Archive for August, 2009

my mother’s birthday

August 29, 2009

momYesterday would have been my mother’s 87th birthday. She died shortly before her 85th. She kept saying that year, “I don’t think I’m gonna make it to my birthday.” She died at the end of June, 2 mos. before.

Just thinking of some ways to look at her life. She was born in 1922, our father in 1918, at the end of WWI, which her father fought in and spent time behind German lines. Her father, my grandfather, returned home on the day of his brother’s wedding. His jubilant arrival back in town and no one was there to meet him. In fact, it was like the Twilight Zone; he couldn’t find anyone! Someone told him they were at the church, so he found his way there and, as my grandma told it, “People spent more time gathering around him than the wedding couple, at the reception!”

My mother was the oldest of 3 children. Two brothers were born after her, but were quite a bit younger. It seems my mother was truly pampered to the extreme. They were POOR, however, in a 2-bedroom house, my mother got her own bedroom? Bizarre. They lived through the depression and my grandma told about stitching clothes together and re-doing them to make them fit. My grandpa worked tons of different odd jobs, at one point going to work for the WPA, which from the way grandma told it, was rather embarrassing. He worked as a car mechanic, a night watchman at Purdue, and many other jobs. They lived in one house on Morton St. their entire lives, my grandpa putting in the indoor bathroom and building the garage. They always had a beautiful flower garden in one corner of the yard.

My mother remembers taking baths in a tin tub in the middle of the kitchen floor, hot water boiled and poured into it for the scrubbing.

Raised in the Dutch Reformed Church, later named Christian Reformed (but most members, all of whom I was related to, had names like Huizenga, Wierenga, Plantenga, Vanderveen, Vanderwielen, to name a few). My father was raised Baptist, so when the 2 of them got together, to the horror of their parents, they decided to be Presbyterian.

In my mother’s era, a white, middle-class woman quit work when she got married. Though both quite poor growing up, my parents soon fit into middle class professional life with my father’s career in academia the center of their attention. My mother was quite a fast typist, always thinking she might return to that skill to earn some money, when her kids were raised. By the time she really considered it, her skills hadn’t been used in many years and computers soon became the norm.

My mother cooked and cleaned, every day, large, multi-roomed houses we lived in, as my father’s career soared. He ended up in many Who’s Who of Science and Engineering volumes. She kept house, and entertained friends. Many nights I watched my parents laugh and talk with friends, serving small dinners or snack food and many margueritas. My father often played Dixieland jazz, which he loved. On these evenings, he would laugh a lot, letting off steam from the stress of the job and his life. My sister and I would sometimes get asked to dance for their friends, something I never really wanted to do but was too young and immature to say no thanks, I don’t want to. We were shown off, cute little dolls to be paraded past their colleagues.

My parents, though, had true friends. Some of the couples were their true friends. I loved when my dad could relax and just spend time at home, be fun-loving and giving us lots of attention. Home was the gathering place — not some bar or restaurant downtown. My home with my dad was full of music, people, laughter, much of the time. Weekends would be football games and golf tournaments on tv. But my parents were home, enjoying themselves. Many Saturdays and weekday evenings, the dining room table would be strewn with academic papers of all sorts and my dad at one end of the table, working his way through them. He did this in his home, with kids and all of their problems running around him all the time. When I had a problem with homework, it was always okay to take it to him and interrupt his own work. He never refused. Never told me to go away, ever. Looking back now, that is amazing.

We all lost ourselves and who we were after his death. I can’t blame just my mother for the way it affected her — turning to alcohol. We all were completely lost without him and never recovered. But life goes on. And life is good. My mother then went back to work, in a Ponderosa steakhouse, where she wore short shorts and a cowboy hat; and then to a laundromat, where she stayed for 20-some years as the lady at the laundromat. They one day closed the place, with no warning whatsoever, and then she had a nervous breakdown of sorts, and spent a month in the hospital for depression.

In many ways, my mother was a totally amazing person, surviving her husband’s untimely, early death at age 50; overcoming alcoholism (eventually), never taking another drink after treatment; and then overcoming clinical depression to return home and be quite content in her home, with her cat, even when she was on oxygen 24/7 and became winded from walking from her living room to her kitchen. She stayed at home. She made peace with her God, prayed a lot and wrote in her journal — a tool she learned while in the hospital for the depression.

My difficult relationship w/ her was mostly due to her never-ending discontent with whatever it was that I did. When she was hospitalized for depression, I went there nearly every night for the month. But nothing was ever good enough from me, for my mom. For some peculiar reason, I was the one who never satisfied her. And I was the only one in town, my sister and brother having moved away many years before. Because of that, they never had the relationship with her that I did. But I am at peace knowing I did absolutely everything I could and beyond, especially in the last few years. Everything and beyond. I have no regrets.

So they were married 25+ years, then she survived another 35+ years without him. She dated some scuzzball men in those years, partly due to her ignorance of relationships, partly due to her own nievete, and her dependency on needing a man to tell her what to do. To a woman like my mom, a woman was never complete without a man. Men were to take care of women. She always expected that and never felt comfortable running a household without a man. Later this attitude somewhat transfered onto my little brother. It never mattered what I would say, but if JIM told her to do something — then it must be right. Not Jim’s fault but just the way she was. I remember a day she suddenly looked at me and said, “You know, lately I think that I just don’t even NEED a man!” I looked at her and said, “Well that’s good, mom, you are 80 years old.”¬† ūüôā¬†

She loved Purdue basketball and would watch all the games on tv, upset w/ us if we didn’t. She always wanted me to come over and watch a game with her. She also watched the news and had her favorite news casters! She was really quite informed of everything going on in the world, from her own living room. She adored a new car and leased new cars to the end. Near the end of her life when she couldn’t go out for very long¬†at a time, and wasn’t supposed to drive, she would literally get into her car in the garage, open the garage door, back the car down to the end of the driveway, get out of her car and get the mail, and drive it back into the garage. ¬†

So this was a stream-of-consciousness addition to my blog, 2 years after my mother’s passing. 3 of my nuclear family members are now in the next world, 3 of us still here, and one of them has no association with the other 2 of us. But¬†I feel there is nothing I can do about it.¬† marti a week prior to her passing

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Pebbles on a Beach

August 26, 2009

We are all just

pebbles on a beach,

grains of sand,

parts of a wave rolling in to the land,

Snowflakes falling in a curtain of snow,

each one unique,

we gently blow on with the wind,

together we fall,

down to the Earth

who cradles us all.wave

Faith and Boundless Love

August 25, 2009

Faith and Boundless Love

Whatever trials come to us,

They have seen it more,

 

No matter what we’re going through,

They have gone before,

 

The Holy Ones,

Those blessed Souls,

Whom Mighty God

could save from harm,

 

were exposed to the worst

of humanity,

 

Been called a name?

Degraded and scorned?

An old woman begged to throw a stone,

He said, “Do not deprive her of what she sees

as an act of God.‚ÄĚ

 

Have you lost a job? Or even your home?

All the riches they owned were given to thieves,

Assiyih Khanum

selling the last of her finery,

for sugar and flour to make some bread.

 

Have you felt the sting of a Winter’s night?

They travelled for weeks,

unprotected from cold,

melting the ice

to quench their thirst.

 

All that we can imagine,

They suffered worse,

Even the loss of a beloved son,

plunging to his death,

through an open skylight,

while saying his midnight prayers,

 

His Father, distraught,

asked what were his son’s wishes?

To sacrifice himself,

so that others could behold his Father’s face,

now weeping by his side.

 

Family members rejecting

your pure-hearted care?

This too, they felt,

as one by one they turned away

from the sweet-mannered Shoghi Effendi,

 

Poverty, rejection,

Madness, violence,

Indescribable loss,

Imprisonment,

 

Loneliness?

Imagine the blessed Bab,

Locked in the mountain fortress

of Mah-Ku,

 

All these They faced,

while on this earth,

And through it all, Faith!

And boundless LOVE,

 

God’s grace and gifts are infinite,

Whatever we face,

They went before,

With Faith and boundless Love.

 

CF Black, 8/25/09

3 children posed on a tree branch

August 24, 2009

I wrote this poem a few yrs ago. I have the photo that inspired it but cannot find it right now. Will post it soon. (I am the oldest child in the photo.)

3 Children Posed on a Tree Branch

The blonde one sits in the middle,

always framed in centerfold,

her rosy cheeks and blonde highlights

glisten in the sun.

Arms around her baby brother,

she looks carefully to the ground below,

as if to measure the danger,

or judge how to break his fall,

while he, leaning into her,

remains unaware of danger,

his position in the family leaves him

expecting our support.

The oldest sits at the bottom,

squeezed between the tree, and them,

her arms are closed about herself,

the hair pulled back, to clear her vision,

She stares directly into the camera.

Nothing escapes that penetrating gaze,

She sees it all,

She is aware,

She does not look to either side

but directly and deliberately

observes her world.

7 Bahai’s imprisoned in Iran: update (and HW#10)

August 21, 2009

lotus6It is almost¬†comical to write about only 7 Bahai’s imprisoned in Iran, when in the past, when the Faith first began in the 1800s, 20,000 were executed by the govt. of Iran, all in the most inhumane ways you can imagine. We know their history because historians, sometimes European historians of that age and time, documented their fates and were appalled at the atrocity of their deaths. Some had holes cut into their chests where lit candles were then placed, as they were paraded through the streets where crowds of people would taunt them as enemies of the State. They were not, of course, but oppressive regimes always see any movements with growing numbers of followers as enemies. Was not Christ welcomed on Palm Sunday and then paraded and taunted with a crown of thorns the next week, crucified while the people laughed and jeered at Him?

These 7 souls are only the latest, and the only difference is this is the 21st century, and these horrific things are still happening. They are not the fault of Muhammed, Who brought Arabia to a new level of tolerance and all forms of science exploded in development with His appearance. The study of algebra and many other advancements were made after Muhammed. The status of women was raised from their being considered  lower than the animal, to the level of having a soul of her own. However, the current regimes have turned away from knowledge and truth, as we see in the current President of Iran denying the Holocaust, aligning himself with the utmost ignorance. He is only interested in maintaining his own power, at the expense of his people. The same for the religious leaders around him. Shame on them.

The trial for the current 7 steadfast individuals, who have now been imprisoned more than a year, has once again been moved. We rec’d this announcement:

“We received word today that the trial of the seven Baha’i prisoners in Iran has once again been delayed. The new trial date is October 18, 2009. More infomation can be found on http://iran.bahai.us.”

May God bless their daily existence with His loving presence and surround them with His care. We who are on the outside, especially in a land of freedom and individual rights, should teach the love of God and the oneness of mankind as well as religion, equality of men and women and all peoples under one God, as they are unable to do.

I will close with the 10th “Hidden Word” of Baha’u’llah, from the book, “Hidden Words of Baha’u’llah”.

O SON OF UTTERANCE! Thou art My stronghold; enter therein that thou mayest abide in safety. My love is in thee, know it, that thou mayest find Me near unto thee.

my birthday

August 19, 2009

me and momCircumstances of my birth: The year was 1953. I¬†was a baby boomer baby. My father had not returned from WWII, however. He had a physical impediment which kept him from serving active duty. One of his legs was shorter than the other, due to a disease he had as a boy. I know that during WWII, he tested some kind of explosives at Purdue, where he was a grad student and new professor. I have photos of him doing this and I know it affected his hearing the rest of his life. My grandpa on my mother’s side served in WWI overseas and wrote a story about it, “21 Days Behind German Lines,” a story I hope to publish. My Grandpa Agnew I know almost nothing about, so I do not know if he served or not, and why or why not.¬† In any case, there is not the military history in my lineage like there is in some families. Neither of my brothers served, and I don’t remember hearing about many uncles or cousins in the service. My uncle who was married to my father’s sister did serve in WWII, but no others I can think of. I think this gives me a particular distance toward active military service. It is not anti-military at all. It is just an absence of needing that experience, in order to fulfill one’s life. One can be pro-American without being pro-military.

So back to the circumstances of my birth. My father was a new professor at Purdue University. So I have been a Boilermaker since I was in utero. I can’t hardly say those words without adding, “Boiler Up!” I know the words to the Purdue fight song and sang them at my graduation. It’s in the blood. (“Hail, hail to old Purdue, all hail to the old gold and black . . .”)

My older brother was 8 years old when I was born, with no one in between us. Eight years later, my younger brother would be born, so I am smack in the middle of the 2 boys. There was a younger sister born 2 years after me, so it was the 2 girls always in the middle of the 2 extremes (2 brothers who were completely different in personality and hardly knew each other). My parents had tried for a few years to get pregnant for me, so they were jubilant when it did happen. And then I was a girl, so I was always very well received and wanted very much. My favorite picture of my mother and I is the one above. She looks so joyful, and satisfied with me, which was a rare occasion in our relationship as 2 adults.

I was born at 1:10 in the afternoon, weighing 6 lbs, 6 oz. My mother had spent 4 previous days in the hospital, not because anything was wrong, but because her water broke. They finally induced labor. I was born without my mother being knocked out with drugs. This was a new experience for her. She always said, “I knew the MOMENT you were born!” –as if that was a rare thing. She spent something like a week in the hospital after my birth. My mother never breastfed, so it was all bottles from the start. I had 3 grandparents living in town, both my mother’s parents, and my father’s mother.

I then spent 5 happy years at 1704 Summit Drive, and I do have memories of this place, a small brick house with a swingset in the backyard. It was a new neighborhood, with trees and houses being built across the street. My father and mother were intent on building his new career and status. My mother never worked outside the home until after his untimely death at age 50.

In 1953, there were no calculators, cell phones, Internet, home computers, or remote controls. Color tv was a new thing. Cartoons appeared on Sat. mornings only. There were 3 channels: ABC, NBC, and CBS. From what I remember, there was also “Channel 4, Indianapolis”. Children spent a great deal of time outside, running, skipping, jumping rope, riding bikes. We would even take our dolls outside to set them up in the yard and play “house”. We colored old refrigerator boxes and made them into a “fort”.

Eisenhower was President, WWII had ended, Rosie the riveter was returning to the kitchen, people were afraid of communism. My parents had been married 11 years, and were ages 35 and 31 when I was born, 56 years ago today. I have now outlived my father by 6 years, in age. My mother lived to nearly age 85, passing away in June 2007. My older brother passed away in April 2009, and I was able to be with him in his last week. My sister and brother still living no longer speak to one another, and my sister recently broke off contact with me on facebook. And so it goes . . .

Lil’ Monkey black baby doll

August 18, 2009

lil monkeypretty panda

Dolls now pulled from the shelves at Costco after complaints they were racist, these dolls were called “CUDDLE ME BABY DOLL”.

The white doll was named “Pretty Panda” — the black doll was dubbed “LIL’ MONKEY”.

Teaching sociology, race class and gender, I can always count on some new story in the news to talk about in class. This summer there has been a multitude of stories. Two main ones that stand out are the arrest of Henry Louis Gates (see other stories in this blog about that) — and now, just before school begins, the “Lil’ Monkey” doll from Costco. Priceless for class discussion!! I usually show the black Barbie doll that came out and was taken off the shelves — the one titled “Miss Oreo”. She came with her own bag of oreo cookies.

What is astounding about these items for sale is the blatant disregard for our HISTORY of rampant racism in the US. Let’s say that the manufacturers were totally ignorant. Let’s just say, they had no racist intention. Then how could this marketing technique MISS the blatant historical link to racism in US history? How could that be missed altogether?

Can you imagine a meeting at the large, expensive, red wood table in the board room where these toys were introduced? Was there a black face in the crowd? And why would it have to be a black face? How can we as white people be so ignorant to not know the repercussions of these toys?? Does anyone care? Or was it a blatant racist attack to portray, once again, as was done for real in our past, that black people are closer to the animal, so it is okay to treat them like animals. So-called scientists of the 1800s did test after test to try to PROVE this “scientific” reality. The tests didn’t work. Does anyone know that at the World Fair in the late 1800s, real people were placed into exhibitions that portrayed them as “savage”, “barbaric” or “civilized”. When we entered or invaded the Phillippines, depending on your politics, the Phillippine people were literally drawn with African features in newspapers back in the old 48. African and Indian peoples were protrayed with animal-like features. It is a long, sad history and we need to be aware of it.

It doesn’t really matter if the individual people are RACIST. Good Lord, with the history of our country, how can we not have racist undertones to our business practices?? What matters is the CAPACITY, for board members to blatantly DISREGARD the implied meaning to the names GIVEN to these dolls, that differ by color. There is NO excuse! The same with the arrest of Dr. Gates, please do not waste my time worrying about whether or not an INDIVIDUAL police officer is racist or not. That is not the point, and we do not even care. The point is, there is no excuse for treating people of color one way, and white people another way, and we can NO LONGER AFFORD to ignore our own history. If Dr. Gates had been an older, white man walking with a cane, I do not believe he would have been treated the way he was treated, and pulled into the station in handcuffs. I just do not see that happening. He did not break any laws, he was just ticked off and yelling, and the officer refused to even state his name and badge number.

I continually, in class, bring up stories from American history, meaning black American history, that my students do not know. There is no excuse for that. If we are to be the “UNITED” States of America, then we must know and become familiar with the history of ALL its peoples. And that history is unique to each group, according to race and ethnicity. The Irish filled a certain spot in the American work world. They worked in industry and they worked on the railroad. Knowing your grandpa’s occupation gives you a hint or clue about his ethnicity. We KNOW this. It is easy to learn. There is no longer any LAME EXCUSE for not knowing our history, as a nation.

To Costco: Do you really think that your manufacturers would have made and sold these dolls with the names exchanged? I do not think so. The black doll would not have been “Pretty Panda” and the White doll “Little MONKEY”. That just wouldn’t happen. To create these dolls with different names for different colors was totally unnecessary and offensive. Do not make stupid excuses for yourselves. Have you ever heard of the psychological experiment where young¬† black children always choose the white doll, saying it is “better”? Look it up.

to the Barbie company: an “oreo” in the black community is known as someone who is black on the outside, WHITE on the inside. It is an insulting term. Though the term in itself is insulting, there is no excuse for making a black Barbie doll by that name, and you should have known it would BOMB.

Before we can come together, we need to recognize our different histories and experiences that we bring to the table of unity. It is unity in DIVERSITY. Diverse peoples uniting is the REAL strength. And we are not yet there in America, or in the world. We have no idea what unity in diversity looks like.

“The diversity in the human family should be the cause of love and harmony, as it is in music where many different notes blend together in the making of a perfect chord. If you meet those of different race and colour from yourself, do not mistrust them and withdraw yourself into your shell of conventionality, but rather be glad and show them kindness. Think of them as different coloured roses growing in the beautiful garden of humanity, and rejoice to be among them.”¬†¬†¬†(Abdu’l-Baha, Paris Talks, p. 53)

 

“Know ye not why We created you all from the same dust? That no one should exalt himself over the other. Ponder at all times in your hearts how ye were created. Since We have created you all from one same substance it is incumbent on you to be even as one soul, to walk with the same feet, eat with the same mouth and dwell in the same land, that from your inmost being, by your deeds and actions, the signs of oneness and the essence of detachment may be made manifest.”¬†¬†¬†(Baha’u’llah, The Arabic Hidden Words)

Have wheels, will travel in the neighborhood.

August 17, 2009

There are lots and lots of kids on bicycles in this neighborhood. I can remember those days, when a bike was your ticket to freedom, your vehicle for travel. Under age 14, it is very cool to have a cool bike and be able to ride “no hands”. At around 13, that isn’t so cool anymore, but you still can’t drive, so you still ride a bike.

There are small groups of boys who ride bikes on the streets of the neighborhood. Ages 8 to about 12. They ride around on the trails, stop at the pond and try to fish, go to someone else’s house, ride to a recreation area park, and just travel the area. It seems like a step back in time, to live here. I cannot imagine being a child and growing up here, with no fear, able to hang out with your buddies by the pond and just talk at the picnic tables, have friends all around you, go swimming at the community neighborhood pool, maybe catch a few frogs or toads, a turtle, or try to fish with a little string and bait. What a relaxed atmosphere.

I don’t see many girls hanging out, and I don’t see teenagers. I don’t know where the teenagers go in Chapin, to hang out. One young group of girls the other day, had made bracelets and were walking around the neighborhood, giving them away. Very small children are usually with their parents. Oftentimes a parent will be jogging beside a child in a motorized car or bike. Another form of “wheels” is motorized scooters. They are really funny to me, because we didn’t have those when I was a kid.

It just seems to be an amazingly safe and relaxed place for kids to grow up.

You wonder, though, whether kids growing up here will have a sense of the suffering in the world. Like some of my college students, it never touched them so they don’t really have a concept of world poverty, can’t really get their heads wrapped around the idea. We talk about how so many billion people live on what would¬† equal to $1.00 a day in the US. But it’s hard to believe something exists when you feel the world is basically open and fair, and safe. You tend to think all people can have those things.

‘Abdu’l-Baha once said, accustom children to hardship. Most parents cannot get that job done, in a conscious way. For us, it happened, but just due to accident and circumstance. Hard times we went through with our kids taught them the meaning of scrimping and poverty, like no textbook ever could. They know the feeling of being the kids on “free lunch” and being treated differently in school because they didn’t have the latest designer clothes, shoes, make-up or bookbag. They lived in hardship. For quite a few years. And I think they are better for it. It was hard on them, but when they look poverty in the eye, when they see someone else suffering, they may tend NOT to blame the individual. They may rather see “there, but for the grace of God, goes I.” They have LIVED it, they KNOW.¬† Many of our friends’ kids have no concept of that, no understanding. For us, it just happened.

“While the children are yet in their infancy feed them from the breast of heavenly grace, foster them in the cradle of all excellence, rear them in the embrace of bounty. Give them the advantage of every useful kind of knowledge. Let them share in every new and rare and wondrous craft and art. Bring them up to work and strive, and accustom them to hardship. Teach them to dedicate their lives to matters of great import, and inspire them to undertake studies that will benefit mankind.”

¬†(Abdu’l-Baha, Selections from the Writings of Abdu’l-Baha, p. 129)

7 Baha’is in prison in Iran

August 15, 2009

There are 7 individuals imprisoned in Iran. There crime is being members of the Baha’i Faith. The Baha’i Faith is a worldwide religion that believes in the unification of all the peoples of the world into one universal cause, one common faith. The glorious sun in our sky gives light to the earth, bestowing life upon all creation, along with water and air. For our planet, there is one life-sustaining sun. If you were up at sunrise today, you saw it appear on the horizon and slowly make its way over the edge, gradually climbing into the top of the sky, then descending again. Night comes to give us peace, darkness, and rest. Then the sun rises once again, this time at a slightly different point on the horizon. Is it the same sun? Has the sun changed or moved? No, actually we revolve around it. The beauty of the sun is the same, no matter at what point on the horizon it appears.

The Founder of the Baha’i Faith is known by the name Baha’u’llah, which means the Glory of God. His given name at birth was a Persian name but He was known to all as Father of the Poor, loved and sought out for his kindness to all peoples, long before His involvement as leader of the Baha’i Faith. Bahai’s believe He is the latest in a succession of Holy Messengers from the One God. His life was full of suffering and misery. He was sent to the foulest of prisons in Iran, put in chains, tortured, poisoned, and placed with his family for years in house arrest. He was banished 4 different times, from Iran to Baghdad, to Adrianople, Constantinople, and finally to Akka, the “prison city” in Israel, which is how the world center for the Baha’i Faith today ended up in Israel. It was not due to His wishes, but the result of banishments and mistreatment.

Next Tuesday, the 7 people mentioned at the beginning of this note are scheduled to go on trial. Imagine going on trial for the crimes of teaching children’s virtues classes, teaching them lessons on kindness, tolerance, love for your enemies, obedience to government, and to live chaste and holy lives. Imagine going on trial for the crime of believing in the education of women equally with men. For teaching the love of all humanity under one God, the elimination of prejudices of all kinds, freedom of education for all, the elimination of wealth and poverty. This is what these 7 people are on trial for. The government of Iran says it is for being spies for Israel and propaganda against Islam, and other made-up, totally false charges.

We do not yet know the final fate of these 7 individuals. But in reality, they are only 7 of 7,000 upon thousands upon thousands before and after them, who are unjustly imprisoned and accused of crimes against humanity they did not commit. In reality, their jailers and those who make decisions to imprison them, are commiting the crimes. In reality, the jailers and the ones in power are themselves IMPRISONED by their own egos, lies, prejudices, ignorance and greed. May God forgive them, and may He release those imprisoned from their tests and trials. May He bless them by holding them one and all to His blessed heart, and being their constant Companion forever and ever! May God bless them for all their days.

“My only JOY in this swiftly-passing world was to tread the stony path of God and to endure hard tests and all material griefs. For otherwise, this earthly life would prove barren and vain, and better would be death . . . Thus it is my hope that once again some circumstance will make my cup of anguish to brim over, and that beauteous Love, that Slayer of souls, will dazzle the beholders again. Then will this heart be blissful, this soul be blessed.”¬† ‘Abdu’l-Baha

“To me prison is freedom, troubles rest me, death is life, and to be despised is honour. Therefore, I was happy all that time in prison. When one is released from the prison of self, that is indeed release, for that is the greater prison. When this release takes place, then one cannot be outwardly imprisoned.”¬† —¬†¬†(Abdu’l-Baha, Abdu’l-Baha in London, p. 119)

 hummingbird

Hidden Words of Baha’u’llah, no.9

August 14, 2009

lotus pink

O SON OF BEING!
My love is My stronghold; he that entereth therein is safe and secure, and he that turneth away shall surely stray and perish.

¬†(Baha’u’llah, The Arabic Hidden Words)