What inspires you from your faith?

[Sky Dancer]

Precept Dedication Prayer

by Shantideva, revised by His Holiness the Fourteenth Dalai Lama

May all beings everywhere,
Plagued by sufferings of body and mind,
Obtain an ocean of happiness and joy
By virtue of my merits.
May no living creature suffer,
Commit evil or ever fall ill.
May no one be afraid or belittled,
With a mind weighed down by depression.

May the blind see forms,
And the deaf hear sounds.
May those whose bodies are worn with toil
Be restored on finding repose.

May the naked find clothing,
The hungry find food.
May the thirsty find water
And delicious drinks.

May the poor find wealth,
Those weak with sorrow find joy.
May the forlorn find hope,
Constant happiness and prosperity.

May there be timely rains
And bountiful harvests.
May all medicines be effective
And wholesome prayers bear fruit.

May all who are sick and ill
Quickly be freed from their ailments.
Whatever diseases there are in the world,
May they never occur again.

May the frightened cease to be afraid
And those bound be freed.
May the powerless find power
And may people think of benefiting each other.




This one does it for me. I've been battling a severe depression and this one really helps.

 

[Avatar4321]

The Truth, The Spirit, The example of those who rely on Divine Providence

 

[Sky Dancer]

I was thinking more in terms of poems. This is one of my favorites from the great Sufi mystic Rumi. And they say there is no beauty in Islam

The grapes of my body can only become wine
After the winemaker tramples me.
I surrender my spirit like grapes to his trampling
So my inmost heart can blaze and dance with joy.
Although the grapes go on weeping blood and sobbing
"I cannot bear any more anguish, any more cruelty"
The trampler stuffs cotton in his ears: "I am not working in ignorance
You can deny me if you want, you have every excuse,
But it is I who am the Master of this Work.
And when through my Passion you reach Perfection,
You will never be done praising my name."

Rumi

 

[Adamo]

I was thinking more in terms of poems. This is one of my favorites from the great Sufi mystic Rumi. And they say there is no beauty in Islam

The grapes of my body can only become wine
After the winemaker tramples me.
I surrender my spirit like grapes to his trampling
So my inmost heart can blaze and dance with joy.
Although the grapes go on weeping blood and sobbing
"I cannot bear any more anguish, any more cruelty"
The trampler stuffs cotton in his ears: "I am not working in ignorance
You can deny me if you want, you have every excuse,
But it is I who am the Master of this Work.
And when through my Passion you reach Perfection,
You will never be done praising my name."

Rumi

Your poem is gibberish.

 

[Mini 14]

Now I lay me down, to sleep.
I pray the Lord, my soul to keep.
If I should die before I wake,
I pray the Lord, my soul to take.

 

[Sky Dancer]

I was thinking more in terms of poems. This is one of my favorites from the great Sufi mystic Rumi. And they say there is no beauty in Islam

The grapes of my body can only become wine
After the winemaker tramples me.
I surrender my spirit like grapes to his trampling
So my inmost heart can blaze and dance with joy.
Although the grapes go on weeping blood and sobbing
"I cannot bear any more anguish, any more cruelty"
The trampler stuffs cotton in his ears: "I am not working in ignorance
You can deny me if you want, you have every excuse,
But it is I who am the Master of this Work.
And when through my Passion you reach Perfection,
You will never be done praising my name."

Rumi

Your poem is gibberish.

That's because you don't understand it. It's describing the spiritual work of grinding down the ego to let the light of wisdom shine through.

 

[blu]

I was thinking more in terms of poems. This is one of my favorites from the great Sufi mystic Rumi. And they say there is no beauty in Islam

The grapes of my body can only become wine
After the winemaker tramples me.
I surrender my spirit like grapes to his trampling
So my inmost heart can blaze and dance with joy.
Although the grapes go on weeping blood and sobbing
"I cannot bear any more anguish, any more cruelty"
The trampler stuffs cotton in his ears: "I am not working in ignorance
You can deny me if you want, you have every excuse,
But it is I who am the Master of this Work.
And when through my Passion you reach Perfection,
You will never be done praising my name."

Rumi

Your poem is gibberish.

That's because you don't understand it. It's describing the spiritual work of grinding down the ego to let the light of wisdom shine through.

hes a troll, dont worry about it, its a very nice poem

 

[Mr. H.]

Authored by "Rumi"? That wouldn't be Donald Rumsfeld would it?

 

[Adamo]

Now I lay me down, to sleep.
I pray the Lord, my soul to keep.
If I should die before I wake,
I pray the Lord, my soul to take.

Praise the Lord and pass the ammunition!

 

[strollingbones]

Kubla Khan
Or a Vision in a Dream. A Fragment

In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
A stately pleasure dome decree:
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
Through caverns measureless to man
Down to a sunless sea.
So twice five miles of fertile ground
With walls and towers were girdled round:
And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills,
Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree;
And here were forests ancient as the hills,
Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.

But oh! that deep romantic chasm which slanted
Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover!
A savage place! as holy and enchanted
As e'er beneath a waning moon was haunted
By woman wailing for her demon lover!
And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething,
As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing,
A mighty fountain momently was forced:
Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst
Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail,
Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher's flail:
And 'mid these dancing rocks at once and ever
It flung up momently the sacred river.
Five miles meandering with a mazy motion
Through wood and dale the sacred river ran,
Then reached the caverns measureless to man,
And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean:
And 'mid this tumult Kubla heard from far
Ancestral voices prophesying war!

The shadow of the dome of pleasure
Floated midway on the waves;
Where was heard the mingled measure
From the fountain and the caves.
It was a miracle of rare device,
A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice!
A damsel with a dulcimer
In a vision once I saw;
It was an Abyssinian maid,
And on her dulcimer she played,
Singing of Mount Abora.
Could I revive within me
Her symphony and song,
To such a deep delight 'twould win me,
That with music loud and long,
I would build that dome in air,
That sunny dome! those caves of ice!
And all who heard should see them there,
And all should cry, Beware! Beware!
His flashing eyes, his floating hair!
Weave a circle round him thrice,
And close your eyes with holy dread,
For he on honey-dew hath fed,
And drunk the milk of Paradise.









Kubla Khan Poem Text

it is one of the great unfinished works.....


"days of dreams
nights of quest

on sunday we go to church'



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[Big Black Dog]

Thanks for the veggies,
Thanks for the meat,
I'm Baptist,
Let's eat!

 

[Mr. H.]

My faith originated from the Catholic church, which was my upbringing. I've managed to salvage little from it, but it's been my salvation.
The prayer Hail Mary, a direct sign from Mary herself, and a life-saving plea.

Yeah I'm inspired.

 

[Sky Dancer]

The Guest House

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they're a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.


~ Rumi ~

 

[Sky Dancer]

Call Me by My True Names

Do not say that I'll depart tomorrow
because even today I still arrive.

Look deeply: I arrive in every second
to be a bud on a spring branch,
to be a tiny bird, with wings still fragile,
learning to sing in my new nest,
to be a caterpillar in the heart of a flower,
to be a jewel hiding itself in a stone.

I still arrive, in order to laugh and to cry,
in order to fear and to hope.
The rhythm of my heart is the birth and
death of all that are alive.

I am the mayfly metamorphosing on the surface of the river,
and I am the bird which, when spring comes, arrives in time
to eat the mayfly.

I am the frog swimming happily in the clear pond,
and I am also the grass-snake who, approaching in silence,
feeds itself on the frog.

I am the child in Uganda, all skin and bones,
my legs as thin as bamboo sticks,
and I am the arms merchant, selling deadly weapons to
Uganda.

I am the twelve-year-old girl, refugee on a small boat,
who throws herself into the ocean after being raped by a sea
pirate,
and I am the pirate, my heart not yet capable of seeing and
loving.

I am a member of the politburo, with plenty of power in my
hands,
and I am the man who has to pay his "debt of blood" to, my
people,
dying slowly in a forced labor camp.

My joy is like spring, so warm it makes flowers bloom in all
walks of life.
My pain if like a river of tears, so full it fills the four oceans.

Please call me by my true names,
so I can hear all my cries and laughs at once,
so I can see that my joy and pain are one.

Please call me by my true names,
so I can wake up,
and so the door of my heart can be left open,
the door of compassion.

Thich Nhat Hanh

 

[Sky Dancer]

Sometimes go outside and sit
In the evening at sunset,
When there’s a slight breeze that touches your body,
And makes the leaves and the trees move gently.
You’re not trying to do anything really.
You’re simply allowing yourself to be,
Very open from deep within,
Without holding onto anything whatsoever.
Don’t bring something back from the past, from a memory.
Don’t plan that something should happen.
Don’t hold onto anything in the present.
Nothing you perceive needs to be nailed down.
Simply let experience take place, very freely,
So that your empty, open heart
Is suffused with the tenderness of true compassion.

Tsoknyi Rinpoche

 

[eots]

[ame]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IxM_3iEE5BI[/ame]

It's getting late you're gonna die
They're trying to scare us with their lies
The 700 club is full of shit
The evangelists can suck my dick
I don't need religious bumfucks anymore
Their paranoia is here to stay
You all believe them anyway

I hate buddhism
I hate satanism
I hate reaganism
I hate religion

 

[goldcatt]

I always liked this one, it reminds me of the reason for the silence.

RIVER OF SPIRIT

A Friend taught me to canoe
to seek the way downstream
going with the force of the stream
searching the way to choose.

I thought I knew the direction
Once started one always went down
Like a frail leaf that's thrown
dwarfed on the torrent's action.

Then I learned to dance with the spirit
of the river, eddying, surfing across,
curling back, in the current's upstream toss,
embracing, merging, learning not to fear it.

Friends taught me of the silence
First endure, then enjoy, then feel mild delight.
Feel a merging of light with light
hear the tiny whisper of the light so immense.

My first intimations of the river of spirit, river of light
where the frail barks of our lives can play
following baroque curls in the light, leading as way
opens to carry us forward without fight.

The river of light, silent, invisible encompasses.
On the riverside of light I lay my life's boat
As I hear the silence in which I will float,
play, work and live not as one, but as process.

-Jody Hopkins

 

[eots]

[ame]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9dNM-oVNYe0[/ame]


can do whatever I want
Cause I am my own god
Don't have to worry if it's right or wrong
Cause I am my own god

 

[Sky Dancer]

Prayer of St. Francis

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.
Where there is Hatred, let me sow Love.
Where there is Injury, Pardon.
Where there is Doubt, Faith.
Where there is Despair, Hope.
Where there is Darkness, Light, and
Where there is Sadness, Joy.

O Divine Master,
Grant that I may not so much
seek to be consoled as to console;
To be understood, as to understand;
To be loved, as to love;
For it is in giving that we receive,
It is in pardoning that we are pardoned,
And it is in dying that we are born to Eternal Life.

 

[Sky Dancer]

The breeze at dawn has secrets to tell you.
Don't go back to sleep.
You must ask for what you really want.
Don't go back to sleep.

People are going back and forth across the doorsill
where the two worlds touch.
The door is round and open.

Don't go back to sleep.

Mevlâna Jalâluddîn Rumi
Version by Coleman Barks