The Truth of Who We Are

"The Dream That Must Be Interpreted"

(credit : Une Hirondelle)

This place is a dream.
Only a sleeper considers it real.

Then death comes like dawn,
and you wake up laughing
at what you thought was your grief.

But there's a difference with this dream.
Everything cruel and unconscious
done in the illusion of the present world,
all that does not fade away
at the death-waking.

It stays,
and it must be interpreted.

All the mean laughing,
all the quick, sexual wanting,
those torn coats of Joseph,
they change into powerful wolves
that you must face.

The retaliation that sometimes comes now,
the swift, payback hit,
is just a boy's game
to what the other will be.

You know about circumcision here.
It's full castration there!

And this groggy time we live,
this is what it's like:
A man goes to sleep in the town
where he has always lived,
and he dreams he's living in another town.

In the dream, he doesn't remember
the town he's sleeping in his bed in.
He believes the reality of the dream town.

The world is that kind of sleep.

The dust of many crumbled cities
settles over us like a forgetful dose,
but we are older than those cities.

We began as a mineral.
We emerged into plant life,
and into the animal state,
and then into being human,
and always we have forgotten our former states,
except in early spring
when we slightly recall
being green again.

That's how a young person
turns toward a teacher.
That's how a baby leans toward the breast,
without knowing the secret of its desire,
yet turning instinctively.

Humankind is being led along
an evolving course, through
this migration of intelligences,
and though we seem to be sleeping,
there is an inner wakefulness
that directs the dream,

and that will eventually startle us
back to the truth of who we are.

(credit : shadowness)

  Mathnawi IV, 3628-3652, 3654-3667
Version by Coleman Barks
"The Essential Rumi"
HarperSanFrancisco, 1995

Isn't this like our dreams?

FROM BOX TO BOX

Don't weep.

The joy that has gone

will come round again in another form

Have no doubt about this!

A child's first joy

comes from its mother's milk;

After the child is weaned

his joy comes from drinking sweet wine.

This supreme joy has no resting place

It enters one form then another,

from box to box - an eternal movement

between heaven and earth.

Here it comes, pouring down from the sky,

seeping into the earth,

and rising up again as a bed of roses.

Now it is water, now a plate of rice,

Now the swaying trees, now a horse and rider.

It lies within these forms for awhile

then bursts forth to become something new.

(The Mystic's Dream by PinkyPinkee on deviantART)

Isn't this like our dreams?

The body sleeps

while the soul moves on

to take other forms.

You say,

I dreamt I was a cypress, a bed of tulips,

the blossoms of roses and jasmines.

Then the soul returns, and you wake up

the cypress is gone, the roses are gone.

I tell you truly,

everything you now see

will vanish like a dream.

I do not mean to trouble you, O friend,

with words so bold as these.

Perhaps you will only listen to God.

He speaks more gently than I.

But how will you ever hear Him with

All that blathering going on?

Everyone is speaking about golden bread

yet no one has ever tasted it!

O my soul, where can I find rest

but in the shimmering love of his heart?

Where can I see the pure light of the Sun

but in the eyes of my own Shams-e Tabriz?

Version by Jonathan Star 

"A Garden Beyond Paradise: The Mystical Poetry of Rumi"

Bantam Books, 1992

New Year - Let's Have A Dream

Wishing all the readers, HAPPY NEW YEAR 2010.

This new chapter, another new linear year, let us have a dream.  Let's wake up and dream.

Now, let's talk about dreams...!

Ever dreamed that you were being chased by something frightening? Being chased by a tiger, perhaps? Or something called a ghost?

(image credit : rohit)

Did you remember the dream well enough to describe it after you awake? Did you remember the colour of the dream? Or was it colourless? Or could not even tell whether the dream was colourless or colourful? Could not tell if it was colourless even !!

When awakened from the dream, did you feel the heart thumping, perhaps you were sweating too?

Let us ponder...

Who was having a dream ?

In the dream, who saw you being chased by the tiger ? (take your time now and perhaps you want to read the question again)

Who saw You ? saw Who ? Who again, was watching you being chased ? !!

Who felt and experienced the fright moments ? You again ?

Who was then, sweating ? well.. You ?

Who was there sleeping in the bed ? You ?

So... which one is (or are)... YOU? 

Thou Art the Sky and the Deep Sea 

When you fall asleep,
you go from the presence of yourself
into your own true presence.
You hear something and surmise that
someone else in your dream has secretly informed you.
You are not a single "you."
No, you are the sky and the deep sea.
Your mighty "Thou," which is nine hundredfold,
is the ocean,

the drowning place of a hundred "thou's" within you.

 Mathnawi III: 1300-1303, Version by Camille and Kabir Helminski,
"Rumi: Jewels of Remembrance", Threshold Books, 1996 

image credit : ManiacWorld

"I am He whom I love,

and He whom I love is I:

We are two spirits...

dwelling in one body.

If thou seest me,

thou seest Him,

And if thou seest Him,

thou seest us both.

(al-Hallaj)

I'd like to end this post with a song and lyrics from my favorite artist, M. Nasir.

Di Balik Cermin Mimpi

Di balik cermin mimpi

Aku melihat engkau
Di dalam engkau
Aku melihat aku

Ternyata kita adalah sama

Di arena mimpi yang penuh bermakna

Bila bulan bersatu dengan mentari

Bayang-bayang ku hilang

Di selebungi kerdip nurani

Mencurah kasih, kasih murni

Mencurah kasih

Di balik cermin, cermin mimpi

Adalah realiti yang tidak kita sedari

Hanya keyakinan dapat merestui

Hakikat cinta yang sejati

Hakikat cinta yang sejati

Dengan tersingkapnya tabir siang
Wajah kita jelas terbayang

Dan terpecah cermin mimpi

Menjadi sinar pelangi

Pelangi

and one more from Rumi.....

The Beloved is all, the lover just a veil.

The Beloved is living, the lover a dead thing.

If Love withholds its strengthening care,

the lover is left like a bird without wings.

How will I be awake and aware if the light of the Beloved is absent?

Love wills that this Word be brought forth.

If you find the mirror of the heart dull,

the rust has not been cleared from its face. 

(Mathnawi: I:30-34, Version by Camille & Kabir Helminski,

"Rumi: Daylight", Threshold Books, 1994)