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Jalaladin Muhammad Balkhi<\/a>, the wondrous Jalaladin Rumi was born on this day, the 30th of September, in 1207.<\/p>\n I write about him every once in a while. Here, for instance, I devoted a whole dharma talk<\/a> to him, for instance.<\/p>\n In 2007 he got a lot of press as \u201cAmerica\u2019s most beloved poet.\u201d And you know, he probably still is.<\/p>\n Rumi was a Muslim theologian, sometimes these days people slide over this fact, as well as a mystic celebrating the nondual. The Mevlevi Sufi Order, the so-called Whirling Dervishes, was founded by his son as a way to convey Rumi\u2019s mystical teachings over the generations.<\/p>\n Super, super important.<\/p>\n Among the many, many interesting things about him is the at least apparently homoerotic subtext to his mystical writings. His teacher was the controversial wander madzub, Shams Tabrizi. And it was this encounter, as intimate as intimate can be, that opened Rumi\u2019s heart.<\/p>\n Tabriz was disreputable, totally outside the bounds of the society that Rumi was a pillar of. This intimacy, whatever the best word for it is, centered Rumi opening to a madzub. The universalist Sufi master Inayat Khan describes the madzub:<\/p>\n \u201cT<\/a>he fifth form in which a person who lives the inner life appears is a strange form, a form which very few people can understand. He puts on the mask of innocence outwardly to such an extent that those who do not understand may easily consider him unbalanced, peculiar, or strange. He does not mind about it, for the reason that it is only his shield. If he were to admit before humanity the power that he has, thousands of people would go after him, and he would not have one moment to live his inner life. <\/em><\/p>\n \u201cThe enormous power that he possesses governs inwardly lands and countries, controlling them and keeping them safe from disasters such as floods and plagues, and also wars; keeping harmony in the country or in the place in which he lives; and all this is done by his silence, by his constant realization of the inner life. To a person who lacks deep insight he will seem a strange being. <\/em><\/p>\n \u201cIn the language of the East he is called Madzub. That same idea was known to the ancient Greeks and traces of it are still in existence in some places, but mostly in the East. There are souls to be found today in the East, living in this garb of a self-realized man who shows no trace outwardly of philosophy or mysticism or religion, or any particular morals; and yet his presence is a battery of power, his glance most inspiring, there is a commanding expression in his looks; and if he ever speaks, his word is the promise of God. What he says is truth; but he rarely speaks a word, it is difficult to get a word out of him; but once he has spoken, what he says is done.<\/em>\u201d<\/p>\n Whatever else, a madzub is a disruptive person, a part of the mystical current and in general a problem for the religious.\u00a0That the scholar Rumi was so entranced and so devoted that one can see an erotic side to it, well, that was a problem then. And, it continues to be a problem for some to this day.<\/p>\n Here something outside boundaries was burning. Is burning.<\/p>\n For me as a person on the Zen way, another of his challenging gifts is that he encounters the nondual in a totally personal way. For him the intimated the place where self and other are burned away, is an expression of love. The nondual as love, lover, and beloved.<\/p>\n So different. And yet, not different at all.<\/p>\n Rumi\u2019s most popular presenter in North America Coleman Barks<\/a> has been dragged over the coals for not in fact knowing Persian. Similarly, and I\u2019m stretching for the right word, as there has never been anything hidden about these facts, allegations, revelations, whatever, have been made regarding Stephen Mitchell\u2019s famous version of the Tao Te Ching<\/em>.<\/p>\n In both cases poets of some skill, and with their own insight into the intimate, steeped in mystical traditions if not their languages, have taken literal translations and given us lovely and compelling versions of remarkable writings.<\/p>\n In Barks case, he has generally enjoyed more gratitude for his work<\/a> than criticism, even receiving an honorary doctorate from the University of Tehran. And, absolutely, those who do fall in love with Rumi (or the Tao Te Ching<\/em>), should go on to other translators<\/a>, which will cast additional shades of a larger understanding\u2026<\/p>\n However we\u2019re introduced to him, Rumi shines through as an amazing personality, as a pointer of the way into the paths of heart.\u00a0And, definitely should be counted among the pantheon of the world\u2019s spiritual guides.<\/p>\n Which brings me in conclusion to his\u00a0poem the Guest House. It is a perennial favorite of Insight and Zen practitioners as it captures much of the heart of the practices of intimacy. I love it.<\/p>\n I shared these a few months back, but as a small birthday present, here they are again. Three versions of the poem. One is a full on scholarly and frankly dry translation. The other two more creative efforts at capturing the heart of the matter.<\/p>\n Each worth a read.<\/p>\n All worth reading one after the other\u2026<\/p>\n ***<\/p>\n So. First, here\u2019s a translation of the text by the scholar Reynold Nicholson, from his Mathnawi of Jalalu\u2019ddin Rumi, published by \u201cThe Trustees of E.J.W. Gibb Memorial\u201d by Luzac, 1977:<\/p>\n This body, O youth, is a guest-house: every morning a new<\/em> Every day, too, at every moment a (different) thought comes,<\/em>
\nguest comes running (into it).<\/em>
\nBeware, do not say, \u201cThe (guest) is a burden to me,\u201d for<\/em>
\npresently he will fly back into non-existence.<\/em>
\nWhatsoever comes into thy heart from the invisible world is<\/em>
\nthy guest: entertain it well!<\/em><\/p>\n
\nlike an honoured guest, into thy bosom.<\/em>
\nO (dear) soul, regard thought as a person, since (every) person<\/em>
\nderives his worth from thought and spirit.<\/em>
\nIf the thought of sorrow is waylaying (spoiling) joy, (yet) it<\/em>
\nis making preparations for joy.<\/em>
\nIt violently sweeps thy house clear of (all) else, in order that<\/em>
\nnew joy from the source of good may enter in.<\/em>
\nIt scatters the yellow leaves from the bough of the heart, in<\/em>
\norder that incessant green leaves may grow.<\/em>
\nIt uproots the old joy, in order the new delight may march<\/em>
\nin from the Beyond.<\/em>
\nSorrow pulls up the crooked rotten (root), in order that it may<\/em>
\ndisclose the root that is veiled from sight.<\/em>
\nWhatsoever (things) sorrow may cause to be shed from the<\/em>
\nheart or may take away (from it), assuredly it will bring better<\/em>
\nin exchange.<\/em><\/p>\n