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Saturday, January 22, 2011

Divine love


Divine love


I have two loves for you

That of passion and that of your merits

For the passion

I need bring to mind only you

But for the love of your merits

The universe goes unseen

While you are not before me

It is not to myself

That I must give thanks

But to you in this manifold love



Rabiah Al-Adawiyyah
(717–801)


Rābiʻa al-ʻAdawiyya al-Qaysiyya (Arabic: رابعة العدوية القيسية‎) or simply Rābiʻa al-Basrī (Arabic: رابعة البصري‎) (717–801 C.E.) was a female Muslim Sufi saint.

She was born between 95 and 99 Hijri in Basra, Iraq.

She was the fourth daughter of her family and therefore named Rabia, meaning "fourth". Although not born into slavery, her family were poor yet respected in the community.

According to Farid al-Din Attar, Rabia's parents were so poor that there was no oil in house to light a lamp, nor a cloth even to wrap her with. Her mother asked her husband to borrow some oil from a neighbor, but he had resolved in his life never to ask for anything from anyone except the Creator. He pretended to go to the neighbor's door and returned home empty-handed.

In the night, Prophet Muhammad appeared to him in a dream and told him, "Your newly born daughter is a favorite of the Lord, and shall lead many Muslims to the right path. You should approach the Amir of Basra and present him with a letter in which should be written this message: 'You offer Durood to the Holy Prophet one hundred times every night and four hundred times every Thursday night. However, since you failed to observe the rule last Thursday, as a penalty you must pay the bearer four hundred dinars '.

Rabia's father got up and went straight to the Amir with tears of joy rolling down his cheeks. The Amir was delighted on receiving the message, knowing that he was in the eyes of Prophet. He distributed 1000 dinars to the poor and joyously paid 400 dinars to Rabia's father. The Amir then asked Rabia's father to come to him whenever he required anything, as the Amir would benefit very much by the visit of such a soul dear to the Lord.

After the death of her father, a famine overtook Basra and Rabia parted from her sisters. Legend has it that she was accompanying a caravan, which fell into the hands of robbers. The chief of the robbers took Rabia captive, and sold her in the market as a slave. The new master of Rabia used to take hard service from her.

She would pass the whole night in prayer, after she had finished her household jobs. She spent many of her days observing fast.

Once the master of the house got up in the middle of the night, and was attracted by the voice in which Rabia was praying to her Lord. She was entreating in these terms:

"Lord! You know well that my keen desire is to carry out Your commandments and to serve Thee with all my heart, O light of my eyes. If I were free I would pass the whole day and night in prayers. But what should I do when you have made me a slave of a human being?"

At once the master felt that it was sacrilegious to keep such a saint in his service. He decided to serve her instead. In the morning he called her and told her his decision; he would serve her and she should dwell there as the mistress of the house. If she insisted on leaving the house he was willing to free her from bondage.

She told him that she was willing to leave the house to carry on her worship in solitude. This the master granted and she left the house.

Rabia went into the desert to pray and became an ascetic. Her murshid was Hazrat Hassan Basri.

Throughout her life, her Love of God, poverty and self-denial did not waver. They were her constant companions. She did not possess much other than a broken jug, a rush mat and a brick, which she used as a pillow. She spent all night in prayer and contemplation, chiding herself if she slept because it took her away from her active Love of God.

As her fame grew she had many disciples. She also had discussions with many of the renowned religious people of her time. Though she had many offers of marriage, and (tradition has it) one even from the Amir of Basra, she refused them as she had no time in her life for anything other than God.

More interesting than her absolute asceticism, however, is the actual concept of Divine Love that Rabia introduced. She was the first to introduce the idea that God should be loved for God's own sake, not out of fear—as earlier Sufis had done.

She taught that repentance was a gift from God because no one could repent unless God had already accepted him and given him this gift of repentance. She taught that sinners must fear the punishment they deserved for their sins, but she also offered such sinners far more hope of Paradise than most other ascetics did. For herself, she held to a higher ideal, worshipping God neither from fear of Hell nor from hope of Paradise, for she saw such self-interest as unworthy of God's servants; emotions like fear and hope were like veils—i.e. hindrances to the vision of God Himself.

Rabia was in her early to mid-eighties when she died, having followed the mystic Way to the end. She believed she was continually united with her Beloved. As she told her Sufi friends, "My Beloved is always with me" She died in Jerusalem in 185 AH.

She was the one who first set forth the doctrine of Divine Love and who is widely considered to be the most important of the early Sufi poets. The definitive work on her life and writing was a small treatise (written as a Master's Thesis) over 50 years ago by Margaret Smith .

Much of the poetry that is attributed to her is of unknown origin. After a life of hardship, she spontaneously achieved a state of self-realization. When asked by Sheikh Hasan al-Basri how she discovered the secret, she responded by stating:

"You know of the how, but I know of the how-less."

She remained celibate and died of old age, an ascetic, her only care from the disciples who followed her. She was the first in a long line of female Sufi mystics.

Friday, January 14, 2011

Literature and human destiny


In praise of reading and fiction


Literature is a false representation of life that nevertheless helps us to understand life better,
to orient ourselves in the labyrinth where we are born, pass by, and die.
It compensates for the reverses and frustrations real life inflicts on us,
and because of it we can decipher, at least partially,
the hieroglyphic that existence tends to be for the great majority of human beings,
principally those of us who generate more doubts than certainties and confess our perplexity before subjects like
transcendence, individual and collective destiny,
the soul, the sense or senselessness of history, the to and fro of rational knowledge.


Mario Vargas Llosa
In praise of reading and fiction

Nobel Lecture
December 7, 2010






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Tuesday, January 11, 2011

Blind dispute!

Blind dispute!



A man born blind comes to me and asks, "What is this thing called green?"

How does one describe the color green to someone who was born blind?

One uses analogies.

So I say, "The color green is something like soft music."

"Oh," he says, "like soft music."

"Yes," I say, "soothing and soft music.''

So a second blind man comes to me and asks, "What is the color green?"

I tell him it's something like soft satin, very soft and soothing to the touch.

So the next day I notice that the two blind men are bashing each other over the head with bottles.

One is saying, "It's soft like music";

the other is saying, "It's soft like satin."

And on it goes.

Neither of them knows what they're talking about, because if they did, they'd shut up.

It's as bad as that.

It's even worse, because one day, say, you give sight to this blind man,

and he's sitting there in the garden and he's looking all around him, and you say to him,

"Well, now you know what the color green is."

And he answers, "That's true.

I heard some of it this morning!"



Awareness
Anthony de Mello

Wednesday, January 5, 2011

The missing scrap of paper


The missing scrap of paper


There is the story about a soldier on the battlefield who would simply drop his rifle to the ground, pick up a scrap of paper lying there, and look at it.

Then he would let it flutter from his hands to the ground.

And then he'd move somewhere else and do the same thing.

So others said, "This man is exposing himself to death.

He needs help."

So they put him in the hospital and got the best psychiatrist to work on him.

But it seemed to have no effect.

He wandered around the wards picking up scraps of paper, looking at them idly, and letting them flutter to the ground.

In the end they said, "We've got to discharge this man from the army."

So they call him in and give him a discharge certificate

and he idly picks it up, looks at it, and shouts, "This is it? This is it." He finally got it.



Awareness
Anthony de Mello