More Than All the Rich Man’s Gold is a new E-book of Hafiz translations by Thomas Rain Crowe illustrated with photographs by Simone Lipscomb.
Hafiz, the 14th century Persian poet, wrote of the Beloved and used imagery of nature in his descriptions of what we think of as God. He wrote of a need to move beyond worldly desires for gold and riches to connect with the spiritual essence behind all form.
Through the translations by Thomas Rain Crowe and the nature photography of Simone Lipscomb, readers are taken on a journey of the sense to a place where truth abides. Stanzas are paired with stunning images that help awaken the heart to that which is worth more than material wealth.
A call is sent forth, from centuries ago, to the present where we are asked to choose wisely and tread lightly on this planet. We are reminded to celebrate beauty and re-focus on spiritual wealth.
Visit Smashwords to download an electronic copy for your iPad, iPhone, Kindle or any electronic gadget. If you want to simply download a PDF of it can do that as well. It is readable on any computer. This is a FREE download from now through Friday. After that the price will be $4.99. Please download and enjoy! And tell your friends.
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Yesterday a person I haven’t seen in a while asked me what I was doing with myself these days. As I was attempting to answer she said, “Nothing? Still goofing around?” Maybe I misunderstood as I was attempting to answer her,”I’m still writing and taking photographs and generally trying to make the world a better place.” But our words intersected and I was left feeling quite strange. You see it didn’t matter who said the words…nothing…goofing around…what I heard is what I think about my life much of the time. The slap in my face comes from my own self-assessment, not from anyone else. Her words simply pried open the lid of my inner Pandora’s box.
A couple weeks ago a person I met asked what I ‘did’ and my reply? “I’m just a writer and nature photographer.” I couldn’t believe it when the words came out of my mouth. My jaw literally dropped as I caught my statement of shame and restated to her….”I am a writer and nature photographer.”
I’m just?
I stunned myself by proclaiming that the work of my life, this sacred, holy work is...just? Doing this work is following my spiritual path so why did I answer with such shame? And what’s with the snooty judgement of my life’s work?
In contemplating the words from yesterday, whether they were actually spoken aloud or my inner filters chimed in with the negative assessment of my life, I realized an old wound had circled around again and was snarling at me. It says this: Nothing I ever do is good enough. I’m not good enough so therefore everything I give to the world is unacceptable….. Old beliefs don’t die. They just quieten their chatter and slip underground when we become distracted. They lay waiting until they can slyly sneak within hearing range and softly whisper their dark, sinister messages into our innocent ears. You’re not good enough. Why do you think you can make a difference? Why don’t you give up? The spiral brings the wound around again to be healed at a deeper level.
Photo by Rebecca Drouillard
Today I was reading from a course of study and the question was asked, “What more can one give but oneself?” I thought back to yesterday’s exchange and to a couple weeks ago when I stated I was just a writer and photographer. If I am ashamed of my sacred work, how will I ever believe that what I have to offer in service will be enough? How can I be enough in relationship with the Universe, my self, a man, other people?
What am I willing to sacrifice on my spiritual path? Everything, even the old beliefs that have kept me small.
Armondo carves stones that he places on his property in Akumal, Mexico as a way to honor the earth
No matter what work we do, if we do it with love and surrender ourselves to it, it is sacred and holy. May we find the courage to walk our paths and seek opportunities to share ourselves with the world.
Several weeks ago I met my friend in the Smoky Mountains for an afternoon photography shoot. As we drove through Cades Cove we caught up with each other and shared a bit about our lives. We are both committed to our paths and want to make a difference in the world and shared our frustration at not really knowing how to do that or if what we are doing is really positively impacting the world.
A friend in Japan has been exploring how she wants to work to help make the world a better place and is frustrated as to how she can do this. She has volunteered in an elephant sanctuary and in the past has worked with marine mammal rescue but she, like others I know, wants to make a difference every day.
Over the past couple of days another friend and I have been in contact about the desire to make a difference in the world. It feels like the HID light was just turned on deep in an underwater cave. His clarity encouraged me.
A funk, for lack of a better word, has been dominating my life for the past several months. I am not sure of the origin of this downward turn. There is so much negative everything happening and the environmental issues coupled with atrocities humans perpetuate on each other have made it difficult to know what to do. After working with vigor and with passion documenting the BP Deepwater Horizon Oil Spill and before that, in creating books of beauty and inspiration, all with the goal of making a difference, I find hundreds of books in boxes in my home…their message of beauty and hope sitting tucked away from the world. A perfect metaphor of how I feel. Despondency and feeling a loss as to what I’m really supposed to be doing with my life has been the question that occupies my mind.
The heart-friend I recently wrote of retired from over thirty years of service to his community. He was a leader as a firefighter and trained in many disciplines so he could be excellent in his work. Rookies and seasoned firefighters alike looked up to him and his valuable skills. His career of rescue work is truly inspiring. Upon retirement he wasn’t doing what he wanted to do…making a difference. It was a terrible adjustment for him as his heart is huge and his intention of service matches the size of his heart. It wasn’t until he followed his path to serve in a war-torn country that he once-again fulfilled, in his mind, his goal. He has found what he was looking for–making a difference.
We follow little breadcrumb thoughts which lead us to decisions. We act on these decisions and make changes in our lives–some are huge, some are small. We direct our energy toward the slow-growing momentum and then hope for the best. But how do we know our efforts really are making a difference? How do we maintain trust in ourselves and in our decisions? Here’s a cave-diving analogy.
Photo by Ed Jackson of me and my buddy Ray and his light in the distance
When cave diving a diver knows that caves are dark. It seems a silly statement but I cannot count the number of times I’ve been asked the question: Are underwater caves really dark? Think of the darkest, inkiest, blackest darkness and then think of it as flowing and moving around you. Yes…underwater caves are dark. So a diver takes redundant equipment into a cave–air and light. Three lights are required equipment–a primary light and two back-up lights. The primary is a very bright, strong light and the back-up lights are smaller and always contain fresh batteries.
Photo by Ed Jackson…Yes, that’s me diving with my buddy, Ray, behind me.
So if I’m diving in a cave and for some reason my primary light fails, out comes a back-up light. If that fails, out comes the other back-up light. If we apply the analogy of cave diving to our lives, think of our life’s path as the primary light. We are born, we develop and learn and find our way to our path. A natural light is emitted from it as we progress. But there comes a time when we lose faith in our path, we find ourselves far from those we love, and who love us, we retire, or move to a new area, and that light wavers and then blinks out. We are left in the dark.
It’s not a happy place, this darkness. It’s difficult to orient ourselves, find our way. Which way do we go? Where is the line? Which tunnel is the way home?
Photo by Ed Jackson….I miss these caves!!!
When this happens we can contact a friend, one of our back-up lights, to help light our way. Sometimes the path we tread must have light from another source. When our own light seems dim, there are others who can help us see the path we have chosen. Their light can help us stay true and move forward when we have lost faith in what we do. We may come to a side tunnel in our underwater cave and the extra light may be necessary to see which way leads us home.
Some may think the primary light in cave diving is the most important but ask any cave diver who has had to deploy a back-up light or two. Those little lights are the real life-savers.
I am grateful for my heart-friend that reminded me to keep working on my path of service. His light encouraged me to stay with it, even when it feels like I am not making a difference. Sometimes I stumble along in darkness and then a ray of light comes forward to illuminate the way.
May we all be lights unto each other.
Thanks for reading. Please comment or share as you see fit.
A couple days ago I was shopping at my favorite natural foods store and happened upon organic pomegranates. Something compelled me to add one to my cart. Today, after my workout, I arrived home hungry and wanting refreshment so I greedily eyed the ripe fruit.
I began cooking brunch while simultaneously beginning the long process of freeing the plump, red, succulent seeds from their honeycomb-like womb. Stir the broccoli, peel a bit more….add the eggs, peel a bit more. Sneaking a sweet seed with its fleshy pulp fruit, I nearly melted. How exquisite, what an explosion of flavor. My spelt bread finished toasting and I added local honey to it. I dipped my finger in the thick, golden liquid and sucked it off and was met with a most interesting contrast of intense sweetness mixed with the sweet-tart-sour of the pomegranate fruit.
But meanwhile, the main course was ready so I sat down, with red-stained hands, to eat. Upon completion of my meal I went back to the task of sorting the tiny, fleshy fruit from the peel with the intention of sitting in my courtyard and enjoying the fruits of my labor. The effort yielded a bowl-full of delicious treats and I sat outside, next to the grandmother oak tree, eating until I could eat no more. As I ate, I pondered the mythology that was linked to pomegranates.
In mythos Persephone was beautiful, well-loved and innocent. She was the daughter of Demeter–goddess of the harvest–and Zeus. Even Hades, god of the underworld, wanted Persephone. So one day, when she was out enjoying the flowers and most likely chatting with deer, rabbits and other gentle creatures, the earth split open and Hades thundered out in his chariot pulled by black horses and abducted the fair and lovely Persephone.
Demeter was heart-broken and wandered the earth looking for her lost daughter. She was so upset that she withdrew in deep depression and loneliness and because of this the earth ceased to be fertile. Everything began to turn brown. Zeus saw what was happening and sent Hermes into the underworld to demand the release of his daughter. Hades consented but gave Persephone a pomegranate as she left and it is said that she ate only three seeds of the sweet fruit; in doing so she forever bound herself to the underworld.
Because she partook of the fruit given her by Hades, she had to spend part of each year in the underworld with him. During this time Demeter mourned and withdrew and green things of the earth stopped growing. This myth explained winter and the cycling of the seasons in Greek culture. And yet, it explained so much more.
Each of us must take the journey of Persephone many times during our lives. We must journey into our own darkness and get to know it in order to emerge into the light of our spirit. Like Persephone, it isn’t a one-time event. We most likely would prefer not to have to make this journey more than once, but as we engage in our lives, inner triggers are pushed which, if followed, lead us back into our dark, inner world. We can try to postpone the journey but if we do, we will certainly repeat the same patterns again and again until we go within and deal with our ‘stuff.’
Perhaps we fear the darkness and are afraid we’ll be absorbed or lost in it; however, some of the most creative expressions throughout history have come from artists who have taken the journey of Persephone into their inner underworld and give expression to it. Eat the seeds, take the journey and dance in the darkness, sing in it, play it out with music. Create beauty out of the journey into the inner world. For without the journey inwards into our darkness, we could never come to the full expression of light.
The choice we have is whether we’ll go kicking and screaming when life abducts us or if we’ll go willingly. Either way, it is good to remember that sweetness and nurturance also can be found in the darkness and help is ever with us, even though many times unseen. It is often said that when we feel the most alone is when we have the most assistance on a spiritual level. We can draw from the strength of those who have made the journey of Persephone. Know that just as the seasons cycle, so too do the times of darkness.
Please comment, share and re-post as you feel moved.
When I opened the curtains and door to the porch off my bedroom this morning the light was a soft, deep orange. I peeked out and looked around the corner to the east and the sky was a palette of brilliant color. To add to the dramatic beauty, fog hugged the ground beneath the oak trees.
I hurriedly threw on shorts and a hoodie and sprinted upstairs to get my tripod. I couldn’t find the ‘L’ bracket and hex wrench that attaches it to my camera. Dang it! Where is that thing? I said in a not-so-gentle-voice. I couldn’t find it so I grabbed an attachment for my old tripod and ran downstairs, tripping and nearly falling on the stairs.
My camera was still in the kitchen where I left it last night when I came home from a music event yesterday afternoon so I quickly attached the tripod foot and headed outside, grabbing my old tripod from the garage. As I was walking to the pasture fence I was attempting to extend the legs of the tripod. Of course, the legs wouldn’t extend (the reason I replaced it after a busy summer of salt-water shooting last year that basically ended its life). The sun was rapidly rising and the brilliant blue and orange and yellow hues would be gone within minutes.
Screw it, I mumbled and threw the tripod to the ground, adjusted the camera settings and started shooting. It was frustrating because I love very long exposures in light such as this as it enriches the colors. But this morning, I was doing the best I could given the time constraints and equipment snafus.
Challenges like I experienced at sunrise today are really quite funny. A part of me was calmly watching myself scurrying and hurrying and I knew that all of the effort might be for nothing….I could miss the sweet light. But as beautiful as the sunrise was, I had to make the effort.
Things in life that are beautiful are indeed worth the effort.
More Than All the Rich Man’s Gold is a new E-book of Hafiz translations by Thomas Rain Crowe illustrated with photographs by Simone Lipscomb.
