Mortal never won to view thee,
Yet a thousand lovers woo thee;
Not a nightingale but knows
In the rose-bud sleeps the rose.
Love is where the glory falls
Of thy face: on convent walls
Or on tavern floors the same
Where the turban’d anchorite
Chanteth Allah day and night,
Church-bells ring the call to prayer,
And the Cross of Christ is there.
Hafiz – “Persian Poems” – R.A. Nicholson
“The true mystic goes in and out amongst the people and eats and sleeps with them and buys and sells in the market and marries and takes part in social intercourse, and never forgets God for a single moment.”—Abu Sa’id
Prayer of the Heart in Christian and Sufi MysticismGuiding the reader through the stages of mystical prayer—a way to create a living relationship with the Divine within the heart—this book draws upon Christian and Sufi sources such as St. Teresa of Avila, ‘Attâr, St. John of the Cross, and Rûmî. Llewellyn Vaughan-Lee describes the stages of prayer: how prayer is first born of need, but then takes one deep within the heart, into the stages of union and ecstasy. Through mystical prayer, one is drawn into the silence of real communion with God. Here, in the silence within the heart, a meeting and merging takes place that carries one beyond the self into the mystery of divine presence. This exploration delves into the secret of how to pray without ceasing, in which prayer becomes alive within the heart, and includes a chapter on the need to pray for the well-being of the Earth. It brings together the Christian and Sufi mystical traditions and will benefit any practitioner of prayer who is drawn to discover a relationship with God within their heart.
I multiplied myself to feel myself,
To feel myself I had to feel everything,
I overflowed, I did nothing but spill out,
I undressed, I yielded,
And in each corner of my soul there’s an altar to a different god.
— Fernando Pessoa, “Time’s Passage.”
“I want to be
in love with you
the same way
i am in
love with the moon
with the light
out of its soul.”
― Sanober Khan
O Lord of love and kindness, who created the beautiful earth and all the creatures walking and flying in it, so that they may proclaim your glory. I thank you to my dying day that you have placed me amongst them.’
– St Francis of Assisi
“Care of the soul means respecting its emotions and fantasies, however objectionable. Reading the story of Tristan and Isolde, we are caught in the vise between affirmation of their intense love and repugnance in the face of their deceptions. George Bataille, the extraordinary French writer who has long spoken for the dark passages in the soul’s journey, says that every love involves a transgression. Soul is to be found in the vicinity of taboo. In stories, movies, biographies, and news accounts we are fascinated by the many illicit conjunctions and tragic deceptions of love.
One of the difficulties in care of the soul is to recognize the necessity of pathos and tragedy. If we view love only from a high moralistic or hygienic peak, we will overlook its soul settling in the valleys. When we reflect on the tragedies of our own loves, when we slowly find our way through their miseries, we are being initiated into the mysterious ways of the soul. Love is the means of entry and our guide. Love keeps us on the labyrinthine path. If we can honor love as it presents itself, taking steps and directions we would never have predicted or desired, then we are on the way toward discovering the lower levels of the soul, where meaning and value reveal themselves slowly and paradoxically. There we become like Tristan, sailing trustingly toward fate, while plucking the strings of our own resources. Tristan is a religious figure, a monk on the spiritual path to love. Consistently he displays his attitude of complete trust. He is always in baptism, always being named, always in touch with the waters of his origination and sustenance. Being so close to himself, he finds the completion of his spirited nature in the impossibilities of love. Wit and impossibility meet continually as his fate unfolds, a pattern that may take form in the loves of any of us.
If we see Tristan as a figure of our sadness in love, and not as a literal representative of its absolute failure, then we have an image that respects love’s dark depths as well as its brilliant heights. When love’s sadness visits us, that is Tristan floating on his skiff, trusting and yet moving ever closer to the tragic side of life that redeems his light spirit. It isn’t necessary to take a pill or search out a therapeutic strategy to dismiss the feeling, because to dismiss that feeling is to banish an important soul visitor. The soul apparently needs amorous sadness. It is a form of consciousness that brings its own unique wisdom.”—Thomas Moore, Care of the Soul