Celestial Grace Part 4
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Swamiji is a disciple of the immortal saint, Babaji. We will be staying in His beautiful ashram to fully immerse in the peace, light and inner radiance. On 12 March, the day after the Festival of Holi see below , Swamiji Yogiraj Ammar Jyoti will be taking us on a Yatra pilgrimage to sacred sites with a spiritual Master to visit special places in Himachal Pradesh. We do not know the itinerary for this part of the retreat but we know we will be saying overnight in twin share accommodation for 3 or 4 days.
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We will then return to the Ashram for the remainder of the retreat. Swamiji took us on a Yatra last year and it was truly an extraordinary experience! Please note: This is an advanced retreat. To ensure that this retreat is in your best interests we are asking all interested participants to make application to attend. Simply click on the 'Register Now' button, then click on the link provided and fill out the application form.
Once your application has been approved you will receive an email giving details of how to finalise your registration and make your payment. Payment of the balance will be required no later than 21 February Bookings after this date will require payment of the full cost on registration.
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About Shakti Durga. This visit will coincide with the Hindu festival of Holi, which heralds the end of winter and the onset of spring in India. Holi means the triumph of good over evil and the conquest of spiritual values over sensual ones. This festival is big in North India, and very colourful. There will be a spectacular cultural and music program put on by the Ashram and discourses from Swamiji.
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It is a fun filled and joyful celebration. Gayatri will be accompanying Shakti Durga on this retreat. He was Tabriz, also the sun of meaning, in gardens of light In mystery's ferment he appeared and became manifest in love. This poem was composed by a disciple of Rumi, attempting to speak in his voice; until about 40 years ago, it was thought to be by Rumi himself, and was frequently included in his collection of lyrical poems, the Divan of Shams.
It was even sung by the popular Persian singer, Giti, in the s as Bot-e ayyar. Though the words do not come from Rumi himself, the impression it gives of his prophetology is not far off, and it nicely represents the mystical transformation that Shams of Tabriz helped him to achieve, following in the tradition of the Sufis.
Rumi did not come to mysticism primarily through visionary experiences. He relates a prescient dream he had in one ghazal and tells a symbolic visionary encounter experienced by a certain Daquqi who is otherwise unknown to history and may well be a foil for Rumi himself , who sees an apparition of seven candles which then merge and metamorphose into men and trees, and converse, though others cannot see them Masnavi 3: ff. But Rumi's mysticism was informed by the Qur'an and praxis in the Sufi tradition , as well as a penetrating vision into the pre-prismatic realm. He quotes from the Qur'an or alludes to its verses thousands of times, for which reason the Masnavi came to be known as the Qur'an in Persian tongue.
Rumi has an avuncular homiletic way of teaching without preaching overmuch, and a penchant for expressing things in a most pleasing manner with metaphor and allegory and humour, all in an engaging verse. He does not necessarily tie things up nicely the Masnavi itself is clearly unfinished, trailing off at the end of Book Six with its final story still incomplete.
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He explains theology questions like free well and predestination, for example and ethics, and mystical truths in a way informed by his erudition, yet that was palatable and easy enough for the uninitiated to understand. He will keep an eye from a distance. The two sailors know what they are about. They sense the unfolding story and its emerging Quest and with their combined experience they skilfully navigate the waiting waters.
The sails billow with purpose in the spring winds. They take the Boat swiftly along the coast of native fern and foliage, volcanic indentation and golden beach. They are together--quietly--adventuring and silent as one; enjoying sweet lyric and sensual pleasure that surprise them both when they take down the sails in the quiet bays. Read more ADRIAN: If Life is a meal--an endless procession of platters with God as the waitress--then much of the servings are plain; simple but relatively nourishing.
Sometimes only a thin gruel--at other times more satisfying. But the best parts are the sweet moments when they meet--sometimes like candy--short rush--other times a long, slow dessert; lemon meringue pie, or a baked apple crumble with fresh cream--when there is time to connect. He longs for a more substantial meal.
I respect him--his dominion and seniority over me, where my very centre is laid bare and I know he holds me safe. I am deeply attracted to him--from his natural, elegant attire to the way he holds himself when he addresses a crowd. I am ignited by him--in imaginative creation, in the speedy grasp of new thinking, and in the playful desire to run naked in the dead of night. I enjoy him--from troubled quandary to cosy duvet snuggle, where his toes find mine and we wrap each other up so tight.
I desire him--where the thought of his naked, manly strength taking me under him fills my womanhood with sacred shudder and shallow breath. I love him--in knowing he and I belong--in reaching the highest spiritual connection--and in our play, our work and our dreams; I love him. Marina has been a serious writer since ; five novels published as an independent author with several other volumes in the long series waiting to be formatted.
The years seem to have skipped by since she returned from The Southern Hemisphere. The sun is bright today—and the atmosphere happy. She should have worn lighter clothes—and a pair of summer shoes would have been more sensible. Probably not.
So, here she is—ready for a glorious time in one of the best positions in town; the gallery of the artisan bakery and restaurant with views of historic rooftops, burgeoning greenery and blue skies—with several hours to write! What more could any author desire? The high arched window frames the scene with pleasing highlight. Nature Sprites disguised as dandelion seeds waft over the heads of chatting schoolgirls who emerge from a door onto the neat lawn.
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It is Saturday morning—is there a school event today? Or perhaps lessons are on the agenda. In groups of two or three the girls float away down the garden path as gently as the downy seeds that take their cue from the light breeze teasing their intrigue. The gallery of the old Methodist Chapel where Marina sits is sunny and welcoming—nicely secluded from the mumble of chatter way below. An orchestra of culinary percussion helps her concentrate—not that she needs help in that arena. A busy family life, noisy dogs, sociable workplace and attentive family means working through the noise of teaspoon sonatas, barista burbles and platter clatter is easy.
In fact, the sounds cloak her in a pleasing, soporific fog.
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Oh—and did she mention the bipolar husband and denying, banished lover? That addition is akin to ten marching bands with the loudest claxons as fanfare, creating ear-drum nightmare. She sighs—teaspoon sonatas are mere chicken-feed and delightful in comparison. The glass bauble waterfall suspended from the ceiling is still, surprising Marina as she taps away. She likes the raindrop effect that fills the cavernous void with a whimsical something—catching the lingering prayers from past chapel-goers, perhaps. Does it ever move in the breeze?