This month story is a traditional Egyptian tale passed down from generation to generation. It is attributed to Dhu-l-nun Al-Misry (d. 859 C.E.)
Once upon a time, a wise saint warned his people that on a certain day, in a certain time, all the waters in the world will change… The water left for humankind will drive anyone who drinks it insane. He called upon his people to build barrels, reservoirs and basins to collect and store their pure fresh water, as when this day comes, the world’s waters will no longer be safe to drink.
Only one man took this advice to heart. He collected water and stored it up high on the mountain tops. Moons and moons passed – no one knows exactly how many… All we know is that on the designated day, as the mystic had warned, the rivers stopped flowing, the land parched and the wells dried up. The man who had listened saw it all happening. He rushed to his sanctuary and lived on the water he saved.
Not long after, the land was restored and the canals flew again but this time it was different. The man descended from the mountain to find his people thinking and talking in a funny way, a different way… yet, no one found it funny or different, no one remembered the saint’s warning… no one noticed that the water tasted different. In fact, everyone thought this man is mad. No one knew what he was talking about. Some people reacted in sympathy, others were aggressive, but they all agreed that he was the crazy one.
Our man retreated again to his sanctuary and drank from his safe water. But, he felt lonely, so lonely and alienated. Eventually, he found no way out but to come down and drink from their waters… He soon forgot about his water stores and became one of the crowds. His people embraced him in delight. They celebrated and rejoiced as the poor mad man miraculously regained his sanity!
Once upon a time, a wise saint warned his people that on a certain day, in a certain time, all the waters in the world will change… The water left for humankind will drive anyone who drinks it insane. He called upon his people to build barrels, reservoirs and basins to collect and store their pure fresh water, as when this day comes, the world’s waters will no longer be safe to drink.
Only one man took this advice to heart. He collected water and stored it up high on the mountain tops. Moons and moons passed – no one knows exactly how many… All we know is that on the designated day, as the mystic had warned, the rivers stopped flowing, the land parched and the wells dried up. The man who had listened saw it all happening. He rushed to his sanctuary and lived on the water he saved.
Not long after, the land was restored and the canals flew again but this time it was different. The man descended from the mountain to find his people thinking and talking in a funny way, a different way… yet, no one found it funny or different, no one remembered the saint’s warning… no one noticed that the water tasted different. In fact, everyone thought this man is mad. No one knew what he was talking about. Some people reacted in sympathy, others were aggressive, but they all agreed that he was the crazy one.
Our man retreated again to his sanctuary and drank from his safe water. But, he felt lonely, so lonely and alienated. Eventually, he found no way out but to come down and drink from their waters… He soon forgot about his water stores and became one of the crowds. His people embraced him in delight. They celebrated and rejoiced as the poor mad man miraculously regained his sanity!
I honestly don’t know what to make of this story especially during the heart-breaking times we live in. I am sure there is a deeper wisdom here that I am not able to fully grasp yet. But, what I know for sure is that it is not about giving up or helplessness. It is rather about deep faith and certainty (or lack thereof). Letting Go is different from giving up.
This poor man has given up - Rather, he needed to let go… He needed to let go of trying to change what he cannot change. He needed to know the difference and find his unique role and contribution without losing himself or his people.
Charles Upton writes “When you find yourself in a state of fear or grief over the evil of the world, the degeneration of humanity, and the ruin of the earth […] Remember: The World is Perfect.” “Stop trying to maintain the world in existence by the power of your ego. Let it go.” “In other words, Upton Adds, the Messiah is already here. He has always been here. In each spiritual moment, the world comes fresh from the hand of the Creator. As God is perfect, so His expression is perfect – if, that is, we can witness it, with all its wonders and horrors, as His immediate manifestation.”
This poor man has given up - Rather, he needed to let go… He needed to let go of trying to change what he cannot change. He needed to know the difference and find his unique role and contribution without losing himself or his people.
Charles Upton writes “When you find yourself in a state of fear or grief over the evil of the world, the degeneration of humanity, and the ruin of the earth […] Remember: The World is Perfect.” “Stop trying to maintain the world in existence by the power of your ego. Let it go.” “In other words, Upton Adds, the Messiah is already here. He has always been here. In each spiritual moment, the world comes fresh from the hand of the Creator. As God is perfect, so His expression is perfect – if, that is, we can witness it, with all its wonders and horrors, as His immediate manifestation.”
Art
The art exercise this month is simple: Draw your anger!
Express your anger on paper – use anything you want: paint, colors, shapes, images, symbols, scribbles, words… you can even tear down the pages or trash them… take your time, don’t rush and don’t force it. Don’t suppress it either – put it all there on the pages.
Now, look at your art:
Here are three pages of my journal over the past week... It changed... transmuted... Yet still, it is a work in progress...
Express your anger on paper – use anything you want: paint, colors, shapes, images, symbols, scribbles, words… you can even tear down the pages or trash them… take your time, don’t rush and don’t force it. Don’t suppress it either – put it all there on the pages.
Now, look at your art:
- What color did you choose? What shape?
- What symbols peak through?
- How does expressing the anger on paper make you feel?
- Repeat the exercise every day for a week – notice how the anger evolves, transmutes, increases or decreases…
Here are three pages of my journal over the past week... It changed... transmuted... Yet still, it is a work in progress...
Body Whispers
Heartache!
The heat of anger arises from the heart. Its fire can consume our hearts if we allow it. It can burn us and our loved ones alive.
Pause. Breathe. Listen to your heart. What does it want to tell you?
The heat of anger arises from the heart. Its fire can consume our hearts if we allow it. It can burn us and our loved ones alive.
Pause. Breathe. Listen to your heart. What does it want to tell you?
Traditional Wisdom of the Month
This traditional Sufi poetry by Hallaj (d. 922 C.E.) had kept me company during the past two weeks:
وَاللَه ما طَلَعَت شَمسٌ وَلا غَرُبَت
إِلّا وَحُبُّكَ مَقرونٌ بِأَنفاسي
وَلا جَلستُ إِلى قَومٍ أُحَدِّثُهُم
إِلّا وَأَنتَ حَديثي بَينَ جُلّاسي
وَلا ذَكَرتُكَ مَحزوناً وَلا فَرِحاً
إِلّا وَأَنت بِقَلبي بَينَ وِسواسي
وَلا هَمَمتُ بِشُربِ الماءِ مِن عَطَشٍ
إِلّا رَأَيتُ خَيالاً مِنكَ في الكَاسِ
وَلَو قَدَرتُ عَلى الإِتيانِ جِئتُكُم
سَعياً عَلى الوَجهِ أَو مَشياً عَلى الرَاسِ
وَيا فَتى الحَيِّ إِن غَنّيتَ لي طَرَباً
فَغَنّنّي وأسِفاً مِن قَلبِكَ القاسي
مالي وَلَلناسِ كَم يَلحونَني سَفَهاً
ديني لِنَفسي وَدينُ الناسِ لِلناسِ
It can be loosely translated as:
By God, the sun never rises nor sets
Without me breathing in Your love;
And, I never turn to talk to anyone
Without You being my words among people;
And, I never mention You in sadness or in joy
Without You being in my heart, among my every whisper;
And, I never reached out, thirsty, for a sip of water
Without seeing an apparition from You in my cup.
If only I am able to reach You, I would come
Crawling on my face or walking on my head.
Oh, you boy who sings to me in ecstasy
Sing of my sorrows from your cruel heart.
What is it about me that people accuse me of insanity
I have my faith and they have theirs.
You can hear it beautifully chanted here:
By God, the sun never rises nor sets
Without me breathing in Your love;
And, I never turn to talk to anyone
Without You being my words among people;
And, I never mention You in sadness or in joy
Without You being in my heart, among my every whisper;
And, I never reached out, thirsty, for a sip of water
Without seeing an apparition from You in my cup.
If only I am able to reach You, I would come
Crawling on my face or walking on my head.
Oh, you boy who sings to me in ecstasy
Sing of my sorrows from your cruel heart.
What is it about me that people accuse me of insanity
I have my faith and they have theirs.
You can hear it beautifully chanted here:
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