Let us all set out on a long journey

Posted on by Alain Joly

Let us all set out on a long journey
One for which time doesn’t count
For it has to be lived in this very moment
This only is the mark of eternity

It is a never return engagement
For we know not the winds and rains
Neither the heights of the waves
The traps that go with such an endeavour

Sailing is indeed a hard work
For the clouds seemingly beautiful
Attractive in their so pristine shades of white
Could turn suddenly our deadliest enemies

We look so frail in our vessel
So fragile in front of great nature
Not the oceans and skies and clouds
Though grand they are indeed

It is time for keeping up the sails of willingness
Roaming along the raging roads
For now it is our own Nature
That claims to be marvelled at

Looked at with wonder
And curiosity
At last

At last!

 

~~~

Poem by Alain Joly

Painting by Marek Rużyk

~~~

 

Suggestion:
– Voices from Silence (other poems from the blog)

 

The Whirling World

Posted on by Alain Joly

.

“A secret turning in us
makes the universe turn.
Head unaware of feet,
and feet head. Neither cares.
They keep turning.”
~ Rumi

.

“What is the significance of this dance? See that if you experiment yourself, turning and turning around in circles, you may realize that it is the world that rotates while you stand still. Here, in our center, and for ever, is the Immobility. When Rumi turned and turned, he must have seen around him the trees, the ground, his disciples, the sun, the moon and the stars. He must have seen his body, his arms stretched out, his feet, all moving. But closer than that, there was Immobility, Silence, Peace. While he was turning and turning, while he let go of the turning world, his sense of oneness with the Source probably got deeper. The depth, the jewel and the mystery of Immobility must have swallowed him and washed him wave after wave. In this Ocean of Love where he drowned, he dissolved until only the Ocean remained. While Immobility lies in the center of the whirling world, without anything that neither comes nor goes, like a rock that is always present and sure, joy sprung forth everywhere around, and so did the ecstasy of the dance. In the midst of the fuzzy world, spinning again and again, he had capitulated, drunk with the beauty, the wisdom and the love of the Beloved.”

.

~~~

Text by Ergin Ergül – ‘La sagesse de Rumi’
(Translated from French by Alain Joly)

Painting from Iranien artist Hossein Irandoust

~~~

.

Bibliography:
– ‘365 Days With Rûmî’ – Ergin Ergül

Website:
– Rumi (Wikipedia)

Suggestions:
Other articles from the same category ‘Shreds of Infinity’
– Rumi (Homage to Rumi)

.

Suffering Leads to Joy

Posted on by Alain Joly

This is the first of a series of texts or essays that will be presented in the future. Different subjects of spiritual interest will be explored in turn. Writing this text started with answering a simple question: ‘How did it all begin for me?’…

 

“Come, come, whoever you are.
Wanderer, worshiper, lover of leaving. It doesn’t matter.
Ours is not a caravan of despair.
Come, even if you have broken your vows a thousand times.
Come, yet again, come! come!”
~ Rumi

 

How did it all begin for me? This. This deep interest in finding out what life is about. This love of Truth. This spiritual search. In what cradle did it come to existence, in what fertile soil did it come to grow? I remember how acute the desire for change was as a young man. For this was all there was to it at the time. A big, raw, sincere desire to change, to be different. I was unhappy, dissatisfied with what I was. Surely it was the first seed, the primary cause of this journey. The path leading to that change in myself I had no idea about. I had to feel my way along, through random books, exotic places. Except for one intuition though, that there was something more to life than finding happiness solely through acquisitions, through changing the person that I happened to be. Otherwise I would have gone for it in a more acute way. Instead, I turned towards some kind of spiritual call, knowing nothing of it. I rushed into a tunnel of unknowing.

An essay on the subject of suffering. (READ MORE…)