Rumi Moment of the Week — Always Already

No room for Form

No Room for Form

At the heart of non-dual philosophy is the idea that Truth is “always already” present. For it to be true, it must always be so, with no breaks or deadlines or commitments. It must be as true for Hitler as much as it is for Jesus. It cannot be captured, nor maintained, or achieved.

How is this “always already” known?  Rumi says:

“on the night when you cross the street from your shop and your house to the cemetary…you’ll hear [Truth] hailing from inside the open grave, and you’ll realize how we’ve always been together.”

But for many and most, it may just be enough to know this life is Truth’s playground; everything happens within Truth but nothing happens TO Truth. It remains free and unattached, and so, on some level, so are we. That might be enough to face this sometimes harsh existence (“I am the same in ecstasy as in self-hating fatigue”).  The fears and difficulties that appear to define us are the temporary expressions of the form we have taken; take refuge in the “lover inside all your other lovers.” The truth is incapable of being contained by mere physical form, or concept, or some experience, no matter how high or low. Don’t look for it here — but you don’t have to wait until you die. As Mooji says, agreeing with Rumi, “die before you die!

I’ll let the poet speak the rest….

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 eating 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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