Let Nothing Lie Dormant

Posted: August 8, 2013 | Author: CultFit | Filed under: Random Workout | Tags: blogging, David Dominguez, family, freshly pressed, friends, happiness, health, hope, kindness, life, love, lululemon, musings, natural, nature, Omaha, passion, perspective, Poem, Poetry, Prose, running, trail running, yoga | 13 Comments

…

At the farmer’s market in Rosarito, Mexico,

a man touched my arm.

He sat on a stool at a wooden table,

and in the center,

a blue pitcher of water beaded under the sun.

Hunkered over his lap,

he worked with a gouge on a block of walnut,

and he blew at the dust,

and the dust swirled in the breeze.

Done stripping the sapwood vulnerable to rot,

the man held the heart of the wood,

a purple wood hard against

the chisel’s cutting edge.

He looked up from his work,

and his gray eyes told me I must listen.

“This wood must be strong

or the heart cracks before the real work is done.

See this?” he asked softly,

and he lifted a mallet carved

from a branch of apple, “Strong wood,” he said.

“It wanted to be more than a tree.”

He rubbed fresh walnut dust between his palms.

We drank glasses of ice water,

talked about life in general,

and he used the pitcher,

billowed and wet like the sail of a boat,

to cool his neck.

Later, through the soft meat of an avocado,

I felt the pit longing to be free.

David Dominguez

Bring Wine

Posted: August 1, 2013 | Author: CultFit | Filed under: Random Workout | Tags: blogging, exercise, fitness, free range, freshly pressed, friends, happiness, health, hipster, kindness, life, love, lululemon, marathon, motivation, musings, Mystic, natural, nature, Omaha, passion, perspective, Poetry, Prose, Rumi, running, simplicity, whole foods, wine, yoga | 6 Comments

… For I am suffering crop sickness from the vintage;
God has seized me, and I am thus held fast.
By love’s soul, bring me a cup of wine that is the envy of the
sun, for I care aught but love.
Bring that which if I were to call it “soul” would be a shame,
for the reason that I am pained in the head because of the soul.
Bring that whose name is not contained in this mouth, through
which the fissures of my speech split asunder.
Bring that which, when it is not present, I am stupid and ig-
norant, but when I am with it, I am the king of the subtle and
crafty ones.
Bring that which, the moment it is void of my head, I become
black and dark, you might say I am of the infidels.
Bring that which delivers out of this “bring” and “do not
bring”; bring quickly, and repel me not, saying, “Whence shall
I bring it?”
Bring, and deliver the roof of the heavens through the long
night from my abundant smoke and lamentations.
Bring that which after my death, even out of my dust, will
restore me to speech and thanksgiving even as Najjar.
Bring me wine, for I am guardian of wine like a goblet, for
whatever has gone into my stomach I deliver back completely.
Najjar said, “After my death would that my people might be
open-eyed to the ecstasy within me.
“They would not regard my bones and blood; in spirit I ama
mighty king, even though in body I am vile.
“What a ladder I, the Carpenter, have chiseled! My going has
reached the roof of the seventh heaven.
“I journeyed like the Messiah, my ass remained below; I do
no grieve for my ass, nor am I asslike of ears.
“Do not like Eblis see in Adam only water and clay; see that
behind the clay are my hundred thousand rose bowers.”
Shams-e Tabrizi rose up from this flesh saying, “ I am the
sun. Bring up my head from this mire.
“Err not, when I enter the mire once more, for I am at rest,
and am ashamed of this veil.
“Every morning I will rise up, despite the blind; for the sake
of the blind I will not cease to rise and set.”

جلال‌الدین محمد بلخى‎

Notes:

This coming Saturday join me at the Omaha Healing Arts Center for a “Rumi Celebration”– An Invitation to Universal Love and Knowledge. If you would like to learn more please visit the OM Center Website.

Be well today!

Meditations

Posted: July 25, 2013 | Author: CultFit | Filed under: Random Workout | Tags: blogging, friends, happiness, health, hope, kindness, life, love, lululemon, Margaret Fuller, meditation, Meditations, motivation, musings, nature, passion, Poem, Poetry, yoga | 6 Comments

…

The clouds are marshalling across the sky,

Leaving their deepest tints upon yon range

Of soul-alluring hills. The breeze comes softly,

Laden with tribute that a hundred orchards

Now in their fullest blossom send, in thanks

For this refreshing shower. The birds pour forth

In heightened melody the notes of praise

They had suspended while God’s voice was speaking,

And his eye flashing down upon his world.

I sigh, half-charmed, half-pained. My sense is living,

And, taking in this freshened beauty, tells

Its pleasure to the mind. The mind replies,

And strives to wake the heart in turn, repeating

Poetic sentiments from many a record

Which other souls have left, when stirred and satisfied

By scenes as fair, as fragrant. But the heart

Sends back a hollow echo to the call

Of outward things, — and its once bright companion,

Who erst would have been answered by a stream

Of life-fraught treasures, thankful to be summoned, —

Can now rouse nothing better than this echo;

Unmeaning voice, which mocks their softened accents.

Content thee, beautiful world! and hush, still busy mind!

My heart hath sealed its fountains. To the things

Of Time they shall be oped no more. Too long,

Too often were they poured forth: part have sunk

Into the desert; part profaned and swollen

By bitter waters, mixed by those who feigned

They asked them for refreshment, which, turned back,

Have broken and o’erflowed their former urns.

So when ye talk of pleasure, lonely world,

And busy mind, ye ne’er again shall move me

To answer ye, though still your calls have power

To jar me through, and cause dull aching here.

No so the voice which hailed me from the depths

Of yon dark-bosomed cloud, now vanishing

Before the sun ye greet. It touched my centre,

The voice of the Eternal, calling me

To feel his other worlds; to feel that if

I could deserve a home, I still might find it

In other spheres, — and bade me not despair,

Though ‘want of harmony’ and ‘aching void’

Are terms invented by the men of this,

Which I may not forget.

In former times

I loved to see the lightnings flash athwart

The stooping heavens; I loved to hear the thunder

Call to the seas and mountains; for I thought

‘Tis thus man’s flashing fancy doth enkidle

The firmament of mind; ‘tis thus his eloquence

Calls unto the soul’s depths and heights; and still

I defied the creature, nor remembered

The Creator in his works.

Ah now how different!

The proud delight of that keen sympathy

Is gone; no longer riding on the wave,

But whelmed beneath it: my own plans and works,

Or, as the Scriptures phrase it, my ’inventions’

No longer interpose ‘twist me and Heaven.

Today, for the first time, I felt the Deity,

And uttered prayer on hearing thunder. This

Must be thy will, — for finer, higher spirits

Have gone through this same process, — yet I think

There was religion in that strong delight,

Those sounds, those thoughts of power imparted. True,

I did not say, ‘He is the Lord thy God,’

But I had feeling of his essence. But

‘’Twas pride by which the angels fell.’ So be it!

But O, might I but see a little onward!

Father, I cannot be a spirit of power;

May I be active as a spirit of love,

Since thou hast ta’en me from that path which Nature

Seemed to appoint, O, deign to ope another,

Where I may walk with thought and hope assured;

‘Lord, I believe; help thou mine unbelief!’

Had I but faith like that which fired Novalis,

I too could bear that the heart ‘fall in ashes,’

While the freed spirit rises from beneath them,

With heavenward-look, and Phoenix-plumes upsoaring!

– Margaret Fuller

Be helpless

Posted: July 18, 2013 | Author: CultFit | Filed under: Random Workout | Tags: Arts, happiness, healing, kindness, life, love, Mystic, Omaha, passion, Poem, Poetry, Prose, Rumi | 10 Comments

… dumbfounded,
Unable to say yes or no.
Then a stretcher will come from grace
to gather us up.

We are too dull-eyed to see that beauty.
If we say we can, we’re lying.
If we say No, we don’t see it,
That No will behead us
And shut tight our window onto spirit.

So let us rather not be sure of anything,
Beside ourselves, and only that, so
Miraculous beings come running to help.
Crazed, lying in a zero circle, mute,
We shall be saying finally,
With tremendous eloquence, Lead us.
When we have totally surrendered to that beauty,
We shall be a mighty kindness.
― Rumi

Notes:

Please be my guest on August 3rd as the Omaha Healing Arts Center celebrates Rumi. This should truly be a night to remember!

Create Desire

Posted: July 11, 2013 | Author: CultFit | Filed under: Random Workout | Tags: American Poets, Creativity, desire, family, freshly pressed, friends, happiness, health, hope, kindness, life, love, lululemon, motivation, musings, passion, Poem, Poetry, Prose, whole foods, WOD, yoga | 4 Comments

…

Someone was searching for a Form of Fire.

Bird-eyed, the wind watched.

Four deer in a blowsy meadow.

As though it were simply random, a stately stare.

What’s six and six and two and ten?

Time that my eye ached, my heart shook, why.

Mistaking lime for lemon.

Dressed in cobalt, charcoal, thistle—and control.

If they had more they would need less.

A proposal from the squinting logician.

Seems we are legal, seems we are ill.

Ponderous purpose, are you weather, are you wheel?

Gold with a heart of cinder.

Little blue chip dancing in the light of the loom.

Mistress, May-girl, whom will you kiss?

The death of water is the birth of air.

– Karen Volkman

CultFit

Form, Flow and Grace

Let Nothing Lie Dormant

Bring Wine

Meditations

Be helpless

Create Desire

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CultFit

Form, Flow and Grace

Let Nothing Lie Dormant

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Bring Wine

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Meditations

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Be helpless

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Create Desire

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