Love is the
last thirty-pound bale.*
When you load it on, the
boat tips over.
Love is the
last thirty-pound bale.*
When you load it on, the
boat tips over.
You disciples and apostles,
you all do the same work, yet you try
to determine who’s above and who’s below.
Each of you thinks you’re special, and in that
vanity you irritate each other mightily.
You think there will not be enough,
so you fight for your portion
like dogs in the street.
Being in harmony
is the true way, not this itch
of greed, this constricted stall where
you and other donkeys get beaten with a stick.
Move instead to the praise-place, inside the
mystery, where prayer is unlimited,
and you feel the delight of
giving homage.
Soul guides and
prophets have an innate innocence,
but they are subject to the same consequences
as everyone. If a donkey veers off course, he will be hit
with a stick. If you do wrong, you will be punished. Abu Bakr
said that steadiness is the central virtue. From the
mind’s steadiness comes a right action
which in turn balances the
intelligence.
They asked me
why prophets were given hardships.
I said it helps to have clear indications. And I added
silently to myself, Be more humble like someone
held captive. Bow to the one who
can free you.
This revelation:
Do not scold anyone for
a mistake you might have made.
Do not discipline children untilĀ you
have grown up. Do not taunt or find fault
or call people names. Turn those
judgements inward. Own your
faults openly.
Gently I weep for my mind,
caught in its illusion of ownership.
Mind, you’re not who you think you are.
You’re dancing over a pit. Soon you’ll fall through,
and these things you’ve valued and collected will
be left behind. My sweet dear, do you
understand this, and if you do,
how does your food
taste?