tag : bright yellow-green apples: intoxicated spiritual leader

"I see little point in persisting in a discussion with one so obstinate as you" Martin White

Thursday, October 14, 2004

intoxicated spiritual leader



Figure 6.4. intense metaphors

A week is a long time in politics. I could talk about my recent outrage at finding the Jenson clan spout abominable tosh as Reform gather in my very own county . I could talk about how much I want George Bush to lose the election in the USA. Familiar soapboxes, they can wait for now.

I was poking around Scarthin, favoured bookshop of both myself and fellow northerner Heather, over the weekend. And I came across a collection of the writings of the great 13th centaury Islamic Sufi mystic Rumi. Too good a chance to miss, I was away and reading as I stepped out into Cromford rain. He seems to have been quite frenzied at times, by all accounts, and inseparably close a companion called Shams - such that he came to see his friend as actually part of him in some transcendent sense after he disappeared. Singular people indeed, craziness is a flexible definition. I might post a few examples, some of you may have noticed when I flagged up Moses and the Shepherd a while ago, here’s a first offering from Rumi‘s canon:

There is a community of the spirit.
Join in, and feel the delight
of walking in the noisy street,
and being the noise.

Drink all your passion,
and be the disgrace.

Close both eyes
to see with the other eye.

Open your hands
if you want to be held.

Sit down in this circle.

Quit acting like a wolf, and feel
the shepherd’s love filling you.

At night, your beloved wanders.
Don’t accept consolations.

Close your mouth against food.
Taste the lover’s mouth in yours.

You moan “she left me.” or “he left me.”
Twenty more will come.

Be empty of worrying.
Think of who created thought!

Why do you stay in prison
when the door is so wide open?

Move outside the tangle of fear-thinking.
Live in silence.

Flow down and down in always
widening rings of being.

There’s a strange frenzy in my head
of birds flying,
each particle circling on its own.
Is the one I love everywhere?

Drunks fear the police,
But the police are drunk too.

People in this town love them both
like different chess pieces.

8 Comments:

Blogger Sarah said...

That poem is a fantastic find! permission to print, do you reckon?

3:58 PM  
Blogger postliberal said...

Somehow, I doubt he'll mind all that much. After a quick search, I can save myself from needing to type more out from my book by flagging up a link:

some here

4:01 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

sounds like it was written yesterday! very poignant!

10:23 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

that being me, mr. beck... ;oP

10:23 PM  
Blogger Martin said...

Yeah, yeah, the poem's great. But Heather, a northener?! What planet are you on, man...

11:21 PM  
Blogger postliberal said...

I'm sure living in Bradford counts for something, university for 3 years is but an interlude in comparison.

ps. the writings of Rumi do seem to be very pertinant at times, both to our times in general and to my own life in some ways. All helpful.

12:06 AM  
Blogger draven said...

Great poetry, excellent music... Sufi is often intoxicating. Thank you for posting this poem.

10:54 PM  
Blogger postliberal said...

Thanks for the comments, it's always good to get new readers - especially ones with such interesting things to say and backgrounds.

1:29 AM  

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