Topic: Saints and Mystics

[Nichi]

Thorn Witness

Apparent shapes and meanings change.
Creature hunts down creature. Bales

get unloaded and weighed to determine
price. None of any of this pertains

to the unseen fire we call the Beloved.
That presence has no form, and cannot

be understood or measured. Take
your hands away from your face. If

a wall of dust moves across the plain,
there's usually an army advancing

under it. When you look for the Friend,
the Friend is looking for you. Carried

by a strong current, you and the others
with you seem to be making decisions,

but you're not. I weave coarse wool.
I decide to talk less. By my actions

cause nothing. A thorn grows next to
the rose as its witness. I am that

thorn for whom simply to be is an act
of praise. Near the rose, no shame.


Rumi, Ghazal 445
Version by Coleman Barks, with Nevit Ergin
"The Glance"

[Nichi]

A Great Rose Tree

This is the day and the year
of the rose. The whole garden

is opening with laughter. Iris
whispering to cypress. The rose

is the joy of meeting someone.
The rose is a world imagination

cannot imagine. A messenger from
the orchard where the soul lives.

A small seed that points to a great
rose tree! Hold its hand and walk

like a child. A rose is what grows
from the work the prophets do.

Full moon, new moon. Accept the
invitation spring extends, four

birds flying toward a master. A rose
is all these, and the silence that

closes and sits in the shade, a bud.


Rumi, Ghazal 1348
Version by Coleman Barks, with Nevit Ergin
"The Glance"

[Michael]

You are sleepy, but at least sleep on the Way:
for God's sake, sleep on the Way of God,

 

[Michael]

A small seed that points to a great
rose tree! Hold its hand and walk

like a child.

I have to tell you, that while watching Irene weather clip recently, I was struck by how much the image of the cyclone resembled a rose.

[Nichi]

The soul is a newly skinned hide, bloody and gross.
Work on it with manual discipline,
and the bitter tanning acid of grief,
and you'll become lovely, and very strong.

If you can't do this work yourself, don't worry.
You don't even have to make a decision,
one way or another. The Friend, who knows
a lot more than you do, will bring difficulties,
and grief, and sickness,
as medicine, as happiness,
as the essence of the moment when you're beaten,
when you hear Checkmate, and can finally say,
with Hallaj's voice,
I trust you to kill me.


- Rumi

[Nichi]

Listening

What is the deep listening? Sama is
a greeting from the secret ones inside

the heart, a letter. The branches of
your intelligence grow new leaves in

the wind of this listening. The body
reaches a peace. Rooster sound comes,

reminding you of your love for dawn.
The reed flute and the singer's lips:

the knack of how spirit breathes into
us becomes as simple and ordinary as

eating and drinking. The dead rise with
the pleasure of listening. If someone

can't hear a trumpet melody, sprinkle
dirt on his head and declare him dead.

Listen, and feel the beauty of your
separation, the unsayable absence.

There's a moon inside every human being.
Learn to be companions with it. Give

more of your life to this listening. As
brightness is to time, so you are to

the one who talks to the deep ear in
your chest. I should sell my tongue

and buy a thousand ears when that
one steps near and begins to speak.

Rumi-- Ghazal 1734
Version by Coleman Barks, with Nevit Ergin
"The Glance"

[Nichi]

Out in a downpour
in a sopping wet
skirt.
And you have gone to a distant country.
Unbearable heart,
letter after letter
just asking when,
my lord, when
          are you coming?



Mirabai
(1498 - 1565?)
English version by Andrew Schelling

[Nichi]

"Sublime Generosity"

I was dead, then alive.
Weeping, then laughing.

The power of love came into me,
and I became fierce like a lion,
then tender like the evening star.

He said, "You're not mad enough.
You don't belong in this house."

I went wild and had to be tied up.
He said, "Still not wild enough
to stay with us!"

I broke through another layer
into joyfulness.

He said, "It's not enough."
I died.

He said, "You're a clever little man,
full of fantasy and doubting."

I plucked out my feathers and became a fool.
He said, "Now you're the candle
for this assembly."

But I'm no candle.  Look!
I'm scattered smoke.

He said, "You are the sheikh, the guide."
But I'm not a teacher, I have no power.

He said, "You already have wings.
I cannot give you wings."

But I wanted his wings.
I felt like some flightless chicken.

Then new events said to me,
"Don't move.  A sublime generosity is
coming toward you."

An old love said, "Stay with me."

I said, "I will."

You are the fountain of the sun's light.
I am a willow shadow on the ground.
You make my raggedness silky.

The soul at dawn is like darkened water
that slowly begins to say "Thank you, thank you."

Then at sunset, again, Venus gradually
changes into the moon and then the whole nightsky.

This comes of smiling back
at your smile.

The chess master says nothing,
other than moving the silent chess piece.

That I am part of the ploys
of this game makes me
amazingly happy.

           -- Version by Colman Barks
              "The Essential Rumi"
              HarperSanFrancisco, 1995

[Nichi]

Some people work and become wealthy.
Others do the same and remain poor.

Marriage fills one with energy.
Another it drains.

Don't trust ways. They change.
A means flails about like a donkey's tail.

Always add the gratitude clause
to any sentence, if God wills,
then go.

You may be leading a donkey, no,
a goat, no, who can tell?

We sit in a dark pit and think we're home.
We pass around delicacies.
Poisoned bait.

You think this is preachy doubletalk?

Those who do not breathe the God willing phrase
live in a collective blindness.

Rubbing their eyes, they ask the dark,
"Who's there?"


Rumi -- Mathnawi VI: 3685-3698
Version by Coleman Barks
"We Are Three,"
Maypop, 1987

[Nichi]

Root, River, Fire, Sea

A man was wandering the marketplace at noon
with a candle in his hand, totally ecstatic.

"Hey," called a shopkeeper. "Is this a joke?
Who are you looking for?" "Someone breathing Huuuuuu,

the divine breath." "Well, there are plenty
to choose from." "But I want one who can be

in anger and desire and still a true human being
in the same moment." "A rare thing! But maybe

you're searching among the branches for what appears
only in the roots." There's a river that turns

these millstones. Human will is an illusion. Those
that are proud of deciding things and carrying out

decisions are the rawest of the raw! Watch the thought-
kettles boiling and then look down at the fire.

God said to Job, "You value your patience well.
Consider now that I gave you that patience."

Don't be absorbed with the waterwheel's motion.
Turn your head and gaze at the river. You say,

"But I'm looking there already." There are several signs
in eyes that see all the way to the ocean. Bewilderment

is one. Those who study foam and flotsam near the edge
have purposes, and they'll explain them at length!

Those who look out to sea become the sea,
and they can't speak about that. On the beach

there's desire-singing and rage-ranting,
the elaborate language-dance of personality,

but in the waves and underneath there's no volition,
no hypocrisy, just love forming and unfolding.


-- Mathnawi V, 2887-2911
Version by Coleman Barks
"Say I Am You"
Maypop, 1994

[Nichi]

There is a channel between voice and presence,
a way where information flows.

In disciplined silence the channel opens.
With wandering talk, it closes.

-- Version by Coleman Barks
Unseen Rain
Threshold Books, 1986

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There is a thread from the heart to the lips
where the secret of life is woven.
Words tear the thread
but in silence
the secrets
speak.

-- Translation by Azima Melita Kolin
and Maryam Mafi
Rumi: Hidden Music
HarperCollins Publishers Ltd, 2001

[Nichi]

Ghazal (Ode) 2155, from Rumi's Diwan-e Shams, in a version by Coleman Barks


How does a part of the world leave the world?
How can wetness leave water?

Don't try to put out a fire
by throwing on more fire!
Don't wash a wound with blood!

No matter how fast you run,
your shadow more than keeps up.
Sometimes, it's in front!

Only full, overhead sun
diminishes your shadow.

But that shadow has been serving you!
What hurts you, blesses you.
Darkness is your candle.
Your boundaries are your quest.

I can explain this, but it would break
the glass cover on your heart,
and there's no fixing that.

You must have shadow and light source both.
Listen, and lay your head under the tree of awe.

When from that tree, feathers and wings sprout
on you, be quieter than a dove.
Don't open your mouth for even a cooooooo.

When a frog slips into the water, the snake
cannot get it. Then the frog climbs back out
and croaks, and the snake moves toward him again.

Even if the frog learned to hiss, still the snake
would hear through the hiss the information
he needed, the frog voice underneath.

But if the frog could be completely silent,
then the snake would go back to sleeping,
and the frog could reach the barley.

The soul lives there in the silent breath.

And that grain of barley is such that,
when you put it in the ground,
it grows.
Are these enough words,
or shall I squeeze more juice from this?
Who am I, my friend?


-- Version by Coleman Barks
"The Essential Rumi"
Castle Books, 1997

[Nichi]

"The Still-Point of Ecstasy"

On the Night of Creation I was awake,
Busy at work while everyone slept.
I was there to see the first wink
and hear the first tale told.
I was the first one caught
in the hair of the Great Imposter.

Whirling around the still-point of esctasy
I spun like the wheel of heaven.

How can I describe this to you?
you were born later.

I was a companion of that Ancient Lover;
Like a bowl with a broken rim
I endured his tyranny.
Why shouldn't I be as lustrous as the King's cup?
I have lived in the room of treasures.
Why shouldn't this bubble become the sea?
I am the secret that lies at its bottom . . .

Sh . . . no more words
Hear only the voice within.
Remember, the first thing He said was:
"We are beyond words."



-- Ghazal (Ode) 1529
Interpretive version by Jonathan Star
(in cooperation with the translator Shahram Shiva)
"A Garden Beyond Paradise: The Mystical Poetry of Rumi"
Bantam Books, 1992

[Michael]

Ghazal (Ode) 2155, from Rumi's Diwan-e Shams, in a version by Coleman Barks
I can explain this, but it would break
the glass cover on your heart,
and there's no fixing that.

[Michael]

Busy at work while everyone slept.

One needs to know this by experience. To be awake after everyone else has gone to bed to sleep.

One powerful experience of this for me was catching the bus from Manali to Delhi with Julie. The bus left in the late afternoon, so as the hours drifted by, I remained upright and keenly awake. I don't know why, but I was eventually the last awake in the whole bus aside from the driver. I watched the shadows passing by, and knew something which has no words.