Shivpreet Singh
Shivpreet Singh
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Butkada phir baad muddat ke magar raushan hua,
Noor-e-Ibrahim se aazaar ka ghar raushan hua!
Phir uthi aakhir sada tawhid ki Punjab se,
Hind ko ik mard-e-kamil ne jagaya khwab se!

(After and age, once again the temple became radiant;
Aazar’s house shone with the glory of Abraham.
Once again, the call of God’s unity arose from Punjab
From its dream Hind was awakened by a Perfect man.)

Iqbal brings Guru Nanak centre stage. The world is dark, all great teachings have been forgotten and migrated to distant land, and caste is crushing the oppressed. All of a sudden history repeates itself. Giving the analogy of Prophet Abraham’s father, Aazaar (a consummmate artist, maker of idols) in whose house Abraham, the Father of Wahdaniyat(One God) was born. Guru Nanak was thus sent to earth to spread this very Wahdaniyat. The soil of Punjab gave call for Unity and India was awakened from its deep slumber by a man who is Kamil or complete, the perfect Man, Guru Nanak.

Syeda Hameed in her essay ‘My Rama Secular Hindu Divine’ in The Little Magazine , Vol. VII : Issue 5 & 6, Page 33
You pray in the day, but sleep at night
During the night, dogs are awake.
They are better!
They cannot stop barking at night
While during the day they sleep on stones
They are better
They don't leave their master's door
Even if they are beaten with shoes.
They are better
Get up Bulleh Shah! Go find your love
otherwise dogs have won over you
They are better

ਬੁੱਲਿਆ, ਰਾਤੀਂ ਸੌਵੇਂ, ਦਿਨੇ ਪੀਰ ਸਦਾਵੇਂ, ਰਾਤ ਨੂੰ ਜਾਗਣ ਕੁੱਤੇ, ਤੈਂ ਥੀ ਉੱਤੇ
ਰਾਤੀਂ ਭੌਂਕਣੋ ਬਸ ਨਹੀਂ ਕਰਦੇ, ਦਿਨੇ ਜਾ ਰੋੜਾਂ ਵਿਚ ਸੁੱਤੇ, ਤੈਂ ਥੀ ਉੱਤੇ
ਖ਼ਸਮ ਆਪਣੇ ਦਾ...
ਯਾਰ ਆਪਣੇ ਦਾ ਦਰ ਨਹੀ ਛੱਡਦੇ, ਭਾਵੇਂ ੧੦੦ ੧੦੦ ਮਾਰਨ ਜੁੱਤੇ, ਤੈਂ ਥੀ ਉੱਤੇ
ਉੱਠ ਬੁੱਲਿਆ, ਚਲ ਯਾਰ ਮਨਾ ਲੈ, ਨਹੀ ਤਾ ਬਾਜ਼ੀ ਲੈ ਗਏ ਕੁੱਤੇ, ਤੈਂ ਥੀ ਉੱਤੇ

Reminds me of a poem by Mary Oliver 

“The Sweetness of Dogs” by Mary Oliver

What do you say, Percy? I am thinking
the moon rise. It’s full tonight.
So we go
and the moon rises, so beautiful it
makes me shudder, makes me think about
time and space, makes me take
measure of myself: one iota
pondering heaven. Thus we sit, myself

of sitting out on the sand to watch

thinking how grateful I am for the moon’s
perfect beauty and also, oh! how rich
it is to love the world. Percy, meanwhile,
leans against me and gazes up
into my face. As though I were just as wonderful
as the perfect moon.

Also Bulleh Shah On Dancing


ਦਿਲ ਵਿਚ ਤਾਰ ਇਸ਼ਕ਼ ਦੀ ਵੱਜਦੀ,ਕਿਤੇ ਨਾਲੇ ਵੱਜਦੀ ਖੰਜਰੀ ਏ
ਬੁੱਲਿਆ, ਨੱਚ ਕੇ ਯਾਰ ਮਨਾ ਲੈਣਾ ਭਾਵੇਂ ਲੋਕ ਕਹਿਨ ਇਹ ਕੰਜਰੀ ਏ

English version who can not understand punjabi script.
Bullyea rati jaage dine peer sadave, raat nu jaagan kutte, tai thi utte.
Ratti bhaukno bass nahi karde, dine ja rora wich sutte, tai thi utte.
khasam apne da..
yaar apne da, darr nahi chhadde, bahve 100 100 maran jutte,tai thi utte.
uth Bullyea chal yaar mana lai, nahi ta bazi lai gaye kutte, tai thi utte.
Dil wich taar ishq di wajdi kite naale wajdi khanjri e.
oye Bullyea nach ke yaar mana laina bhave lok kehan ih kanjri e.



- The purpose of life is to sing
http://www.shivpreetsingh.com

Today I was reading an essay by Thoreau and was introduced to a really interesting quote from Richter. Following are some of his famous quotes:

Joy is inexhaustible, unlike seriousness.

Music is the moonlight in the gloomy night of life.

Many young people get worked up about opinions that they will share in 20 years.

Too much trust is a foolishness, too much distrust a tragedy.

The German language is the organ among the languages. (Die deutsche Sprache ist die Orgel unter den Sprachen.)

A man never describes his own character so clearly as when he describes another.

We learn our virtues from our friends who love us; our faults from the enemy who hates us. We cannot easily discover our real character from a friend. He is a mirror, on which the warmth of our breath impedes the clearness of the reflection.

What a father says to his children is not heard by the world, but it will be heard by posterity.


I did some research on Jean Paul Richter and found that this was a German writer from the 18th century. I also found that Emerson quoted Richter as well; so I started looking for his writing so I could read it for myself. One book that I found to be an interesting tool to learn more about Richter's writing is "Wit, Wisdom and Philosphy of Jean Paul Richter" -- which can be found on google books:
Wit, Wisdom and Philosophy of Jean Paul Richter

Bob Hass is one of the poets who encouraged me when I started reading contemporary poetry. He introduced me to the poetry of Jane Hirshfield.  Today I read the poem "A Supple Wreath Of Myrtle" From "Time and Materials" written by Bob Hass. First the poem, and then some of my thoughts. 

A Supple Wreath Of Myrtle
Robert Hass

Poor Nietzsche in Turin, eating sausage his mother
Mails to him from Basel. A rented room,
A small square window framing August clouds
Above the mountain. Brooding on the form
Of things: the dangling spur
Of an Alpine columbine, winter-tortured trunks
Of cedar in the summer sun, the warp in the aspen's trunk
Where it torqued up through the snowpack.

"Everywhere the wasteland grows; woe
To him whose wasteland is within."

Dying of syphilis. Trimming a luxuriant mustache.
In love with the opera of Biznet.


This is a 12 line poem that introduced me to Nietzsche, a German philosopher whose most often quoted line is the following:
The wasteland grows. Woe to him who hides the wasteland within.
I am wondering what the context was. Nietzsche was probably thinking about the destruction from the war. That we are creating a bigger and bigger wasteland. The second Nietzsche line is more mysterious. To me it reads that there is so much waste outside, but that is not the cause of much woe. Much of human woe is caused from the wasteland that is within. There is the potential for the human soul to emerge from the surrounding wasteland. There is the hope for a pristine lotus from within.

The poem lays a contrast between this man -- who apparently enjoys sausage, his loving mother, beautiful trees (which he seems to find faults in), the luxury of an exaggerated mustache (seen on most pics of his I found), and the opera of Bizet -- and his philosophy which states "woe to the one who hides the wasteland within".  Is it possible that onside and out Nietzsche is part of the wasteland, and his actions may imply that he doesn't care? 

He is thinking of lofty things among the mundane.  Observing the kinks in nature.  At the same time, he is not in great shape. He is dependent on his mother for food. He is poor; he is dying in a room that he has rented. 

Wreaths are obviously used in memory of someone who is loved that has departed. Myrtle is a plant that was sacred to the Greek goddess Aphrodite. It was also a symbol of love. Hass indicates through the title, that he loves both the aspects of this hero: the lofty external observations and the wasteland within. 

Interestingly, I found a nice article by Brenda Hillman, Bob Hass' wife, picking this poem as one of her favorites of his poems. She says, "The poem suggests that the daily and the heroic are always intertwined."

Also found an interesting cartoon that goes well with the poem: 

The Nietzsche Family Circus

"I think I am too sarcastic to believe in myself."
Philosophical poetry


What the world needs now is love sweet love,
It*s the only thing that there*s just too little of.
What the world needs now is love sweet love,
no not just for some but for everyone.

Lord we don*t need another mountain,
There are mountains and hillsides enough to climb,
There are oceans and rivers enough to cross
Enough to last until the end of time

What the world needs now is love sweet love,
it*s the only thing that theres just too little of,
what the world needs now is love sweet love,
no not just for some but for everyone

Lord, we dont need another meadow,
there are corn fields and wheat fields enough to grow,
there are sunbeams and moonbeams enough to shine,
oh listen Lord, if you want to know

What the world needs now is love sweet love,
its the only thing that theres just too little of.
what the world needs now is love sweet love,
no not just for some, oh but just for every every everyone.

what the world (whoa whoa) needs now,
is love (is love) sweet love
what the world ( oh oh) needs now
is love (is love) sweet love
what the world (whoa whoa) needs now
is love (is love) sweet love

We used to visit
my great grandmother
in the village of Badbar
in the season of summer
I would say I am hungry
I would say cook fast
she would turn lovingly
and sing back to me
this is not the city
we have to collect logs
and set them alight
only then can we cook
to fill your appetite
I remember her words
my great grandmother
there was so much
to learn from her
Singing lights the fire
to fill soul's hunger

- The purpose of life is to sing
http://www.shivpreetsingh.com

Location:Sherwood Ct,San Ramon,United States

There is another sky,
Ever serene and fair,
And there is another sunshine,
Though it be darkness there;
Never mind faded forests, Austin,
Never mind silent fields -
Here is a little forest,
Whose leaf is ever green;
Here is a brighter garden,
Where not a frost has been;
In its unfading flowers
I hear the bright bee hum:
Prithee, my brother,
Into my garden come!


Hukam Rajai
In Emily's garden
there is poetry
among this poetry
the sky is serene
the sun shines
leaves are evergreen
bees are bright
and so are flowers
Emily is Hukam Rajai



IOTA SUBSCRIPT

Seek not in me the big I capital,
Nor yet the little dotted in me seek.
If I have in me any I at all,
‘Tis the iota subscript of the Greek.

So small am I as an attention beggar.
The letter you will find me subscript to
Is neither alpha, eta, nor omega,
But upsilon which is the Greek for you.

- Robert Frost


Love

It takes setting aside I.
It takes getting subdued in You.
Be more interested than interesting.
Be smitten in the dark by morning due
Speak as sweet as strawberry cakes
Shiv, that is what love takes

-Shiv
IOTA SUBSCRIPT Seek not in me the big I capital, Nor yet the little dotted in me seek. If I have in me any I at all, ‘Tis the iota subscript of the Greek. So small am I as an attention beggar. The letter you will find me subscript to  Is neither alpha, eta, nor omega, But upsilon which is the Greek for you. - Robert Frost Love It takes setting aside I.   It takes getting subdued in You. Be more interested than interesting.   Be smitten in the dark by morning due Speak as sweet as strawberry cakes Shiv, that is what love takes -Shiv
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SHIVPREET SINGH

Singing oneness!
- Shivpreet Singh

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