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"Of Noble Blood" Review

30/4/2018

Sohinee Dey is an independent publishing professional and critic for Publishers Weekly and others, and one of the top literary critics in India. She's written a very thorough and spot-on review of "Of Noble Blood"....swing over here and see if you agree. Don't forget to leave your mark :D

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Rumi: Why He Moves the World

4/3/2018

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800 years after his death, Rumi is world famous, his words bouncing from site to email to blog across the globe, his poetry touching hearts daily…

Rumi’s theme was timeless: he was driven by and wrote endlessly of love in separation, of union with his beloved, of his longing and desire to restore that union, the root of our souls, which he wrote had been cut and was the cause of all our suffering.

I want a heart which is split, part by part,
because of the pain of separation from God,
so that I might explain my longing
and complain to it.

His love for and use of music, poetry, and dance as a connection to God was deep, more reflective of an advanced and intense spiritual path than his own background gave him leave to express: a personal experience most would voice in similar ways now, 800 years later:

All day I think about it, then at night I say it.
Where did I come from, and what am I supposed to be doing?
I have no idea.
My soul is from elsewhere, I’m sure of that,
and I intend to end up there.

While often the modern trend and so-called “similar” expressions remain bound in the impersonal realm, Rumi had a specific goal: attainment of God.

You are the Essence of the Essence,
The intoxication of Love.
I long to sing your praises
but stand mute
with the agony of wishing in my heart.

300 years later, in 15th century India, Sri Chaitanya would speak of the same longing and separation. He took birth as an only child in the tiny village of Mayapur, West Bengal. Though his Vaishnava tradition, practices, background, upbringing, and surroundings all differed vastly from Rumi’s, both spoke and lived for the same purpose: to experience the intense longing and painful separation from the source of the soul that one must acquire to attain union with that very source, God.

While Rumi’s expression came through poetry and the written word, Chaitanya’s was through song and dance (which would have warmed Rumi’s Dervish heart), his life dedicated to chanting the Hare Krishna mantra and encouraging everyone, everywhere, to somehow chant the names of the Lord to reach the state of consciousness required for ultimate union with God: a process much the same as Rumi’s own love for spiritually expressive song and dance.

And in a mood that could never be disconnected from their main theme of separation and suffering in longing for their Beloved, both embraced and encouraged the pain it inevitably brought. Rumi acknowledged the pain as he would a guest, placing with delicate ease a welcome mat at his door, requesting its footprints to leave evidence of its visit, to trust the host with its presence.

This being human is a guest house
Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor. Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
Still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight… Be grateful for whoever comes
because each has been sent as a guide from beyond.

His own son, Sultan Walad, was responsible for the order of Mevlevi, which was based on Rumi’s writings and the practice of Sama: more commonly known as the “whirling dervish.” Sama embodies the mystical journey of spiritual discovery of the self, ascending through mind and body to love, to ultimately attain union with the Divine Person. One returns from this spiritual union more mature, able to love and to be of service to humanity without discrimination for religion, belief, bodily designation, class, or nation.

My head is bursting
with the joy of the unknown
My heart is expanding a thousand fold
Every cell,
taking wings
flies about the world
All seek separately
the many faces of my Beloved.

No wonder we love him so much. Rumi was what today is a difficult-to-comprehend mix of cultures and environments and influences: a Muslim Sufi theologian mystic poet. His path was unencumbered by religion, tradition, or mental perception, but borne from creative love, the urge to reunite the soul with its Divine Source, which he understood was the goal towards which everything and everyone is moving.

Dance, when you’re broken open
Dance, if you’ve torn the bandage off.
Dance in the middle of the fighting.
Dance in your blood.
Dance, when you’re perfectly free.

Rumi’s work is still read in its original Persian form in Punjabi, Sindhi, and other Pakistani languages. It gave birth to Urdu, developed under the influence of Persian, Arabic, and Turkic. It peaked during the Mughal Empire rule — whose emperors made it the official language of their court — and is still spoken in Delhi and surrounds.

So many words in the English language — words like cash, peach, lemon, orange, magic, and serendipity, along with so many others — all stem from Persian origin and perhaps serve to explain a rather elemental portion of Rumi’s longevity of fame in the western world, to help connect the ease with which millions across the globe relate with him through his words more than with possibly any other poet/writer/mystic in history; words that sprinkle our daily language and allow us to understand how much we have in common with Rumi…even in the most simple way.

Rumi’s history, unsurprisingly, is a remarkable one, but it was his meeting with dervish Shams-e Tabrizi that took him beyond the extraordinary, both in his own life and in terms of his historical contribution to poetry, mysticism, and expression. Shams traveled throughout the Middle East in the search for that person he referred to in his prayers as “someone who could endure my company.” He found him…

Rumi’s meeting with Shams was his turning point. His love for Shams and the grief he experienced over his death found their expression in his poetic outpourings, and resulted in the first of his life’s major works, Divan-e Shams-e Tabrizi.

I sleep and wake in love’s afflictions,
my heart turns on the spit of passion’s fire.
If you abandoned me to best refine me,
You are wise and I’m without you unrefined. ~ (Divan 319)

Soon after, his scribe and student, Hussam, told Rumi that if he were to write a book, it would become the companion of every troubador, and that “they would fill their hearts from your work and compose music to accompany it.” Rumi, in response, wrote the opening lines in the second of his life’s great works:

Listen to the reed and the tale it tells,
How it sings of separation…

He spent the next 12 years with Hussam, dictating the six volumes of that work, Matnawiye Ma’nawai (Spiritual Couplets), to his scribe. Those works are easy to source online or in print. Do it.

I said, please reveal this to me
I am dying in anticipation.
Love said to me,
that is where I want you:
Always on the edge,
be silent.
You dwell in this hall of
images and illusions,
leave this house now,
and be silent…

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"Of Noble Blood" Review

Rumi: Why He Moves the World

800 years after his death, Rumi is world famous, his words bouncing from site to email to blog across the globe, his poetry touching hearts daily…

I want a heart which is split, part by part,because of the pain of separation from God,so that I might explain my longingand complain to it.

All day I think about it, then at night I say it.Where did I come from, and what am I supposed to be doing?I have no idea.My soul is from elsewhere, I’m sure of that,and I intend to end up there.

You are the Essence of the Essence,The intoxication of Love.I long to sing your praisesbut stand mutewith the agony of wishing in my heart.

My head is burstingwith the joy of the unknownMy heart is expanding a thousand foldEvery cell,taking wingsflies about the worldAll seek separatelythe many faces of my Beloved.

Dance, when you’re broken openDance, if you’ve torn the bandage off.Dance in the middle of the fighting.Dance in your blood.Dance, when you’re perfectly free.

I sleep and wake in love’s afflictions,my heart turns on the spit of passion’s fire. If you abandoned me to best refine me, You are wise and I’m without you unrefined. ~ (Divan 319)

Listen to the reed and the tale it tells,How it sings of separation…

I said, please reveal this to meI am dying in anticipation.Love said to me,that is where I want you:Always on the edge,be silent.You dwell in this hall ofimages and illusions,leave this house now,and be silent…

﻿Th﻿e Library﻿

I want a heart which is split, part by part,
because of the pain of separation from God,
so that I might explain my longing
and complain to it.

All day I think about it, then at night I say it.
Where did I come from, and what am I supposed to be doing?
I have no idea.
My soul is from elsewhere, I’m sure of that,
and I intend to end up there.

You are the Essence of the Essence,
The intoxication of Love.
I long to sing your praises
but stand mute
with the agony of wishing in my heart.

My head is bursting
with the joy of the unknown
My heart is expanding a thousand fold
Every cell,
taking wings
flies about the world
All seek separately
the many faces of my Beloved.

Dance, when you’re broken open
Dance, if you’ve torn the bandage off.
Dance in the middle of the fighting.
Dance in your blood.
Dance, when you’re perfectly free.

I sleep and wake in love’s afflictions,
my heart turns on the spit of passion’s fire.
If you abandoned me to best refine me,
You are wise and I’m without you unrefined. ~ (Divan 319)

Listen to the reed and the tale it tells,
How it sings of separation…

I said, please reveal this to me
I am dying in anticipation.
Love said to me,
that is where I want you:
Always on the edge,
be silent.
You dwell in this hall of
images and illusions,
leave this house now,
and be silent…

The Library