And now, advice for beginning mystics.
ADAM ZAGAJEWSKIRelated Topics
Anand Thakur
And now, advice for beginning mystics.
ADAM ZAGAJEWSKIBut I was only a chaotic walker, nobody could stop me; even a totalitarian state was not able to control my daydreams, my poetic fascinations, the pattern of my walking.
ADAM ZAGAJEWSKIGabriel Levin’s book is a journey through time and through entrenched animosities of the Middle East.
ADAM ZAGAJEWSKIWhat’s astonishing and refreshing is his ability to combine the reporter’s perspective with a deep knowledge of poetry, including pre-Islamic Arab poems.
ADAM ZAGAJEWSKIDefend the value of the spiritual experience and if somebody tells you it’s an old fashioned notion, laugh loudly and serenely.
ADAM ZAGAJEWSKIThis coming and going of the inner life – because this is what it is – is a curse and a blessing.
ADAM ZAGAJEWSKIRead for yourselves, read for the sake of your inspiration, for the sweet turmoil in your lovely head.
ADAM ZAGAJEWSKIBut also read against yourselves, read for questioning and impotence, for despair and erudition…
ADAM ZAGAJEWSKIA certain traveler who knew many continents was asked what he found most remarkable of all.
ADAM ZAGAJEWSKIAs if entrapped in a tropical heatwave, with dozens of whirlwinds swirling in one’s mind, one thinks of a way out, or a way in: out of the scorching bosom of a volcano, and in – into the centre of a raging hurricane.
ADAM ZAGAJEWSKIThe odds and ends of your mental surplus you carelessly throw at the world, one wants to be at a loss, in a maze; amazed, and amazingly unabashed.
ADAM ZAGAJEWSKII drink from a small spring, / my thirst excedes the ocean.
ADAM ZAGAJEWSKIAnd tracing the labyrinthine ways of your mind, the haphazard vagaries of your thoughts at ease,
ADAM ZAGAJEWSKIA little rain, a little blood. Black fingernails in August; and going berserk, going bananas.
ADAM ZAGAJEWSKIAnd also read those whose darkness or malice or madness or greatness you can’t understand because only in this way will you grow, outlive yourself, and become what you are.
ADAM ZAGAJEWSKICities at daybreak are no one’s, and have no names. And I, too, have no name, dawn, the stars growing pale, the train picking up speed.
ADAM ZAGAJEWSKI