I always encourage them to practice in a way that will help them go back to their own tradition and get re-rooted. If they succeed at at becoming reintegrated, they will be an important instrument in transforming and renewing their tradition. ...When we respect our blood ancestors and our spiritual ancestors, we feel rooted. If we find ways to cherish and develop our spiritual heritage, we will avoid the kind of alienation that is destroying society, and we will become whole again. ... Learning to touch deeply the jewels of our own tradition will allow us to understand and appreciate the values of other traditions, and this will benefit everyone.

I am a shadow. I walk the wet roads under the dim light of the pale lamps, in the darkest hour of the cold dull nights.I walk past the silent graveyard of the dead memories, towards the city of chaos plagued with gloom.I do not exist, but in the eyes of the shattered souls. In the chapter of an old book. In the poem. In the smile of a wrecked and in the tear of a broken spirit.Listen me in the songs told in the times long forgotten.Search for me in the churchs and temples, bars and brothels,pitch black nights and the colorless days.Dive down in your deepest part of your soul. And you will find my home.I have many faces but I have no face of my own. I am a shadow.

I would never speak about faith, but speak about the Lord himself - not theologically, as to the why and wherefore of his death - but as he showed himself in his life on earth, full of grace, love, beauty, tenderness and truth. Then the needy heart cannot help hoping and trusting in him, and having faith, without ever thinking about faith. How a human heart with human feelings and necessities is ever to put confidence in the theological phantom which is commonly called Christ in our pulpits, I do not know. It is commonly a miserable representation of him who spent thirty-three years on our Earth, living himself into the hearts and souls of men, and thus manifesting God to them.

From Being to the EternalTo awaken from mind to Being is your responsibility.No one can do it for you.It is not difficult.It can be done, provided you know the way.I can show you the way.But I cannot walk the path for you.If you are sincere, honest, authentic, and act with integrity, and if you are total in your commitment, you will awaken from mind to Being.It is your birthright.It is your destiny.And you will be fulfilled completely, in this lifetime.But to awaken from the level of Being to the Eternal is another matter.This you cannot do.The Eternal descends.It is a question of grace.A benediction.You cannot hold onto it.It will come and go.It is not up to you.All you can do is be an invitation.

You have returned from the lesser jihad to the greater jihad (jihad alakbar).”His followers asked him what that greater jihad was. “The struggle against your passionatesoul,”2 he replied.‘So what does this greater jihad entail?’ I asked him.‘It is the effort to practise our faith,’ Gai replied. ‘To pray five times every day is an effort, to veilone’s selfish desires and conduct life in accordance with Islamic ethics and laws. The greatest“spiritual warriors” are the saints armed not with weapons but with prayer and prayer beads.’ Whileit all made sense I wanted to know more about the idea that we needed to go out and fight jihad

Excerpt from "The Long Road from Perdition" for the day:"...I've always been drawn to the ocean. It is here that I now feel peaceful and can lose my thoughts while immersed in the deafening sounds of waves crashing around me. The spray and mist of the ocean's past seem to be a living, breathing yet wounded animal. The fury of the waves never settled and the spew of the foam touched all that dared to sit near it.There is no reason to flinch as the waves spray and crash against the shore. It is a natural progression I have learned to endure. However, it is the rescinding of the waves and fluid release of fury that I struggle to understand and coexist with peacefully. I hope one day to master it.

The criers of the Mysteries speak again, bidding all men welcome to the House of Light. The great institution of materiality has failed. The false civilization built by man has turned, and like the monster of Frankenstein, is destroying its creator. Religion wanders aimlessly in the maze of theological speculation. Science batters itself impotently against the barriers of the unknown. Only transcendental philosophy knows the path. Only the illumined reason can carry the understanding part of man upward to the light. Only philosophy can teach man to be born well, to live well, to die well, and in perfect measure be born again. Into this band of the elect--those who have chosen the life of knowledge, of virtue, and of utility--the philosophers of the ages invite YOU.

The person with a secular mentality feels himself to be the center of the universe. Yet he is likely to suffer from a sense of meaninglessness and insignificance because he knows he’s but one human among five billion others - all feeling themselves to be the center of things - scratching out an existence on the surface of a medium-sized planet circling a small star among countless stars in a galaxy lost among countless galaxies. The person with the sacred mentality, on the other hand, does not feel herself to be the center of the universe. She considers the Center to be elsewhere and other. Yet she is unlikely to feel lost or insignificant precisely because she draws her significance and meaning from her relationship, her connection, with that center, that Other.

Then, O King! the God, so saying,Stood, to Pritha's Son displayingAll the splendour, wonder, dreadOf His vast Almighty-head.Out of countless eyes beholding,Out of countless mouths commanding,Countless mystic forms enfoldingIn one Form: supremely standingCountless radiant glories wearing,Countless heavenly weapons bearing,Crowned with garlands of star-clusters,Robed in garb of woven lustres,Breathing from His perfect PresenceBreaths of every subtle essenceOf all heavenly odours; sheddingBlinding brilliance; overspreading-Boundless, beautiful- all spacesWith His all-regarding faces;So He showed! If there should riseSuddenly within the skiesSunburst of a thousand sunsFlooding earth with beams undeemed-of,Then might be that Holy One'sMajesty and radiance dreamed of!

يارب فلتجعل نهاية رحلتـــي عند الحبيب وأن يراه رفاتــــــــي يوما حلمت بأن أراه حقيقــــة ياليتني ألقاه عند مماتــــــــــــــي..

We must be sure not to judge people and things by the outer appearance. Man look at the physical but God judges man by their hearts. God can see what people can't see and that's the person's true character. We shouldn't be defined by the societal teaching from traditions. We are taught that a man in a three piece suit is somewhat more respectable than one in a regular shirt and jeans. That's foolishness. A person can have on the finest clothes and still bust hell wide open. The external things don't define us. Sometimes, folks use the outer to hide what's inside. Some look good on the outside but inside full of darkness. Or beautiful on the inside but not acceptable by society. The value of the package is on the inside of the bag. The wrapper is just to draw you in.

It is has been a long time since I have written one of my statuses about life. I have been very busy trying to promote my Fan page, Friends and services, and my books. However, I can tell you all one thing for certain. I am not a Quitter. I will not stop writing books. I will not stop pushing myself to succeed. I will not stop being who I am.I am a winner. Winning is an attitude. You take the good with the bad and you keep on going. It gets hard, you get tired and sometimes burnt out but you keep on going anyway, because you can.Winners have setbacks, but winners learn tighten their belts and go on. Winner look at what has gone wrong and instead of complaining they find ways of doing it better. Winners know that Rome was not built in a day and take every day as it comes.Winners do not whine, they roar.

In ordinary perception, the senses send an overwhelming flood of information to the brain, which the brain then filters down to a trickle it can manage for the purpose of survival in a highly competitive world. Man has become so rational, so utilitarian, that the trickle becomes most pale and thin. It is efficient, for mere survival, but it screens out the most wondrous parts of man's potential experience without his even knowing it. We're shut off from our own world. Primitive man once experienced the rich and sparkling flood of the senses fully. Children experience it for a few months-until "normal" training, conditioning, close the doors on this other world, usually for good. Somehow, the drugs opened these ancient doors. And through them modern man may at last go, and rediscover his divine birthright...

(To The Youth) "...you know and everybody knows that life has failed to bring the light of hope to my eyes, draw a smile on my face, and create joy in my heart. You know and everybody knows that being tortured for you, being imprisoned for you and suffering for your sake has been the only joy I have ever had..... it is from your joy that I feel comfort, it is your freedom that brings the light of hope to my sight, it is your comfort that I feel relaxed in my heart.... I cannot speak well or write well... please note the hidden force under my simple lousy words.. please understand... please understand ! I love you and consider you my only friend; all my life, all the days and nights, every moment of my life is a witness to my love and dedication for you. Your freedom is my doctrine, your success is my affection, your future is my only hope!

There was once a bunny who lived by the ocean. Every day he would stroll along the sandy beach and pick up thoughts which had washed ashore. He would find them in shells, under rocks, and sometimes even tangled up in seaweed. "Oh, this is a good one,” he would say, “We see chaos, but if we look carefully, if we look beneath the chaos, we find perfection." And into his bucket the thought would go. When the bunny had reached a ripe old age he gathered all the thoughts together and placed them carefully into a large silver cauldron heated by the fires of life. Using a straw broom, he stirred them thoroughly, and as he was stirring he listened carefully. Much to his surprise he heard the ocean singing a wordless song of incomparable beauty. The bunny closed his eyes and said, “Ah, it was all worth it.”--The Blue Monk of Niim