Tag Archives: story

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Brother, stand the pain

This week Rumi shared about a man asking to have a tattoo of lion on his shoulder but once the tattooing began, the man couldn’t stand the pain. The story reveals the man complains throughout the ordeal. First he requests the lion have no tail, then no head and finally no belly. The tattoo artist becomes exasperated because the tattoo doesn’t resemble anything. Rumi advises:

Turn away from your cave of sleeping.

What is it to know soemthing of God?

Burn inside that presence. Burn up.

The next poetic story was titled, The Center of the Fire. Two friends argue throughout the story about having too much wine, who can draw and strike their blade first, who can come up with the best argument against the other. Rumi’s conclusion:

We must drown, away from heroism,

and descriptions of heroism.

The mystery does not get clearer by

repeating the question,

nor is it bought with going to amazing

places.

I finished the week with reading about Muhammad and The Huge Eater. The title is pretty straightforward as to what the story is about. Muhammad invites a man into his home who is a glutton. Many in Muhammad’s house were furious with the amount of food the man consumed. A maid locks the man in his room once he has fallen asleep. When the man wakes during the night needing to go to the bathroom he cannot leave the room. As soon as his door is opened in the morning, he flees the house. He returns later for an amulet he has forgotten and when the man sees Muhammad, “the hands of God” washing his soiled bed clothes he is devastated, then a great love enters him. The man feels unworthy and prostrates himself before Muhammad. Muhammad holds him and opens the man’s inner knowing.

When the body empties and stays empty,

God fills it with musk and mother-of-pearl.

That way a man gives his dung and gets purity.

Stay with friends who support you.

Talk with them about sacred texts,

and how you’re doing, and how they’re doing,

and keep your practices together.

Rumi is very direct with letting his listeners know exactly what he is trying to say with this story. We will succeed on our journey if we are not alone. We need community.

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Controlling the Desire-Body: HowDid You Kill Your Rooster, Husam?

Coleman Barks tells us in the introduction to this chapter that “Sufis call the wantings nafs. From the urgent way lovers want each other to the sannyasin’s search for truth, all meaning is from the mover. Every pull draws us to the ocean.” Rumi says it’s important to live the wantings as they come and not get stuck somewher stagnant. Always there is room for reflection to determine exactly what Rumi is trying to tell us!

On Monday I began reading the piece titled: Controlling Urgency, What a Woman’s Laughter Can Do, And the Nature of True Virility. This reading covers seven pages in the book so I decided to read a page each day this week. As I read I kept reminding myself of who Rumi’s audience was at the time of his teaching. His truths apply today as much as they applied then, but how he chose to share a thought or idea was linked to the time and culture in which he lived. This story involves a Caliph, the Captain of his army and a beautiful woman. It’s a love story with twists and turns that Rumi uses to teach his listeners. He teaches about the body’s desire and how all consuming it can be. He teaches about lust. He teaches about telling the truth. He teaches about how listening to the faint whispering of the Divine can lead to breaking cycles. Rumi concludes his story with the Caliph, “ending the cycle of sowing lust and reaping secrecy and vengefulness.” I believe he is telling us that we always have the opportunity to look within at our motives and see if they align with the Divine.

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Social Isolation

(internet photo)

Today it’s difficult for me to remain optimistic. It’s our granddaughter’s birthday and to add insult to injury, the gift we ordered online to be delivered before this special day, has not yet arrived. I don’t want to have the day pass empty handed from us so I have written her a humble story and illustrated it to the best of my ability. Singing “Happy Birthday” over the phone with her triggered my tears… I guess it’s a small price to pay if we can remain healthy.

I wish everyone strength and fortitude to get through this. May we all remain healthy!

Reading some poetry by Jimmy Pappas, a New Hampshire poet, inspired the following:

Social Isolation

We cannot
tell

if it is time
for

Friday night wine
or

Sunday
prayers.

Let us
bow our heads.
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Wallowing

Woke up this morning
took a moment to see
through blurry eyes
exactly what
was looking back at me

Garbage can lids
cardboard under my head
a dumpster spilling over
can’t remember what I did
what I said

Do you have a light
can you spare a dime
I thought things would be different
this time
Do you have a light
can you spare a dime
I really thought life would be different
this time

Went to a center
finally took someone’s advice
lost my wallet, my cigarettes, my hoodie
came away with lice

Story of my life
always seems to be
no matter what it is I do
bad luck follows me

Do you have a light
can you spare a dime
I thought things would be different
this time
Do you have a light
can you spare a dime
I really thought life would be different
this time

One hundred push ups
fifty sit ups with a kick
didn’t make a difference
left me feeling kinda sick

Don’t know why the fuss
wish people would let things be
let me face my own future
wallow in misery

Do you have a light
can you spare a dime
I thought things would be different
this time
Do you have a light
can you spare a dime
I really thought life would be different
this time

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We Sing

How easily we fall
into thinking we are different
special
We are wonderfully individual!

But when different
equals alone
we are wrong

Alone we lose our strength
alone we fall prey to
our own false thoughts and misunderstanding
Alone we become victims of inner fears
Deep seated desires and urges
plague our thoughts
cloud our eyes
run through our veins

We are unique
We are not different
We each share a story that winds
its thread through all willing to listen
Each beating heart
recognizes the call of another
The beat stretches from the beginning
of time
and touches us all

It’s a beautiful song
we are meant to share
and sing joyously together

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Despondent

Air is charged
electric
stifling
Try to breathe but can only gasp
cannot inhale deep enough
cannot draw air in

Want to lay down
want to run, escape
want to read
to forget
dive into someone else’s story
so do not have to face own

Tears surface but refuse to fall
accompanying lump in throat
swells
contributing to difficulty breathing

Count…
one – two – three
one – two – three
one – two – three

a polka that needs to be taken down to a waltz

over and over again
count repeated until moment passes
and calmness returns

Energy is drained
but have survived
did not drop into bottomless pit
Great sadness closes in
yet life can go on

A little piece
the tiniest sliver
of self
has been restored
and can go on

But the monster comes back
furious
angry to have been kept at bay
Thrashing
consuming

All that can be done
is ride the wave of tears

tumble
roll

one – two – three
one – two – three
one – two – three…

Feel the pain
acknowledge guilt

Breathe

Look for the shining little sliver of self
hold on tight
despite bleeding hands
and shattered heart
hold on
hold on
to go on

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Love Story

Lives twinning together
like ivy on a wall
unseen magical connection

Fresh young shoots
stretch for the sun
cling to wooden arbor
feel warmth radiate off wall
stretch, stretching
destination unknown
trusting upward direction

Mature growth stands firm
remains grounded
provides support
roots deep, expansive
familiar earthiness is woven into genes
of delicate leaves
courses through slender vines
ready to allow creepers
a hand in exploring new space

Young and old
grow together
a grafted union
one with the other
indistinguishable
dark and light
seasoned and green
cultivated and immature
flowering equally

A beautiful love story

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A Gnome

gnome
(image credit: inplacesdeep.blogspot.com)

We came upon a gnome
blowing up balloons
seated at the corner of a house
Discovery of his presence delighted us
piqued our curiosity
We approached slowly

He appeared to be equally curious about us
remaining seated on a wool blanket
black boots tucked under his body
straw hat at an impossible angle on his head
round lenses of his wire glasses magnifying his dark eyes

The gnome spoke rapidly
in rhyme
he told a silly story
that blended with questions
he didn’t bother to hear answered
We laughed
amused by his silly demeanor

While all this took place
a young elf
paced side to side to the left of our seated friend
The older gnome ignored the movement
remained focused on us
Between giggles we tried to speak
but he had a tale to spin

He handed a balloon sceptre
pronouncing a new queen
investing with authority a new royal
custodian of the inflated rod
And was gone

We blinked with mirth
not quite understanding
what had just taken place
a bit of magic added to our day