Love Dogsby Rumi
One night a man was crying,"This longing you express is the
grew sweet with the praising,
until a cynic said,
"So! I have heard you
calling out, but have you ever
The man had no answer to that.
He quit praying and fell into a confused sleep.
he saw Khidr, the guide of souls,
in a thick, green foliage.
"Why did you stop praising?"
never heard anything back."
The grief you cry out from
draws you toward union.
Your pure sadness
is the secret cup.
Listen to the moan of a dog for its master.
that whining is the connection.
no one knows the names of
Give your life
to be one of them.
Whoever is loved is beautiful
Whoever is loved is beautiful, but the opposite is not true, that whoever is beautiful is
loved. Real beauty is part of loved-ness, and that loved-ness is primary. If a being is loved, he or she has beauty,
because a part cannot be separate from the whole. Many girls were more beautiful than Laila, but Majnun did not love
them. "Let us bring some of these to meet you," they used to say to Majnun, and he would reply, "It's not the form of
Laila that I love. Laila is not the form. You're looking at the cup, whereas I think only of the wine I drink
from that cup. If you gave me a chalice studded with gemstones, but filled with vinegar or something other than wine,
what use would that be? An old broken dipper-gourd with Laila-wine in it is better than a hundred precious goblets full of
is present when a man can distinguish between the wine and the container. Two men see a loaf of bread. One hasn't eaten
anything for ten days. The other has eaten five times a day, every day. He sees the shape of the loaf. The other
man with his urgent need sees inside into the taste, and into the nourishment the bread could give. Be that hungry,
to see within all beings the Friend.
Creatures are cups. The sciences and the arts and all branches of knowledge are inscriptions around the outside of the
cups. When a cup shatters, the writing can no longer be read. The wine's the thing! The wine that's held in the
mold of these physical cups. Drink the wine and know what lasts and what to love. The man who truly asks must be sure
of two things: One, that he's mistaken in what he's doing or thinking now. And two, that there is a wisdom he doesn't
know yet. Asking is half of knowing.
Everyone turns toward someone. Look for one scarred by the King's polo stick.
A man or a woman is said to be absorbed when
the water has total control of him, and he no control of the water. A swimmer moves around willfully. An absorbed
being has no will but the water's going. Any word or act is not really personal, but the way the water has of speaking
or doing. As when you hear a voice coming out of a wall, and you know that it's not the wall talking, but someone inside,
or perhaps someone outside echoing off the wall. Saints are like that. They've achieved the condition of a wall,
or a door.
What hurts you, blesses you.
Darkness is your candle.
Your boundaries are
I can explain this, but it would break
the glass cover on your heart,
and there's no fixing that.
Saints Bowing in the Mountains
Do you know how beautiful you are?
I think not, my dear.
For as you talk
I see great parades with wildly colorful bands
Streaming from your mind and heart,
and secret messages
To every corner of this world.
I see saints bowing in the mountains
Hundreds of miles
To the wonder of sounds
That break into light
From your most common words.
Speak to me of
Your cousins and your friends.
Tell me of squirrels and birds you know.
Awaken your legion
Let them soar wild and free in the sky.
And begin to sing to God.
all begin to sing to God!
Do you know how beautiful you are?
I think not, my dear,
set you upon a Stage
And worship you forever!
Let yourself be silently drawn
by the stronger pull of what you