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John Baldock

The Essence of Rumi

Get drunk on Love, for Love is all that exists. Unless you make Love your business, you will not be admitted to the Beloved.' (Divan-i Shams-i Tabriz 455:A1:54)

The thirteenth-century saint Jalaluddin Rumi has been called the greatest mystical poet of any age, and his work compared to that of Dante and Shakespeare. Over a period of 25 years he composed over 70,000 verses of poetry on the subjects of divine love, mystic passion and ecstatic illumination.

Rumi was also a master story-teller, as this comprehensive exploration of his work so rewardingly reveals. Primarily an introduction to Rumi and the path of self-surrender, it is arranged in such a way that it guides the reader from the poet's outer, historical world to the inner, spiritual essence of his teaching.

The Essence of Rumi offers us the opportunity to overcome the limitations of our human view of the world and transform our sensory eye into the poet's all-seeing Ocean of Reality.
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  • Joey Schumansdelade ett intryckför 5 år sedan
    👍Värt att läsa
    🔮Oanat djup
    💡Lärde mig mycket

    An eye-opening and heart blooming introduction to Rumi. A must read in my opinion.


  • Joey Schumanshar citeratför 5 år sedan

    O lovers, lovers, it is time to forsake the world: heaven’s departure drum is sounding in my soul’s ear.

    The camel driver has risen, made ready the caravan, and asks us to forgive him: ‘O travellers, why are you asleep?’

    All around us are the sounds of departure and camel bells; at every moment a soul and a spirit leaves for the Placeless.

    The stars shine like candles behind a deep-blue veil, and a wondrous people issues forth to make the invisible visible.

    You have been in a deep sleep beneath the turning spheres; Be warned! Sleep is heavy but life is light and brief.

    O heart, go seek the Beloved! O friend, seek the Friend! O watchman, wake up! A watchman is not here to sleep.

    Everywhere there is noise and movement, candles and torches; for tonight this pregnant world gives birth to the Eternal.

    You were clay, now you are spirit; ignorant, now wise. That which has drawn you this far will draw you yet further.

    As He draws you to Himself, how sweet your suffering becomes; His fires are like water; do not be troubled by them.

    His mission is to dwell in the heart and break your vows of contrition. Through His diverse designs, these atoms tremble to the core.

    O arrogant fool, jumping up from your hole to cry ‘I am lord of all’. How long will you remain jumped-up? Bow down, or else be bowed.

    You have nurtured the seeds of hypocrisy and indulged in derision. You denied the existence of Truth, you whoremonger!

    Like an ass, you crave for straw; like a cauldron, you are black; you are better off at the bottom of a well, you disgusting creature.

    Within me there is Another who makes my eyes spark; If water scalds, it is because of the fire. Let this be known!

    I have no stone in my hand; I have no quarrel with anyone; I rebuke no one, for I possess the sweetness of the rose garden.

    My eye is from that Source, from another world. One world here, another there – I am sitting on the threshold.

    Only those on the threshold know the eloquence of silence. Enough has been said. Say no more. Hold the tongue.

    (D 1789: A2:222)
  • Joey Schumanshar citeratför 5 år sedan
    A dervish once had a disciple who used to beg for him. One day, from the proceeds of his begging, he took a morsel to his master. The dervish ate the morsel, and that night experienced a nocturnal emission.

    ‘From whom did you get that food?’ he asked the disciple.

    ‘It was given to me by a beautiful girl,’ replied the disciple.

    ‘By God!’ said the dervish. ‘It’s twenty years since I had a nocturnal emission. This is the effect her morsel had on me.’

    Dervishes must therefore be mindful and not eat the food of just anyone, because dervishes are subtly refined and easily affected by things. Things have an effect on them, showing up in the way a speck of grime shows up on a clean white robe. With a dirty robe, one that has become soiled from years of being exposed to grime and dirt and lost all its whiteness, regardless of how much dirt and grease are rubbed into it, nothing will show. This being the case, dervishes should not eat any morsel from wrongdoers, those who live basely, or materialists. Morsels from such strangers have an effect on the dervish, influencing his thoughts and corrupting them, just as the dervish experienced nocturnal emission from eating the morsel of that girl.

    (F 27: A131–2/T126–7)
  • Joey Schumanshar citeratför 5 år sedan

    What am I to do, O Muslims? for I no longer recognize myself.

    I am neither Christian, nor Jew, nor Magian, nor Muslim.

    I am not of the East nor of the West, not of the land nor the sea;

    I am not from nature’s mine, nor from the circling spheres.

    I am not of earth, nor water, nor wind nor fire.

    I am not of the heavens, nor dust, nor existence, nor entity.

    I am not of India nor China, not of Bulghar, nor Saqsin;

    I am not of the kingdom of Iraquain, nor the land of Khorasan.

    I am not of this world, nor the next, not of Paradise nor Hell;

    I am not of Adam, nor Eve, not of Eden nor Rizwan.

    My place is the Placeless, my trace is the Traceless;

    I am neither body nor soul, for I belong to the soul of the Beloved.

    I have relinquished duality and seen the two worlds as one;

    One I seek, One I know, One I see, One I call.

    He is the First, He is the Last, He is the Outward, He is the Inward;

    I know of nothing but Hu [He], and none besides He Who Is.

    Intoxicated with the cup of Love, the two worlds slip from my hands.

    Now I have nothing to do but carousing and celebration.

    If I so much as pass one moment of my life without You,

    I will repent my whole life from that moment on.

    If I so much as win one moment in this world with You,

    I will trample the two worlds underfoot in a never-ending dance of joy.

    O Shams of Tabriz, in this world I am so intoxicated that apart from drunkenness and celebration I have no tale to tell.

    (after Nicholson, Selected Poems
    from the Divan-i Shams-i Tabrizi, p. 31)

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