You are plurality transformed into Unity, And Unity passing into Plurality; This mystery is understood men leaves the part and merges in the Whole
Shabistari from Sister Dina Kaidir
My Love…My love,
It is almost full moon.
I ring the bell,
I knock on your door,
I would not tell.
My love,
Look into my eyes,
I keep your secret,
But the shining Moon
Could not hide the Sacred.
you says.
I answer:
*I would love to kiss you,
But the price of kissing you,
Is my life.*
*...*from Rumi’s poem
My life in lay centre...
A Greek, an Arab, a Turk and a Persian once came together, and when they were hungry they pooled their money to buy something to eat. At that point a difficulty arose, however, because the Greek wanted to buy stafil, the Arab wanted to buy inab, the Persian wanted angur while the Turk wanted uzum. They began to quarrel, and at that moment a wise sage passing by interrupted them. “Tell me what you want,” he said, and taking the money from them, soon came back with some grapes. They were amazed to see that they all had wanted the same thing. So it is with human beings everywhere: although we all fundamentally want the same things, we call them by different names, and in doing so imagine they are different.
(Rumi, retold by H. Bayman)
Secret garden, o Secret garden,
Open, please, open your gate,
Let me enter!
Into the darkness, I call the Beloved,
The moonlight shines before the sunset.
Secret garden, o Secret garden,
Towards you, I could smell the fragrant
Of lovely, lovely roses and lilies,
O your white lilies of the valley,
Tell me the story of your whiteness,
The tears of the Prophetess,tears from my mothers of Heaven.
O your everlasting roses, bloom and gloom,
Tell me the story of your redness,
The blood of my Divine guides,
cups of blood from the lovers of the Beloved.
Secret garden, o Secret garden,
Hidden beneath the heart of the lovers,
The cross and the swords,
Unveil your eternal spring.
Should I kiss the feet and the head,
Reasoning fails to understand your charm,
Oh how should I share the world about you?
Nameless but the most famous in the whole universe,Take my life as the price of your key.
Secret garden, o Secret garden,
Let me not wandering anymore in this lonely,
Longing autumn, cold winter…
Have it been too short whirling before you,
Or my broken-heart is burning into your light?
Love, love, love! What can I greet you,
Not but love whose heart is suffering!
Secret garden, o Secret garden,
What is clearer than the mist,
But away, away from here your tall,
Green, infinite trees can be seen!
The root beneath the ground,
The holy wombs of all hope,
All faith, all love!
Too much, too much to say in words now,Cause not even an alphabet can bring me to you.
Secret garden, o Secret garden,
Is that the sounds of your waterfall,
Flowing river, fishes on the lake?
Never ending wishes and prayers,
They drop every life into all thirst
And hunger of Love.
When the gate is open,
There is only one, no one
But being with the One!Every one enters,
No one will not…
Then, secret o secret garden,
All will be One.
Kabir
Half moon floating in the sky,
A pond reflects upon its brilliant light.
Like my heart for you,
My mind controls but my feelings fight
Against the dust, my lost in yours,
Your coldest night.
Though the shining moon still bright
As your smile, heavenly laughter.
There is a secret for right,
That I will always whisper.
I have stolen the gems from your eyes,
Into the music box, since that night,Since you gave me the key to open,
To your hidden window, less for my sight,
Yet more towards you.
Ah, but the gems sing, I hold you tight,
I got you tight.
A lover cannot hide herself, but by her own love,
Her own flight.
Such a holy place,
Such an ancient temple,
Saints and lovers
Was here and will be here.
Into the past and into future,
I dance in the
circle by the name of Hajj Bektash,
the follower of Muhammad.
On the garden of those
Who devoted to Jesus and His Mother,
I too call the Four Divine Guides,
Greet the 12 imams,
Sing the Four Books,
And praise the Holy Mothers too.
Rome. 8-12-11.
A seeker went to ask a sage for guidance on the Sufi way.The sage counseled,"If you have never trodden the path of love, go away and fall in love; then come back and see us.
From Sufi - Fountains of Light
In our garden,
I heard her voice,
“Whirl, o whirl my daughter!
Yesterday, you saw
That tree in red,
Now you see him frozen.”
Our mothers disclose their secret vows:
They whirl and whirl,
Passing into time,
Passing into space,
“Into time, we are created to love,
Into space, we are not, but love!”
Love into Light,
Light into Words.In our garden,
There is a heavenly wedding,
The never ending party,
Of living angels and
Loving saints.
Who is not the Beloved?
What is not the Light?
What is not You, O Love?
In our garden,
My rosary falls upon the grass,
As Enoch and Elijah toast the wine.Ya Maryam, Ya Maryam
My rosary sings unto the highest trees.
Ya Isa, Ya Isa,
My rosary whirls from leaves to leaves.
Ya Muhammad, Ya Muhammad,
My rosary goes beneath the root.
Ya Zahra, Ya Zahra,
My rosary dances within the flowers.
Ya Haydar, Ya Haydar,
My rosary spins into autumn wind.
Ya Husseyn, Ya Husseyn,
My rosary cries beyond the shadows,
Ya Mahdi, Ya Mahdi,
My rosary rests upon the shade.
Again I heard her voice,
“Whirl, o whirl my daughter,
Never return.”
For I am now free
To dance alone with You.
Please, take my hand,
You have seen my eyes,
I am miserably longing
For You.
Sabbath, 3-11-2011
I met You today,
Without complains.
Again I said,
I have no choice,
But I have decided,
You.
Sabbath, 3-11-2011
The lover who saved his beloved from drowning
A girl fell in a river - in a flash her lover dived in with a mighty splash.
He fought the current till he reached her side.
When they were safe again, the poor girl cried:
"By chance I tumbled in, but why should you come after me and hazard your life too?"
He said: "I dived because the difference of "I" and "you" to lovers makes no sense.
A long time passed when we were seperate, but now we have reached a single state.
When you are me, and I am you, what use is it to talk of us as two?
Attar
"A thief entered the house of a Sufi, and found nothing there. As he was leaving, the dervish perceived his disappointment and threw him the blanket in which he was sleeping, so that he should not go away empty-handed. "
Saadi of Shiraz
You are the thief,
I was at home.
I have stolen
your light,
Before I gave you
my blanket.
Rome, 1-12-11.
Gayatri W.M or Chen Chen,
And her secrets....
Pictures taken by herself at Lay Centre at Foyer Unitas, Passionist Monastery,
except the last picture: taken by David A.G
