More Rumi

Someone who does not know the Tigris River exists

Brings the Caliph who lives near the river

A jar of fresh water. The Caliph accepts, thanks him,

And gives in return a jar filled with gold coins.

Since this man has come through the desert,

He should return by water. Taken out by another door,

The man steps into a waiting boat and sees

The wide freshwater of the Tigris. He bows his head,

What wonderful kindness that he took my gift.

Every object and being in the universe is a jar

Overfilled with wisdom and beauty, a drop of the Tigris

That cannot be contained by any skin. Every jarful

Spills and makes the earth more shining,

as though covered in satin. Rumi, translated Barks

A snippet of Rumi

Imagine a man selling his donkey to be with Jesus.

Now imagine selling Jesus to get a ride on a donkey. This does happen.

Jesus can transform drunk into gold.

If the drunk is already golden, he can be changed to pure diamond.

If already that, he can become the circling planets, Jupiter, Venus, the moon.

Never think that you are worthless.

God has paid an enormous amount for you, and the gifts keep arriving.

There is something in us that has nothing to do with night and day,

grapes that never saw a vineyard.

We are all returning

says the Qur'an. Enjoy Shams, or if you cannot do that, at least

consider what else people tell you.

Rumi (13th century), Translated by Coleman Barks

Christmas recitations

On Christmas Eve my family does recitations. Here are two of this year's. The first is from the sufi poet Rumi, as translated by Coleman Barks:

There is a morning where presence
comes over you and you sing
like a rooster in your earth-bound shape.

Your heart hears and, no longer frantic,
begins to dance. At that moment
soul reaches total emptiness.

Your heart becomes Mary, miraculously pregnant,
and body, like a two-day-old Jesus,
says wisdom words.

Now the heart turns to light,
and the body picks up the tempo.

Where Shams Tabriz walks, the footprints
are musical notes, and holes
you fall through into space.

Another recitation was "Mon pays" by Gilles Vigneault, one verse of which I offer to all those whiners who think this country has been "wrecked" (trans. P. Paine):

From my vast lonely land
I'll cry out just once before going quiet,
To all the men of this earth:
"My house is yours.
Between these four walls of ice
I set aside this time and space
For all humanity, from all horizons
Because all humans are my race."

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!