Sweet children
    Of Africa, beautiful Africa
    Breathed down from above
    Living light
    Danced down with Love

    Dance down the Light…
   
    Listen, hear…

    As the soulful bones
    Of your ancestors
    Drum on the living skins
    Of dead antelopes
    With thunderous frenzy

    Dance down the Light…
   
    Repaint the scorched landscape
    Of the mighty Sudan
    With the brush strokes
    Of your ivory smiles
    Birth your freedom, dance
    Savour the gifts
    Of the Great Nile

    Dance down the Light…
   
    Sweet, sweet children
    Of Africa, beautiful Africa
    Your dance is the key
    Feel the wonder, the mystery
    So DANCE!

 

PEACE, RAJSHAHEEN

 

 

copyright 2008 'Diary of A Pen Warrior' - All rights reserved

The Inspiration

Playing for Change is a multimedia movement created to inspire, connect, and bring peace to the world through music. The idea for this project arose from a common belief that music has the power to break down boundaries and overcome distances between people. No matter whether people come from different geographic, political, economic, spiritual or ideological backgrounds, music has the universal power to transcend and unite us as one human race. And with this truth firmly fixed in our minds, we set out to share it with the world.

The Production

We built a mobile recording studio, equipped with all the same equipment used in the best studios, and traveled to wherever the music took us. As technology changed, our power demands were downsized from golf cart batteries to car batteries, and finally to laptops. Similarly, the quality with which we were able to film and document the project was gradually upgraded from a variety of formats-- each the best we could attain at the time-finally to full HD.

One thing that never changed throughout the process was our commitment to create an environment for the musicians in which they could create freely and that placed no barriers between them and those who would eventually experience their music. By leading with that energy and intent everywhere we traveled, we were freely given access to musicians and locations that are usually inaccessible. In this respect, the inspiration that originally set us on this path became a co-creator of the project along with us!

The Effect

Over the course of this project, we decided it was not enough for our crew just to record and share this music with the world; we wanted to create a way to give back to the musicians and their communities that had shared so much with us. And so in 2007 we created the Playing for Change Foundation, a separate 501(c)3 nonprofit corporation whose mission is to do just that. In early 2008, we established Timeless Media, a for-profit entity that funds and extends the work of Playing for Change. Later that year, Timeless Media entered into a joint venture with the Concord Music Group through the support of label co-owner and entertainment legend Norman Lear and Concord Music Group executive vice president of A&R John Burk. Our goal is to bring PFC's music, videos and message to the widest possible audience.

Now, musicians from all over the world are brought together to perform benefit concerts that build music and art schools in communities that are in need of inspiration and hope. In addition to benefit concerts, the Playing for Change band also performs shows around the world. When audiences see and hear musicians who have traveled thousands of miles from their homes, united in purpose and chorus on one stage, everyone is touched by music's unifying power.

And now, everyone can participate in this transformative experience by joining the Playing for Change Movement. People are hosting screenings, musicians are holding benefit concerts of every size, fans are spreading the message of Playing for Change through our media, and this is only the beginning. Together, we will connect the world through music! Please visit: http://www.playingforchange.com/

 

 

 

Earth made flesh in the mind of man
As Bright Light flickers,
Then crashes in pounding waves
Upon the dusty shores of lake Narcissus,
That vaporous mirror on which the drama of life
Is observed and eventually understood
As the play of Bright Light itself.

Light-stringed puppets reflected
Against a dark canvas,
Domain of she, the goddess of night supreme,
Cloaked in the guise of Love,
Bright Light’s eternal consort in this play of ‘other’.

Her brush breaths life into
The seed of every yielding fruit,
Every savoury herb, here,
Amid the sweet grasses of Eden
Lying asunder under her fertile sky of dark.

And so it is that Bright Light, being without form,
Gathers the dust of the earth
And shapes man, womb-man,
The apple and the serpent
From His shapeless void, birthing souls;
Souls lured by the rhythm of Love’s four winds,
Their hearts being danced upon by the
Bright Light that summoned them.

And Bright Light,
Being prior to the mind of mortal man,
Seeing only Itself reflected
Upon the surface of her moist canvas,
Sees that it’s all good.
 
Now, a great flood of desire is made to stir
In the immaculate womb of the night goddess,
There, under space’s firmament of sensual longing
Drawing Bright Light within herself
And weaving into form every thoughtless feeling
Impressed upon her by the mind of man,
Thus swelling her with child.

With time, in space, the newborn is seen, and praised,
And loved; and the newborn grows to see, and praise,
And love - a gesture of re-warding the very Life-Force
That sprouted its being from the pod of darkness.

It is said that this cycle can never be broken,
And it never has. It is the sacred dance of
Bright Light in the realm of the goddess;
Motionless Light in the domain of Love.
Timelessness in the realm of space.

Where is the illusion then, that death is inevitable?
Is it not founded in the perception of time itself?
The perception that creates a wound so deep in
The lover, who feels that the object
Of his love will eventually die?
Perceived time is nothing more than a longing in space.
In Truth, neither Bright Light, nor Love, long
While drifting in the kingdom of eternity.

Love is what allows time and space
To even appear in the mind of man;
Light is a gift of vision within space, true seeing,
Ablaze by the sheer force of thoughtless feeling;
That bright spark in the heart of every man,
Allowing, by Grace, the mind of man to really see
That Bright Light walks a narrow path,
And that all paths gather at one central point.
That point is Love.
 
Still, the mind of man is always on edge,
Wandering on the periphery of Bright Light and Love.
And Love is where all storms gather,
Causing waves upon the waters
To be swallowed whole by the famished sea-mother
Who delights in devouring her young.

Yes, the vast ocean of time-space
Is the edible realm, you see;
Where every one and every thing preys
On some form or other,
Where every one and every thing consumes
Or is being consumed
Amid great fear and objection.

Have you not noticed this?
Death, then, appears real, therefore inevitable.
Before death one must relinquish
This impulse to fall from Love,
And to dance down the Bright Light,
Now, and now, and now.

There is no need to bring
The children forth out of Egypt
Nor part the sea leading into Israel.
Freedom is not elsewhere.
Simple awareness of bondage
Is the truth that sets one free.
Truth is being conscious of what is,
Not what will apparently be the case
At some point in time.
One cannot move from bondage
Into everlasting Freedom.
Be mindful of what is binding you
And the hand that parts the sea
Frees you in that very moment. 

There is really no time, and no space, 
No distance at all between bondage and Freedom.
What is reflected against the misty lake of Narcissus
Is simply the refusal to be happy.
Doesn’t the sun sit still behind shifting clouds?
Where is darkness when the Greater Light
Swallows all and All?

Darkness is an error in the mind of man,
Spinning thoughts in egocentric fashion;
Not unlike planet earth in its motion around the sun,
Hence the shadow world.
Objects do not vanish by going somewhere else.
Objects vanish when they’re outshined by Bright Light Itself.
Therefore, when objects have disappeared, where are the shadows?

PEACE - J RON GILDART

copyright 2009 - 'thethumbs' - all rights reserved

Transcendental poetry originates in the heart of the seer-poet and awakens in the heart of the reader. Therefore, transcendental poetry is not for thinkers. It attempts to silence the thinker so the heart’s yearning, the heart’s call, can be heard and felt at the same time.

The seer-poet communicates the past, the present and the future simultaneously. Each word penned to paper is a living entity, an expression of freshly released energy, a bolt of enlightening life-force if you wish, linking the Divine, the seer-poet, his words, and the reader together in a light-stringed web of understanding, passion and love.

The seer-poet knows he cannot beat his own heart, so he relays Divine Shakti (Force or Light) using verse, describing every event and circumstance that make up his humble existence, as an expression of love and gratitude to the Light that lives him. In turn, each vowel and consonant becomes a bolt of Light Supreme that draws the reader to the word. That is the nature of the Light-Giving Cycle. It’s like using a lit candle to light another one, and so on, and so forth.

To the seer-poet then, his work is neither epic, tragic, or comedic, it’s simply ecstatic! Although his poems do imitate life, they also imitate the Divine, Da (the Giver). How can the reader be captivated by mere words, void of Life Supreme, no matter how cleverly they rhyme, are metered, or are in tune with the flute of the shadow goddess. If the heart is not touched, the reader may as well cast a blind eye to the page.

Transcendental poetry attracts those who are vulnerable, those who are suffering a total positive disillusionment with conditional existence. To the seer-poet, his work is not to make the reader feel good, or  bad, it’s intended purely to make him feel without limitation. True Ecstasy transcends limitation, therefore transcendental poetry transcends mere words.

PEACE - J RON GILDART

"J.R.Gildart is simply brilliant at free verse - a poet with profound depth and mystic insight. His beautifully phrased poems, exquisite in melody and movement, are sure to lure his readers into an abiding awareness of the truth - 'Aum Tat Sat' - "Aum Shanti Aum'.

In his book, the pen warrior slashes light and wisdom onto the page, shattering ego-concepts and splattering spiritual consciousness.

While the depth and insight of his work is profound and thought provoking, his word-weaving remains highly simple, original, evoking bright imagery metaphor and simile. The simplicity of the language and the complexity of his concepts combine well together.       

Diary Of A Pen Warrior is a work of high intelligence, laced with genius. Mr. Gildart is indeed a pen warrior of the Light."

- Rama Devi -

Freedom is a gift
Not locked in a fist
Just there in an open hand
Extending compassion
Love sweeping the land

Tolerance is the key
It unlocks the clenched fist
Allowing the hand to shift
In a gesture of Peace
The Ultimate Freedom
The Ultimate Gift

copyright 2008 'Diary of A Pen Warrior' - All rights reserved

Buffy Sainte-Marie was a graduating college senior in 1962 and hit the ground running in the early Sixties, after the beatniks and before the hippies. All alone she toured North America's colleges, reservations and concert halls, meeting both huge acclaim and huge misperception from audiences and record companies who expected Pocahontas in fringes, and instead were both entertained and educated with their initial dose of Native American reality in the first person.

By age 24, Buffy Sainte-Marie had appeared all over Europe, Canada, Australia and Asia, receiving honors, medals and awards, which continue to this day. Her song Until It's Time for You to Go was recorded by Elvis and Barbra and Cher, and her Universal Soldier became the anthem of the peace movement. For her very first album she was voted Billboard's Best New Artist.

She disappeared suddenly from the mainstream American airwaves during the Lyndon Johnson years. Unknown to her, as part of a blacklist which affected Eartha Kitt, Taj Mahal and a host of other outspoken performers, her name was included on White House stationery as among those whose music "deserved to be suppressed", and radio airplay disappeared. Invited onto television talk shows on the basis of her success with Until It's Time for You to Go, she was told that Native issues and the peace movement had become unfashionable and to limit her comments to celebrity chat. The next presidential administration, that of Richard Nixon, also came down hard on her, as this was the time of Wounded Knee.

In Indian country and abroad, however, her fame only grew. Denied an adult television audience in the U.S., in 1975 she joined the cast of Sesame Street for five years. She continued to appear at countless grassroots concerts, AIM (American Indian Movement) events and other activist benefits in Canada and the U.S. She made 18 albums of her music, three of her own television specials, scored movies, garnered international acclaim, helped to found Canada's Music of Aboriginal Canada JUNO category, raised a son, earned a Ph.D. in Fine Arts, taught Digital Music as adjunct professor at several colleges, and won an Academy Award Oscar and a Golden Globe Award for the song Up Where We Belong.

2009 marks the release of her eighteenth album Running for the Drum, which just won Buffy her third Juno Award. Packaged in tandem with the bio-documentary DVD Buffy Sainte-Marie: A Multimedia Life, the two disks together give audiences a glimpse into the life and work of this unique, always current artist.

 

 

Franz Wright is the author of fifteen volumes of poetry including Ill Lit: New and Selected
Poems (1998), The Beforelife (2001), Walking to Martha's Vineyard (2003), and God's Silence
(2006). He is also the translator of work by René Char, Erica Pedretti, and Rainer Maria Rilke.
In 2004 he was awarded the Pulitzer Prize for Walking to Martha's Vineyard. He is the recipient
of two National Endowment for the Arts grants, a Whiting Fellowship, a Guggenheim
Fellowship, and the PEN/Voelcker Award for poetry. The son of poet James Wright, he began
writing as a teenager. When he sent his first poem to his father, who was no longer living with
the family, James Wright wrote back: "You're a poet. Welcome to hell." James and Franz Wright
are the only father and son to have won the Pulitzer Prize for poetry. Born in Vienna, Wright
grew up in the Midwest and Northern California. He has taught at Emerson College and the
University of Arkansas. He has also worked in a mental health clinic in Lexington,
Massachusetts, and as a volunteer at the Center for Grieving Children. At the age of sixteen, he
suffered from his first episode of clinical depression. He was later diagnosed as manic
depressive. For many years, Wright battled alcoholism and drug addiction along with depression.
He is now in recovery, a transition he chronicles in his recent volumes of poetry, which also
explore his Catholic faith. He lives in Waltham, Massachusetts, with his wife, Beth.

 

Depression feeds on a lifetime of ungrieved and unforgiven events and circumstances. Like poems, we have our favorite songs and stories we listen or read to overcome our depressed state.  The daily stressors of life are overwhelming for everyone at times. Depression poetry can be the inspiration needed to move forward when all other resources have been exasperated.  Writing your way out of depression often times is the antidote to allowing it to take over your life.  Poetry is an avenue for one to freely express one's emotions; emotions that have long been wanting to be expressed from the deep recesses of the psyche and from the soul.

I wrote my best poems in the darkest moments of my depression. In the spring of 2007 I had to stop working because I was suffering severe bouts of anxiety and panic attacks. At the time I didn't know what was going on so I went to several doctors, hoping they could explain my dilemma. I underwent every possible blood test, endoscopy, colonoscopy, ultrasounds for this, that, and the other thing. I had my ears checked because I was losing my balance all the time. They found nothing physically wrong with me. So, I went back home, curled up on the sofa and spent the better part of seven months there. At times I would be well enough to sit on my balcony. In those rare moments I wrote in my diary. At one point I was inspired to write a poem, so I wrote a piece titled "Alpha Bet Soup". During the following 2 weeks I wrote 54 more pieces.

It was not until November of 2007 that I was finally diagnosed with major clinical depression & bipolar disorder. It was a long time to spend down the rabbit hole without medication and treatment.

Writing poems, in depressed moments, allows one to introspect and let emotions flow through pen and paper.  Sadness from lost love or death of a loved one can hinder resilience and ability to handle daily stressors because of depression. Such poetry can help break one free from depression's shackles.

Depression poems can break away isolationist feelings and help in conquering mixed emotions;  such emotions that can grasp a person and cripple every aspect of their life. Depression poetry can also aid the mind and help better understand what the source of the melancholy is coming from.

Depression can paralyze and drain us, making it a very real and dangerous illness.  It is not easily described when there are so many forms that can ale us.  In every aspect of life, depression may challenge our lives.  There is so much going on in this world that it becomes too overwhelming with stress and struggles life seemingly generously gives us.  Depression eventually will distract us from our daily activities, leaving the illusion of being alone, even when there is a world of people around going about their own life's trials.  Poetry has been ranked as a top form of therapy and is an avenue for the seemingly impervious emotions, eagerly wanting a way out to relieve us of the burdens we hold.  

Depression is a confused and hopeless state that drives people to desperate lengths.  All I can say is don't be afraid to talk about it and try to be open if others are trying to reach out. If all else fails, grab a pen and write a few words.

PEACE - J RON GILDART

copyright 2008 thethumbs.ca - All rights reserved

Here’s an article published by Henry Arthur Jones (circa 1900) entitled “What's the Use of Poetry? “ I felt I should post it for your reading pleasure. Enjoy...

What's the use of poetry?  - Why to live upon, when one can't get bread and cheese; to clothe and warm oneself with, when one is ragged and cold!

What's the use of poetry? -  To keep faith and hope and worship alive in the heart of man, to reconcile him to life, to make him at home in his world.

What's the use of poetry? - To pour vitriol on deceit and vice, to seam and scar the detested face of hypocrisy and lies. To add hate to all things hateful and shame to all things shameful!

What's the use of poetry? - To give beauty to beauty, more grace to grace, more truth to truth, to deck the flowers of the field, to rain perfume on the rose and music on the nightingale.

What's the use of poetry? - To be a stumbling block to the worldly wise and the proud, and a camp and pillar of fire to children and the childlike.

What's the use of poetry? - To embalm the immortal dead, to interpret this aimless Universe, to snatch the secrets of the stars, to unleash the seas and the winds, to fling a double rainbow of hope and glory across the heavens, till all the Universe shouts with one voice, and beats with one heart, and pants with one breath!

What's the use of poetry? - To make this wide world drunk with its loveliness, to make this garret a palace and me the King of Death and Fate!

Poetry not real, not useful! It is you who are not real, you practical people-you herd of money grubbers, you bats, you owls, you moles, you human vegetables, who root yourselves and fatten up your dull, petty, miserable lives, and eat and drink and sleep, and buy and sell and toil in one long round of humdrum death-in-life!

It is you who are not real. You were dead and huddled into oblivion before you were born; you do not live at all; you are smoke from the nostrils of death.

Poetry not real, not useful! There is nothing useful but poetry, and nothing real but the poet!

 

PEACE - RAJSHAHEEN

 

When the flower lures the bee
To its nectar supreme
Scenting her lover
In a warm summer's breeze
A sacrifice is made

When the sun and the moon
In splendid embrace
Birth the stars in heaven
Then both disappear
A sacrifice is made

When the flutist whispers
His sweet song of praise
Dancing the dancer
Birthing his space
A sacrifice is made

When man praises God
The force that lives him
The self's rendered full
Of love's excesses
This is the ultimate sacrifice

 

 

copyright 2008 'Diary of A Pen Warrior' - All rights reserved

 

 

THE CHARTER FOR COMPASSION

The principle of compassion lies at the heart of all religious, ethical and spiritual traditions, calling us always to treat all others as we wish to be treated ourselves. Compassion impels us to work tirelessly to alleviate the suffering of our fellow creatures, to dethrone ourselves from the centre of our world and put another there, and to honour the inviolable sanctity of every single human being, treating everybody, without exception, with absolute justice, equity and respect.

It is also necessary in both public and private life to refrain consistently and empathically from inflicting pain. To act or speak violently out of spite, chauvinism, or self-interest,
to impoverish, exploit or deny basic rights to anybody, and to incite hatred by denigrating others - even our enemies - is a denial of our common humanity. We acknowledge that we have failed to live compassionately and that some have even increased the sum
of human misery in the name of religion.

We therefore call upon all men and women ~ to restore compassion to the centre of morality and religion ~ to return to the ancient principle that any interpretation of scripture that breeds violence, hatred or disdain is illegitimate ~ to ensure that youth are given accurate and respectful information about other traditions, religions and cultures to encourage a positive appreciation of cultural and religious diversity ~ to cultivate an informed empathy with the suffering of all human beings, even those regarded as enemies.

We urgently need to make compassion a clear, luminous and dynamic force in our polarized world. Rooted in a principled determination to transcend selfishness, compassion can break down political, dogmatic, ideological and religious boundaries. Born of our deep interdependence, compassion is essential to human relationships and to a fulfilled humanity. It is the path to enlightenment, and indispensible to the creation of a just economy and
a peaceful global community.

 

COOPERATION + TOLERANCE = PEACE - Adi Da Samraj