"I love all that exists, for you are the soul of all existence."
Open weekdays from 8:00 am to 8:00 pm Weekend from 9:00 to 8:00 pm
"Spring" Everything is blooming most recklessly; if it were voices instead of colors, there would be an unbelievable shrieking into the heart of the night. ~Rainer Maria Rilke
photo: P.Rasti
Yearning for You
"This crazy I" is yearning for You tonight.
With head burning, I’m enraptured by You.
Have pity, for I no longer have strength or endurance.
The sublime aspiration is what I am longing for.
Your eyes are turned toward others, not minding me
Whose gaze is fixed upon Your loftiness and beauty.
Strolling about happily, You have no concern for me,
As if unaware that I’m anxious, caring only for You.
You—the intoxicating essence of every wine, the cause of all yearning.
This soul-enflaming ecstasy is from Your blood-red wine.
You are the spirit of the Messiah’s breath, the direction of Adam’s prayer.
My heart is bonded to Your cross-like tresses.
Night is gone; dawn has come. I am drunk while You lie languishing.
My impassioned head still has its eyes fixed upon Your azure goblet.
Separated from You, O the source of all regret,
I have melted.
With my flood of tears, I am heading toward
Your Ocean.
Forgive Nurbakhsh out of friendship and kindness,
For "this crazy I" is yearning for You tonight.
Dr. Javad Nurbakhsh
Photo. P. Rasti
Take one step beyond yourself, The whole path lasts no longer than one step. Beg alms from yourself - don't go wandering Outside yourself; the Way cannot be found. If it is love you're after, negate your self; Only the lover without self knows love.
Diwan of Shah Nimatullah, published in Issue 72 of Sufi Journal
Photo by P.Rasti ( Avenue of giants, Legget, north California)
Melody of Unity
Once again, the Minstrel began to play
the melody of Unity,
Liberating us by Love from any need
for the two worlds.
Thank God that the restless heart forgot itself
And opened the path to the Tavern.
O pious ascetic, do not say that the religion
of the wine-drinkers is different.
The Cupbearer prays in the direction of the departed wine-drinkers.
It was a stranger who in the guise of a friend
Set out the trap of hypocrisy in the district of loving purity.
Caught up in illusion, he cut himself off from us and left.
Being fair, he set out for the realm of illusion.
The yearning lover, inattentive to all but the Friend,
Lovingly played the game of coquetry.
On the way to the Beloved, Nurbakhsh was excused
For having traveled a long way and spoken at length.
Dr. Javad Nurbakhsh
By P.Rasti
Dancing is not getting up anytime painlessly like a speck of dust blown around in the wind. Dancing is when you rise above both worlds, tearing your heart to pieces and giving up your soul.
Rumi
Enlightenment
When you do not know how to play the games, children play. you feed the ego on the idole worshipping tasks, Repeating litanies, hogging the holy persons, performing the most intensive sacramental rituals, retreating and worshipping the dead, it is just another expression of self-assertion. it is futile effort. Trying to get what you cannot get. Just wait for it patiently or impatiently, it doesn't matter. Submit. It may come or may not, But when it comes you do not know it, for you do not know what has come. Wait like the children. Then like the children you will cherish it for good, there...
Parviz Rasti Sufi Journal
I am a disciple of the master of holy fire. O preacher, do not be displeased with me. For the master has fulfilled in this world What you have but promised in the next.
Hafiz
The Old Windmill
The green rolling hills, green meadows, green tunnels of greens. Apple trees and plums, standing at the bottom of the hill. Where Koofi the four-eyed legendary dog, deep from the Zoroastrian and Mithraism temple, reveals the secret of “Mount Meru”1. Brings forth tiding and fortune of the ever-lasting Sun. Where the time ceases to exist and the Sun generously gives light.
1 - a cosmic Mountain: around it the sun, the moon and the stars revolve, The Pole. Henry Corbin: The man of the light in Iranian Sufism, p.55
Parviz Rasti
Washoe. The first non-human who learned the human sign language.
Imaginary Existence
The fog slowly Prowling over the high hills. Finding a place to sleep over night, among the trees. In the morning, when the Sun rises, they rise too, evaporate.
Parviz Rasti, published in Issue 72 of Sufi Journal
Center of Khaniqahi Nimatullahi Sufi Order's Publications in greater San Jose (Los Gatos, Saratoga, Campbell, Santa Clara, San Martin, Sunnyvale, Mountain view and Palo Alto) area.
