Over the last few weekend I have seen and felt such a strong flow of feeling for Dr Javad Nurbakhsh. I have experienced darvishes at both extremes, extreme happiness that he is finally free from the trappings of a moral coil, or those immensely saddened that the Master has transitioned.
I remember a very beautiful poem was read taken from Rumi Diwan-e Shams-e Tabriz-i .
When I am finally buried in my grave
Do not imagine I feel any more pain.
Don’t weep tears for me or lament
(If you’re trapped here with demons, then lament!)
When you can see my hearse pull slowly away
Don’t cry out “Separation!”
For at that moment is the final meeting
When I will join the ones of the deity.
And when you lower me in my grave, don’t say “Farewell!”
Hiding our heavenly reunion, the grave is just a viel.
You’ve seen me lowered, but I will rise up soon –
Does setting spoil the sun? Does waning weaken the moon?
It looks like sunset now; in fact it’s sunrise:
This grave will free my soul, so it can fly.
Once seeds are planted they will quickly sprout;
This human seed will rise up too – why should anyone doubt?
The pail is not drawn empty from your well.
So why lament the well of Joseph’s handsome soul?
After you close your mouth to this world, first wait,
Then open it with a scream of joy beyond all time and space.
In all my experience occult and mystical I have learned that it is only ourselves that are a barrier to any act pure and sincere. The world just beyond this one, isn’t forbidden to us. it is only forbidden to those of us who would pollute it with our avarice, greed, and love for the intransient and material world. Believing that this world is forbidden makes it forbidden and thus closes our hearts to it.
For me nothing keeps us seperated from pantheon of great souls that have gone onwards in the journey other than our sometimes smug assurance that death is the final answer to human life. Nurbakhsh is as alive as always, even more so now that he doesnt have a body to shackle him to this realm of limitations.
In the depths of meditation, and Zekr, and all true spiritual practice we are all unified; the past the present are all fictitious demarkations in the movie that is our life. We all remember being in a school play. After the play was over we didnt lament for the characters we played at being for a short time. We gladly went home to our real life.
I hope that we all at some point can prolong those glimpses of the real life that we are assailed with every day through the smiles and laughter of friends, through our own tears and those of our neighbors and all the multitude of forms experience and being can take and not have to wait till we are buried to utter that cry of joy