What is the soul?
The more awareness, the deeper the soul,
and when such essence overflows,
you feel a sacredness around.
It's so simple to tell one who
puts on a robe and pretends to be a dervish from the real thing.
We know the taste of pure water.
Words can sound like a poem but not have any juice,
no flavor to relish.
How long do you look at pictures on a bathhouse wall?
Soul is what draws you away from those pictures
to talk with the old woman
who sits outside by the door in the sun.
She's half blind,
but she has what soul loves to flow into.
She's kind, she weeps.
She makes quick personal decision, and laughs so easily.
version by Coleman Barks from The Soul of Rumi
Away from those pictures
To talk with the old woman
Who sits outside by the door"
Who doesn't love Rumi. :-)
It's impossibly complex, this dance of formlessness in form;
full of contradictions that are simply impossible,
and yet so.
The Beloved, the Old Woman, is in my Heart,
Whether this body sits in the grey cubicle,
Or stands on the beach.
She neither increases nor diminishes
In either place,
For Her Radiance is beyond conditionality.
This is the so-called "inner" world,
And concurrent with the so-called "outer".
How do both exist at once, seamlessly?
I've no idea.
I'm too lazy to contemplate complexities.
While seeking has ceased, inwardly,
I still have preferences, propensities,
And proclivities, outwardly.
And I prefer the lofty clouds, soft sand,
And vastness of the beach,
To the grey cubicle.
But the Beloved...
Knows nothing of these differences.
The Beloved, the Old Woman,
Is in my Heart,
There is no need to move,
To go here,
To do this, or not do that.
I prefer this to that
Fullness and Completion within,
Untouched, unmoved, impenetrable.
Ever-changing conditionality without.
August 12, 2013