the Poem

This is the poem:

Around the corner I have a friend,

In this great city that has no end,

Yet the days go by and weeks rush on,

And before I know it, a year is gone.

And I never see my old friends face,

For life is a swift and terrible race,

As in the days when I rang his bell.

And he rang mine but we were younger then,

And now we are busy, tired men.

Tired of playing a foolish game,

Tired of trying to make a name.

‘Tomorrow’ I say! ‘I will call on Jim

Just to show that I’m thinking of him.’

But tomorrow comes and tomorrow goes,

And distance between us grows and grows.

Around the corner, yet miles away,

‘Here’s a telegram sir,’ ‘Jim died today.’

And that’s what we get and deserve in the end.

Around the corner, a vanished friend.

Remember to always say what you mean.

If you love someone, tell them.

Don’t be afraid to express yourself.

Reach out and tell someone what they mean to you.

Because when you decide that it is the right time it might

be too late.

Seize the day. Never have regrets.

And most importantly, stay close to your friends

and family, for they have helped

make you the person that you are today.

send it to all the people who have made difference in ur life

thx gupi  =)

STTM 2

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JEALOUSY – A DISEASE

Introduction
We all are aware that eternal happiness and health prevail as long as a balance is maintained between the body and mind; this is as per the laws of nature, which is the ‘Will of God’. Physically when any external germ enters our body system, disease results; likewise, our hostile reaction towards other people, creates an environment that leads to an imbalance in the blood flow with chemical reactions in our minds, making us weak, impatient and unhappy. Thus, the environment around us gets disturbed. As a result, when we, with a chemically disturbed mind (dubious and deceitful thoughts) interact with a healthy and cheerful person, we turn that person into a sad, diseased and depressed individual. Our demeanor and behavior is such that it diffuses the illuminated mind and face of other person or we make an effort to create an unhealthy environment. Therefore, only those people who are bright and illuminated themselves (are true living beings of true divine knowledge, i.e. ‘will of God’) have the capacity to ignite even a sad and depressed person. On the other hand, people who are drooped down, make it more difficult for the other person whom they encounter. Hence, instead of developing themselves through self-encouragement (by putting the oil of hope and light in their lamps) these people rather drain away the oil (hope and light) from other glowing lamps (happy person).

The Perfect Heart

One day a young man was standing in the middle of the town proclaiming that he had the most beautiful heart in the whole valley. A large crowd gathered and they all admired his heart for it was perfect. There was not a mark or a flaw in it.

Yes, they all agreed it truly was the most beautiful heart they had ever seen. The young man was very proud and boasted more loudly about his beautiful heart. Suddenly, an old man appeared at the front of the crowd and said,
“Why your heart is not nearly as beautiful as mine.” The crowd and the young man looked at the old man’s heart. It was beating strongly, but full of scars, it had places where pieces had been removed and other pieces put in, but they didn’t fit quite right and there were several jagged edges. In fact, in some places there were deep gouges where whole pieces were missing.
The people stared — how can he say his heart is more beautiful, they thought? The young man looked at the old man’s heart and saw its state and laughed. “You must be joking,” he said. “Compare your heart with mine, mine is perfect and yours is a mess of scars and tears.”

“Yes,” said the old man, “yours is perfect looking but I would never trade with you. You see, every scar represents a person to whom I have given my love – I tear out a piece of my heart and give it to them, and often they give me a piece of their heart which fits into the empty place in my heart, but because the pieces aren’t exact, I have some rough edges, which I cherish, because they remind me of the love we shared. Sometimes I have given pieces of my heart away, and the other person hasn’t returned a piece of his heart to me. These are the empty gouges — giving love is taking a chance. Although these gouges are painful, they stay open, reminding me of the love I have for these people too, and I hope someday they may return and fill the space I have waiting. So now do you see what true beauty is?”
The young man stood silently with tears running down his cheeks. He walked up to the old man, reached into his perfect young and beautiful heart, and ripped a piece out. He offered it to the old man with trembling hands. The old man took his offering, placed it in his heart and then took a piece from his old scarred heart and placed it in the wound in the young man’s heart. It fit, but not perfectly, as there were some jagged edges. The young man looked at his heart, not perfect anymore but more beautiful than ever, since love from the old man’s heart flowed into his. They embraced and walked away side by side.

Author Unknown

this touched my heart

Bedh Purakh Mukh te pandit kaamaaman ka matha

This Shabad is by Guru Arjan Dev Ji in Raag Maaroo on Pannaa 1003

mwrU mhlw 5 ]

maaroo mehalaa 5 ||

Maaroo, Fifth Mehla:

bydu pukwrY muK qy pMfq kwmwmn kw mwTw ]

baedh pukaarai mukh thae pa(n)ddath kaamaaman kaa maat(h)aa ||

The Pandit, the religious scholar, proclaims the Vedas, but he is slow to act on them.

monI hoie bYTw iekWqI ihrdY klpn gwTw ]

monee hoe bait(h)aa eikaa(n)thee hiradhai kalapan gaat(h)aa ||

Another person on silence sits alone, but his heart is tied in knots of desire.

hoie audwsI igRhu qij cilE CutkY nwhI nwTw ]1]

hoe oudhaasee grihu thaj chaliou shhuttakai naahee naat(h)aa ||1||

Another becomes an Udaasi, a renunciate; he abandons his home and walks out on his family, but his wandering impulses do not leave him. ||1||

jIA kI kY pih bwq khw ]

jeea kee kai pehi baath kehaa ||

Who can I tell about the state of my soul?

Awip mukqu mo kau pRBu myly AYso khw lhw ]1] rhwau ]

aap mukath mo ko prabh maelae aiso kehaa lehaa ||1|| rehaao ||

Where can I find such a person who is liberated, and who can unite me with my God? ||1||Pause||

qpsI kir kY dyhI swDI mnUAw dh ids Dwnw ]

thapasee kar kai dhaehee saadhhee manooaa dheh dhis dhhaanaa ||

Someone may practice intensive meditation, and discipline his body, but his mind still runs around in ten directions.

bRhmcwir bRhmcju kInw ihrdY BieAw gumwnw ]

brehamachaar brehamachaj keenaa hiradhai bhaeiaa gumaanaa ||

The celibate practices celibacy, but his heart is filled with pride.

sMinAwsI hoie kY qIriQ BRimE ausu mih k®oDu ibgwnw ]2]

sa(n)niaasee hoe kai theerathh bhramiou ous mehi krodhh bigaanaa ||2||

The Sannyaasi wanders around at sacred shrines of pilgrimage, but his mindless anger is still within him. ||2||

GUMGr bwiD Bey rwmdwsw rotIAn ky Epwvw ]

ghoo(n)ghar baadhh bheae raamadhaasaa rotteean kae oupaavaa ||

The temple dancers tie bells around their ankles to earn their living.

brq nym krm Kt kIny bwhir ByK idKwvw ]

barath naem karam khatt keenae baahar bhaekh dhikhaavaa ||

Others go on fasts, take vows, perform the six rituals and wear religious robes for show.

gIq nwd muiK rwg Alwpy min nhI hir hir gwvw ]3]

geeth naadh mukh raag alaapae man nehee har har gaavaa ||3||

Some sing songs and melodies and hymns, but their minds do not sing of the Lord, Har, Har. ||3||

hrK sog loB moh rhq hih inrml hir ky sMqw ]

harakh sog lobh moh rehath hehi niramal har kae sa(n)thaa ||

The Lord’s Saints are immaculately pure; they are beyond pleasure and pain, beyond greed and attachment.

iqn kI DUiV pwey mnu myrw jw dieAw kry BgvMqw ]

thin kee dhhoorr paaeae man maeraa jaa dhaeiaa karae bhagava(n)thaa ||

My mind obtains the dust of their feet, when the Lord God shows mercy.

khu nwnk guru pUrw imilAw qW auqrI mn kI icMqw ]4]

kahu naanak gur pooraa miliaa thaa(n) outharee man kee chi(n)thaa ||4||

Says Nanak, I met the Perfect Guru, and then the anxiety of my mind was removed. ||4||

myrw AMqrjwmI hir rwieAw ]

maeraa a(n)tharajaamee har raaeiaa ||

My Sovereign Lord is the Inner-knower, the Searcher of hearts.

sBu ikCu jwxY myry jIA kw pRIqmu ibsir gey bkbwieAw ]1] rhwau dUjw ]6]15]

sabh kishh jaanai maerae jeea kaa preetham bisar geae bakabaaeiaa ||1|| rehaao dhoojaa ||6||15||

The Beloved of my soul knows everything; all trivial talk is forgotten. ||1||Second Pause||6||15||

Papi

(167-6, gauVI bYrwgix, mÚ 4)
hamray avgun bahut bahut hai baho baar baar har ganat na aavai.
My demerits are so many and numerous. I have sinned so many times, over and over again. O Lord, they cannot be counted.

(167-6, gauVI bYrwgix, mÚ 4)
tooN gunvantaa har har da-i-aal har aapay bakhas laihi har bhaavai.
You, Lord, are the Merciful Treasure of Virtue. When it pleases You, Lord, You forgive me.

Guru Glorious : Poem

Guru Glorious.
by Prof Puran Singh.

They ask me to say something about Guru Gobind Singh;
they ask what is He to me?
I tremble when they ask me, what is He to me?
Unable to say anything in reply,
I burst forth into childlike cries of both joy and pain,
and I faint away,
knowing not what is He to me!

Only I say Guru Glorious! Guru Glorious and I am consoled,
I slumber in His Lap,
soothed by the lullabies of my own sound,
knowing not what is He to me!

Do not ask me to define Him,
Do not ask me to praise Him,
Do not ask me name Him,
Do not ask me to preach Him,
And ask me not to conceal Him,
One who has freed me,
Me, the self-poisoned,
the downtrodden slave in the fragrance of Himself.

Whatever He may be to anyone else,
To me, He is the Creator,
who has cast Himself in the shape of His Song.
And sitting nowhere,
He showers from his eyes a rain of stars in the sky!

Let the Great Ones name Him,
Let the scholars search Him
Let the learned discourse on Him,
Let the martyrs sing Him,
Let the lovers call Him,
Let the maidens garland Him,
and sing Him a welcome!

Let the saints worship Him,
let the devotees kiss the Hem of His Garment,
and anoint their foreheads with the dust under His feet,
Let the children gather round Him,
Whatever He may be to anyone else,
To me He is my sacred friend,
who comes unseen to me in my dark despair,
to wipe a silent tear with the edge of His Kingly Skirt.

And to say to me when I cannot listen even to Him,
choked with my own tears,
“I am here by your side, the whole of myself when no one is nigh,
I am for you, though a bad sinner!
I am exclusively for you and no one else!!”

Let the women say to Him, “I love you,”
let the singer say to Him, “I sing for you,”
Let the dancer say to Him, “I dance for you,”
Let the yogi say to Him, “I lie wrapped up in thought of you,”
Let the pious tell Him, “We obey your law,”
Whatever He may be to anyone else and anybody else to Him,

What can I be?
I, devoid of all virtue, merit, or light;
I devoid of the sacred vows of piety, silence or poverty;
I a sweeper of the street of the Pleasure of Sense;
I, an aimless chaser of quivering illusions that fly the trembling colors of the wings of the butterflies that flutter around the Maya of life in full flowers?

What can I, I say to Him?
I, the old joy-sipper with the everlasting burden of Illusion on my back:
I only cast my head down in shame,
I stand abashed, away from all,
in the corner of my naked body with all its scars and stains;
But behold: He cometh even to me, as the sun goes down, and the saints leave Him alone.

And as He cometh, I burst forth crying.
And He consoleth me saying:
“Have I been really been too long away from thee?”

by: Author, Scientist, Poet and Philosopher Professor Puran Singh ji (1881-1931)

from Panthic Weekly