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Sunday, October 17, 2010

Rumi's "The Guest House" and "To Take A Step Without Feet"

Click on "Read More" to Read Rumi's poems "The Guest House" and  "To Take A Step Without Feet."

"The Guest House"

Darling, the body is a guest house;
every morning someone new arrives.
Don't say "O, another weight around my neck!"
or your guest will fly back to nothingness.
Whatever enters your heart is a guest
from the invisible world: entertain it well.

Every day and every moment a thought comes
like an honored guests into your heart.
My soul, regard each thought as a person,
for every person's value is in the thought they hold.

If a sorrowful thought stands in the way,
it is also preparing the way for joy.
It furiously sweeps your house clean
in order that some new joy may appear from the Source.
It scatters the withered leaves from the bough of the heart,
in order that fresh green leaves might grow.
It uproots the old joy so that
a new joy may enter from Beyond.

Sorrow pulls up the rotten root
that was veiled from sight.
Whatever sorrow takes away or causes the heart to shed,
it puts something better in its place--
especially for one who is certain
that sorrow is intuitive.{...}

Whenever sorrow come again,
meet it with smiles and laughter,
saying, "O my Creator, save me from its harm:
and do not deprive me of its good.
Lord, remind me to be thankful,
let me feel no regret if its benefits passes away.

And if the pearl is not in sorrow's hand,
let it go and still be pleased.
Increase your sweet practice.
Your practice will benefit you at another time;
someday your need will be suddenly fulfilled.

"To Take a Step Without Feet"

This is love; to fly toward a secret sky,
to cause a hundred veils to fall each moment.
First, to let go of life.
In the end, to take a step without feet;
to regard this world as invisible,
and to disregard what appears to the self.

Heart, I said, what a gift it has been
to enter this circle of lovers,
to see beyond seeing itself,
to reach and feel within the breast.

My soul, where does this breathing arise?
How does this beating heart exist?
Bird of the soul, speak in your own words,
and I will understand.

The heart replied: I was in the workplace
the day this house of water and clay was fired.
I was already fleeing that created house,
even as it was being created.
When I could no longer resist, I was dragged down,
and my features were molded from a handful of earth."

Translated by Kabir Helminski

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