really own anything.
What is this competition we feel then,
Before we go, one at a time, through the Same Gate?
If you’ve opened your loving to God’s love,
You’re helping people you don’t know
And have never seen.
Is what I say true? Say “yes” quickly,
If you know, you’ve known it
From before the beginning of the Universe.
I wish the bees I am dealing with we’re loving. flr aix Years they have been feeding off of my
honey, and am dealing with major abuse abuse and sabotage. I even show the the mwntal anguiah they bring to me for not stopping, and they continue to harass more. Though as the marriage of heaven and hell states, “rose cover the thorns as the singing bees fly’s over the barren Heath”. That argument correlated with my shaman issue and legal argument. As the rose feeding the bees honey, I too tried stopping. So they hack amd wired my phone. It’s quite disturbing. I will Ben once my village tuning into nature as I’m guided onhow to handle the bees. As the magistry, without this abuse I wouldn’t know how roc establish the order. I have tried everything’s to help the bees become good people. There’s nothing I can’t do but bring a legal criminal case whichever I’m upset about. I can’t move to Europe because the bees don’t stop
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