Kahlil Gibran: On Talking

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Thread started 10/06/08 5:29pm

union119

Kahlil Gibran: On Talking

You talk when you cease to be at peace with your thoughts;
And when you can no longer dwell in the solitude of your heart you live in your lips, and sound is a diversion and a pastime.
And in much of your talking, thinking is half murdered.
For thought is a bird of space, that in a cage of words may indeed unfold its wings but cannot fly.

There are those among you who seek the talkative through fear of being alone.
The silence of aloneness reveals to their eyes their naked selves and they would escape.
And there are those who talk, and without knowledge or forethought reveal a truth which they themselves do not understand.
And there are those who have the truth within them, but they tell it not in words.
In the bosom of such as these the spirit dwells in rhythmic silence.

When you meet your friend on the roadside or in the market place, let the spirit in you move your lips and direct your tongue.
Let the voice within your voice speak to the ear of his ear;
For his soul will keep the truth of your heart as the taste of the wine is remembered
When the colour is forgotten and the vessel is no more.

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Reply #1 posted 10/07/08 4:20am

XxAxX

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very nice. thanks for posting this rose

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Reply #2 posted 10/07/08 12:00pm

HiinEnkelte

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on a non-'The Prophet' note,

i really love the first mary magdalen piece in his book 'Jesus the Son of Man
His Words and His Deeds As Told and Recorded by Those Who Knew Him'

and the opening to a 'A Tear and Smile'.

.
[Edited 10/7/08 12:02pm]

Welcome to the New World Odor and
the Myth Making Moonbattery of Obamanation.

DISSENT FROM DAY ONE

Pround member of the .org conservative union

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Reply #3 posted 10/07/08 5:56pm

Dayclear

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I love Kahlil Gibran, I just discovered his works this summer. biggrin

Without Tears

A person once told me that crying without tears is the worst form of crying. And they were right- because the weeping of the soul hurts so much more and no one can console you because no one can see, and even if they can they do not reach its tremendous depth.

This is a tribute to all those who have felt the anguish of tearless sobs and broken spirits. May God guide you through it, and may those you love be there for you when the tears start to fall and every moment after.

“Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars.”

Kahlil Gibran
[Edited 10/7/08 17:59pm]

If God one day struck me blind, your beauty I'd still see

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Reply #4 posted 10/07/08 7:00pm

union119

HiinEnkelte said:

i really love the first mary magdalen piece in his book 'Jesus the Son of Man
His Words and His Deeds As Told and Recorded by Those Who Knew Him'

Mary Magdalen
On meeting Jesus for the first time

It was in the month of June when I saw Him for the first time. He was walking in the wheatfield when I passed by with my handmaidens, and He was alone.

The rhythm of His steps was different from other men's, and the movement of His body was like naught I had seen before.

Men do not pace the earth in that manner. And even now I do not know whether He walked fast or slow.

My handmaidens pointed their fingers at Him and spoke in shy whispers to one another. And I stayed my steps for a moment, and raised my hand to hail Him. But He did not turn His face, and He did not look at me. And I hated Him. I was swept back into myself, and I was as cold as if I had been in a snow-drift. And I shivered.

That night I beheld Him in my dreaming; and they told me afterward that I screamed in my sleep and was restless upon my bed.

It was in the month of August that I saw Him again, through my window. He was sitting in the shadow of the cypress tree across my garden, and He was still as if He had been carved out of stone, like the statues in Antioch and other cities of the North Country.

And my slave, the Egyptian, came to me and said, "That man is here again. He is sitting there across your garden."

And I gazed at Him, and my soul quivered within me, for He was beautiful.

His body was single and each part seemed to love every other part.

Then I clothed myself with raiment of Damascus, and I left my house and walked towards Him.

Was it my aloneness, or was it His fragrance, that drew me to Him? Was it a hunger in my eyes that desired comeliness, or was it His beauty that sought the light of my eyes? Even now I do not know.

I walked to Him with my scented garments and my golden sandals, the sandals the Roman captain had given me, even these sandals. And when I reached Him, I said, "Good-morrow to you."

And He said, "Good-morrow to you, Miriam."

And He looked at me, and His night-eyes saw me as no man had seen me. And suddenly I was as if naked, and I was shy.

Yet He had only said, "Good-morrow to you."

And then I said to Him, "Will you not come to my house?"

And He said, "Am I not already in your house?"

I did not know what He meant then, but I know now.

And I said, "Will you not have wine and bread with me?"

And He said, "Yes, Miriam, but not now."

"Not now, not now," He said. And the voice of the sea was in those two words, and the voice of the wind and the trees. And when He said them unto me, life spoke to death.

For mind you, my friend, I was dead. I was a woman who had divorced her soul. I was living apart from this self which you now see. I belonged to all men, and to none. They called me harlot, and a woman possessed of seven devils. I was cursed, and I was envied.

But when His dawn-eyes looked into my eyes all the stars of my night faded away, and I became Miriam, only Miriam, a woman lost to the earth she had known, and finding herself in new places.

And now again I said to Him, "Come into my house and share bread and wine with me."

And He said, "Why do you bid me to be your guest?"

And I said, "I beg you to come into my house." And it was all that was sod in me, and all that was sky in me calling unto Him.

Then He looked at me, and the noontide of His eyes was upon me, and He said, "You have many lovers, and yet I alone love you. Other men love themselves in your nearness. I love you in your self. Other men see a beauty in you that shall fade away sooner than their own years. But I see in you a beauty that shall not fade away, and in the autumn of your days that beauty shall not be afraid to gaze at itself in the mirror, and it shall not be offended.

"I alone love the unseen in you."

Then He said in a low voice, "Go away now. If this cypress tree is yours and you would not have me sit in its shadow, I will walk my way."

And I cried to Him and I said, "Master, come to my house. I have incense to burn for you, and a silver basin for your feet. You are a stranger and yet not a stranger. I entreat you, come to my house."

Then He stood up and looked at me even as the seasons might look down upon the field, and He smiled. And He said again: "All men love you for themselves. I love you for yourself."

And then He walked away.

But no other man ever walked the way He walked. Was it a breath born in my garden that moved to the east? Or was it a storm that would shake all things to their foundations?

I knew not, but on that day the sunset of His eyes slew the dragon in me, and I became a woman, I became Miriam, Miriam of Mijdel.

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Reply #5 posted 10/07/08 8:41pm

MoonSongs

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I've read his works most of my life. This night was exactly the right time to see this and give a reminder to go back and replenish. Thank you so much for posting. n

Music is the language of the spirit. It opens the secret of life bringing peace, abolishing strife. --Kahlil Gibran

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Reply #6 posted 10/08/08 5:50pm