Topic: Saints and Mystics

[Nichi]

THE ARROWS OF LARGER BOWS

I am a lover,
and from His love
I did not escape.
I am a warrior,
and from the field of battle
I did not escape.

Like a lion, I attacked lions,
but in the middle, like a fox,
I did not escape.

Though my aim was the cupola of heaven,
from the snares of this world,
I did not escape.

I was the medicine for every illness,
but from the pain of others
I did not escape.

I revered the prophets with all my soul,
but from evil company
I did not escape.

I am alive in this little box called life;
I am alive because my soul
did not escape.

The only reason I get hit
by the arrows of his eyes
is because from the arrows of larger bows
I did not escape.

The wounds of battle have turned to victory
because of the pain
I did not escape.

I am floating in a sea of nectar,
filled with every delight,
because of the hardships
I did not escape.

When my Master showed himself to me
I was stunned, I could not move –
From the onrush of both worlds
I could not escape!


Rumi -- Ode 1658
Poetic translation by Jonathan Star and Shahram Shiva
A Garden Beyond Paradise: The Mystical Poetry of Rumi
Bantam Books, 1992

[Nichi]

"Story-Water"

A story is like the water
you heat for your bath.

It takes messages between the fire
and your skin. It lets them meet,
and it cleans you!

Very few can sit down
in the middle of the fire itself
like a salamander or Abraham.
We need intermediaries.

A feeling of fullness comes,
but usually it takes some bread
to bring it.

Beauty surrounds us,
but usually we need to be walking
in a garden to know it.

The body itself is a screen
to shield and partially reveal
the light that's blazing
inside your presence.

Water, stories, the body,
all the things we do, are mediums
that hide and show what's hidden.

Study them,
and enjoy this being washed
with a secret we sometimes know,
and then not.



-- Poetic version by Coleman Barks
"The Essential Rumi"
HarperSanFrancisco, 1995

[Nichi]

Refuge

I see the lamp, the face, the eye,
an altar where the soul bows, a

gladness and refuge. My loving says,
"Here. I can leave my personality

here." My reason agrees! "How can
I object when a rose makes the bent

backs stand up like cypresses?" Such
surrender changes everything. Turks

understand Armenian! Body abandons
bodiness. Soul goes to the center.

Rubies appear in the begging bowl.
But don't brag when this happens.

Be secluded and silent. Stay in
the delight, and be brought the

cup that will come. No artfulness.
Practice quiet and this new joy.



-- Version by Coleman Barks
"The Soul of Rumi"
HarperCollins, 2001

[Michael]

gorgeous - love Rumi

[Nichi]

In bricks and in granite,
in the red-rubbed lingam,
in copper and brass
is Siva's abode --
          that's what you tell us,
          and you're wrong.
Stay where you are
and study your own selves.
Then you will BECOME
the Temple of God,
          full of His dance and spell
                    and song.

Civivakkiyar
9th Century Southern Tamil poet

[Nichi]

It was like a stream
     running into the dry bed
     of a lake,
               like rain
     pouring on plants
     parched to sticks.

It was like this world's pleasure
     and the way to the other,
                         both
     walking towards me.

Seeing the feet of the master
O lord white as jasmine,
     I was made
     worthwhile.


Akka Mahadevi
12th Century Shaivite
India

[Nichi]

Year after year
I dug in the earth
looking for the blue of heaven
only to feel
the pile of dirt
choking me
until once in the dead of night
I tripped on a broken brick
and kicked it into the air
and saw that without a thought
I had smashed the bones
of the empty sky


Muso Soseki
(1275 - 1351)

[Nichi]

"Fear is the cheapest room in the house. I would like to see you living in better conditions." -Hafiz

[Nichi]

Little Tiger

The honey bee, a little tiger,
is not addicted to the taste of sugar;
his nature is to extract the juice
from the sweet lotus flower!

Dakinis, above, below, and on earth,
unimpeded by closeness and distance,
will surely extract the blissful essence
when the yogins bound by pledges gather.

The sun, the king of illumination,
is not inflated by self-importance;
by the karma of sentient beings,
it shines resplendent in the sky.

When the sun perfect in skill and wisdom
dawns in the sky of the illuminated mind,
without conceit, you beautify
and crown the beings of all three realms.

The smiling faces of the radiant moon
are not addicted to hide and seek;
by its relations with the sun,
the moon takes waning and waxing forms.

Though my gurus, embodiment of all refuge,
are free of all fluctuation and of faults,
through their flux-ridden karma the disciples perceive
that the guru's three secrets display all kinds of effulgence.

Constellations of stars adorning the sky
are not competing in a race of speed;
due to the force of energy's pull,
the twelve planets move clockwise with ease.

Guru, deity, and dakini -- my refuge --
though not partial toward the faithful,
unfailingly you appear to guard
those with fortunate karma blessed.

The white clouds hovering above on high
are not so light that they arise from nowhere;
it is the meeting of moisture and heat
that makes the patches of mist in the sky.

Those striving for good karma
are not greedy in self-interest;
by the meeting of good conditions
they become unrivaled as they rise higher.

The clear expanse of the autumn sky
is not engaged in the act of cleansing;
yet being devoid of all obscuration,
its pure vision bejewels the eyes.

The groundless sphere of all phenomena
is not created fresh by a discursive mind;
yet when the face of ever-presence is known,
all concreteness spontaneously fades away.

Rainbows radiating colors freely
are not obsessed by attractive costumes;
by the force of dependent conditions,
they appear distinct and clearly.

This vivid appearance of the external world,
though not a self-projected image,
through the play of fluctuating thought and mind,
appears as paintings of real things.


Kelsang Gyatso
The 7th Dalai Lama
18th Century Tibet



Kelsang Gyatso was the seventh Dalai Lama.

He was born in Eastern Tibet and immediately showed himself to be a prodigy of deep wisdom and poetic gifts. While still a young boy, he became famous for his ability to spontaneously compose poetic verse. Inspired by a vision of the poet-monk Tsongkhapa, he traveled to central Tibet. He was immediately recognized for his profound spirit, and gave a sermon before thousands -- still as a boy.

In 1751 he became the seventh Dalai Lama.
~Poetry Chaikhana

[Nichi]

The Dullard Sage


Lost in myself
          I reappeared
                    I know not where
a drop that rose
          from the sea and fell
                    and dissolved again;
a shadow
          that stretched itself out
                    at dawn,
when the sun
          reached noon
                    I disappeared.
I have no news
          of my coming
                    or passing away--
the whole thing
          happened quicker
                    than a breath;
ask no questions
          of the moth.
                    In the candle flame
of his face
          I have forgotten
                    all the answers.
In the way of love
          there must be knowledge
                    and ignorance
so I have become
          both a dullard
                    and a sage;
one must be
          an eye and yet
                    not see
so I am blind
          and yet I still
                    perceive,
Dust
          be on my head
                    if I can say
where I
          in bewilderment
                    have wandered:
Attar
          watched his heart
                    transcend both worlds
and under its shadow
          now is gone mad
                    with love.


Farid ud-Din Attar
12th Century Iran



'Bio' by Ivan Granger

Farid ud-Din Attar was born in Nishapur, in north-east Iran. There is disagreement over the exact dates of his birth and death but several sources confirm that he lived about 100 years. He is traditionally said to have been killed by Mongol invaders. His tomb can be seen today in Nishapur.

As a younger man, Attar went on pilgrimage to Mecca and traveled extensively throughout the region, seeking wisdom in Egypt, Damascus, India, and other areas, before finally returning to his home city of Nishapur.

The name Attar means herbalist or druggist, which was his profession. It is said that he saw as many as 500 patients a day in his shop, prescribing herbal remedies which he prepared himself, and he wrote his poetry while attending to his patients.

Attar's poetry inspired Rumi and many other Sufi poets. It is said that Rumi actually met Attar when Attar was an old man and Rumi was a boy, though some scholars dispute this possibility.

Farid ud-Din Attar was apparently tried at one point for heresy and exiled from Nishapur, but he eventually returned to his home city and that is where he died.

A traditional story is told about Attar's death. He was taken prisoner by a Mongol during the invasion of Nishapur. Someone soon came and tried to ransom Attar with a thousand pieces of silver. Attar advised the Mongol not to sell him for that price. The Mongol, thinking to gain an even greater sum of money, refused the silver. Later, another person came, this time offering only a sack of straw to free Attar. Attar then told the Mongol to sell him for that was all he was worth. Outraged at being made a fool, the Mongol cut off Attar's head.

Whether or not this is literally true isn't the point. This story is used to teach the mystical insight that the personal self isn't of much real worth. What is valuable is the Beloved's presence within us -- and that presence isn't threatened by the death of the body.

www.Poetry-Chaikhana.com

[Nichi]

You Are As You Are


Yesterday, you made a promise.
Today, you broke it.  Yesterday,

Bistami's dance.  Today, dregs
thrown out.  In pieces, and at

the same time, a perfect glass
filled with sunlight.  Give up

on figuring the appearances, the
dressing in green like a Sufi.

You don't resemble anyone.  You're
not the bride or the groom.  You

don't fit in a house with a family.
You've left the closed-in corner

where you lived.  Domestic animals
get ridden to work.  Not you.  You

are as you are, an indescribable
message coming on the air.  Every

word you say, medicine.  But
not yet: stay quiet and still.

               
           -- Rumi, Version by Coleman Barks, with Nevit Ergin 
              "The Glance"

[Nichi]

A verse commemorating Rumi's death, written by Rumi's son:

From this foul, fulsome world, Rumi moved on
After ten sweet years with Hosam al-Din*
On a December's day, the seventeenth*
came to pass that proud monarch's moving on
Of years six hundred seventy and two
since the Hijra of the Prophet* had gone by
The eye of mankind wept so sore that day
its lightning struck and burned away the souls
A quaking overtook the earth that moment
in the heavens rose a wail of mourning
The people of the town, both young and old
wailed and wept and sighed in lamentation
The villagers nearby, both Greeks and Turks
in pain upon his loss rent wide their collars
all paid the corpse their last loving respects
Folks from every faith proved faithful to him --
in love with him the people of all nations

           -- SVE 121
              From Sultan Valad's "Valad nameh" (Persian, "The
                 Book of Valad), also known as "Ebteda nameh"
              Translation by Professor Franklin D. Lewis
              "Rumi, Past and Present, East and West"
              Oneworld Publications, Oxford, 2000
             
Sunlight notes:

* Hosam al-Din -- a sufi shaykh in his own right, Hosam al-Din
acted as Rumi's scribe, editor, and inspiration during the writing
of the Mathnawi. It's interesting to learn that the composition of
the Mathnawi was suspended when Hosam al-Din's wife died
and he was withdrawn in mourning. He also acted as an
administrator of Rumi's school in Konya.
* "December 17th" -- the Christian calendar equivalent of the fifth
day of Jumadi II. "Jumadi II" is the sixth month of the Arabic lunar
calendar.
* Seventy two and six hundred years since the Hijra of the Prophet --
"Hijra" (Arabic), the flight of the Prophet Muhammad from Mecca
(in Sept., 622 A.D. per the Christian calendar) to Medina.
The Muslim calendar dates from the first day of the hijra.

http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Sunlight/messages

[Nichi]

I Saw Goodness Getting Drunk

I am gone,
lost any sense of wanting the wine
of the nowhereness ask me,
I don't know where I am.
At times I plunge
to the bottom of the sea,
at times, rise up
like the Sun.

At times, the universe is pregnant by me,
at times I give birth to it.
The milestone in my life
is the nowhereness,
I don't fit anywhere else.
This is me:
a rogue and a drunkard,
easy to spot
in the tavern of Lovers.
I am the one shouting hey ha.

They ask me why I don't
behave myself.
I say, when you
reveal your true nature,
then I will act my age.

Last night, I saw Goodness getting drunk.
He growled and said,
I am a nuisance, a nuisance.
A hundred souls cried out, but
we are yours, we are yours, we are yours.
You are the light
that spoke to Moses and said
I am God, I am God, I am God.
I said Shams-e Tabrizi, who are you?
He said, I am you, I am you, I am you.

Rumi by Shahram Shiva

[Nichi]

Whispering, then listening close
     from the vision of one
          casting away his all, instantly,
               out of an omnipotent hand.

Thus I read the knowledge of the scholars
     in a single word,
          and I reveal all the worlds to me
               with a simple glance.

I hear the many voices
     of those who pray in every tongue
          in a space of time
               shorter than a flash.

And I bring before me
     what before had been
          too far away to bear,
               in a blink of my eye.

I inhale the bouquet of gardens
     and the sweet scents clinging to the skirts
          of the four winds,
               in a simple breath.

I survey the far horizons round me
     in a momentary thought,
          and cross the seven heavens
               with a single step.

Umar Ibn al-Farid
from Poem of the Sufi Way
13th Century Arabic (Egypt)

Although hailed throughout the Muslim world as one of the great spiritual classics, Ibn al-Farid's Poem of the Sufi Way has also been controversial because in it he refers to the Beloved -- God -- as "her," rather than in the more traditional masculine gender. ~Ivan Granger

[Nichi]

A true Lover doesn't follow any one religion,
be sure of that.
Since in the religion of Love,
there is no irreverence or faith.
When in Love,
body, mind, heart and soul don't even exist.
Become this,
fall in Love,
and you will not be separated again.

Rumi by Shahram Shiva