Can You Read My Mind...?

The problem is, when we don't find a logical answer, we settle for a stupid one. Ritual is what happens when we run out of rationale.

Tuesday, September 20, 2011

The Beggar from Luossa

By : Dan Anderson

Around the beggar from Luossa
People sat in circles
And by the camp fire they heard him sing
About beggars and wanderers,about wonderful things
About his long and he sang all night

There is something beyond the mountains
Beyond the flowers and the song
There is something behind the star
Behind my burning heart
Listen something comes whispering
Comes enticing and is asking:
Come to us for this world is not longer you kingdom

I have listened to the waves calm rolling
Towards the shore
About the wild oceans rest,I have dreamt
In my mind I rushed to the shapeless land
Where the most dear we know shall be forgotten
To a wild and endless loneing we were
Born of mothers palthrough anxiety of the birth agony
Sounded our first groaning

Thrown upon hills and highlands,we tumbled round
And played
Where we elks and lions,butterflies,beggers and God
I sat quite by her side,she, whose heart was like mine
Whith tender hands she built a nest,out home
I heard my heart crying,what you own is not yours and I was carried away by spirits to get peace and mind

That I love,it is beyond and hidden afar
And my rihteous way is great and wunderful
And the middle of all pother I am tempted
To pray the lord
You take away all my land,I dont wish to own thing
Come whith me brother,beyond the mountains whith the
Silent chilly rivers
Where the ocean slowly fall asleep in a mountain wrapped bed

Somewhere beyond the heaven is my home,is my mother
In the middle of the hazes of golddash dressed in a
Cape of roses
May the black salty waters cool the fever hot cheeks
May we be miles from life before the morning breaks!
Not from this world I was and eternal hardship
I suffered for the sake of my worry,infidelity and fiery love

By a shell sown beach,stand a gate of heavy roses
Inside moulded wrecks are resting and tired men have
Peace of mind
And high songs never heard like eaches of violin singing
Under arches where children forever young and
Blessed live.

Thank you Uncle Jeff. It's beautiful poem

Wednesday, September 07, 2011

It's been 3 days my sister's grandma in ICU. She had Myocardial Infarction when I found her weak and hypotension. Today, she's getting worse due to new heart attack event. It's STEMI now (whereas yesterday still NSTEMI). She must got knocked down first in order to keep her circulation in stable state. I think, she's a strong woman because it was a rare thing to find an 80 y.o woman that already got cerebrovascular event and complicated by hypertension and diabetic to survive.
When I standby at the hospital to keep my sister's grandma, I met my colleague at the waiting room and just knew that her husband get serious illness. Brain tumor! I couldn't say anything to cheer up and lift her spirit. What God have planned for her. She's just getting married for 6 months and 'walaaah' her husband lie on the bed unconscious and paralysis. So, I need to pray for them, for my sister's grandma and my colleague for their goodness and strength. And hoping that they can clear stuff that never been clear with their family. I realize my situation right now is more more more better and been blessed til today. May Allah keep my father and my mother in a great health, because I'm here far away from them. Amin. Pray and poem for both of them, my sister's grandma and my colleague I presented...

You would know the secret of death.
But how shall you find itunless you seek it in the heart of life?The owl whose night-bound eyes are blind unto the daycannot unveil the mystery of light.If you would indeed behold the spirit of death,open your heart wide unto the body of life.For life and death are one,

even as the river and the sea are one.

In the depth of your hopes and desires lies your silent knowledge of the beyond;And like the seeds dreaming beneath the snow

your heart dreams of spring.

Trust the dreams,

for in them is hidden the gate to eternity.

Your fear of death is but the trembling of the shepherdwhen he stands before the king whose hand

is to be laid upon him in honor.

Is the shepherd not joyful beneath his trembling,that he shall wear the mark of the king?

Yet is he not more mindful of his trembling?

For what is it to die but to stand naked in the windand to melt into the sun?And what is it to cease breathing,but to free the breath from its restless tides,

that it may rise and expand and seek God unencumbered?

Only when you drink from the river of silenceshall you indeed sing.And when you have reached the mountain top,then you shall begin to climb.And when the earth shall claim your limbs,

then shall you truly dance.

- The Prophet -- Kahlil Gibran -- Walker & Company -

- Phoenix Press, 1923 -

On the day I die, when I'm being carried
toward the grave, don't weep. Don't say,He's gone! He's gone. Death has nothing

to do with going away. The sun sets and

the moon sets, but they're not gone.

Death is a coming together. The tomb

looks like a prison, but it's really

release into union. The human seed goes

down in the ground like a bucket into

the well where Joseph is. It grows and

comes up full of some unimagined beauty.

Your mouth closes here and immediately

opens with a shout of joy there.

- Mevlana Jelaluddin Rumi, 13th Century -

Our Lord! forgive us
our sins and anything
we may have done
that transgressed our duty:
Establish our feet firmly,
and help us against
those that resistFaith.

- Qur'an – 3:147 -
- Al 'imran: The Family of Imran -

Sunday, September 04, 2011


by: Ibn al Farid (Translation)

Every part of my body awaits him,
even he's not with me, in every substance which are soft, tender, pure and happy.
Inside guitar string and melodious flute fused in vibrating tone.

And inside deer's grass field that are very fertile green, in a cool twilight and in bright of first beam of the dawn.

And in the foggy rain whom to go down from the cloud to the flower garden.

And when the wind blow so gentle bring his robe and spread to me a scent of rose fragrant in a soft of dawning day...
And when I kiss the lip of goblet, I smell of pure grapes in cheerful and happiness...
I'm not expelled from my country if he was with me ; my mind won't bothered everywhere we belong ; that place is where I was born if my lover also been there ; where there is a slope sand hill--- that's the place I will have to stop...