Lovers share a sacred decree—
to seek the Beloved.
They roll head over heels,
rushing toward the Beautiful One
like a torrent of water.
In truth, everyone is a shadow of the Beloved—
Our seeking is His seeking,
Our words are His words.
At times we flow toward the Beloved
like a dancing stream.
At times we are still water
held in His pitcher.
At times we boil in a pot
turning to vapor—
that is the job of the Beloved.
He breathes into my ear
until my soul
takes on His fragrance.
He is the soul of my soul—
How can I escape?
But why would any soul in this world
want to escape from the Beloved?
He will melt your pride
making you thin as a strand of hair,
Yet do not trade, even for both worlds,
One strand of His hair.
We search for Him here and there
while looking right at Him.
Sitting by His side we ask,
"O Beloved, where is the Beloved?"
Enough with such questions!—
Let silence take you to the core of life.
All your talk is worthless
When compared to one whisper
of the Beloved.
The man had a way with words. It's not only clear as the clearest mountain lake, but longingly beautiful at the same time.
"Our seeking is His seeking, Our words are His words." We walk the path because we are searching for something. It's not "here," so it must be "over there." I don't have it, so i have to go somewhere else to find it. Nonsense. Poppycock. As Kōshō Uchiyama writes on so many pages of his book by the same title, all you have to do is open the hand of thought. Open the hand, let the thoughts go. Stop holding onto them. Sit still and realize that that which we are seeking is right were you happen to be standing. Right now. Nowhere else. There is nowhere to go to find It. If we can't find It in ourselves, we will never find It. Sit still long enough to realize that our seeking is his seeking. Our words are his words. Or, as Kahlil Gibron says in that wonderful book The Prophet, "God listens not to your words save when He Himself utters them through your lips."
"At times we flow toward the Beloved like a dancing stream. At times we are still water held in His pitcher. At times we boil in a pot turning to vapor." This is our normal state, brought about because we won't open that hand of thought and let it all go. Sometimes we flow gently, beautifully. Sometime we boil, raging, with immense amounts of noise and energy lost. Yet sometimes, even amongst all this we do find that place were we sit quietly, like still water in His pitcher. Calm. Open. Trusting. Here. And those moments are so incredibly affirming — yes, this is what i am.
"That is the job of the Beloved." But it's not our job to find that silence. It's our job to be open to it, to put ourselves in a position to receive it, to be ready for the moment it descends.
"He breathes into my ear until my soul takes on His fragrance." Can you imagine a life of such profound peace and grace that your soul has taken on the fragrance of the Beloved? Can you imagine the intoxicating beauty of that fragrance? In your life?
"Enough with such questions! — Let silence take you to the core of life." Enough! Stop already! Take off your boots, stop walking, stop searching. Just.Sit.Down! Let the Beloved devour you. Let Him settle over you, erasing everything that you are not, everything you thought was important, everything you thought mattered. Let the core of your life expand. Expand. Expand. Until there is nothing but the silence.
"All your talk is worthless when compared to one whisper of the Beloved." Can you hear that whisper? No. But with effort, you can let Him hear the whisper through you..
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