Rumi says:
On the day I die, don’t weep.
Don’t say she’s gone/he’s gone.
Death has nothing to do with going away.
The moon sets and the sun sets,
but they’re not gone.
Death is a coming together.
The human seed goes down into the ground
like a bucket,
and come up with some unimaginable beauty!
Your mouth closes here
and immediately opens
with a shout of joy there!
Whether we understand these words literally or metaphorically, Rumi’s message to us is that there is nothing to fear in death. We merge with unimaginable beauty–light with light.
As Andrew Harvey has said, the death of a spiritual leader is often his or her last teaching. Rumi died fearlessly, neither hastening or resisting his body’s process. In death, he seemed to say, it’s only the ego, the persona that is lost. The soul continues its glorious journey.
In one of Coleman Barks’ translations of a Rumi poem, death is the family darling coming home at last, or the red glint in the cliff which turns at last to rubies. When we internalize these teachings, our fear of death dissolves, and we are free.
I have been blessed with personal and very unique experience that convinced me that what lies beyond death is beauty beyond measure. I understand that this cannot be proven, and that many will find it foolish, wishful thinking. I cannot explain my certainty. It is not a “belief,” and it is not based on a particular religious teaching. My confidence about this matter comes from grace–”amazing grace.” This sense of peace and comfort can come to anyone who seeks it out. One thing I’ve learned about matters of faith and spirituality is that usually we must ask for the gifts available to us. Asking is the act which opens the door. I do not know why this is so, but for me it has been.
What is the soul?
Rumi says:
All day I think about it,
and 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.
This drunkenness began in some other tavern,
and when I get back around to that place
I’ll be completely sober.
Meanwhile, I’m like a bird from another continent,
sitting in this aviary.
The day is coming
when I’ll fly off.
But who is it in my ear who hears my voice?
Who sees out from my eyes?
Who says words with my mouth?
What is the soul?
I cannot stop asking!
If I could take one sip of an answer
I could break out of his prison for drunks.
I did not come here of my own accord,
and I can’t leave that way.
Whoever brought me here
will have to take me home.
This poetry….I never know what I’m going to say,
I don’t plan it.
When I’m outside the saying of it,
I grow quiet
and hardly speak at all.
Rumi reminds us that our spiritual journey is the core of everything that matters–the questions, the uncertainties, the suffering, the joy. How can we come to terms with loss, with aging and with death? How can our we free ourselves from our childhood wounds? How can we find meaning in even the disappointing areas of our lives? How can we make a difference? How can we serve? How can we learn to choose joy over angst?
When Rumi’s death was near, he was fearless and accepting. “Have patience old Earth, ” he said. “You’ll get your sweet morsel soon.”
Rumi taught us to love every aspect of our lives–our dramas, our pain, our struggles, and yes, our deaths. Enlightened peace comes as we learn to cherish the beauty of this moment, this challenge, this journey and its end.
If you long for peace and courage about death, read and study Rumi, as translated by Coleman Barks. Read Rumi everyday for 100 days, and ask for that courage. Ask and you shall receive. It comes through grace.
Rumi says:
One morning I went to a place beyond dawn,
a source of sweetness which flows and is never less.
I have been shown a beauty beyond imagining….
We have baskets of fresh bread upon our heads, yet
we go door to door asking for crusts….
We’re like pearls in the shell on the bottom of the ocean
saying Where’s the water?
….These mental questionings form the barrier.
Beg for love expansion!
Meditate only upon that.
The great teachers speak as in one voice: that which we need is already here, already within us, already present in the human, animal and natural beauty all around us.
To those fighting on distant battlefields right now–blessings! We at home surround you with our prayers. To those in actual prisons or the prison of isolation from others–blessings. To those facing illness and death–blessings! All of us will follow you when our time comes. There is nothing to fear!
To those many who are suffering with the lonliness this season can produce–blessings! We need not measure our families and the success of our lives by these few days when images of the perfect families we imagine in other households plague us. I have found the best answer to my own holiday pain is to reach out and serve those less fortunate. Giving the gifts of time and kindness to the needy is the best remedy for all my longings for the old-fashioned holidays of my youth.
Blessings to you, dear visitor. Pass it on!
Rumi says:
Don’t grieve. Everything you lose comes round
in another form.
The child weaned from mother’s milk
now drinks wine and honey mixed.
God’s love flows from unmarked box
to unmarked box….
One of Rumi’s great teachings is that celebrating our pain and loss leads ultimately to joy. It’s a difficult for Western minds to grasp the idea that whatever we most resist and fear, whatever seemingly unbearable pain we must face, is actually our doorway to freedom and happiness.
Rumi teaches us that even the prospect of the reality of death can inspire courage and serenity. He says:
On the day I die, don’t say she’s gone, he’s gone.
Death has nothing to do with going away.
The sun sets and the moon sets,
but they’re not gone. Death is a coming together.
The human seed goes down into the ground
like a bucket,
and comes up with some unimagined beauty.
Your mouth closes here,
and immediately opens with a shout of joy there!
Take heart, dear visitor, and seek look for the glints of treasure in the dirt.
Blessings to you on this day!
by victorialee
Source: The Rumi Secret