I touch God in my Song

By: Rabindranath Tagore

I touch God in my Song
            as the hill touches the far away sea
                     with its waterfall.

The Butterfly counts not months but moments
            and has time enough.

Let my love, like sunlight, surround you
            and yet give you illumined freedom.

Love remains a secret even when spoken
            for only a lover truly knows that he is loved

Emancipation from the bondage of soil
            is no freedom for thee.

In love I pay my endless debt to thee
            for what thou art.

(from the Poetry Chaikhana: http://www.poetry-chaikhana.com/)

Lost in flight, I remain

I need a lover and a friend,

All friendships you transcend-

And impotent, I remain

You are Noah and the Ark

You are the light and the dark-

Behind the veil, I remain

You are passion and are rage

You are the bird and the cage-

Lost in flight, I remain

You are the wine and the cup 

You are the ocean and the drop-

While afloat, I remain

I said, "O Soul of the world

My desperation has taken hold!"

"I am thy essence," without scold,

"Value me much more than gold."

You are the bait and the trap

You are the path and the map-

While in search, I remain

You are poison and the sweet

You are defeated and defeat-

Sword in hand, I remain

You are the wood and the saw

You are cooked, and are raw-

While in a pot, I remain

You are sunshine and the fog

You are water and the jug-

While thirsty, I remain

Sweet fragrance of Shams that is,

The joy and pride of Tabriz-

Perfume trader, I remain.

Jelaluddin Rumi 

(Diwan-e-Shams-Tabrizi)

That which can not be defined

Today, I stumbled on a website claiming to define my religious beliefs if I took their online quiz. Initially, I took it as a joke... but after answering a couple of questions I began to wonder what exactly I feel about the topic. To my amusement, I ended up being labelled a 'universal unitarian' and later a 'new age' follower. I agree my beliefs fall in some rather complicated and scattered categories, but even I don't know what those two 'religions' are about. As I was enjoying a heated debate on the said website's comments forum (in which people threw dirt on each other's perceived 'beliefs' in a quest to earn the most karma for insults against another religion) I began feeling upset about it all. Then I remembered this beautiful poem that I got in my mail today:

"You went away, but remained in me"

-By Mansur Hallaj, translated by Mahmud Jamal

You went away, but remained in me,

and thus became my peace and happiness.

In separation, separation left me-

and I witnessed the Unknown.

You were the hidden secret of my longing,

Hidden deep within my conscience...deeper than a dream.

You were my true friend in the day,

and in darkness-- my companion.

(Sent today from the Poetry Chaikhana.)

This absolutely delightful little piece addresses our most Beloved creator, our True friend in the shade-less heat of the day, and our only Companion through the darkest of nights. There can be no separation from the Divine, because He is the Ultimate reality, He is everywhere, and everything is His reflection. Then what causes some to think that insulting another is somehow going to earn them a reward? When has negativity ever produced positivity? Upsetting, indeed. One day I hope to discuss the nuisance on Youtube comments as well (they are my most distinguished pet peeve).

About the brilliant poet: Mansur Hallaj was a Sufi mystic, well-known for his rather controversial teachings. While traditional scholars (most famously Al-Ghazali) believed that mysticism was best kept among a select few, Mansur Hallaj would openly spread his message. His famous declaration of "I am the Truth" (ana-al-haq) cost him his life. Mansur Hallaj's life is an example for many others who want to share the eternal blissful truth with all humanity, but unfortunately, either suffer in silence due to fear of persecution, or risk being misunderstood and labelled as heretics.

Simple words, dear readers, can be taken out of context, mis-attributed, misunderstood, and twisted in various forms to help further evil and chaos in the world. Then how can one communicate in such a place?

Poetry uses simple words but communicates a whole emotion. And pure emotions can not be misunderstood or twisted into evil forms. Poetry can say to the audience, whatever the audience wants to hear. Poetry becomes, in fact, almost an echo of the words of its reader.

Music is, in my opinion, meaning beyond words. It too, communicates emotions... and they can not be labelled or taken out of context. Music resonates with the listener's soul, it is outside the boundaries set by language and what is proper and improper in a linguistic sense.

Only through poetry and music, I believe, can there ever be a chance of communicating that which can not be defined.

Btw, here's the entertaining website with the online quiz:

http://www.beliefnet.com/Entertainment/Quizzes/BeliefOMatic.aspx

Broken Frames

Didn't feel like writing anything yesterday. Don't feel like writing anything today, either. But I'd give it a go anyways! I was searching for something in my old file, and that's where I came across all the things I have stuffed in my drawer. Old receipts, letters, empty envelopes with the addresses on them, pens that don't work, safety pins, my old poems, some unfinished stories...

I wonder what makes me want to keep these things. It is this idea of the future, that maybe...some time later I will need these things, or maybe that they are important. Or sometimes, it's just a hasty action to clear up my desk when I believe some one is coming over to visit us and my room looks like a dump.

These items which have no use... (or do they?) remind me of many days of life. Days that are not lived, but just stuffed into these hypothetical drawers for some other time. Days that are spent doing absolutely nothing, as if sometime later I could revisit and do things I always wanted to do. It is indeed a slightly sad feeling that I get from looking at these forgotten items in my desk drawer. I think, for people who (at the end of their lives) turn back and open those hypothetical drawers of life, and see many such use-less and hastily spent days, also have that deep pang of regret. Can these two feelings be compared?

I wrote a poem in April, 2007, which seems be-fitting to this idea:

Broken Frames

Like an old torn page

stuffed into the back of a drawer,

or an Unused box saved

and thrown atop a shelf,

I have stacked some memories

and let myself forget them.

One day when I open that drawer,

my hand shall find that page;

that box may fall in my sight,

my touch will lift the dust of age

and I shall see the cracks and yellow

line those many names...

like lost and faded faces,

that smile through broken Frames.

One Light

Some months ago, I came upon a beautiful website dedicated to collecting sacred poetic texts from around the world. This is the Poetry Chaikhana, an excellent project taken up by Ivan Granger, which collects works of both well-known and forgotten poets from around the world. The poetry on this site isn't restricted to one region, religion or language, instead it shows how every composed piece relates to the ultimate truth. I fell in love with the touching yet simplistic words of forgotten legends, the artistic photographs that accompany each poem, and the half-minute music samples that add another dimension to the poems. Nearly every day I receive an email from Poetry Chaikhana that absolutely makes my day...for a few minutes I can take a break and let the beauty of the words, images and music sink in. Here is one brilliant piece that I wish to share, written by Mahmud Shabistari (english translation by Andrew Harvey):

One Light:

What are "I" and "You"?

Just lattices

in the niches of a lamp,

through which the One light radiates.

"I" and "You" are the veil,

Between Heaven and Earth,

lift this veil and you will see,

how all sects and religions are one.

Lift this veil and you will ask:

when "I" and "You" do not exist,

what is mosque?

what is synagogue?

what is fire-temple?

-Taken from Shabistari's Gulistan-e-Raaz (the Rose Garden of Mystery)

Here's a link to Poetry Chaikhana: http://www.poetry-chaikhana.com/

do visit!