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dikter

Diggar du dikter?

Josefine bengtsson

Foto – Adam Klingeteg

Alltså – när jag är närvarande vilket ofta inträffar när jag tar mig tid för stillhet & meditation så ÄLSKAR jag dikter. Då går orden rakt in i mitt hjärta. Men de där dagarna när jag flänger runt och gör hundra grejer samtidigt känns ingenting ens när jag läser min favvo dikter – då är det bara ord som min stressade ”rationella” hjärna inte kan ta till dig. Så för mig är det ett bra test att läsa en dikt då och då för att se om jag lever i hjärtat eller huvudet…

Idag träffade orden mitt hjärta i alla fall så här är några vackra rader från Osho…

 

”Words that come out of the depth and fullness of heart echo the infinite, just as a tiny flower expresses infinite beauty.
When love breathes life into words what is expressed is not what is said, but what wants to be said.
Inside each of us there is a poet, there is poetry but because we live on the surface.
These are never born.
Those who go deep awaken divine love.
And this love fills their lives with music, beauty, peace and poetry.
Their very lives become music.
And on this stage truth descend.”

– Osho

 

Hänger du i hjärtat idag så spana gärna in fler av min favvo dikter HÄR.

The Invitation

insiska4-9 the invitation

Outfit – Indiska

THE INVITATION

It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for, and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart’s longing. It doesn’t interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dream, for the adventure of being alive.

 

It doesn’t interest me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life’s betrayals or have become shriveled and closed from fear of further pain! I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it or fade it, or fix it.

 

I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own, if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, to be realistic, to remember the limitations of being human.

 

It doesn’t interest me if the story you are telling me is true. I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself; if you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul; if you can be faithless and therefore trustworthy.

 

I want to know if you can see beauty even when it’s not pretty, every day, and if you can source your own life from its presence. I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine, and still stand on the edge of the lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, “Yes!”

 

It doesn’t interest me to know where you live or how much money you have. I want to know if you can get up, after the night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone, and do what needs to be done to feed the children. It doesn’t interest me who you know or how you came to be here. I want to know if you will stand in the center of the fire with me and not shrink back.

 

It doesn’t interest me where or what or with whom you have studied. I want to know what sustains you, from the inside, when all else falls away. I want to know if you can be alone with yourself and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.

Oriah Mountain Dreamer

 

Läs gärna fler av mina favvo dikter HÄR.

Ensam i världen…

ensam i världen

I am too alone in the world, and yet not alone enough
to make every hour holy.
I am too small in the world, and yet not tiny enough
just to stand before you like a thing,
dark and shrewd.
I want my will, and I want to be with my will
as it moves towards deed;
and in those quiet, somehow hesitating times,
when something is approaching,
I want to be with those who are wise
or else alone.
I want always to be a mirror that reflects your whole being,
and never to be too blind or too old
to hold your heavy, swaying image.
I want to unfold.
Nowhere do I want to remain folded,
because where I am bent and folded, there I am lie.
And I want my meaning
true for you. I want to describe myself
like a painting that I studied
closely for a long, long time,
like a word I finally understood,
like the pitcher of water I use every day ,
like the face of my mother,
like a ship
that carried me
through the deadliest storm of all.

— Rilke, The Book of Hours

Läs gärna fler mysiga dikter HÄR.

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