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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=476682" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>If You Had Any Compassion For Yourself</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">If you had any compassion for yourself, <br>others wouldn't have to suffer for you<br>and the world wouldn't show you <br>such a sad, woeful, wounded face.<br>You wouldn't see the withering leaves <br>and petals of the rose in autumn <br>as merely the scar tissue of its thorns. <br>In winter, mend your severance.<br>In spring, attend to your joys. <br>Like fishing nets and snow fences. <br>Like delphiniums in a garden bed<br>that's beginning to bloom like a starmap. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And you know that stranger inside <br>that's always witnessing everything we do<br>like a perfectly clear mirror, even in dreams? <br>Take another look, you might be surprised <br>at whose face you see at a meeting of eyes.<br> <br>It's important not to pass judgement on yourself <br>for fear of condemning the world.<br>Show me a mirage that isn't a friend to water <br>or a wishing-well that resents a rainbow<br>for the pot of gold at the end, though <br>no one ever knows which end at the time. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Be kind to your delusive paradigms of life, <br>as you would an old skin you shed like the moon<br>when your serpent-fire could no longer contain itself <br>and broke out of its sacred chrysalis like a dragonfly <br>that had made itself a house of life out of matchsticks<br>and went up in flames like a snake with wings. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">If you could see your life for what it is, <br>a teaching device for mentoring your own enlightenment <br>you might read the books of all the sages <br>rooted and flowering in you like the wisdom of a seed, <br>or the star in the ore of a panspermic universe<br>that was planted in you like the garden you've been from birth.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">You might think that the wildflowers <br>are looking up at the stars to understand themselves <br>but, in truth, they're looking up at their roots<br>like rain reveres the lightning that engenders it. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">You don't need to convince the wind of your freedom, <br>you've just got to ride it out to the end, <br>a friend to yourself, a worthy companion, <br>the intimate familiar of a cloud with a clear blue sky<br>or a subliminal lover of the darkness <br>love mushrooms up in like a moonrise.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">If you knew how to nurture yourself <br>by breaking bread with the spirit of life within you <br>there wouldn't be millions of children <br>all over the world who will go hungry tonight.<br>They'd be licking the spoon with stealthy laughter <br>like cookie-batter out of the begging bowl of your heart.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Enlightenment isn't going to add one ray of light<br>or a single star to the night you're already shining in, <br>and whatever wavelength you're on, regardless <br>of the mystic polarities your potential flows between, <br>like dark matter and light, whether the journey you're on <br>is orange or infrared or the blue white violet of the Pleiades, <br>absorption or emission spectrum alike, no wave <br>of thought or mind, light, heart or water <br>is discontinuous with the oceanic consciousness <br>they rise upon, so why turn back to the source <br>like a solar flare to ask for directions from a starmap<br>that sent you out like a bubble in the multiverse to look for land. <br>You know, if you were more of an explorer <br>without a preconceived destination, more<br>of a space probe leaving the solar system periodically, <br>the rest of us wouldn't feel so lost or out of place at your table. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And even if you've made a vehicle<br>of the wheel of birth and death<br>and think you have a firm grasp on things <br>with your arm out the window in the driver's seat, <br>enjoying the passing view with the wind in your hair<br>without clinging to anything along the way<br>it still might be a good idea to learn how<br>to come down off your throne like a pauper <br>and change a flat tire now and again.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Your life is not an untimely interruption of eternity.<br>The eternal sky does not inhibit the flight of the white clouds, <br>and it even bends down sometimes toward the earth <br>to pick up Venus like a lost earring in the sunset.<br>It's your point of view that turns your back on yourself <br>like the retrograde motion of Mars, not <br>the planet itself playing rope tricks with your spinal cord. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Why go looking for your mind <br>like a lighthouse with a flashlight, <br>a flame for the source of the fire <br>or a star for the constellation it belongs to, <br>or the homeless for a home when everyone's <br>the foundation stone of their own habitation<br>wherever they are at the moment.<br> <br>If you chase the wind, it will be you <br>that loses its breath like the atmosphere of the moon.<br>And when you run out of air, breathe light, breathe space, <br>and don't try to fix an expanding universe <br>to your nostrils like a bicycle pump<br>to get you back on the road again.<br>Or you'll find you're swimming out of your depths <br>to run to the rescue of an empty lifeboat<br>that's already unloaded its contents ashore. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">If you don't want to go blind as a starless night <br>it's prescient to eclipse your blazing from time to time, <br>turn the lights down low, snuff the candle, <br>and learn to see in the dark there's just as much reflected<br>in the depths of the dark abundance <br>of a black mirror, though it takes time to focus, <br>than there is in the expansiveness <br>of the bright vacancy of the white <br>that takes things in at a glance.<br>The seed of a every glimpse of insight contains <br>the whole of the vision in advance, <br>and at the core of the apple of the issue <br>is a green star with dark auburn eyes <br>on the nightshift of the maternity wards of spring.<br> <br>And o come on now, how long can you hang on <br>to being this box kite on a string <br>watching another phoenix ride your thermals <br>like inspiration on the wing, without feeling<br>like the premature ghost of yourself at the onset of spring, <br>all smoke, and no fire, your flightfeathers smouldering <br>like a pyre of wet maple leaves who haven't got the courage <br>to break into flames and flap their wings and rise above it all.<br>Better to be a weather balloon losing altitude like Icarus<br>or even a candling parachute taking the fall for all of us, <br>as daring said feathers and falling took flight, <br>than not risk falling through the black holes of life to paradise? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And what if I were to tell you're they're just the pupils <br>the light enters through like your eyes into your imagination<br>to be transformed from a visual into a vision, <br>the visible form into the invisible shining of the spirit<br>that raises everything in the known and unknown multiverse, <br>and the trees and the stars, the rocks and the clouds<br>are all counting on you to do this for them, <br>because this is what you're here for, <br>if you've ever wondered, <br>to raise them up to eye-level <br>with a human who knows the names of things <br>like parents know the names of their own children <br>running toward them down the street. It's how <br>we were meant to meet and greet the universe. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">So if once, just once, for my sake, your sake, the sake <br>of the forsaken with their elbows on the windows of the world tonight <br>watching it all go by like stars on the firewalks beneath their noses, <br>that are not embedded in cement like a mausoleum <br>of movie-stars that refused to become fossils<br>before their shining was spent, <br>you took a chance, and that's all it would take, <br>one step forward with no return address, <br>to risk falling down at the dance, <br>and seven times down, eight times up, <br>such is life, get up on your own two good feet again <br>and discover you've got wings and spurs on your heels<br>the rest of us wouldn't feel so lame<br>when we came over to your place <br>like a riot of erratic fireflies to celebrate <br>the lightning moves of the rain that's dancing on our graves<br>where the dead lie down like the corpses of candles <br>knowing they'll be reincarnated <br>as wildflowers and Luna moths<br>because nothing that's ever given its life up <br>to this business of shining on everything alike<br>from a first magnitude star, to the night light in the hall <br>that shoos the ghosts away from their portraits on the wall <br>so the whole world can bloom in the tears of your eyes, <br>the fire in your heart, and in the human divinity<br>of the spirit of your imagination, can ever be put out<br>because every shadow of doubt <br>leads back the light that cast it<br>in love and sorrow, time and space <br>like the life and death mask of your own face.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Patrick+White">Patrick White</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=476682" data-title="If You Had Any Compassion For Yourself de Patrick White" data-description="If you had any compassion for yourself, 
others wouldn't have to suffer for you
and the world wouldn't show you 
such a sad, woeful, wounded face.
You wouldn't see the withering leaves 
and petals of the rose in autumn 
as merely the scar tissue o..."></div>
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