He dwells not only in temples and mosques
by SarmadEnglish version by Isaac A. Ezekiel
Original Language Persian/Farsi
He dwells not only in temples and mosques --
The whole creation is his abode.
The whole world is bewitched by his tale,
but wise are those who are lost in his love.
 | -- from Sarmad: Martyr to Love Divine, by Isaac A. Ezekiel |
<<Previous Poem | More Poems by Sarmad | Next Poem >>
/ Image by InSUNNYty /
He dwells not only in temples and mosques --
The whole creation is his abode.
We humans tend to like our categories and definitions, a sort of thinking that's very effective in the world. But that same form of thinking ensnares us when we engage with the deeper aspects of reality. We want to know where to go to find God. We want to know what to do, how to act, what to keep separate from, so that we might know ourselves to be worthy of divine favor. That approach can help to focus our intention... in the beginning. But at some point we need Sarmad's reminder: Everything is sacred. All of creation is holy ground. There is no boundary to the Eternal.
Where you are, worship.
The whole world is bewitched by his tale,
but wise are those who are lost in his love.
I really like these two lines. All of existence isn't 'real' in the way we usually imagine it to be. Creation isn't fixed; it flows. Things don't exist in and of themselves; they are actually relationships, an immense network of interaction. Seen this way, everything we experience is part of a drama. Any good storyteller knows that a good tale plays with fears and joys and questions of survival, hooking our attention while surreptitiously revealing something of the deeper truths of life.
As Sarmad says, the whole world is a story told by God. It is so rich and detailed that we can become "bewitched" by it. We become like actors who forget that there is a backstage. The wise, however, lose themselves -- their costumes, their egos. They know, once they've said their few lines, how to fall silent again, and enjoy the unfolding tale from the wings.
And I think there is an even deeper flavor to the meaning of these final lines. So often we want to master the dramas of life by knowing, by comprehending, by understanding. And that is, for the most part, an entirely valid endeavor. But it is also an ever-expanding pursuit. The wise are those who have stumbled onto another way: yielding all effort into the open heart, rest is found, and presence, and completeness. Meaning and knowing are found, while the efforts of the mind trail off into silence somewhere in the background. The wise invite us to cease our searching, searching, and, instead, to find that sort of love, the sort of love that brings everything, every story to a halt. And they invite us to sweetly dissolve into it.
