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Dear readers, I’m currently in the process of compiling a selection of my songs and poems, with the intention of creating a volume that will include both. However, the songs to choose from vastly outnumber the poems—I’ve been involved with the songwriting much longer. Consequently, I’m in the process of writing poetry, to help the balance. Happily, I’m in a poetry writing mood.

So I wanted to share my newest poem here, for the words, which is about my spiritual practice and is in memory of my great Friend and spiritual Master, Ajaib Singh.

Thanks, as always, for coming by to read my blog. I welcome your comments.
                                     Namaste,   jesse s. hanson

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the author's spiritual Master, Sant Ajaib Sing (Sant Ji)

 

 

for the words
         
–jesse s. hanson

How can I go forward
how can I be quiet
with a mind that will not
I close my eyes but the words fall from my ears
and will not stay inside
I’m so afraid of my imminent destruction
the awful risk of spiritual failure
I’m afraid of being driven from Your love
onto the featureless plain, alone
where no conversation with a friend of God remains
where no one sings and all songs are in vain
A most insistent, utterly silent voice is calling out in mourning
in anxious petition
In such uncertainty I scrabble about
unable to focus
on trembling hands and knees
grasping
for the words
that could catch Your ear
bring Your attention to me here 

I can’t speak for fear of losing something
I can’t be still for the hope of seeing someone
I’ve lost all fascinations
but too late
too late, too late, too late…
Don’t let it be too late
Ajaib,  strangely wonderful, mystical lion
I’ve no recourse but Your good graces
I’ve haunted this place behind a million faces
and still, no one recognizes me
though I’ve appeared again and again with my relentless longing
although I’ve married their sons and daughters
fought beside them in their wars and died with them
filled their skies with my crazy raucous laughter
and then filled their bellies with my fetus
looked into their eyes, playing the infant
I’ve learned their ways, holding their faith
lost my way on their bitter streets
fell beneath their heavy feet
to return without their sympathy
I’ve lost all fascinations
but now my back is old and weak
and will not stand for dedication
to Your purpose
to Your perfect words of love

so… You repeat them in me
until I’m stronger
Having said it
having asked it
I lie down in exasperation
and dream a dream of realization

Across the glamorous sky in perfect silence
the moon in pallid dream reveals the course
the stars in all their brilliance cannot match her subtle bloom
flower of the night
keeper of the secrets
long held by the lovers and those inspired
to seek the distant truth within
O gentle light, so wan and thin
under which to weep for boys and men
whose character is never spent in vain
by whose delicate form my heart is soothed again
Ignite a pale spark of my resolve
a reminder, after all
What else is there to do
out on this trail of incarnations
I’m going to leave, for now, ambitions
concerns and dangerous missions
release them to the earth below
forget the things that I remember
and remember that I’ve come here searching
for words that tell no story
words that speak the truth
in the stillness of silence
in the music of unborn conscious spirit
no clinging now
no owning
no question how
no thinking
collecting words in mental silence

 

 

 
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Kabir was the first Saint to manifest in each of the four ages (Yugas)

Dear Reader, 
     I came to the conclusion that certain parts of my poem, below, were too cryptic. I like cryptic, but it was not my intention here.
     For one thing, the transition at the end was too abrubpt. Other things too, that I first perceived as subtleties, were making the meaning sort of ambiguous. So I made a few changes. 
     Should anyone be kind enough to take another look, I hope these changes facilitate understanding.      jesse

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It’s long been my understanding that the Kali Yuga is the most auspicious age. It is really the winding down or the growing old time of the creation, or that part of the creation that is sometimes called the material world. Russell Perkins, former editor of Sant Bani Magazine and author of Impact of a Saint, once used a beautiful analogy of a spring that is unwinding until, unchecked it simply flies apart, to explain the parodox of Kali Yuga.

The beauty of it is that the grand illusion that we’re under is becoming more obvious all the time. The impermance of things is very much in our face these days–these years–it very much has been so from the beginning of the age, I think. And with the illusion coming undone, the idea of spirituality gains popularity, and the implementation of various types of spiritual practices becomes more prevalent. Kirpal Singh, the great Mystic Saint of the Path of Surat Shabd Yoga (Sant Mat), told us that in Kali Yuga there would be more “fragrant Saints” coming into the world to show us the Way.

So, in a way, we could say the world is gone into it’s twilight years. It may still be coming to it’s very dark years; some folks certainly believe that it is, I don’t know. In any case, some of us have been practicing (or more accurately, attempting to practice in cases such as mine) spirituality for the better part of our lives and we are now entering into our own twilight years. For many of us, our Masters who have loved us and inititiated us, years ago, have now left the body. They haven’t left us in the truest sense, but physically we have had to go on without them. It is natural to seek out “our old friend in a new coat”.

With that long introduction in place, I do hope you will appreciate my little poem, the path in twilight, which I dedicate to all of my old and new brothers and sisters, who, touched by the love of the fragrant saints, is going forward in the shelter of the same.

Thanks for stopping by my blog and I invite you to comment if so inclined. 
                                                                                jesse s. hanson

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the path in twilight
                   jesse s. hanson

I am your true kin
your brother
your sister
taken in by the same mysterious and otherworldly benefactor as were you
we were brought together by the wonder of, in the awe of that love
Who took us into the home
where we were fed and clothed and taught right from wrong
told stories of lovers as well as of cruel lords
and of the true gravity of our ghostly lives in this world of ghosts
of our perpetual births and deaths
told stories of lovers by our hero of love
until the time when the embodiment of that love left us
orphans…  again
confused, disoriented, wandering, as before, over the parched wasteland
in fear and sickness and terrible dread of our future

 long times go by
…ages
by remembering we live, but forgetting we near perish.

in the distance, shadows cross the path in twilight
remind us of our loved one
you turn that way and I turn this
chasing shadows in search of bliss
He asked if we would not recognize our friend, come in a new coat
but also added, “Don’t follow the false one.”

in love, I send you greetings, I write a letter 
my old friend, my brother, my sister
will you, in turn, write me off at worst
or worry about or worry for me at best          
saying, truth is truth, is it not?

so has the perfect love from the perfect lover become imperfect
by our imperfection
by some fatal mistake?
do our anguished cries of separation and longing that caught our beloved’s ear now fall on deaf ears?
has the heart that would melt like wax at the pain of the children, of the dear ones, now become as hard as the stone?
are we thrown back to the wolves?
what then of love
what then of perfect love

perfect love is perfect love, is it not?
so if my friend wears a coat of cotton
and yours a coat of mail
and if now you’ve found you’re not forgotten
I’ve also found that love can never fail

Sant Ajaib Singh Ji Maharaj, July 31, 1996, Italy on Vimeo

Here’s a very nice video I found of my Spiritual Master giving Satsang in Italy in 1996:

http://vimeo.com/9038895

Jesse S. Hanson’s spiritual fiction novel

Jesse S. Hanson's spiritual fiction novel

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