On Joy and Sorrow

Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.

And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears.

And how else can it be?

The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.

Is not the cup that holds your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter’s oven?

And is not the lute that soothes your spirit, the very wood that was hollowed with knives?

When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy.

When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.

Some of you say, “Joy is greater than sorrow,” and others say, “Nay, sorrow is the greater.”

But I say unto you, they are inseparable.

Together they come, and when one sits, alone with you at your board, remember that the other is asleep upon your bed.

Verily you are suspended like scales between your sorrow and your joy.

Only when you are empty are you at standstill and balanced.

When the treasure-keeper lifts you to weigh his gold and his silver, needs must your joy or your sorrow rise or fall.

by Kahlil Gibran

The Promise

When pain arrives side by side with your love

I promise not to flee

When you ask me for my life

I promise not to fight

I am holding a cup in my hand

By God if you do not come

Till the end of time

I promise not to pour out the wine

Nor to drink a sip

Your bright face is my day

Your dark curls bring the night

If you do not let me near you

I promise not go to sleep…nor rise

Your magnificence has made me a wonder

Your charm has taught me the way of love

I am the progeny of Abraham

I'll find my way through fire

Please, let me drink water from the jug

This love is not a short-lived fancy

It is the daily prayer, the year-after-year fast

I live it, like an act of worship, till the end of my life

But then, a tree

Blessed not with fruits of your bounty

Will be dry wood for fire

Even if it drinks the ocean

On the wings of the Friend, fly o my heart!

Fly and look upward

For high on the peak of presence

Earthlings like you will not be let in

Others praise God at the time of affliction

You stay awake day and night

Steady, watchful like the wheel of the firmament

Time to stop speaking of the Friend

Jealousy won't let me scatter the perfume to the wind

translation from Rumi's Divan by Fatemeh Keshavarz

Much of your pain is self-chosen

"Much of your pain is self-chosen.
It is the bitter potion by which the physician within you heals your sick self.
Therefore trust the physician, and drink his remedy in silence and tranquility:
For his hand, though heavy and hard, is guided by the tender hand of the Unseen,
And the cup he brings, though it burn your lips, has been fashioned of the clay which the Potter has moistened with His own sacred tears."

when love........

"When love beckons to you follow him, Though his ways are hard and steep. And when his wings enfold you yield to him, Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you. And when he speaks to you believe in him, Though his voice may shatter your dreams as the north wind lays waste the garden. For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you. Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning. Even as he ascends to your height and caresses your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun, So shall he descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth......

But if in your fear you would seek only love's peace and love's pleasure, Then it is better for you that you cover your nakedness and pass out of love's threshing-floor, Into the seasonless world where you shall laugh, but not all of your laughter, and weep, but not all of your tears. Love gives naught but itself and takes naught but from itself.

Love possesses not nor would it be possessed; For love is sufficient unto love. And think not you can direct the course of love, if it finds you worthy, directs your course. Love has no other desire but to fulfil itself."

But if you love and must needs have desires, let these be your desires: To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night. To know the pain of too much tenderness. To be wounded by your own understanding of love; And to bleed willingly and joyfully."

~kahlil gibran~