Tagore says:
‘When the string of the violin
was being tuned it felt the pain of being
stretched, but once it was tuned then it knew why it
was stretched’. So it is with the human soul. While the soul
goes through pain, torture and trouble it thinks that it would
have been much better if it had gone through life without
it. But once it reaches the culmination of it then,
when it looks back, it begins to realize why
all this was meant: it was only meant
to tune the soul to a
certain pitch.
One learns to understand
that there is a world in one’s self,
that in one’s mind there is a source of
happiness and unhappiness, the source of
health and illness, the source of light and darkness,
and that it can be awakened, either mechanically or at will,
if only one knew how to do it. Then one does not blame his
ill fortune nor complain of his fellow man. He becomes
more tolerant, more joyful, and more loving toward
his neighbor, because he knows the cause of
every thought and action, and he sees
it all as the effect of a
certain cause.
…Therefore, the work
of the mystic is to be able to read
the language of the mind. As the clerk
in the telegraph office reads letters from the
ticks, so the Sufi gets behind every word spoken to
him and discovers what has prompted the word to come out.
He therefore reads the lines which are behind man’s thought,
speech, and action. He also understands that every kind of
longing and craving in life, good or bad, has its source
in deep impression. By knowing this root of the
disease he is easily able to find out its cure.
No impression is such that it
cannot be erased.
You fear losing a certain
eminent position. You hope to gain something
from that, but it comes from elsewhere. Existence does this
switching trick, giving you hope from one source,
then satisfaction from another.
It keeps you bewildered
and wondering, and lets your trust
in the unseen grow.
you are ladybirds and the smell of a garden
You should expect grace,
that which makes life more than
manageable, but you look elsewhere,
wanting some delight other
than that.
Your conscious being,
with what you’ve been given,
should be like a beautifully laid-out park
with wildflowers and cultivated wonders,
a swift stream with places to sit
and rest beside it.
When a grieving person
sees you, he or see should recognize a
refuge, refreshment, a generous house where
one need not bring bread and cheese.
There will be plenty.
