/lit/ - Literature

Rumi, referring to this same idea in his more ecstatic and poetic, less formal way, writes:

>What is to be done, O Muslims? for I do not know myself.
>I am neither Christian, nor Jew, nor Magian, nor Muslim.
>I am not of the East, nor of the West, nor of the land, nor of the sea;
>I am not of Nature’s quarry, nor of the heaven circling above.
>I am not made of earth, nor of water, nor of wind, nor fire;
>nor of the Divine Throne, nor the carpet, nor the cosmos, nor mineral.
>I am not from India, nor China, nor Bulgaria, nor Turkestan;
>I am not from the kingdom of the two Iraqs, nor from the earth of Khurasan.
>Neither of this world, nor the next, I am, nor of Heaven, nor of Hell;
>Nor from Adam, nor from Eve, nor from Eden nor Rizwan.
>My place is the Placeless, my trace is the Traceless;
>‘Tis neither body nor soul, for I myself am the Beloved.
>I have cast aside duality, I have seen the two worlds as one;
>One I seek, One I know, One I see, One I say.

>He is the First, He is the Last, He is the Outward, He is the Inward;
>I know no one other than He, none but he who is He
>Drunk with Love’s cup, the two worlds have been lost to me;
>I have no business save carouse and revelry.
>If once in my life I spent a moment without you,
>From that time and from that hour I repent of my life.
>If once in this retreat I win a moment with you,
>I will trample on both worlds, and dance in ecstasy
>O Shams of Tabriz, I am so drunk in this world,
>That except for drunkenness and revelry, I have no tale to tell.

Shit go in Earth, like manure, to make way for tree to grow. Is not real person. Most people is like this — is not real person, is just manure for real person to grow. You meet people in life, make friend, even wife, coworker, go to school — but how many is real person? None is real person. Is only manure. You become real person, maybe you help “people” close around you to grow, to become real person at least a little bit. They die, become manure in ground, and maybe return, come back to life as plant. Plant become animal, then animal become man. Ees very slow. Die like shit, reborn as dirt, reborn as rock, reborn as plant, reborn as animal, reborn as man. But hundreds, thousands of times. Very slow. “Man” has “soul” but is very small, very undeveloped, like piece of shit. Must learn much, grow much, know much, suffer much to become real soul. Then one day becomes real MAN like Buddha, Christ, Muhammad. You know Christ? Very far to become like Christ. Maybe you not like Christ in this lifetime, but you smart enough to be reading my words, and you become like Christ in few lifetimes. Then is chance open to you to be gone forever, gone from Earth. Reborn anywhere you like in galaxy, or live in heaven “forever.” But even forever is minimum time. All is temporary.

You not understand?

Many people become like Christ in this world, people you not even heard of. Man in India living in cave, he is more developed than your piece of shit Professor, priest, monk, or politician. Because he KNOW himself. Can be. Can do. Struggles against himself.

What can I do, Muslims? I do not know myself.
I am neither Christian nor Jew, neither Magian nor Muslim,
I am not from east or west, not from land or sea,
not from the shafts of nature nor from the spheres of the firmament,
not of the earth, not of water, not of air, not of fire.
I am not from the highest heaven, not from this world,
not from existence, not from being.
I am not from India, not from China, not from Bulgar, not from Saqsin,
not from the realm of the two Iraqs, not from the land of Khurasan.
I am not from the world, not from beyond,
not from heaven and not from hell.
I am not from Adam, not from Eve, not from paradise and not from Ridwan.
My place is placeless, my trace is traceless,
no body, no soul, I am from the soul of souls.
I have chased out duality, lived the two worlds as one.
One I seek, one I know, one I see, one I call.
He is the first, he is the last, he is the outer, he is the inner.
Beyond He and He is I know no other.
I am drunk from the cup of love, the two worlds have escaped me.
I have no concern but carouse and rapture.
If one day in my life I spend a moment without you
from that hour and that time I would repent my life.
If one day I am given a moment in solitude with you
I will trample the two worlds underfoot and dance forever.
O Sun of Tabriz, I am so tipsy here in this world,
I have no tale to tell but tipsiness and rapture.
>Jaluddin Rumi