Eric Brady

“TWENTY SMALL GRAVES

There was a woman who bore a child almost every year, but the children never lived longer

than six months. Usually after three or four months they would die. She grieved long and

publicly. "I take on the work of pregnancy for nine months, but the joy vanishes quicker

than a rainbow." Twenty children went like that, in fevers to their small graves. One night

she had a revelation. She saw the place of unconditional love, call it the garden or source

of gardens. The physical eye cannot see its unseeable light. Lamp, green flower, these

are just comparisons, so that some of the love-bewildered may catch a fragrance. The woman

saw pure grace and, drunk with the seeing, fell to the ground. Those who have the vision said

then, "This morning meal is for those who rise with sincere devotion. The tragedies you've

had came from other times when you did not take refuge." "Lord, give me more grief.

Tear me to pieces, if it leads here." She said this and walked into the presence

she had seen. Her children were all there, "Lost to me," she cried, "but not to you."

Without this great grieving no one can enter the spirit.”
― Rumi, The Soul of Rumi: A New Collection of Ecstatic Poems

“PRAYER IS AN EGG

On Resurrection Day God will say, "What did you do with the strength and energy

your food gave you on earth? How did you use your eyes?
What did you make with

your five senses while they were dimming and playing out?
I gave you hands and feet

as tools for preparing the ground for planting. Did you, in the health I gave,

do the plowing?" You will not be able to stand when you hear those questions. You

will bend double, and finally acknowledge the glory. God will say, "Lift

your head and answer the questions." Your head will rise a little, then slump

again. "Look at me! Tell what you've done." You try, but you fall back flat

as a snake. "I want every detail. Say!" Eventually you will be able to get to

a sitting position. "Be plain and clear. I have given you such gifts. What did

you do with them?" You turn to the right looking to the prophet for help, as

though to say, I am stuck in the mud of my life. Help me out of this! They

will answer, those kings, "The time for helping is past. The plow stands there in

the field. You should have used it. "Then you turn to the left, where your family

is, and they will say, "Don't look at us! This conversation is between you and your

creator." Then you pray the prayer that is the essence of every ritual: God,

I have no hope. I am torn to shreds. You are my first and last and only refuge.

Don't do daily prayers like a bird pecking, moving its head up and down. Prayer is an egg.

Hatch out the total helplessness inside.”
― Rumi, The Soul of Rumi: A New Collection of Ecstatic Poems

“Free will exists so free will can be given up freely. Such a person feels

no genuine delight if he or she is not drained empty. With all the delicious food and drink

in the world, true pleasure comes only with the extinction of pleasure and its replacement by

soul delight.

Those who have gone through fana into baqa, through annihilation into

that which has always been, become all body and all consciousness. With dissolving

begins some overwhelming joy.”
― Rumi, The Soul of Rumi: A New Collection of Ecstatic Poems

“Fana is what opens our wings, what makes boredom and hurt disappear. We break to pieces inside it, dancing and perfectly free. We are the dreamer streaming into the loving nowhere of night. Rapt, we are the devouring worm who, through grace, becomes an entire orchard, the wholeness of the trunks, the leaves, the fruit, and the growing. Fana is the dissolution just before our commotion and mad night prayers become silence. Rumi often associates surrender with the joy of falling into the freedom of sleep.”
― Coleman Barks, The Soul of Rumi: A New Collection of Ecstatic Poems