"The weak lose themselves in God; the strong discover Him in themselves." ~ Allama Iqbal

Showing posts with label Data Ganj Bakhsh. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Data Ganj Bakhsh. Show all posts

Wednesday, January 1, 2014

If thou wouldst live, become full of Self!




The saint of Hajwir was venerated by the peoples,         
And Pir-i-Sanjar visited his tomb as a pilgrim,      
With ease he broke down the mountain barriers             
And sowed the seed of Islam in India.   
The age of Omar was restored by his godliness.
The fame of the Truth was exalted by his words.             
He was a guardian of the honour of the Koran. 
The house of Falsehood fell in ruins at his gaze.
The dust of the Punjab was brought to life by his breath,             
Our dawn was made splendid by his sun              
He was a lover, and withal, a courier of Love:     
The secrets of Love shone forth from his brow.
I will tell a story of his perfection              
And enclose a whole rose-bed in a single bud.  

A young man, cypress-tall,
Came from the town of Merv to Lahore.              
He went to see the venerable saint,      
That the sun might dispel his darkness. 
"I am hammed in," he said, "by foes;     
I am as a glass in the midst of stones.     
Do thou teach me, O sire of heavenly rank,        
How to lead my life amongst enemies!"               

The wise Director, in whose nature 
Love had allied beauty with majesty,     
Answered: "Thou art unread in Life's lore,           
Careless of its end and its beginning.     
Be without fear of others!          
Thou art a sleeping force: awake!            
When the stone thought itself to be glass,          
It became glass and got into the way of breaking.            
If the traveller thinks himself weak,       
He delivers his soul unto the brigand.    
How long wilt thou regard thyself as water and clay?      
Create from thy clay a flaming Sinai!       
Why be angry with mighty men?             
Why complain of enemies?        
I will declare the truth: thine enemy is thy friend:            
His existence crowns thee with glory.    
Whosoever knows the states of the Self              
Considers a powerful enemy to be a blessing from God.              
To the seed of Man the enemy is -as a rain-cloud:           
He awakens its potentialities.    
If thy spirit be strong, the stones in thy way are as water:            
What wrecks the torrent of the ups and downs of the road?      
The sword of resolution is whetted by the stones in the way,    
And put to proof by traversing stage after stage.             
What is the use of eating and sleeping like a beast?        
What is the use of being, unless thou have strength in thyself? 
When thou mak'st thyself strong with Self,         
Thou wilt destroy the world at thy pleasure.      
If thou wouldst pass away, become free of Self
If thou wouldst live, become full of Self !             
Who is death? To become oblivious to Self.        
Why imagine that it is the parting of soul and body?       
Abide in Self, like Joseph?           
Advance from captivity to empire!          
Think of Self and be a man of action       
Be a man of God, bear mysteries within!"           

I will explain the matter by means of stories,
I will open the bud by the power of my breath.
Tis better that a lover's secret   
Should be told by the lips of others.

~ Allama Iqbal (from Asrar-I-Khudi)

Wednesday, April 4, 2012

"Thou art a sleeping force: awake!"

Please allow me to share with you this bit of poetry (below) from Mawlana Rumi.  When I read it, it struck me as speaking to what I'm beginning to learn from Iqbal about humankind paying attention to itself (its self) and to the awakening of its gift. 

Iqbal writes a poem in "Secrets of the Self" (which I very much like) in which a young man goes to see the venerable saint, Data Ganj Bakhsh.  In it he writes: "Thou art a sleeping force: awake!"

The entire poem is here: http://disna.us/files/SECRETS_OF_THE_SELF.pdf

I was thinking of this poem by Iqbal while reading Rumi's poem below.

Sana'i ! If you don't find a friend, be your own
friend! In this world of every kind of man and every kind of
task, be a man for your own task!
Each member of this caravan is stealing his own
baggage - place your own self behind and sit before your
baggage!
People sell ephemeral beauty and buy
ephemeral love - pass beyond those two dry riverbeds and be
your own river!
These friends of yours keep on pulling you by
the hand toward nonexistence - steal back your hand and be
your own helper!
These beauties painted on canvas veil the
beauties of the heart - lift up the veil and enter: Be with your
own Beloved!
Be with your own Beloved and be a well-thinking,
good man! Be more than two worlds - dwell in your own
domain!
Go, do not become drunk with the wine that increases
arrogance - behold the brightness of that Face and be
soberly aware of your own Self!

~ Ghazal (Ode) 1244