Search the Community
Showing results for tags 'poetry'.
I'm not an avid poem reader (it's too complicated ok? ) but when I read the short version of this in school light bulbs where turning on inside my head. and reading the summery it seems Attar was on to something. "The Conference of the Birds is an allegory of the soul’s journey to the divine. Written in the 12th century by the Persian Sufi mystic and poet, Farid ud-Din Attar, the poem tells the story of the birds of the world who gather to inquire about their unknown king. They are met by a hoopoe who proceeds to tell them about their rightful king, the Simorgh(similar to phoenix), who resides at the peak of mount Kaf, and urges them to journey to his court. Initially, the birds bring up excuses as to why they can’t go on the journey and the hoopoe responds to their hesitations. The birds commit to the journey and ask the hoopoe about its length who describes the seven valleys the birds must traverse in order to reach their destination. A flock of thousands sets off on the journey but ultimately only 30 birds arrive at the court of the Simorgh. The finale of the story rests on a pun: In Persian, Simorgh (Si-morgh) literally means 30 (Si) birds (morgh). The 30 birds (si morgh), gaze into the Simorgh and see a reflection of themselves. This is when we realize the birds’ journey to the Simorgh—the soul’s journey to the divine—had been an internal journey from the beginning." there's more to read here: https://www.theheritagelab.in/conference-birds-sufi/ not much is known about Attar's personality but Rumi had this to say about him: "Attar was the spirit, Sanai his eyes twain, And in time thereafter, Came we in their train" and mentions in another poem: Attar traveled through all the seven cities of love While I am only at the bend of the first alley." https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Attar_of_Nishapur It would be interesting to know his role and soul age and entity/cadre.
I Worried by Mary Oliver I worried a lot. Will the garden grow, will the rivers flow in the right direction, will the earth turn as it was taught, and if not how shall I correct it? Was I right, was I wrong, will I be forgiven, can I do better? Will I ever be able to sing, even the sparrows can do it and I am, well, hopeless. Is my eyesight fading or am I just imagining it, am I going to get rheumatism, lockjaw, dementia? Finally I saw that worrying had come to nothing. And gave it up. And took my old body and went out into the morning, and sang. http://lakesidemusing.blogspot.com/2011/04/i-worried-by-mary-oliver.html