A certain person came to the Friends door
and knocked.
Whos there?
Its me.
The Friend answered, Go away. Theres no place
for raw meat at this table.
The individual went wandering for a year.
Nothing but the fire of separation
can change hypocrisy and ego. The person returned
completely cooked,
walked up and down in front of the Friends house,
gently knocked.
Who is it?
You.
Please come in, my Self,
theres no place in this house for two.
The doubled end of the thread is not what goes through
the eye of the needle.
Its a single-pointed, fined-down, thread-end
not a big ego-beast with baggage.
But how can a camel be thinned to a thread?
With the shears of practices, with doing things.
And with help from the ONE who brings
impossibilities to pass, who quiets willfulness,
who gives sight to one blind from birth.
~Rumi
There are many guises for intelligence.
One part of you is gliding in a high windstream,
while your more ordinary notions
take little steps and peck at the ground.
Conventional knowledge is death to our souls,
and it is not really ours. It is laid on.
Yet we keep saying we find “rest” in these “beliefs.”
We must become ignorant of what we have been taught
and be instead bewildered.
Run from what is profitable and comfortable.
Distrust anyone who praises you.
Give your investment money, and the interest
on the capital, to those who are actually destitute.
Forget safety.
Live where you fear to live.
Destroy your reputation. Be notorious.
I have tried prudent planning long enough.
From now on, I’ll be mad.
~Rumi
Simple Man
Mama told me when I was young
Come sit beside me, my only son
And listen closely to what I say
And if you do this, it will help you some sunny day, ah yeah
Oh, take your time, don't live too fast
Troubles will come and they will pass
You'll find a woman, yeah, and you'll find love
And don't forget, son, there is Someone up above
And be a simple kind of man
Oh, be something you love and understand
Baby, be a simple kind of man
Oh, won't you do this for me, son, if you can
Forget your lust for the rich man's gold
All that you need is in your soul
And you can do this, oh, baby, if you try
All that I want for you, my son, is to be satisfied
And be a simple kind of man
Oh, be something you love and understand
Baby, be a simple kind of man
Oh, won't you do this for me, son, if you can
Oh, yes, I will
Boy, don't you worry, you'll find yourself
Follow your heart and nothing else
And you can do this, oh, baby, if you try
All that I want for you, my son, is to be satisfied
And be a simple kind of man
Oh, be something you love and understand
Baby, be a simple kind of man
Oh, won't you do this for me, son, if you can?
Baby, be a simple, be a simple man
Oh, be something you love and understand
Baby, be a simple kind of man
Van Zant/Rossington
This Is An Incitement
by Chris Riddell
Don’t settle into inertia
As the ash falls on your head and shoulders
Soft and ankle deep at your feet
Take up your pens and brushes
And make Art.
The ancient dragon of greed
Coiled tight around their hoards
Don’t understand Art.
But the snake oil minions
Who whisper in their ears as they sleep,
They fear it.
Art can capture the souls
They bought and paid for.
If you want to slay dragons,
Make Art.
Descending to the earth, that strange intoxicating beauty of the unseen world
lurks in the elements of nature.
And the soul of man,
who has attained the rightful balance,
becoming aware of this hidden joy,
straightaway is enamored and bewitched.
And from this mystic marriage are born
the poets' songs, inner knowledge,
the language of the heart, virtuous living,
and the fair child Beauty.
And the Great Soul gives to man as dowry
the hidden glory of the world.
~Mahmoud Shabistari
I LEARNED HOW TO SWIM WHEN I REALIZED I COULD SWIM
The ocean drags my name out of me, and everyone says,
“A tragedy.” I climb back into the boat, dripping
like a tongue, and everyone says, “Bad blood.”
I decathect my name. Allow them to call me what they want
until we reach the shore, allow their suggestions
on what to do next — a doctor, a metal detector.
Everyone expects me to comb through the beach,
looking for my name like a lost wedding ring.
Wring the water from my hair like a wake.
Meanwhile, my name teaches itself how to breathe
underwater; cracks open an oyster and crawls inside,
makes a home, re-names itself a pearl. Crawls back out.
Heavier now, it sinks down, deep enough
so that it must learn to create its own light
in order to find its hands in the dark.
A tiny, heedless star. A feral sun.
Wretched, it blooms.
~Jaz Sufi
pray to the empty wells to the breakwaters to the apple orchards
string together bitter ash berries
sweet ash berries
carry the luxurious fur of your ancestors on your shoulders
cry pretend to be grass be like an entrance and an exit be like water
go in one ear and out the other
the moon rolls out like a clay platter
a big fish leviathan comes from the sea
show me show me what you have inside you
pray to the great light
~Iryna Shuvalova
Both this world and the next
are adrift within the soul.
The body hidden in the soul,
the soul secreted in the body —
each is lost inside the other.
Emerge from your confusion,
find the inner seat of your humanity.
There, a single breath will fill you
with the answer to a hundred mysteries.
But if you waver in the Path,
lamentation will swallow you from head to toe.
Keep vigil at night and fast during the day,
until yearning for knowledge
surfaces within you.
Yearn and seek until everything,
even the yearning itself, evaporates.
~ Attar of Nishapur