The day a great Sufi dies is called his/her wedding night. The observance of the anniversary of a sufi saint is called (in Arabic), `urs, which means “wedding,” because the saint is believed to have attained “union” (or utmost nearness together with other saints and the prophets) with God, the Only Beloved.
I like to comfort myself sometimes by imagining that all dervishes when they die, finally have the veils removed, and they stand face to face with the Friend. I would like to hold on to that thought a bit longer for a darvish who has recently passed. She lived a long and full life and was very very sweet person. I never in the few times I saw her over the last 3 years talked with her, and luckily I didn’t need to because the connection we shared was one were no words were required
As mystics we know death is an illusion but it doesn’t take away the sadness.
________
NO ROOM FOR FORM
On the night when you cross the street
From your shop and your house
To the cemetery You’ll hear me hailing you from inside
The open grave, and you’ll realize
How we’ve always been together.
I am the clear consciousness-core
Of your being, the same in
Ecstasy as in self-hating fatigue.
That night, when you escape your fear of snakebite
And all irritations with the ants, you’ll hear
My familiar voice, see the candle being lit,
Smell the incense, the surprise meal fixed
By the lover inside all your other lovers.
This heart tumult is my signal
to you igniting in the tomb.
So don’t fuss with the shroud
And the graveyard dust.
Those get ripped open and washed away
In the music of our final meeting.
And don’t look for me in human shape,
I am inside your looking. No room
For form with love this strong.
Beat the drum and let the poets speak.
This is the day of purification for those who
Are already mature and initiated into what love is.No need to wait until we die!
There’s more to want here than money
And being famous and bites of roasted meat.
Now, what shall we call this new sort of gazing house
That has opened in our town where people sit
Quietly and pour out their glancing
Like light, like answering?
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- Who and What is a Darvish (1) – words from Hazrat Inayat Khan (mycaravanofdreams.com)
This post reminds me of St. Teresa of Avila who was a great mystic and considered herself the bride of the Beloved, waiting for the wedding night. We may experience closeness to the Beloved but not completely until our death.
When I die
when my coffin
is being taken out
you must never think
i am missing this world
don’t shed any tears
don’t lament or
feel sorry
i’m not falling
into a monster’s abyss
when you see
my corpse is being carried
don’t cry for my leaving
i’m not leaving
i’m arriving at eternal love
when you leave me
in the grave
don’t say goodbye
remember a grave is
only a curtain
for the paradise behind
you’ll only see me
descending into a grave
now watch me rise
how can there be an end
when the sun sets or
the moon goes down
it looks like the end
it seems like a sunset
but in reality it is a dawn
when the grave locks you up
that is when your soul is freed
have you ever seen
a seed fallen to earth
not rise with a new life
why should you doubt the rise
of a seed named human
have you ever seen
a bucket lowered into a well
coming back empty
why lament for a soul
when it can come back
like Joseph from the well
when for the last time
you close your mouth
your words and soul
will belong to the world of
no place no time
~RUMI, ghazal number 911
Thank you again dear friend