Patricia Janečkova; Once Upon a Time in the West

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=geVBruZAWA4&t=18s

God Makes Use of Man’s Motives

God makes use of man’s
motives, ever turning Soul
toward Itself

every man is a part
of and contributes to the state
of the world

the man in
existential pain thinks only
of God: how to become That!

when the crisis
passes, the worldly man returns
to his infidelities

the Friend says;
he who hates you, hates me,
he who loves you, loves me!

Speak low if you speak of love… Shakespeare

If You Speak of Love

Speak with reverence if you speak of life,
Speak here below as you speak up above.
Speak with certainty where confusion is rife,
Speak low if you speak of love.

Speak with wisdom if you speak of death,
Speak with forbearance should push come to shove.
Speak with assurance under your breath,
Speak low if you speak of love.

Speak with silence if among eagles,
Speak with compassion if among doves.
Speak to the one that’s made so regal,
Speak low if you speak of love.

Speak with reverence if you speak of life,
Speak with humility from up above.
Speak with patience should you speak of strife,
Speak low if you speak of love.

Come warriors of noble heart and intent,
Whether yours be the sword or the pen;
Come take thy rest and be content,
That the body may heal, and refreshed, rise again.

Let the next battle wait, let the enemy gloat,
While you shore up your strength and replenish your stores.
To eat, drink and rest is the best antidote
That the Soul on new wings may once again soar!

How could I know longing
would drive me out of my mind like this,

Making  my heart a place of suffering
and turning my eyes into a raging river?

Rumi

St Paul spoke of “dying daily”.  I understand his words to mean letting go of today as we must prepare for tomorrow, which will be another day, another moment, which we cannot experience fully if we’re laden with the baggage of today. Blake spoke of “kissing the joy as it flies”, in order to “live in eternity’s sunrise”. Taking this thought to its logical conclusion by the time we reach physical death we should be perfectly prepared to yield up the human body, that friend we’ve come to know so well. Rumi spoke of “loving the grainy taste of this world”, just as he’s “preparing to leave it”, and so it is, my friends, the Divine Being willed it this way; listen and live in the moment, live it fully with its joy or with its sorrow, or else suffer.

The Divine has Its own special way with Soul, there is no half measure and there is no turning back. Surrender everything you own and IT will reply with everything It has; come, Soul and enter that strange celestial ecstasy of that inner connection that none may know save within the deepest inner recesses of Self or Being. You will never be the same! Few will recognise a change in you though they may sense or feel it, but you will never want again, you will simply understand and know that everything you may require, need or deem necessary for the Divine work will come to you. You will need to master patience, be prepared to listen to the inner guidance and to pace yourself and to do the required work, according to your own talents, style and tempo.

Jano, oh, Jano lele, My Beloved
My dewy, my Jano (mori), a clover
Ayyy, my dewy, my Jano (mori), a clover
You are passing by, my Jano (mori), you are leaving
You are not talking to me, nor do you smile
Ah, you are not talking to me, nor do you smile
They asked me, my Jano (mori), the craftsmen
what have you cooked/prepared for them, Jano, for dinner.
Sometimes a pie”, my Bey/Beg, sometimes chicken
this night, my Bey/Beg, I cooked a young Lamb
Ayyy, from two mothers fed, my Bey/Beg

This rudimentary translation gives the context somewhat. It is a song from the time of the Ottoman occupation, when the Ottoman’s would take the healthiest and brightest children, the most beautiful young women for themselves etc. The boys would often become Janissaries while the girls bear the children of the Turks. It appears to be a song about one’s beloved who has been taken (either willingly or by force) by the Bey, or Beg ( the “chieftan” or, “man of means”…) while the lover is left bereft and alone.

lighting up the sky,
the nightjar’s luminous wake;
reaching for the stars