Chapter 8 Prophet (1)

the arrival of the ship Elected and Beloved Ayler-Mustafa, the Dawn of this day, had waited twelve years in the city of Orpharis for his ship to come and welcome him back to the island of his birth. It was the twelfth year, the seventh day of the "Yilu" month. He climbed the hill without walls and looked out at the sea; he saw his ship coming through the mist. His heart suddenly opened up, and his joy crossed the sea and overflowed into the distance.He closed his eyes lightly and prayed in the silence of his soul. When he stepped down the hill, there was a burst of sadness.He meditated in his heart:

How can I say goodbye without worry and peace?No, I couldn't leave the city without being traumatized. How many long days of agony I have passed, and how many long nights of solitude I have passed within this wall; who can leave his pain and loneliness without attachment? I have scattered so many soul fragments in the streets and lanes, I have had so many children of hope walking naked through the hills and hills, I cannot leave them without burden and without pain. Today, instead of taking off a smock, I tear a layer of skin with my own hands. It is not a thought that I leave behind.But a heart sweet with hunger and thirst.

But I can no longer stay. The sea that calls all calls me, and I must come aboard. For though time burns in the night, to stay means to freeze, to be smoked in the mold. How I wish to bring everything here with me, but how can I? The sound cannot take away the lips that gave it wings, it can only look for the sky alone. Only the goshawk can fly over the sun alone without its nest. He reached the foot of the mountain, turned his face to the sea again, and saw his ship approaching the harbour, with sailors from home at the bow. Then his spirit called to them, saying: Sons of my ancient mother, you tide-riders,

How many times have you floated in my dreams.Now you sail into my waking, which is my deeper dream. I'm ready to go, my hope waits for the wind with the sail raised. I just want to take another breath of this peaceful breath, and cast an affectionate glance back. Then I will join you among you, as sailors among sailors. And you, vast sea, sleepless mother, The peace and freedom of the rivers and streams, After the stream rounded another bend, there was another warm murmur from the clearing in the forest, I will plunge into your mercy, like an infinite drop of water melting into an infinite sea.

While walking, he saw from a distance that men and women left the farmland and orchard and flocked towards the city gate. He heard them calling their names, running across the fields to tell the news of the arrival of the ship. he asked himself: Could it be that the moment of parting is also the time of reunion? Are my nights really my dawns? What can I give to those who put down the plow in the plow and the wheel in the brewery? Take the mind as the tree, pick the fruit and share it with them? Or turn longing into a fountain and fill their cups? To be a harp that mighty hands can strum, or a flute whose breath can pass through me?

I am a seeker of solitude, what treasure have I found in solitude that will enable me to give with confidence? If today is the day of harvest, in what forgotten season and in what land did I sow the seed? If this is indeed the time for me to hold up the lamp, it is not the fireworks I lit that burn in the lamp. The lamp I held up was empty and dim, The guardian of the night will oil it and light it. He confided this in words, but there are still many unspoken words hidden in his heart.Because he himself cannot express his deeper secrets. When he returned to the city, people came to meet him.They called to him in unison.

The old man in the city stepped forward and said: Please don't leave us like this. You have been our noon in the evening, and your youth guides our dreams into dreams. You are not a stranger among us, nor a stranger in our midst, but you are our son, whom we truly love. Let not our eyes weary with longing to see your countenance. The priests and priestesses said to him: Please don't let the waves separate us now, let the years you spent among us be memories. You walk among us like a spirit, and your shadow is the radiance on our faces. We have always loved you so much.But our love was silent and veiled.

Now she calls out to you, and faces you unabashedly. Love does not know its depth until the moment of parting. Others also stepped forward to persuade him to stay.But he didn't answer.He bowed his head in silence, and the people around him saw tears falling on his chest. He walked with everyone to the square in front of the temple. A woman named Elmetra came out of the temple.She is a prophetess. He looked at her with tender eyes, because she was the one who followed him and believed in him on the first day he arrived in the city. She congratulated him, saying: Prophet of God, you have long been counting the course of your ship in search of the ultimate,

Now that the ship has arrived, you must go. You yearn so deeply for the land of your memory and the place of your greater hope; our love does not hold you back, nor does our need detain you. But please speak to us before you go, and speak the truth for us. We will pass it on to our children and grandchildren, and they will pass it on to theirs, so that it will never die. You have watched our day in solitude, and listened to our cries and laughter in our dreams in our waking hours. So reveal yourself to us now and tell us everything you know between life and death. He replied: People of Orphalias, what can I say but what is stirring in your souls at this moment!

Love Then said Elmetra, please tell us about love. He looked up at the crowd, and the crowd was silent.He said in a loud voice: When love calls you with a wave, follow him, Though his path was hard and steep. When he spreads his wings to embrace you, obey him, Though the blades in his wings may hurt you. Believe him when he speaks to you, Although his voice will shatter your dreams like a wind sweeps away the flowers in the garden. Love can crown you, but it can also crucify you.Though he can make you grow, he can also cut you down. He will climb to your heights and caress your tenderest branches quivering in the sun,

He will also come down to your roots and shake your roots that cling to the earth. Love gathers you together like the sheaf of wheat. He has threshed you and made you naked. He sifts you from the chaff. He grinds you until you are innocent. He kneads you until you are soft. Then he delivered you to the holy fire, and made you the wafer of God's feast. All of this is done by love for you, so that you may be able to comprehend the secrets in your heart, and thus become a small part of the heart of life. But if you seek only love and beauty and love's joy out of fear, Then you'd better hide your nakedness and leave the threshing floor of love, Step into a world without seasons, where you may laugh, but not all your tears, and cry, but not all your tears. Love gives nothing but itself and takes nothing but itself. Love neither possesses nor is possessed; Because love has itself enough. When you love, you should not say "God is in my heart", but "I am in God". Don't think you can direct love, for love, if it deems you worthy, will direct you. Love has nothing else to ask but to fulfill itself. But if you love, and must desire something, let these be your desires: Melted into a rushing stream, singing its own melody at night. Experience the pain of too much tenderness. Hurt by your own experience of love. Willingly bleed. Wake up in the morning with a winged heart and give thanks for another loving day; Take a lunch break and meditate on the ecstasy of love; At dusk, return home with gratitude; Before bedtime, pray for the love of your heart, with hymns on your lips. marriage Elmetra asked again: And what about marriage, master? He replied: You were born together, and you will always be together. When the white wings of death scatter you, you shall be together. Indeed, you are always together, even in God's memory. But in congregation you keep space, Let the wind in the sky fly between you. Love each other, but don't let love be a bondage; Let love be the sea that runs between the shores of your souls. Fill each other's cups, but don't drink from just one cup. Give each other bread, but do not take from one loaf. Sing and dance together, but keep yourselves separate. The strings of the lute are also separated from each other, even though they vibrate to the same music. Give your heart, but don't let the other keep it. For only the hand of life can receive your heart. stand together, but not too close together; For the pillars of the temple are always separated from each other, Nor do oaks and cypresses grow in each other's shadow. child Tell us about the baby, said a woman with a baby in her arms. He said: Your children are not your children. They are the children of life's longing for itself. They come through you, but not because of you. Although they are with you, they do not belong to you. You may give them your love, but not thought, Because they have their own minds. You may build houses for their bodies, but not their hearts, Because their minds dwell in the House of Tomorrow, even in their dreams, you have no chance to visit them. You may try to be like them, but not try to make them like you. For life does not go backwards nor remain stuck in the past. You are the bows, and your children are the arrows of life shot out. The archer takes aim at the goal on his infinite journey, and bends you so hard that his arrows fly far and swiftly. Let thee bend gladly in the hand of the shooter; For he loves both the flying arrow and the steady bow. bestow A rich man then said, Please speak to us about giving. He replied: When you take out your possessions, your giving is insignificant. True giving occurs when you give of yourself. Because isn't your property just something that you only possess and protect when you fear you may need it tomorrow? And tomorrow, what will tomorrow bring to the dog who cautiously followed the pilgrims and buried his bones in the barren sand? What do you need but need itself? When the well is overflowing, is not your fear of thirst an unquenchable thirst? Some give but a little of their fortune—they give for recognition, and their hidden desires keep their gift from beauty. There are also those who have very little but give it all. They believe in life and the gift of life, and their lockers are never empty. Some give with joy, and this joy is their reward. Some give with pain, and this pain is their baptism. There are others who don't feel pain when they give, nor do they seek pleasure, or charity; They give like myrtle in the valley beyond. Through the hands of these men God teaches, and through their eyes God smiles upon the earth. It is good to give when asked, but a higher state is to give through experience and before others ask. For the generous person, finding someone who is willing to receive the gift is a deeper joy than the giving itself. What can't you give up? One day, everything you have will be left to others; So gift now, and leave the moment of giving to yourself, not your heirs. You often say, "I'll give money, but only for those who deserve it." The trees of your orchards will not speak thus, nor the flocks of your pastures. Because of devotion, they live, while refusal only brings death. A man who deserves his days and nights is undoubtedly worthy of everything else from you. He who is worthy to drink from the sea of ​​life is also worthy to fill his cup from your brooks. What virtue surpasses receptive courage, trust, even compassion? Who are you to deserve people to rip their chests open and take off the veil of self-respect so you can see their naked worth and their unashamed dignity? First examine whether you are worthy of being a giver, a tool for giving. For everything is a gift of life to life—and you, who see yourself as the giver, are but a witness. As for you who are beneficiaries—and you are all beneficiaries—you need not bear the burden of gratitude, lest you put chains on yourself and on the giver. It is better to fly with the giver by virtue of gifts, as with a pair of wings, For to dwell on debt is to doubt the generosity of the Giver, who has the benevolent earth as mother and God as father. diet Then an old man, the owner of the inn, said, please tell us about food. He said: I certainly hope that you can live by the fragrance of the earth, as the plants in the air live by the sun. But since you have to kill for food, and snatch the mother's milk from the mouths of newborn babies to quench your thirst, let this be a form of worship. Raise on your desks an altar, and on this altar sacrifice the innocence of forest and plain to the innocence of man. When you slaughter an animal, you should say to it in your heart: "The power that now slaughters you will also slaughter me, and I too will be eaten. "For the same law that sent you into my hands will also send me into stronger hands. "Your blood and mine are but sap that nourishes the tree of heaven." When you chew an apple with your teeth, say to it in your heart: "Your seed shall live in me, "Your bud will open in my heart tomorrow, "Your fragrance melts into my breath, "You and I will live each season with joy." In autumn, when you gather grapes from your garden to make wine, say in your hearts: "I too am a vineyard, and my fruit shall be picked and brewed, "And I will be like new wine into the vessel of eternity." In winter, when you drink fine wine, please sing a song for each glass of wine in your heart; Let the song recall the autumn, the vineyard, and the making of the wine. labor A farmer said, please tell us about the labor. He replied: You work so you can be in sync with the earth and its spirit. If you are indolent, you become strangers to the seasons, and fall behind in the ranks of life which are marching with solemn grandeur and proud resignation to eternity. You are a flute when you work, and the whisper of time becomes music through your heart. Which of you would be a reed, that himself would be silent, when all things sing in unison? You will always be told: work is a curse, labor is a misfortune. But I say to you: when you work, you fulfill the wildest dreams of a part of the earth, which was allotted to you when the dream was formed, Your hard work is the true love of life, To love life in labor is to know the deepest secret of life. However, if you call birth a torment in pain, and maintain your physical existence as a curse written on your forehead, then I answer that only the sweat on your forehead can wash away those writings. There are always people who tell you that life is dark, and when you are tired repeat the language of the tired And I say life is dark indeed, unless there is desire, All desire is blind except with knowledge, All knowledge is vain unless there is work, All work is empty except with love; When you work with love, you become one with yourself, with others, and with God. What is it to work with love? It is to weave and sew the cloth with the thread of your heart, as if your beloved would wear it. It is to build a house with passion, as if your beloved would dwell in it. It is to sow with affection and reap with joy, as if your beloved were to taste the fruit. It is to infuse all your products with the breath of your soul. It is the awareness that all the blessed dead are around and watching you. I have often heard you whisper in your dreams: "The man who carves marble and finds the image of his soul in the stone is better than the farmer who plows the field." noble. "The man who captures the rainbow, and uses it to paint a figure of man on a piece of fabric, is better than the man who makes shoes." But I say,--not in sleep, but at noon's extra waking: the voice of the wind when it speaks to the tall oak, No sweeter than when it speaks to the slender grass, A man is great who can turn the wind into song, and sweeten it with his love. Labor is visible love. If you cannot labor with love, but are bored, you might as well give up your labor and sit at the gates of the temples, waiting for alms from those who enjoy labor. If you bake bread without zeal, your bread will be bitter and half full. If you press the grapes with difficulty, your wrath drips venom into the wine.If ye can sing like angels but do not love to sing, ye have blocked the ears of men to hear the voice of day and night. joy and sorrow Tell us about joy and sorrow, said a woman. He replied: Unmasked, your joys are your sorrows. From the same well that your tears have filled, your joy wells up. Could it be otherwise? The deeper the scars that sorrow carves upon you, the more joy you can hold. Is it not the cups that were once tempered in the potter's fire, now filled with your grapes? Is it not the trees that were once emptied by swords that are now lutes that soothe your soul? When you are rejoicing, look into your hearts, and you will find that what brings you joy now is what brought you sorrow in the first place. When you are sad, look into your own hearts again, and you will find that what brings you sorrow now is what brought you joy in the first place. Some of you say, "There is more joy than sorrow." And some of you say, "No, sorrow is more than joy." But I say to you, they are inseparable. They come together, and when one sits with you alone, remember that the other is sleeping in your bed. Indeed, you are like a scale that swings between sorrow and joy. Only when you are completely empty will you be still, balanced. When the Keeper of the Treasure weighs his gold and silver with you, it must take your joys and sorrows to rise and fall. living room A mason came up and said: Please tell us about the living room. He replied: Before you build your house within the walls, use your imagination to build a gazebo in the wilderness. Just as you have a home when twilight falls, so should the distant and lonely wanderer in your heart. Your house is a larger shell of you. It grows in the sun, sleeps in the silence of night, and that sleep is not heavenly.Is your room dreamless?they don't Want to get away from the city and go to the forest or the mountains? I would gather your houses into my hands, and scatter them like sowing seeds in the forests and pastures. I would that the valleys be your streets, and the green paths your alleys, so that you might visit each other through the vineyards, and your garments smell of the earth. However, this is difficult to achieve. Out of fear, your ancestors brought you too close together.This fear will persist for some time, and your walls will continue to separate your families from your lands for some time. Tell me, people of Orphalias, what is in your houses?What do you guard with closed doors? Have you peace, that quiet impulse that shows your strength? Do you have memories, those looming bridges to the mountains of the mind? Have you beauty, the guide that guides souls from wood and stone to holy mountains? Tell me, can you have these in your living room? Could it be that there was nothing but ease and the desire for it--that furtive thing that enters a house as a guest, becomes a master, and becomes the head of the family? Alas, it turns itself into a tamer again, making puppets of your greater desires with bait and whip. Although its hands are like silk, its heart is like iron. It tempts you to sleep, just to stand by your couch and mock the dignity of your flesh. It mocks your sane consciousness, placing them like fragile vessels under thistle wool. Indeed, the desire for ease kills the affections of the soul, and it laughs at funerals. But you, children of the universe, motion in stillness, you should not be trapped, you should not be tamed. Your dwellings should not be anchors, but masts. It should not be a shiny membrane covering a wound, but an eyelid that protects the eye. You should not hold your wings back to walk through a door, bow your head to avoid hitting the ceiling, or hold your breath for fear that the walls will crack and collapse. You should not dwell in the graves that the dead make for the living. For all the splendor of your mansions, they cannot hide your secrets, nor conceal your desires. For the infinity within you dwells in the heavenly palace, which has the morning mist as its door, and the night's song and silence as its window. clothing One of the weavers said, please tell us about the clothes. He replied: Your clothes hide much of your beauty, but not your ugliness. Though you seek the freedom of privacy in your clothes, what you find is bondage and bondage. May you meet the sunshine and the breeze with your skin instead of clothes, For there is the breath of life in the sun, and the hand of life in the wind. Some of you say, "It is the north wind that weaves the clothes we wear." I said, yes, indeed the north wind, But it uses shyness as its loom, and its delicate tendons as its yarn. Once it's done its job, it laughs in the woods. Do not forget that shyness is a shield against unclean eyes. If there is no evil, what is shyness but spiritual bondage and dirt? And don't forget, too, that the earth loves to feel your bare feet, and the wind longs to play with your hair. trade A merchant said, please talk to us about business. He replied: The earth is fruitful for you, if you don't understand, don't hold your hands full. You should experience prosperity and satisfaction in exchanging the gifts of the earth. But this exchange, if it is not carried out in the benevolence and justice of love, will lead to the greed of some and the hunger of others. In the marketplace, you who toiled the sea, the fields, and the orchards, met the weavers, potters, and spice gatherers... Then ask the sovereign spirit of the earth to come among you, and sanctify for you the weights and measures and the laws of valuation. Let not those who come empty-handed join your trade, who will exchange your labours for empty words. Say to these people: "Go with us to plow the field, or go with our brothers to cast a net at sea; For the land and sea are as generous to you as they are to us. " If singers, dancers, and pipers also come to the market-buy their gifts likewise. For they also gather fruit and frankincense, and what they bring, though woven of dreams, is food and clothing for your souls. When you leave the bazaar, check to see if anyone has returned empty-handed. For the master spirit of the earth will not rest in the wind until the needs of the least of you are met. crime and punishment A judge in the city came forward and said, Please tell us about crime and punishment. He replied: When your souls are blown by the wind, You have mistreated yourself by alone and unintentionally anchoring others. For the faults committed, you must knock at the door of the Blessed One, and be left in the cold for a moment's waiting. Your divine selves are like the sea; Never be tarnished. And like the sky, it lifts only the winged ones. Your divine self is even like the sun; It does not follow the paths of rats, nor the caves of worms and snakes. Yet there is not only divinity in you. Most of you are human, but much is not human, Rather, it is an unformed dwarf, sleepwalking in the mist, seeking his own awakening. What I say now is for the humanity in you. For it alone, and not your divinity or the dwarves of the fog, can understand crime and punishment. I have often heard you accuse someone of making a mistake, as if he were not one of you, but a stranger among you, an intruder in your world. But I want to say that even a great sage cannot be higher than the Supreme within each of you, In the same way, even if the wicked are weak, they cannot be lower than the lowest in you. Like a solitary leaf that does not wither and yellow without the acquiescence of the whole tree, Behind the rampage of the perpetrators is not without the hidden promise of all of you. You advance like a procession to your divinity, You are the way and the walkers. When one of you stumbles, he stumbles for those behind, making them take heed of the stumbling stone. Oh, and he also stumbled for the sake of those before him, who, though light and firm in their step, did not remove the stumbling block. And, though it weighs heavily on your hearts: The slain was not entirely free from responsibility for his killing, The robbed is not blameless for being robbed. Those who do good and obey the law are not innocent in the evil deeds of the wicked. A man with clean hands is not necessarily innocent of the crimes committed by the perpetrator. Indeed, the convicted are often the victims of the dead, More often, the condemned bear the burden of the innocent and impunity. You cannot mix justice with injustice.separate good from evil; For they stand side by side in the sun, like black and white threads woven together. When the black thread breaks, the weaver should inspect the whole fabric, and he should also inspect the loom. If you bring an unfaithful wife to court, weigh her husband's heart in scales, and his soul by the same standard. Let him who flogs the criminal look into the soul of the victim. If, in the name of justice, you punish and cast an ax upon the tree of evil, look also at the roots of that tree; In fact, you will find that roots of good and roots of evil, roots of sterility and roots of fertility, intertwine in the silent heart of the earth. And you judges who try to do justice, What is the sentence for the man who is faithful in body but a thief in spirit? And what punishment will be given to those who injure another's body when in reality they themselves suffer mentally? How do you prosecute a person who has committed fraud or oppression but who has been violated and abused? And how do you punish those who are bitterly remorseful, and tormented more than their faults? Is not remorse just the justice of the laws you serve? You cannot lay remorse upon the innocent, nor spare the sinner from the torment of remorse. It comes uninvited, it calls in the middle of the night, and people wake up and examine themselves. As for you who try to understand justice, how can you understand justice unless you look at all actions in the most clear light? Only then will you understand that what rises and what sinks is but the same one standing in the twilight of its dwarf night and divine day. And the cornerstones of the temple are not higher than the lowest cornerstone. law Then a lawyer said, but what about our laws, master? He replied: You gladly legislate, But more than happy to destroy them. Like children playing by the sea, they tirelessly build sand towers and destroy them with a smile. But when you build sand towers, the sea brings more sand to the beach, And when you destroy the sand towers, the sea laughs with you. Indeed, the sea always plays with the innocent. But what about those whose life is not an ocean, and man-made laws are not sand towers? What about those who carve out life as a rock, law as a knife, and themselves as their archetype? What about the disability of the jealous dancer? What about the bull who likes to yoke and regards the deer in the woods as a wanderer? What about a shameless old snake who cannot shed its skin and calls another's nakedness? What about those who come early to the wedding feast, fed and weary, and declare that all feasting is a blasphemy of the law, and that all who attend are lawbreakers? What can I say of such people, except that they stand in the sun with their backs turned away? They see only their own shadow, which is their law. What is the sun to them but a projector? Is it admitted that the law is but the shadow cast on the earth by the bowed and bowed? If you walk towards the sun, how can the shadow cast on the earth hold you back? If you walk with the wind, what vane will show you the way? How can man-made laws bind you, if you do not break the chains before others come? If you danced without breaking anyone's chains, what law should you fear? Who will bring you to court if you tear off your garments and leave them in no one's path? Men of Orphalias, you may muffle the drums and loosen the strings, but who can forbid the larks to sing?