https://awakin.org/read/ iJourney passages are a weekly email service that delivers a little bit of wisdom. It all started with couple folks getting together on Wednesdays in the Silicon Valley. en Tue, 16 Jun 2026 19:38:34 -0700 ServiceSpace iJourney passages are a weekly email service that delivers a little bit of wisdom. It all started with couple folks getting together on Wednesdays in the Silicon Valley. ServiceSpace tow@charityfocus.org no tow@charityfocus.org (ServiceSpace) https://awakin.org/read/view.php?tid=2617 The great leader never feels it is us versus them. He or she is for everybody. To be for one interest group is never to be against another. To be for those without power is surely not to be against those with power. Provincialism occurs frequently in personal situations of conflict We hear the tale of two of our friends. One seems to be the victim. One seems to be right, the other wrong, and we easily withdraw empathy from the "villain." Suppose our assessment of the situation is accurate, although this may be highly questionable. The villain of this moment is the victim of an earlier moment. Because I'm deeply for one, why should I be against the other? Why can't I be deeply for both? If I am absolutely unyielding in my attitude favoring one over the other, I am diminishing the freedom of attitude on the part of other people. In so doing I am limiting my capacity for leadership. I can find ultimate meaning in my call and in that of which I am a part—and at the same time enhance other facets of the whole to which I belong. I will never hurt the particular that I'm called to by being a part of the whole and enhancing the whole. What I need for my particular will always flow back to me if I am giving myself to the whole. We must do nothing that in any way diminishes another.  tow-2617 Mon, 15 Jun 2026 00:00:00 -0700 The great leader never feels it is us versus them. He or she is for everybody. To be for one interest group is never to be against another. To be for those without power is surely not to be against those with power. Provincialism occurs frequently in personal situations of conflict We hear the tale of two of our friends. One seems to be the victim. One seems to be right, the other wrong, and we easily withdraw empathy from the "villain." Suppose our assessment of the situation is accurate, although this may be highly questionable. The villain of this moment is the victim of an earlier moment. Because I'm deeply for one, why should I be against the other? Why can't I be deeply for both? If I am absolutely unyielding in my attitude favoring one over the other, I am diminishing the freedom of attitude on the part of other people. In so doing I am limiting my capacity for leadership. I can find ultimate meaning in my call and in that of which I am a part—and at the same time enhance other facets of the whole to which I belong. I will never hurt the particular that I'm called to by being a part of the whole and enhancing the whole. What I need for my particular will always flow back to me if I am giving myself to the whole. We must do nothing that in any way diminishes another.  https://awakin.org/read/view.php?tid=2616 Long, long before there were any written words, there were animals—and all the rest of the teeming natural world. Creation is the earliest sacred text given to us. Like Scripture, the natural world, too, opens up an infinite universe of meaning. Early wisdom seekers gave us a way of reading sacred texts called lectio divina. It’s a way that honors the richness of the text and the dignity of the reader. Reading or listening, we simply ask, What catches my attention?  No one gets caught in quite the same way. Then, if we give that attention-getting bit our best awareness, if we tell ourselves or each other what in the text stopped us in our tracks, and wonder about that, something mysterious happens. A door opens. We sense a path connecting the world of the text to the world of our own experience; we feel a nudge or hear a voice inviting us to explore that path. The sacred text of the natural world opens its doors—hidden in plain sight—to anyone who “reads” it with an attentive heart. Over and over it happens that one of our creature-kin comes with a word for our unsettled selves. Firefly, loon, chickadee, raccoon—any one of them might be the teacher we need. What catches my attention? Ask only that as you read the animals’ stories. In your own and others’ responses you may sense a door—often one you didn’t know you were looking for—opening. And through that door, a path, and down that path, the glimmer of a new beginning. tow-2616 Mon, 08 Jun 2026 00:00:00 -0700 Long, long before there were any written words, there were animals—and all the rest of the teeming natural world. Creation is the earliest sacred text given to us. Like Scripture, the natural world, too, opens up an infinite universe of meaning. Early wisdom seekers gave us a way of reading sacred texts called lectio divina. It’s a way that honors the richness of the text and the dignity of the reader. Reading or listening, we simply ask, What catches my attention?  No one gets caught in quite the same way. Then, if we give that attention-getting bit our best awareness, if we tell ourselves or each other what in the text stopped us in our tracks, and wonder about that, something mysterious happens. A door opens. We sense a path connecting the world of the text to the world of our own experience; we feel a nudge or hear a voice inviting us to explore that path. The sacred text of the natural world opens its doors—hidden in plain sight—to anyone who “reads” it with an attentive heart. Over and over it happens that one of our creature-kin comes with a word for our unsettled selves. Firefly, loon, chickadee, raccoon—any one of them might be the teacher we need. What catches my attention? Ask only that as you read the animals’ stories. In your own and others’ responses you may sense a door—often one you didn’t know you were looking for—opening. And through that door, a path, and down that path, the glimmer of a new beginning. https://awakin.org/read/view.php?tid=2786 We live in a world of evidence. Our cities’ infrastructures and our environmental planning, our school curricula and our economic predictions, are all filtered through the funnel of data that compiles mechanisms of ‘science.’ Fair enough. We need to know what the new bridge will cost, or how many chemo treatments the patient can withstand; we need to calculate and measure the success of our work. But it is clear that we have made some serious miscalculations in the last 100 years. All the proof in the world has not provided the information that we need to see the complexity of the world we live in. We do not understand it. We make decisions that unfold into wild and unforeseen consequences. The proof was not enough. We needed the pattern. Art does not ask for proof; it directs us to look for pattern. Strung between the chords of a flamenco song is the empathy of a thousand years of love and pain. In the gestures of a contemporary dancer we can remember all that we have never imagined, and follow the form of the body into an unknown dictionary of emotions. In the strokes of color on a London wall, we find the humor and irony of our own mistakes. On a canvas, in a photo, on the screen, we see ourselves seeing the world. We see it, we see us, we take in the cock-eyed framing that tilts our heads and rests our status quo on its ear. The poetry is there, un-killable. Each of us is an artist, dabbing rhythms, colors, metaphors, and harmonies into our moments. While abstract concepts may rollercoaster through us in art we don’t understand, the metaphors still enter us, and one day, maybe years ahead, they will speak to us. In the gruesomeness of art we find we are vulnerable and that we bleed. I have a small poster of Picasso’s ‘Woman Weeping’ on my dresser to remind me that to be a student of life is to be willing to be shattered. The darkness in art gives us a visceral experience of being dug up, emptied of the seeds of trust, and carved into the anger or jealousy that has overtaken us. There are things to be angry about in life, and art lets us explore the community of that experience. Through the breaking, tingling, crackling, smoothing, and opening, we are in art, with unnamed resonances coursing through us. We are pulled from our illusion that we can watch life from our safe place at the window. We are participants in the process. In all forms, art can offer an experience of integration that calls upon our cultural language of symbols, our imagination, our history, our intellect, and our emotions. While we often stress the importance of ‘creative expression,’ it is perhaps more vital at this moment in our history to explore what art has to say about the possibility that our perception itself can be brought into larger circuits of cognition through metaphor. Appreciation of a piece of art can be seen as recognition of the pattern that connects. As I see it, art allows us to perceive from multiple perspectives simultaneously. In order for science to really work with complexity, we need art to help give scientists a more developed capacity to perceive context, one that includes all the disciplines, emotions, cultural symbols, and personal memories. As Blake said in ‘The Grey Monk’: “A tear is an intellectual thing.” tow-2786 Mon, 01 Jun 2026 00:00:00 -0700 We live in a world of evidence. Our cities’ infrastructures and our environmental planning, our school curricula and our economic predictions, are all filtered through the funnel of data that compiles mechanisms of ‘science.’ Fair enough. We need to know what the new bridge will cost, or how many chemo treatments the patient can withstand; we need to calculate and measure the success of our work. But it is clear that we have made some serious miscalculations in the last 100 years. All the proof in the world has not provided the information that we need to see the complexity of the world we live in. We do not understand it. We make decisions that unfold into wild and unforeseen consequences. The proof was not enough. We needed the pattern. Art does not ask for proof; it directs us to look for pattern. Strung between the chords of a flamenco song is the empathy of a thousand years of love and pain. In the gestures of a contemporary dancer we can remember all that we have never imagined, and follow the form of the body into an unknown dictionary of emotions. In the strokes of color on a London wall, we find the humor and irony of our own mistakes. On a canvas, in a photo, on the screen, we see ourselves seeing the world. We see it, we see us, we take in the cock-eyed framing that tilts our heads and rests our status quo on its ear. The poetry is there, un-killable. Each of us is an artist, dabbing rhythms, colors, metaphors, and harmonies into our moments. While abstract concepts may rollercoaster through us in art we don’t understand, the metaphors still enter us, and one day, maybe years ahead, they will speak to us. In the gruesomeness of art we find we are vulnerable and that we bleed. I have a small poster of Picasso’s ‘Woman Weeping’ on my dresser to remind me that to be a student of life is to be willing to be shattered. The darkness in art gives us a visceral experience of being dug up, emptied of the seeds of trust, and carved into the anger or jealousy that has overtaken us. There are things to be angry about in life, and art lets us explore the community of that experience. Through the breaking, tingling, crackling, smoothing, and opening, we are in art, with unnamed resonances coursing through us. We are pulled from our illusion that we can watch life from our safe place at the window. We are participants in the process. In all forms, art can offer an experience of integration that calls upon our cultural language of symbols, our imagination, our history, our intellect, and our emotions. While we often stress the importance of ‘creative expression,’ it is perhaps more vital at this moment in our history to explore what art has to say about the possibility that our perception itself can be brought into larger circuits of cognition through metaphor. Appreciation of a piece of art can be seen as recognition of the pattern that connects. As I see it, art allows us to perceive from multiple perspectives simultaneously. In order for science to really work with complexity, we need art to help give scientists a more developed capacity to perceive context, one that includes all the disciplines, emotions, cultural symbols, and personal memories. As Blake said in ‘The Grey Monk’: “A tear is an intellectual thing.” https://awakin.org/read/view.php?tid=2785 Radical honesty, a form of authenticity that begins inside you, is a warm recognition that you gently apply to your conscious life. This view of radical honesty is not about telling everyone what you think. Instead, it is the root from which self-awareness grows. Thoughts and emotions that were once discarded or ignored are now embraced. Where you once felt the urge to run away, you now challenge yourself to face whatever is there. More than anything, any lie that you formerly told yourself is examined so that the truth may come forward. The key to radical honesty is that this is not about you and other people, but about how you relate to yourself in all situations, whether you are alone or with others. Radical honesty is not about punishing yourself or harsh self-talk. Rather, it is about calmly being in constant contact with your truth. Practicing this balance is critical. In the beginning, radical honesty may feel hard to manage, but it is truly a long-term project. If you want to see great results, you need to wholeheartedly commit to the process, especially when it gets difficult, so you can reject the temptation to fall back into unconsciously motivated behavior. If you continue to tread down the path of lies, fear and its two primary manifestations—anxiety and anger—will continue to grow. First, you fear truth and then you lie to be rid of your fear, unwittingly falling into a loop where you actually continue empowering your fear because every lie breeds further anxiety. The only way to put an end to the burning fire of fear is by thoroughly extinguishing it with truth. Dishonesty is the fear of truth. Dishonesty with yourself creates distance. The more lies you build up over time, the more you become a stranger to yourself. When you cannot accept your own truth, you are moving in the opposite direction of self-awareness. When lies suffuse your mind, life becomes opaque and the right actions you need to take to ease your inner tension become difficult to decipher. The lies you tell yourself will also manifest as a lack of depth in your relationships. A deep connection with another being is not possible if you are deeply disconnected from yourself. As you practice radical honesty, this distance decreases and your mind starts to become calmer. Telling yourself the truth is the beginning of inner harmony. This harmony immediately makes your relationships more vibrant. In examining your past and uncovering the truth that you previously re- fused to own, you actually make the power of your honesty stronger. This higher degree of presence allows your self- awareness to flourish. Eventually, your radical honesty matures to the point where it becomes non-negotiable—you carry it wherever you go and in every situation it becomes an asset that informs your decisions. Where you once coaxed yourself into thinking nothing was wrong, you now admit to yourself that turbulence or hurt was actually there. Where you once forced yourself into thinking you liked something, you admit that you did find it disagreeable. Where you once denied old pain, you admit that there is a wound within you that needs tending. tow-2785 Mon, 25 May 2026 00:00:00 -0700 Radical honesty, a form of authenticity that begins inside you, is a warm recognition that you gently apply to your conscious life. This view of radical honesty is not about telling everyone what you think. Instead, it is the root from which self-awareness grows. Thoughts and emotions that were once discarded or ignored are now embraced. Where you once felt the urge to run away, you now challenge yourself to face whatever is there. More than anything, any lie that you formerly told yourself is examined so that the truth may come forward. The key to radical honesty is that this is not about you and other people, but about how you relate to yourself in all situations, whether you are alone or with others. Radical honesty is not about punishing yourself or harsh self-talk. Rather, it is about calmly being in constant contact with your truth. Practicing this balance is critical. In the beginning, radical honesty may feel hard to manage, but it is truly a long-term project. If you want to see great results, you need to wholeheartedly commit to the process, especially when it gets difficult, so you can reject the temptation to fall back into unconsciously motivated behavior. If you continue to tread down the path of lies, fear and its two primary manifestations—anxiety and anger—will continue to grow. First, you fear truth and then you lie to be rid of your fear, unwittingly falling into a loop where you actually continue empowering your fear because every lie breeds further anxiety. The only way to put an end to the burning fire of fear is by thoroughly extinguishing it with truth. Dishonesty is the fear of truth. Dishonesty with yourself creates distance. The more lies you build up over time, the more you become a stranger to yourself. When you cannot accept your own truth, you are moving in the opposite direction of self-awareness. When lies suffuse your mind, life becomes opaque and the right actions you need to take to ease your inner tension become difficult to decipher. The lies you tell yourself will also manifest as a lack of depth in your relationships. A deep connection with another being is not possible if you are deeply disconnected from yourself. As you practice radical honesty, this distance decreases and your mind starts to become calmer. Telling yourself the truth is the beginning of inner harmony. This harmony immediately makes your relationships more vibrant. In examining your past and uncovering the truth that you previously re- fused to own, you actually make the power of your honesty stronger. This higher degree of presence allows your self- awareness to flourish. Eventually, your radical honesty matures to the point where it becomes non-negotiable—you carry it wherever you go and in every situation it becomes an asset that informs your decisions. Where you once coaxed yourself into thinking nothing was wrong, you now admit to yourself that turbulence or hurt was actually there. Where you once forced yourself into thinking you liked something, you admit that you did find it disagreeable. Where you once denied old pain, you admit that there is a wound within you that needs tending. https://awakin.org/read/view.php?tid=2730 What would I like? I would like to live a life of wisdom and compassion, like the sunflower, turning toward what deeply nourishes it. I would like to be at the edge of my knowing and becoming, present with joy and wonder, to the beauty of life's emergence. I would like to live without fear for myself or my loved ones, extending to all beings, and without causing fear to any living being. I would like to live with a radical tenderness and the confidence that everything is workable. I would like to engage with others with an attunement to their greatest gifts, and mine, and with an attunement to what wants to emerge. I would like to engage in my work with a sense of privilege and possibility. I would like to be be a hub for interconnection, letting flows flow through, without needing to hold on to anything. I would like to welcome and play with what arises in the moment, in any situation. I would like to live, to love, as an invitation to infinite things. What would you like? tow-2730 Mon, 18 May 2026 00:00:00 -0700 What would I like? I would like to live a life of wisdom and compassion, like the sunflower, turning toward what deeply nourishes it. I would like to be at the edge of my knowing and becoming, present with joy and wonder, to the beauty of life's emergence. I would like to live without fear for myself or my loved ones, extending to all beings, and without causing fear to any living being. I would like to live with a radical tenderness and the confidence that everything is workable. I would like to engage with others with an attunement to their greatest gifts, and mine, and with an attunement to what wants to emerge. I would like to engage in my work with a sense of privilege and possibility. I would like to be be a hub for interconnection, letting flows flow through, without needing to hold on to anything. I would like to welcome and play with what arises in the moment, in any situation. I would like to live, to love, as an invitation to infinite things. What would you like? https://awakin.org/read/view.php?tid=2609 Truly accepting pain is not at all like passive resignation. Rather, it is active engagement with life in its most intimate sense. It is meeting, dancing with, raging at, turning toward. To accept your pain on this level you must cultivate particular skills. Then After you have developed some proficiency in these skills, dealing with pain feels much more like an embrace, or the bond that forms between sparring partners, than it feels like resignation. Resignation is too passive. So What are the skills necessary for dealing with catastrophe, pain, anguish that you have day in and day out and probably will have for a long time? If you're in this difficult situation, your job is to (1)acknowledge that stuff and what its costing you, and (2) to enrich your life exponentially. [...] Acknowledging your suffering, just exactly what it is costing you to live with the painful situation you have, is the first step on the path of penetration into the wellspring of energy we often tie up in efforts we make to get away from our despair. I work with people who have degenerative diseases like arthritis, MS, stroke. Many of them have constant, unremitting pain. They say to me, "Why would I want to acknowledge my suffering? To live in the present moment with all my agony? I'd rather distract myself." Why indeed? Maybe the bottom line is that if you develop a strategy to deal with suffering that rests on merely distracting yourself, it won't work in the long run. Maybe you can deny it or distract yourself for a short time -- hours or days. Denial is great for the short term -- it can allow you to meet a deadline despite a crisis or it can help you gradually accept an overwhelming circumstance -- but longterm it carries a pretty high price. If you deny your pain or your suffering for a long time, you begin to exist on a bleak tundra of nonfeeling. In order to stay in denial, you have to turn away from all incoming information about your situation: other people's feedback, your own feelings coming up from your gut. So your consciousness gets very narrow and your life continues on one level of your being with no variation or richness or feeling. [..]  Earlier I mentioned that one of the skills it's useful to cultivate is enriching your life exponentially. What I mean by that is If at any given moment you are aware of ten different elements -- for instance, the sound of my voice, your bottom on the chair, the sound of cars passing outside, the thought of the laundry you have to do, the hum of the air-conditioner, the sliding of your glasses down your nose, an unpleasant stab of sharp back pain, cool air going into your nostrils, warm air going out -- that's too much pain, one out of ten; that's unbearable pain that will dominate your life. But if at this moment you are aware of a hundred elements, not only the ten things you noticed before but more subtle things, like the animal presence of other people sitting quietly in the room, the shadow of the lamp against the wall, the brush of your hair against your ear, the pull of your clothes against your skin, for instance, and you have pain along with all those other things you are noticing, then your pain is one of a hundred elements of your consciousness at that moment, and that is pain you can live with. It's merely one of the multitude of sensations in your life. As a person with a chronic illness who works with other people who have longterm physical difficulties and the despair/bitterness that accompany such difficulties, I'm very interested in what people do that has some influence on their healing process. Over the years I've noticed that among the most important healing experiences that people can have are experiences of deep pleasure. This is true of both physical and spiritual healing. When your suffering is chronic or intense, you cannot let your pleasures come randomly. You need to take the perception of pleasure very seriously and learn how to build the occurrence of such feelings into your life. If you are overwhelmed by emotional stress or physical pain, I advise you to cultivate the ability to recognize pleasure wherever the potential for its existence may lie. -- Excerpted from a talk given by Darlene Cohen to the Multiple Sclerosis Society in March, 2000 tow-2609 Mon, 11 May 2026 00:00:00 -0700 Truly accepting pain is not at all like passive resignation. Rather, it is active engagement with life in its most intimate sense. It is meeting, dancing with, raging at, turning toward. To accept your pain on this level you must cultivate particular skills. Then After you have developed some proficiency in these skills, dealing with pain feels much more like an embrace, or the bond that forms between sparring partners, than it feels like resignation. Resignation is too passive. So What are the skills necessary for dealing with catastrophe, pain, anguish that you have day in and day out and probably will have for a long time? If you're in this difficult situation, your job is to (1)acknowledge that stuff and what its costing you, and (2) to enrich your life exponentially. [...] Acknowledging your suffering, just exactly what it is costing you to live with the painful situation you have, is the first step on the path of penetration into the wellspring of energy we often tie up in efforts we make to get away from our despair. I work with people who have degenerative diseases like arthritis, MS, stroke. Many of them have constant, unremitting pain. They say to me, "Why would I want to acknowledge my suffering? To live in the present moment with all my agony? I'd rather distract myself." Why indeed? Maybe the bottom line is that if you develop a strategy to deal with suffering that rests on merely distracting yourself, it won't work in the long run. Maybe you can deny it or distract yourself for a short time -- hours or days. Denial is great for the short term -- it can allow you to meet a deadline despite a crisis or it can help you gradually accept an overwhelming circumstance -- but longterm it carries a pretty high price. If you deny your pain or your suffering for a long time, you begin to exist on a bleak tundra of nonfeeling. In order to stay in denial, you have to turn away from all incoming information about your situation: other people's feedback, your own feelings coming up from your gut. So your consciousness gets very narrow and your life continues on one level of your being with no variation or richness or feeling. [..]  Earlier I mentioned that one of the skills it's useful to cultivate is enriching your life exponentially. What I mean by that is If at any given moment you are aware of ten different elements -- for instance, the sound of my voice, your bottom on the chair, the sound of cars passing outside, the thought of the laundry you have to do, the hum of the air-conditioner, the sliding of your glasses down your nose, an unpleasant stab of sharp back pain, cool air going into your nostrils, warm air going out -- that's too much pain, one out of ten; that's unbearable pain that will dominate your life. But if at this moment you are aware of a hundred elements, not only the ten things you noticed before but more subtle things, like the animal presence of other people sitting quietly in the room, the shadow of the lamp against the wall, the brush of your hair against your ear, the pull of your clothes against your skin, for instance, and you have pain along with all those other things you are noticing, then your pain is one of a hundred elements of your consciousness at that moment, and that is pain you can live with. It's merely one of the multitude of sensations in your life. As a person with a chronic illness who works with other people who have longterm physical difficulties and the despair/bitterness that accompany such difficulties, I'm very interested in what people do that has some influence on their healing process. Over the years I've noticed that among the most important healing experiences that people can have are experiences of deep pleasure. This is true of both physical and spiritual healing. When your suffering is chronic or intense, you cannot let your pleasures come randomly. You need to take the perception of pleasure very seriously and learn how to build the occurrence of such feelings into your life. If you are overwhelmed by emotional stress or physical pain, I advise you to cultivate the ability to recognize pleasure wherever the potential for its existence may lie. -- Excerpted from a talk given by Darlene Cohen to the Multiple Sclerosis Society in March, 2000 https://awakin.org/read/view.php?tid=2783 A friend and I often greet each other with the Arabic words, “Ishq Allah.” Ishq is passionate love for God. Crazy love for spirit in matter and matter in spirit. The Sufi-dervish-wonder that whirls and says, Ishq Allah ma’būd lillāh, God is love, lover, and beloved ... Our pointer-dogs, Sara and Bartie hike with me in the mountains where Sara brings a special brand of Ishq. Whenever she senses a bird, she freezes in a perfect point. Time stops as she leans forward, her front leg bent, her stubby tail extended. It’s dog yoga, downward pointing God, as she claims union with her ordained purpose. I hold my breath. The earth holds its breath. Then Sara hears a sacred starting gun, discernible only in dog-land. She barrels into the underbrush. Twenty grey quail fling themselves up out of the bushes, no chirping, only the sound of insistent wings that say, “I Am.” I inhale the sound of wings and say, “So Am I, beloved quail—I Am.” Sara barks at the quail then races back down the mountain to share her excitement with Bartie and me. “You are the beloved, too, sweet dogs,” I say. Together, we continue our ishq-intoxicated hike. What did I do to deserve this microcosm of audacious grace? Who created a dog that points so clearly and dearly? What offers a flock of quail the adventure of a shared get-away? How do air, feathers, and flight conspire to break one’s heart into beauty with sounds only love can hear? Who submits us to this drunken recklessness? Ishq allāh ma’būd lillāh, God as love, lover, and beloved ... What a privilege it is to listen to the three in one. No definitions, no reasoning required. Simply wonder in the wordless wings. Love, lover, and beloved sing to us constantly. But will we listen? Will we hear? With love’s help, I’ll try and listen better. I’ll start with the high school band that rehearses every day, inches from my house. I’ll fall in love with their raucous On Wisconsin. I’ll shimmy to the salsa version of Beethoven’s Für Elise. I’ll dance to the drum line. I’ll trust love to transform out-of-tune band music to the sound of teenagers pointing their clarinets and saxophones toward the intangible angle of grace. I’ll know the music hasn’t changed. The beloved changes me. The lover tempts my ears to hear differently. And the alchemy of love transforms annoyance into amazement. With practice, we can learn everything is love, lover, and beloved. Dissonance and grace; the New York Philharmonic and the Santa Paula High School band—It’s all the sound of wings. It’s all Ishq Allāh ma’būd lillāh. Everything is intoxicated rapture calling us home—home to heaven on earth, precisely, where we belong. tow-2783 Mon, 04 May 2026 00:00:00 -0700 A friend and I often greet each other with the Arabic words, “Ishq Allah.” Ishq is passionate love for God. Crazy love for spirit in matter and matter in spirit. The Sufi-dervish-wonder that whirls and says, Ishq Allah ma’būd lillāh, God is love, lover, and beloved ... Our pointer-dogs, Sara and Bartie hike with me in the mountains where Sara brings a special brand of Ishq. Whenever she senses a bird, she freezes in a perfect point. Time stops as she leans forward, her front leg bent, her stubby tail extended. It’s dog yoga, downward pointing God, as she claims union with her ordained purpose. I hold my breath. The earth holds its breath. Then Sara hears a sacred starting gun, discernible only in dog-land. She barrels into the underbrush. Twenty grey quail fling themselves up out of the bushes, no chirping, only the sound of insistent wings that say, “I Am.” I inhale the sound of wings and say, “So Am I, beloved quail—I Am.” Sara barks at the quail then races back down the mountain to share her excitement with Bartie and me. “You are the beloved, too, sweet dogs,” I say. Together, we continue our ishq-intoxicated hike. What did I do to deserve this microcosm of audacious grace? Who created a dog that points so clearly and dearly? What offers a flock of quail the adventure of a shared get-away? How do air, feathers, and flight conspire to break one’s heart into beauty with sounds only love can hear? Who submits us to this drunken recklessness? Ishq allāh ma’būd lillāh, God as love, lover, and beloved ... What a privilege it is to listen to the three in one. No definitions, no reasoning required. Simply wonder in the wordless wings. Love, lover, and beloved sing to us constantly. But will we listen? Will we hear? With love’s help, I’ll try and listen better. I’ll start with the high school band that rehearses every day, inches from my house. I’ll fall in love with their raucous On Wisconsin. I’ll shimmy to the salsa version of Beethoven’s Für Elise. I’ll dance to the drum line. I’ll trust love to transform out-of-tune band music to the sound of teenagers pointing their clarinets and saxophones toward the intangible angle of grace. I’ll know the music hasn’t changed. The beloved changes me. The lover tempts my ears to hear differently. And the alchemy of love transforms annoyance into amazement. With practice, we can learn everything is love, lover, and beloved. Dissonance and grace; the New York Philharmonic and the Santa Paula High School band—It’s all the sound of wings. It’s all Ishq Allāh ma’būd lillāh. Everything is intoxicated rapture calling us home—home to heaven on earth, precisely, where we belong.