Climbing up to Heavens or staying down in the pit?

Photo by Katerina Kostaki

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Climbing up to Heavens or staying down in the pit?

Waking up today and playing the role of the housewife ...

Well the role of housewife easily replaces the role of the spiritual author,poetess,the role of spiritual teacher AND the role of civil servant  ...wow.

Being a housewife sometimes is the biggest thing in the world.

It's because this role is a bit truthful in some way.

It's a way to survive in a really demanding ( and mad ) world ,and carries a sort of risk (another wow!).

Yes,it's been really risky to satisfy the needs of your family and never fail to be perfect on the role you adopt in this fake reality.

I admit that leading  a non - competitive and non-promotional lifestyle aka being a working wife and mother, and not a fashion victim and provocative celebrity (or VIP), does not skyrocket me to the heavens of book marketing list of best sellers.

You see in the world of fake icons and fake lifestyle people want to buy things that first of all do not threaten their existence and do not change their status,and secondly those things GLORIFY their lower instincts.

That means drama-sex and inner complexes are the top list .

Hundreds of ideas and time are spent on this three things,because their are highly driven by so many lower and so deceptive ego-driven (too) needs like egoism,lust,incapability to overcome physicality ,lower ambitions and more.

This is why so many spiritual teachers and authors are hidden in the shadows although they place new values and ideals upon this Planet.

People are totally blind in Light that springs up from true Hearts (Souls).

When they are given a hand to climb up the hill,they decline it.

Sometimes it's better -according to their logic-to stay down on the pit instead of climbing up to the Heavens.

Only that...it's raining in people's Hearts and the pit of emptiness is full now.

Who is going to escape in the darkest time ?

Love

Katerina Kostaki

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BACCHYLIDES

Sand and Foam by Khalil Gibran

I AM FOREVER walking upon these shores,

Betwixt the sand and the foam,

The high tide will erase my foot-prints,

And the wind will blow away the foam.

But the sea and the shore will remain Forever.

Once I filled my hand with mist.

Then I opened it and lo, the mist was a worm.

And I closed and opened my hand again, and behold there was a bird.

And again I closed and opened my hand, and in its hollow stood a man with a sad face, turned upward.

And again I closed my hand, and when I opened it there was naught but mist. But I heard a song of exceeding sweetness.

It was but yesterday I thought myself a fragment quivering without rhythm in the sphere of life.

Now I know that I am the sphere, and all life in rhythmic fragments moves within me.

They say to me in their awakening, "You and the world you live in are but a grain of sand upon the infinite shore of an infinite sea."

And in my dream I say to them, "I am the infinite sea, and all worlds are but grains of sand upon my shore."

Only once have I been made mute.

It was when a man asked me, "Who are you?" The first thought of God was an angel.

The first word of God was a man.

We were fluttering, wandering, longing creatures a thousand thousand years before the sea and the wind in the forest gave us words.

Now how can we express the ancient of days in us with only the sounds of our yesterdays?

The Sphinx spoke only once, and the Sphinx said,

"A grain of sand is a desert, and a desert is a grain of sand; and now let us all be silent again.

" I heard the Sphinx, but I did not understand.

Long did I lie in the dust of Egypt, silent and unaware of the seasons.

Then the sun gave me birth, and I rose and walked upon the banks of the Nile, Singing with the days and dreaming with the nights.

And now the sun threads upon me with a thousand feet that I may lie again in the dust of Egypt. But behold a marvel and a riddle!

The very sun that gathered me cannot scatter me.

Still erect am I, and sure of foot do I walk upon the banks of the Nile.

Remembrance is a form of meeting.

Forgetfulness is a form of freedom. We measure time according to the movement of countless suns; and they measure time by little machines in their little pockets.

Now tell me, how could we ever meet at the same place and the same time? Space is not space between the earth and the sun to one who looks down from the windows of the Milky Way.

Humanity is a river of light running from the ex-eternity to eternity. Do not the spirits who dwell in the ether envy man his pain?

On my way to the Holy City I met another pilgrim and I asked him, "Is this indeed the way to the Holy City?"

And he said, "Follow me, and you will reach the Holy City in a day and a night." And I followed him.

And we walked many days and many nights, yet we did not reach the Holy City. And what was to my surprise he became angry with me because he had misled me.

Make me, oh God, the prey of the lion, ere You make the rabbit my prey.

One may not reach the dawn save by the path of the night.

My house says to me, "Do not leave me, for here dwells your past."

And the road says to me, "Come and follow me, for I am your future." And I say to both my house and the road, "I have no past, nor have I a future.

If I stay here, there is a going in my staying; and if I go there is a staying in my going. Only love and death will change all things."

How can I lose faith in the justice of life, when the dreams of those who sleep upon feathers are not more beautiful than the dreams of those who sleep upon the earth?