Monday, August 3, 2009

Beauty, Love, Rumi

From the Sufi mystic Rumi:

Mercy

Come, come, whoever you are.
Wanderer, worshipper, lover of leaving — it doesn't matter,
Ours is not a caravan of despair.
Come, even if you have broken your vow a hundred times,
Come, come again, come.

Beauty

Let the beauty of what you love be what you do.

There are a hundred ways to kneel and kiss the ground.

Self

Everyone has been made for some particular work, and the desire for that work has been put in every heart.

Everyone sees the unseen in proportion to the clarity of his heart,
and that depends upon how much he has polished it.
Whoever has polished it more sees more — more unseen forms become manifest to him.

The idol of your self is the mother of all idols.

There is no worse sickness for the soul,
O you who are proud, than this pretense of perfection.

Love

Are you fleeing from Love because of a single humiliation?
What do you know of Love except the name?

When in Love, body, mind, heart and soul don't even exist.

To Love is to reach God.
Never will a Lover's chest feel any sorrow.
Never will a Lover's robe be touched by mortals.
Never will a Lover's body be found buried in the earth.
To Love is to reach God.

God

I searched for God among the Christians and on the Cross and therein I found Him not.
I went into the ancient temples of idolatry; no trace of Him was there.
I entered the mountain cave of Hira and then went as far as Qandhar but God I found not.
With set purpose I fared to the summit of Mount Caucasus and found there only '
anqa's habitation.
Then I directed my search to the Kaaba, the resort of old and young; God was not there even.
Turning to philosophy I inquired about him from ibn Sina but found Him not within his range.
I fared then to the scene of the Prophet's experience of a great divine manifestation only a "two bow-lengths' distance from him" but God was not there even in that exalted court.
Finally, I looked into my own heart and there I saw Him; He was nowhere else.

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