Monday, July 24, 2006

...Ascension to Grihastha...

To Grihastha, yes.
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But only in flowery 'spiritual' terms. My own religious scruples dictate me towards a more practical demeanor and I celebrate both rides, flowery and the real one. So, a sailor you are… and a sailor I am. And here we are, with our own pretty little festival of our fanciful Noah’s ark. And yet, here we are, soul-sailors riding out of the non-physical land that will succumb to dust behind us? Temple by temple, pillar by pillar, ash by ash, flame by flame . . .


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Shams Tabraiz asked, "Who is greater, Muhammad or Bestami?"
Rumi replied cautiously, "Muhammad."
"But Bestami said 'I am the Glory!' Muhammad said, 'I cannot praise You enough!'”
Rumi fainted under the force of the question from the strange dervish. When he recovered, he uttered, "Bestami had a glimpse of knowledge and took it for the totality. But for Muhammad the divine glory was continually unfolding."
And Shams knew he had found his worthy disciple.

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There, sailors! That is what ye all need to know for your Grihastha trip. The magic of perpetual amazement and continuous unfolding and the fluid expanse of all that we may never see in its entirety. That we must restrain from even wanting to see in its entirety. God ordained this journey on Noah’s ark, don’t think about what lays beyond. Think of the ark itself, of the companions.

Of the companion.