The Husk and Core of Masculinity

Masculinity has a core of clarity, which does not act
from anger or greed or

pleasure in obeying that truth. Nobility of spirit,
the true spontaneous energy

of your life, comes as you abandon other motives and move
only when you feel the majesty

that commands and is the delight of the self. Remember
Ayaz crushing that king's pearl!

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

Imra'u 'l-Qays⁴, king of the Arabs,
was very handsome and a poet full of songs.

Women loved him desperately. Everyone loved him,
but there came one night an experience
that changed him completely.

he left his kingdom and his family.
he put on dervish robes and wandered
from one weather, one landscape, to another.

Love dissolved his king-self and led him to Tabuk,
where he worked for a time making bricks.

Someone told the king of Tabuk about Imra'u 'l-Qays,
and that king came to visit him at night.

"King of the Arabs, handsome Joseph of this age,
ruler of two empires, one composed of territories,
and the other of the beauty of women,

if you would consent to stay with me,
I would be honored. You abandon kingdoms,
because you want more than kingdoms."

The king of Tabuk⁵ went on line this, praising
Imra'u 'l-Qays and talking theology and philosophy.

Imra'u 'l-Qays kept silent.
Then suddenly he leaned and whispered something
in the second king's ear, and that second
king became a wild wanderer too.

They walked out of town hand in hand,
no royal belts, no thrones.

This is what love does and continues to do.
It tastes like honey to adults and milk to children.

Love is the last thirty-pound bale.
When you load it on, the boat tips over.

So they wandered around China like birds
pecking at bits of grain. They rarely spoke
because of the dangerous seriousness
of the secret they knew.

That love-secret spoken pleasantly - or irritation -
servers a hundred thousand heads in one swing.

A love-lion grazes in the soul's pasture,
while the scimitar of this secret approaches.
It's a killing better than any living.

All that world-power wants, really,
is this weakness.

So these kings talk in low tones,
and carefully. Only God knows what they say.

They use unsayable words. Bird language.
But some people have imitated them, learned
a few birdcalls, and gotten prestigious.

⁴ Imra'u 'l-Qays: (died ca. A.D. 540) is considered the best pre-Islamic poet in Arabic. He is credited
with being the first in that tradition to catch the reader's attention by referring at the benginning
of a poem to a lost love.

Tabuk⁵: City in Saudi Arabia

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When Words Are Tinged With Lying -

from Rumi - The Book of Love by Coleman Barks

Muhammad gave this indication of how to know
what's real. "When you feel

a peaceful joy, you're near the truth.
Unquiet and off center, jealous or greedy,

then what you do seems pretentious
and those around you insincere.

Speak the clearest truth you know,
and let the uneasiness heal."

When words are tinged with lying,
they're like water dripping into an oil lamp.
The wick won't light, and the pleasure
of your love room will diminish.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Harsh Evidence

What sort of person says that he or she wants
to be polished and pure, then complains
about being handled roughly?

Love is a lawsuit where harsh evidence
must be brought in. To settle the case,
the judge must see the evidence.

You've heard that every buried treasure
has a snake guarding it.
Kiss the snake to discover the treasure!

Don't run from those who scold,
and don't turn away from cleansing conflict,
or you will remain weak.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
⁶Kharraqani's Marriage

The young seeker wonders, How could a teacher
lie with that woman! Can a guide agree
with a thief?

Suddenly Sheikh Kharraqani appears, riding a lion,
firewood stacked behind him. His whip,
a live serpent. Every master rides a fierce lion,
whether you see it or not. Know this
with your other eyes: There are thousands of lions

under your teacher's thighs and all of them
stacked with wood!

Kharraqani knew the problem and immediately
began to answer, "Well, it's not out of desire
that I put up with her! Don't think that.
It's not her perfume or bright-colored robes.

Enduring her public disdain has made me strong
and patient. She is my practice.

Nothing can be clear without a polar opposite
present. Two banners, one black,  one white,
and between them something gets settled.
Between Pharaoh and Moses,
the Red Sea."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Your Defects

An empty mirror and your worst destructive habits,
when they are held up to each other,
that's when the real making begins.
That's what art and crafting are.

A tailor needs a torn garment to practice his expertise.
The trunks of trees must be cut and cut again
so they can be used for fine carpentry.

Your doctor must have a broken leg to doctor.
Your defects are the ways that glory gets manifested.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Moses and The Sheperd

Moses heard a shepherd on the road praying,
"God,
where are you? I want to help you, to fix your shoes
and comb your hair. I want to wash your clothes
and pick the lice off. I want to bring you milk
and kiss your little hands and feet when it's time
for you to go to bed. I want to sweep your room
and keep it neat. God, my sheep and goats are yours.
All I can say remembering  you is aaayyyyyyy
and aaaaahhhhhh."

Moses would stand it no longer.
"Who are you talking to?
  "The one who made us and made
the earth and the sky."
"Dont' talk about shoes and socks with God! And what's this with your little
hands? Such blasphemous familiarity sounds like
you're chatting with your uncles. Only something
that grows needs milk. Only someone with feet
needs shoes. Not God!"

The shepherd repented
and tore his clothes and wandered out into
the desert. A sudden revelation came to Moses:

You have separated me from one of my own.
Did  you come as a prophet to unite or to sever?
I have given each a separate and unique way
of seeing and knowing and saying that knowledge.

What seems wrong to you is right for him.
What is poison to one is honey to someone else.
Purity and impurity, sloth and diligence in worship,
these mean nothing to me. I am apart from all that.

Ways of worshiping are not to be ranked as better
or worse. Hindus do Hindu things. The Dravidian
Muslims in India do what they do. It's all praise,
and it's all right. I am not glorified in acts

or worship. It's the worshipers! I don't hear
the words they say. I look inside at the humility.
That broken-open lowliness is the reality. Forget
phraseology! I want burning, burning. Be friends

with your burning. Those who pay attention to ways
of behaving and speaking are one sort. Lovers who
burn are another. Don't impose a property tax
on a burned-out village. Don't scold the lover.

The "wrong" way he talks is better than a hundred
"right" ways of others.

Inside the Ka'aba
it doesn't matter which way you point
your prayer rug!

The ocean diver doesn't need snowshoes!
The love-religion has no code or doctrine.

Only God.

So the ruby has nothing engraved on it!
It doesn't need markings.

God began speaking
deeper mysteries to Moses, vision and words,
which cannot be recorded here. Moses left himself
and came back. He went to eternity and came
back here. Many times this happened.

It's foolish of me to try and say this. If I did say it
it would uproot human intelligence.

Moses ran after the shepherd, following the bewildered
foot prints,

in one place moving like a castle
across a chessboard. In another, sideways,
like a bishop.

Now surging like a wave cresting,
now sliding down like a fish,

with always his feet
making geomancy symbols in the sand,

recording his wandering state.

Moses finally caught up with him.
"I was wrong. God has revealed to me that there are
no rules for worship. Say whatever and however
your loving tells you to.

Your sweetest blasphemy
is the truest devotion. Through you a whole world
is freed.

Loosen your tongue and don't worry
what comes out. It's all the light of the spirit."

The shepherd replied, "Moses, Moses,
I've gone beyond even that.

You applied the whip,
and my horse shied and jumped out of itself.
The divine nature and my human nature came together.
Bless your scolding hand.

I can't say what has happened.
What I'm saying now is not my real condition.
It can't be said."

The shepherd grew quiet.
When you look in a mirror, you see yourself,
not the state of the mirror.

The flute player
gives breath into the flute, and who makes the music?
The flute player!

Whenever you speak praise
or thanksgiving to God, it's always like
the dear shepherd's simplicity.

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

Who Makes These Changes?

Who makes these changes?
I shoot an arrow right.
It lands left.

I ride after a deer and I find myself
chased by a hog.

I plot to get what I want
and end up in prison.

I dig pits to trap others
and fall in.

I should be suspicious
of what I want.

Personal Note: This poem highlights Rumi's belief that human free will is an
illusion. Only Islam, letting go, surrender to God's will is true freedom. This also reinforces
the Buddhist teaching that the illusion of "separateness" or Western Duality is an
instrument of the devil. Man's condition seems like a man who is afraid of drowning
in an Ocean of Bliss that is surronding him. He thrashes, kicks, fights trying not to drown...
This illusion and the concomitant fear are constructs of the intellect. That is why Rumi teaches that
"the ladder to God is in your head - when you lower it below your feet. When you put it in the mud."
I marveled one day as a drunk/high English lass I was hanging out with told a story that the only time in her life that she felt truely blissful was at an audition for a stripper job when she completely "Let go". A bystander afterwards told her she had some sort of "halo" she said...

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

A Teacher's Pay

God has said Be Moderate with eating and drinking,
but never, Be Satisfied when taking in light.

God offers a teacher the treasures of the world,
and the teacher responds, "To be in love with God

and expect to be paid for it!" A servant wants
to be rewarded for what he does. A lover wants

only to be in love's presence, that ocean
whose depth will never be known.

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

from Ayaz and The King's Pearl

"Don't worry about forms. If someone
wants your horse, let him have it. Horses are for
hurrying ahead of others."

I find this line amazing. It basically puts a knife to the throat of the competitiveness of the world of ambition. It also reminds me of Jesus's sayings "If someone wants your robe, gtive them your tunic also" and "If someone asks you to walk a mile with them, go with them for two."  In another place, Rumi likens the world of ambition to a game of "King of The Hill". A child climbs a hill and claims that he is the king
for a little while - before another kid brings him down and does the same.

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

⁷ Hallaj

Hallaj said what he said and went to the origin
through the hole in the scaffold.

I cut a cap's worrth of cloth from his robe,
and it swamped over me head to foot.

Years ago I broke a branch of roses
from the top of his wall. A thorn from that
is still in my palm, working deeper.

From Hallaj, I learned to hunt lions,
but I became something hungrier than a lion.

I was a frisky colt. He broke me
with a quiet hand on the side of my head.

A person comes to him naked. It's cold.
There's a furn coat floating on the river.

"Jump in and get it," he says.
You dive in. You reach for the coat.
It reaches for you!

It's a live bear that has fallen in upstream,
drifting with the current.

"How long does it take!" Hallaj yells from the bank.
"Don't wait," you answer. "This coat
has decided to wear me home!"

A little part of a story, a hint.
Do you need long sermons on Hallaj?

⁷Hallaj: Al-Hallaj Mansour was martyred in Baghdad in 922 for saying, Ana'l Haqq, or
I am the truth. I am God.

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

The Guest House

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they're a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture, still,
treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing
and invite them in.

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

The Granary

Sufi masters are those whose spirits existed
before the world. Before the body,
they lived many lifetimes. Before seeds
went into the ground, they harvested wheat.

Before there was an ocean, they strung pearls.
While the great meeting was going on
about bringing human beings into existence,
they stood up to their chins in wisdom-water.

When some of the angels opposed creation,
the Sufi masters laughed and clapped
among themselves. Before materiality,
they knew what it was like to be trapped

inside matter. Before there was a night sky,
they saw Saturn. Before wheat grains,
they tasted bread. With no mind, they thought.
Immediate intuition to them is the simplest act,
what to others would be an epiphany. Much
of our thought is of the past or the future.
They're free of those. Before a mine is dug,
they judge coins. Before vineyards, they know

the excitements to come. In July they feel
December. In unbroken sunlight, they find
shade. In fana, the state where objects
dissolve, they recognize things and comment

rationally. The open sky drinks from their
circling cup. The sun wears the gold of their
generosity. When two of them meet, they
are no longer two. They are one and six

hundred thousand. The ocean waves are their
closest likeness, when wind makes from unity
the numerous. This happened to the sun and it
broke into rays through the window, into bodies.

The disc of the sun does exist, but if you see
only the ray bodies, you may have doubts.
The human-divine combinations are a oneness.
Plurality, the apparent separation into rays.

Friend, we're traveling together. Throw off
your tiredness. Let me show you one tiny spot
of the beauty that can't be spoken. I'm like
an ant that's gotten into the granary,
ludicrously happy, and trying to lug out
a grain that's way too big.

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

from The Prince of Kabul
Rumi - The Book of Love by Coleman Barks

"When you think your father is guilty
of an injustice, his face seems cruel.
Joseph, to the envious brothers, seems

dangerous. When you make peace
with your father, he will look peaceful.
The whole world is a forum for truth.

When someone does not feel grateful to that,
the forms appear to be as he feels.
They mirror his anger, his greed, his fear.

Make peace with the Universe.
Take joy in it. It will turn to gold.
Resurrection will be now. Every moment
a new beauty, and never any boredom."

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

Blasphemy and The Core

My soul keeps whispering, "Quickly,
be a wandering dervish, a salamander

sitting in its homefire. Walk about
watching the burning turn to roses.

As this love-secret we are both
blasphemy and the core of Islam.

Don't wait. The open plain is better
than any closing door. Ravens love

ruins and cemetery trees. They
can't help but fly there. For us

This day is friends sitting together
with silence shining in our faces."

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

Wooden Cages

I may be clapping my hands,
but I don't belong to a crowd of clappers.

Don't listen to what I say,
as though these words came from an inside
and went to an outside.

Your faces are very beautiful,
but they are wooden cages.

You had better run from me.
My words are fire.

I have nothing to do with being famous,
or making judgements, or feeling
full of shame. I borrow nothing.
I don't want anything from anybody.

I flow through human beings.
Love is my only companion.

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

No Flag

I used to want buyers for my words.
Now I wish someone would buy me away from my words.

I've made a lot of charmingly profound images,
scenes with Abraham and his father Azar,
who was famous for icons.

I'm so tired of what I've been doing.
Then one image without form came,
and I quit.

Look for someone else to tend the shop.
I'm out of the image-making business.

Finally I know the freedom
of madness.

A random image arrives. I scream,
"Get out!" It disintegrates.

Only love.
Only the holder the flag fits into,
no flag.

Note: This poem reminds me of the bumper sticker that I once saw in Los Angeles:
"Raise Flag - Close Mind".
To all you close-minded patriots singing "God Bless America"...

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

The Gazing House

On the night when you cross the street
from your shop and your house to the cemetary,

you'll hear me hailing you from inside
the open grave, and you'll realize
how we've always been together.

I am the clear consciousness core
of your being, the same in ecstacy
as in self-hating fatigue.

That night, when you escape the fear of the snakebite
and all irritation with the ants, you'll hear
my familiar voice, see the candle being lit,
smell the incense and the suprise meal fixed
by the lover inside all your other lovers.

This heart tumult is my signal to you igniting
in the tomb, so don't fuss with the shroud
and the graveyard road dust. Those get ripped
open and washed in the music of our meeting.

And don't look for me in a human shape!
I am inside your looking. No room for form
with love this strong.

Beat the drum and let
the poets speak. This is a day of purification
for those who are already mature and initiated
into what love is.

No need to wait until we die!
There's more to want here than money and being
famous and bites of roasted meat.

Now, what
shall we call this new kind of gazing-house
that has opened in our town where people
sit quietly and pour out their glancing
like light, like answering?

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

The interpretation of a sacred text is true
if it stirs you to hope, activity and awe;
and if it makes you slacken your service, know the real truth to be this:
that it's a distortion of the sense of the saying, not a true interpretation.
This saying has come down to inspire you to serve -
that God may take the hands of those who have lost hope
and deliver them.
Ask the meaning of the Qu'ran from the Qu'ran alone,
and from that one who has set fire to his idle fancy and extinguished it,
and has become a sacrifice to the Qu'ran, bowing low in humbleness,
so that the Qu'ran has become the essence of his spirit.
That essential oil that has wholly devoted itself to the rose -
you can smell either that oil or the rose, as you please.

from Jewels of Remebrance - Rumi, by Camille and Kabir Helminski

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

Seek God in self-abasement and in self-exctinction,
for nothing but forms is produced by thinking.
And if you derive no comfort except from form,
then the form that comes to birth within you involuntarily is best.
Suppose it is the form of a city to which you are going:
you are drawn there by a formless feeling of pleasure, O dependant one;
therefore you are really going to that which has no location,
for pleasure is something different from time and space.
Suppose it is the form of a friend to whom you would go:
you are going for the sake of enjoying his company;
therefore in reality you go to the formless world,
though you are unaware of that being the object of your journey.
In truth, then, God is worshipped by all,
since all wayfaring
is for the sake of the pleasure of which He is the source.

Mathnawi Book VI, v. 3749-3755

From Jewels of Remembrance - Rumi by Camille and Kabir Helminski

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

* Rumi:  Rumi was born in the city of Balkh, a small town west of Mazar-i-Sharif, in what is modern day Afghanistan, then the eastern edge of the Persian empire, on September 30, 1207. I find it ironic that he is one of the first feminists (see the poem She Is the Creator above), and at the same time from the same country that was subjected to the rule of the Taliban. My explanation of this fact is that it is not Islam that is responsible for backwardness in many middle-eastern and Arab countries: it is ignorance that is precipitated by economic depravity which breeds the forms of hateful brands of distorted Islam that we see plaguing some Arab and Muslim countries. Rumi blasts out all those that disagree about names. Call God Allah or call Him the Holy Trinity or call him Krishna or call him Jahovah, if you quarrell about these names all of you are deluded and guilty of Bibliolatry - worship of graven images in the form of words!

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

You are inside every kindness.
When a sick person feels better, you are that,
and the onset of disease too.

You are sudden, terrible screaming.

Some problems require we go for help.
When we knock on a stranger's door, you sent us.
Nobody answers. It's you.

When work feels necessary,
you are the way workers move in rhythm.

You are what is, the field, the players,
the ball, those watching.

Someone claims to have evidence that you do not exist.
You are the one who brings the evidence in,
and the evidence itself.

You are inside the soul's great fear,
every natural pleasure, every vicious cruelty.

You are in every difference and irritation.
Someone loves something. Someone else hates the same.
There you are.

Whatever eyes see, what anyone wants or not,
political power, injustice, material possessions,
those are your script, the handwriting we study.

Body, soul, shadow.
Whether reckless or careful, you are what we do.

It is absurd to ask your pardon.
You are inside repentance and sin.

The wonder of various jewels: agate, emerald.
How we are during a day, then at night,
you are those moods and qualities.

The pure compassion we feel for each other.

Every encampment has a tent where the leader is
and also the wide truth of your imperial tent overall.

from The Big Red Book by Coleman Barks

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

"

The mystery does not get clearer by repeating the question,
nor it it bought with going to amazing places.

Until you have kept your eyes
and your wanting still for fifty years,
you do not begin to cross over from confusion

"

Rumi -