A blessing for Diwali by Satya Kalra

“May the lamps of love and devotion burn brightly in your heart
May the light of understanding shine in your mind
May the light of harmony glow in your home
May the bright rays of service shine forth ceaselessly from your hands
May your smile, your words and your actions be as sweet
May Maha Lakshmi bring you the true wealth of peace, health, happiness, and love.”

“Nice distinctions are troublesome. It is so much easier to say that a thing is black than to discriminate the particular shade of brown, blue, or green to which it really belongs. It is so much easier to make up your mind that your neighbour is good for nothing, than to enter into all the circumstances that would oblige you to modify that opinion.”

George Eliot (nom de plume of Mary Ann Evans)

From The Celtic Spirit: Daily Meditations for the Turning Year by Caitlin Matthews,

“Ordinary Things

‘There are three slender things that support the world: the slender stream of cow’s milk into a pail; the slender blade of green corn in the ground; the slender thread running over the hands of a skilled woman.’ Ancient Irish triad

The comfort and nurture we derive from dairy products is the gift of the cow, that supremely important animal in the Celtic world. The cow, unit of wealth, was so highly prized that it is remembered in the heavens among Gaelic speakers who know the Milky Way as “the Way of the White Cow.” The fertility of the fields was always considered a measure of how committed a ruler or chieftain was to his land and people: poor crops were an indication of poor rulership. Along with the milk of the cow, the bannock (loaf) of bread made up the staple diet of most people before the advent of the New World potato, so grain was another measure of prosperity and well-being.

Before the coming of industrial looms, all clothing was made laboriously by hand. The woman of the house (with the help of her daughters) clothed her entire family; she would take the unwashed wool, comb and card it, and then time-consumingly spin it from the distaff until it could be labour-intensively woven on a hand-loom. That wool kept the cold out, but the greatest skill went into weaving fine linen garments for wear next to the skin. It is by the help of the ordinary things that much of own living is supported. In different countries, there are different staple grains and foodstuffs, different materials. From their slender existence our own is sustained.

What three ordinary things are the supporters of your life?”

“There is one art of which people should be masters – the art of reflection.”

Samuel Taylor Coleridge, born on this day in 1772

From Earth Bound: Daily Meditations for All Seasons by Brian Nelson,

“The apples are ripe now, and their names have histories as rich as the apples themselves – Granny Smith, Delicious, Gala. The name Delicious was decided upon long before the first such apple was grown. It had been selected as a marketing device and held in reserve until, after many journeys through orchards, after many tastes and trials, an apple that really deserved the title was identified.

Maybe we should adopt this strategy ourselves. Maybe the Delicious apple only appears when we’ve decided that’s what we’re looking for. To find the delicious, to live in joy, to breathe in peace – whatever our goal, we may taste many sour apples in search of it. But the more dedicated we are to the search, the more likely it is that nature will provide.”

Maple Seeds by Lynn Ungar

“Most of the leaves are gone
from the maple. Other years
it’s glowed with color, but in drought
the leaves just turned brown
and dropped. Sometimes you just
can’t afford that kind of gaudy joy.
But now there are seeds
by the tens of thousands,
the sidewalk heaped in
little brown wings, flocks
of seed angels come to earth.
I know I’ll be grumbling
as I pull sprout after sprout
when the rains come. But for now
let me be a witness that letting go
is not the same as giving up,
that we could forgo glamor
for the sake of the next generation,
that creation is the first principle,
to which we all belong.”

From Crescent and Heart by Murshid Samuel L. Lewis (creator of the Dances of Universal Peace), born on this day in 1896,

“What are words but praises of echo!
But music is the gift of the Beneficent;
From Him it came and to Him it shall return.
Therefore song is my prayer and prayer is my song..

Let me sing until I am nothing but a voice,
Let me pray until I am nothing but a prayer..

Is there no end to music?
Is there no completion of glorification?
Tell them the end of music is the end of the world,
And the cessation from glorification is the victory of night;
So long as is music is the world,
So long as is glorification is existence.
Some seek the end of doing and undoing,
But who is the Doer and what is done?
With a song came the World and by music is it sustained,
And the soul of man is a note of revelation.
Nought are ye but songs, and as ye sing, ye are;
From the heart comes the voice of courage,
From the heart the sound of mercy,
From the heart the assurance of Truth.
Wherefore the beat of the heart save to continue the tempo?
What is the theme of the heart except everlasting love?
The body may go but the heart beat continues,
The mind may cease but the heart beat rolls on,
The breath may dissolve but the heart keeps its rhythm,
And the dreamer awakes as a heart-beat in the Cosmos,
Arising from the Heart, returning to the Heart,
Witnessing the scheme of things on his journey,
From the unknown known to the Known unknown
In the Infinite ocean of Love.”

A Party for the Broken by Tom Hirons

“Tonight we will have a party
Only for the broken pieces.
Only the crooked and the blunt ones
Are welcome tonight;
The shattered and the stained can come,
But you perfected ones should stay away.
All the orphans and exiles
Will be arriving soon with their
Bundles of rags and sorrow.
Make room, you bright angels:
Now the wounded are coming home.
Tonight will be a celebration of our tragedies
And our petty stupidities,
Our shameful transgressions,
The unedifying failure
To become what we might have been
In other, more radiant lives.
Here are the unrelinquished griefs
And the never-forgiven slights;
Here is the stuttering clumsiness
And all the stagnant laziness.
Here is the hollow
In my heart.
Come in.
Welcome.
I’m so glad you’re here.
Outside, the Buddhas
And the Saints are laughing.
In here, there is a quieter
Communion of our tragedies.
Sit. There is food and cheap wine,
A warm fire and candles.
Eat. Drink. Then speak,
And we will all weep
Sticky and graceless tears.
At this party, we are dancing
To the tune of ten thousand folksongs,
Each one of imperfection
And darkly holy for it.
This is the party for the broken.
Imperfect music plays
For imperfect dancers.
Imperfect speeches are
Imperfectly spoken.
We bang tables and forget
Our words and
Wash the floor with our tears.
You shattered and stained beauties,
All crooked and graceless as you are,
Blunted by the hard world of death,
Love and the push of time’s spear;
You who are more glorious than statues,
As rich in stories as pirates,
As worthy as comets or stars,
This is the secret I want,
Tonight, to tell you:
Our dark-tongued singing
Reaches heavens even the Saints don’t know;
Our graceless, defiant dancing
Opens up the whole Universe.
The broken world is our country.
The struggle is our homeland.
Tonight, let the Buddhas be silent;
In here, we will raise our glasses
To our brokenness, howl
And sing so loud and badly
That all the bright and dark
Heavens will hear our song.”

“Prayer is an act of love. Words are not needed. All that is needed is the will to love..
It is love alone that gives worth to all things.”

Teresa of Avila

“All my days I have been careful never to pluck a blade of grass or a flower needlessly, when it had the ability to grow or blossom. You know the teaching of our sages that not a single blade of grass grows here on Earth that does not have an angel above it, commanding it to grow. Every sprout and leaf says something meaningful, every stone whispers some hidden message in the silence—every creation sings its song.”

Rav Avraham Yitzchak HaCohen Kook