The Madman was setting under his favorite tree
talking and teaching a group of curious
people. The day was cloudy and cool,
and the Huntress was across the grove
at the old hollow tree sharing time with
the Pir of the Mouse Dervishes.
A woman approached the dervish and
presented him with a hand sewn hat,
which he took from her hands.
He looked closely at it,
then he stood up and threw it to the
ground, and stepped on it several times.
There were gasps from the people,
none louder than that of the woman who
had given it to him.
"Dervish, that was rude!"
one man shouted.
"Yes! And cruel too. She put a lot
of work into that kufi."
added another.
The dervish spat on it.
People stood up and began to berate
the Madman.
"You are an ungrateful pig!"
someone shouted.
The woman who had brought the gift
began to weep.
"Look! Look you ass, you phony! Now you
have made the creator of the hat weep!"
The dervish regarded them, and spoke.
"Sit down! I must ask you a question!"
The people slowly sat back down.
"Why do you berate me so?"
The giver of the gift spoke;
"I put many hours into hand sewing that
kufi. I purchased good material, and also
put Love into its' making. These people
feel it very uncaring and ungrateful of you
to treat a gift so." She sniffled and wiped
away a tear.
"Just so." the dervish said.
"Now I must ask a question.
You all have been inquiring about the
end of the world, about Paradise, and
the virtues of rejecting the world and all
of what you call its 'snares'. You speak of
your troubles, your cares and your woes.
You speak longingly about the so-called
'End of Days' and one of you even carries a
novel describing the end of the world.
In your lust, and yes, it is a lust, for such
apocalyptic destruction, throwing back at
the Beloved, the Creator, this life, this whole
lovingly constructed world which was made for
you, you cast it down and step on it!
How is that any different than what I
just did?"
It was quiet. Then someone said,
"It is our promised reward in scripture."
"Reward for what? Organized ingratitude for
life and this world, which you pass off as religion?"
No one spoke.
"You cleave to such fantasies because you
have problems, bills, disappointments, heartaches
and losses. Look at the sun breaking through the
clouds, its' beams lighting the earth and sky.
Look at the two herons flying there,
listen to the children playing and laughing!
You clutch a belief that would see all this,
all beauty, all hope, all potential, perish
in a fiery cataclysm, just because you are
weighed down and wish to escape to some place
where you will have no discomfort, no
aches and pains. Every time you scorn your
life, you spit on the reality of the here and now,
and that act guarantees that dissatisfaction will
follow you like your very shadow."
"It is natural to want to escape from bad things,
and be happy!' One person said!
"Yes it is!" said another.
"When you escape pain and sorrow, you
also escape the hope given you freely; a
hope of Union with the Beloved, that is beyond
my poor ability to describe, but one that so
far exceeds your fantasies of fire, destruction
and personal relief, that to even try to
describe it is a task even angels avoid.
You have been given this world, this place,
this time, these circumstances to build your
life in. To reject that is to do to the Beloved's
Gifts, what I just did to this kufi."
"What then must we do?" asked the woman.
The Dervish bent over and picked up the
hat, and beat it against his leg till the dust was
gone, and he wiped the spit on his robe.
He carefully placed it on his head, and walking to the
woman took her hands and kissed them.
"I shall treasure this kufi, good sister."
She smiled.
"You ask what you are to do. I tell you,
and this is a hard teaching."
"What is it!"
"What needs to perish is not this world, this
gift of God, but the fantasy, the dream of escape
you cherish. When the dream of escape is swallowed
up in the apocalyptic fires of Love, then everything
becomes precious, each moment an opportunity
and a gift."
With that the dervish walked away, stopping
by the old hollow tree to retrieve his Huntress,
and continuing down the road.
The only sound was the joyous warble of the
goldfinch.
(C) TF 13Oct2010
people. The day was cloudy and cool,
and the Huntress was across the grove
at the old hollow tree sharing time with
the Pir of the Mouse Dervishes.
A woman approached the dervish and
presented him with a hand sewn hat,
which he took from her hands.
He looked closely at it,
then he stood up and threw it to the
ground, and stepped on it several times.
There were gasps from the people,
none louder than that of the woman who
had given it to him.
"Dervish, that was rude!"
one man shouted.
"Yes! And cruel too. She put a lot
of work into that kufi."
added another.
The dervish spat on it.
People stood up and began to berate
the Madman.
"You are an ungrateful pig!"
someone shouted.
The woman who had brought the gift
began to weep.
"Look! Look you ass, you phony! Now you
have made the creator of the hat weep!"
The dervish regarded them, and spoke.
"Sit down! I must ask you a question!"
The people slowly sat back down.
"Why do you berate me so?"
The giver of the gift spoke;
"I put many hours into hand sewing that
kufi. I purchased good material, and also
put Love into its' making. These people
feel it very uncaring and ungrateful of you
to treat a gift so." She sniffled and wiped
away a tear.
"Just so." the dervish said.
"Now I must ask a question.
You all have been inquiring about the
end of the world, about Paradise, and
the virtues of rejecting the world and all
of what you call its 'snares'. You speak of
your troubles, your cares and your woes.
You speak longingly about the so-called
'End of Days' and one of you even carries a
novel describing the end of the world.
In your lust, and yes, it is a lust, for such
apocalyptic destruction, throwing back at
the Beloved, the Creator, this life, this whole
lovingly constructed world which was made for
you, you cast it down and step on it!
How is that any different than what I
just did?"
It was quiet. Then someone said,
"It is our promised reward in scripture."
"Reward for what? Organized ingratitude for
life and this world, which you pass off as religion?"
No one spoke.
"You cleave to such fantasies because you
have problems, bills, disappointments, heartaches
and losses. Look at the sun breaking through the
clouds, its' beams lighting the earth and sky.
Look at the two herons flying there,
listen to the children playing and laughing!
You clutch a belief that would see all this,
all beauty, all hope, all potential, perish
in a fiery cataclysm, just because you are
weighed down and wish to escape to some place
where you will have no discomfort, no
aches and pains. Every time you scorn your
life, you spit on the reality of the here and now,
and that act guarantees that dissatisfaction will
follow you like your very shadow."
"It is natural to want to escape from bad things,
and be happy!' One person said!
"Yes it is!" said another.
"When you escape pain and sorrow, you
also escape the hope given you freely; a
hope of Union with the Beloved, that is beyond
my poor ability to describe, but one that so
far exceeds your fantasies of fire, destruction
and personal relief, that to even try to
describe it is a task even angels avoid.
You have been given this world, this place,
this time, these circumstances to build your
life in. To reject that is to do to the Beloved's
Gifts, what I just did to this kufi."
"What then must we do?" asked the woman.
The Dervish bent over and picked up the
hat, and beat it against his leg till the dust was
gone, and he wiped the spit on his robe.
He carefully placed it on his head, and walking to the
woman took her hands and kissed them.
"I shall treasure this kufi, good sister."
She smiled.
"You ask what you are to do. I tell you,
and this is a hard teaching."
"What is it!"
"What needs to perish is not this world, this
gift of God, but the fantasy, the dream of escape
you cherish. When the dream of escape is swallowed
up in the apocalyptic fires of Love, then everything
becomes precious, each moment an opportunity
and a gift."
With that the dervish walked away, stopping
by the old hollow tree to retrieve his Huntress,
and continuing down the road.
The only sound was the joyous warble of the
goldfinch.
(C) TF 13Oct2010
