come : shrine of rumi in konya

tombes of jallaludin-e-rumi, his father, son and disicples

shrine of jallaludin rumi, konya, september 2018

six months adrift after leaving bali, erring has brought me here, to konya, the shrine of rumi.

from different places, all year round, thousands of people come here on a pilgrimage to what is considered the most sacred place in sufism.

the appeal of rumi as a poet is universal for he speaks of love in the language of love. what emanates from the heart touches the heart of another directly, or as we say in farsi, the language in which rumi spoke and wrote, his mother tongue: del be del rah darad / heart knows her way to another's heart, hence the magnetism of his verses.

where love speaks and is spoken and is heard, barriers break down, walled spaces crumble to reveal openness, an openness that is the deepest expression of life. it is also in this inclusiveness that lies the essence of zen; enlightened compassion. the ultiamte sense behind our striving and effort is to be of benefit to others. in that process we forget ourselves and are at once liberated from and liberated by the self.

one day in 1970, in my thirteenth year, while still living in Iran and just a year before being sent away to england, my father, javad, himself a seasoned and accomplished sufi, placed the three volumes of rumi's masnavi-e-molavi, by many accounts his masterwork, as a gift in my hands. he would read verses from the books and go over them with me. i guess i could trace my interest in matters spiritual back to that offering and to the example my father left for me; embracing and cultivating humility and self-effacement. ultimately, humility saves us from the torments, insecurities and burden that come with identifying with our self-centeredness and endless self-concern. humility helps us get over ourselves.

to sufism humility is central, it is the path that has no end.

here, on pilgrimage to rumi's shrine, i also feel closest to my father's own legacy. as a true man of the sufi path, he left a trail of love where he himself quietly disappeared.

one day, away from him for many years and never to see him again, i wrote to tell him of the stunning beauty of the scenery of the french riviera where i was living at that time and how much i wanted him to also take part in the enchanting scenes i was seeing, how much i wanted him next to me. in his next letter, to appease my burning sense of longing, he wrote the following words: " never forget, it is with your eyes and through them that i see the beauty of the world."

i'm reminded here of simon weil's definition of love in 'la grâce et la pesanteur' : to love someone is to want them happy, without being present to share it with them and without even wanting to be present to share it with them. for simone weil agapé, love that is not conditoned on give or take, on reciprocity or even mutuality, is a deeper feeling that allows for separation without experiencing it as distancing or detachment. this reminds us of the notion of dana or giving, the first of the paramitas in buddhism. here the giver, the receiver and what is given all dissolve in the giving. the giving or love that has no giver or receiver liberates both.

the words of my father struck me when i first read them but, it took me many years, long after he had passed leaving me with a sense of deep loss that has to this day left a hollowness in the heart, to recognize in them a pure expression of agapé; unconditional and all embracing love. those simple words are the most generous and inspiring that any human has ever uttered to me and traced the path i was to thread.

realization of union with the divine is clearly the manifestation of love in us when it matures into agapé.

"whoever you may be, come

even though you may be

an infidel, a pagan, or a fire-worshipper, come

our brotherhood is not one of despair

even though you have broken

your vows of repentance a hundred times, come. - rumi"

to come, to never cease coming, is what illumines the tender, frail, broken, human heart. to never cease coming is closest.

javad ebadi 1927-1988