The Unfoldment Of The Rose
To me, the word Rose, can be a symbol for Jesus, God, the Beloved, or life itself. Thus, how might the great saints, Zen masters, or truly illumined seers see and understand everything? How might they respond in their heart to the unfoldment of Existence? The unfoldment of God!
This link is to my last blog, titled: “The Ultimate,” but I much prefer the presentation of it here at The Culturium, by their wonderful creator and editor, Paula Marvelly.
I spoke about doing a part two of The Ultimate, as I felt that blog was so important, and this I consider that; so please read both if you can. Also, I now see most all of my blogs as starts of chapters I hope to someday expand into a book titled: The Biography of Everyone. As beneath a few superficial layers we are all really the same. Buddha is a squatter in all of us equally; we just have to buddy up with him more; moreover— become a buddha. First with a little b... then with the whole Enchilada.
It will be some 46 years ago that I first went to India and felt my first real connection with Hafiz. And then did, very inadvertently, my first translation-rendering of a Hafiz line. I just made a one-word change in a sentence, and then expounded on that line in my mind, which I have never forgotten. I want to tell some of that story.
I can still remember so well, feeling then some 46 years ago and saying to myself: “This line seems so complete and deep to me. I could walk off to the mountains with this and rightfully try and live it the rest of my life; and probably never could, but still, it would be worth spending a lifetime trying to.”
That line was part of three famous couplets of Hafiz that Meher Baba endorsed in a remarkable way to his own closest ones. But they are lines, I feel, that are not really meant for the world unless one felt a deep connection to Meher Baba or a living Perfect Master—a true Sadhguru— with whom you might spend some real and personal time. A Perfect Master to my mind is a soul who is consciously one with God, and then who would serve as a teacher and friend to others. Like Rumi, Hafiz, and St. Francis of Assisi did— and so many great spiritual teachers throughout history. There are always truly illumined teachers in this world who then affect everything consciously or unconsciously. In some ways, they are the air we breathe. They help sustain life; they are visible and invisible suns— and we are precious earths before them.
And all three couplets are written on some wall hangings— placards, of a sort.
It was on Meher Baba's birthday that I by chance got so connected to them. There was a celebration for Meher Baba that day at his tomb-shrine some 15 miles away from his once private residence in Meherazad, where he spent the last 20 years of his life. But it being my very first week in India, I was out-of-the-loop you could say… I was staying at a little hotel in town, and so I wound up out at Meherazad when no one was there but a couple of local gardeners and household helpers.
After about an hour there alone, I found myself sitting in a kind of meditation hall, and on one wall opposite where I was sitting (some 12 feet away) were these 3 famous couplets of Hafiz in Persian and English. So I am just sitting there, and it seems it is just me and Hafiz and Meher Baba; as this hall has many pictures of Meher Baba in it, and a chair where Meher Baba used to often sit and at times greeted many people. I am sitting alone just to the left of that chair and staring at Hafiz...it seemed like, via those famous words of his.
And I have never published those three couplets verbatim; but have so many times done unique renderings of them. And I just did another one off that “one line” I’ve now mentioned a couple times. So will offer that, and then show the original line, and tell of the change I made to it.
I could easily understand how some scholars might feel my rendering (below) has not much connection to the original, but to me it does. For me, all of the best of Rumi and Hafiz's poems are like a rose that in some ways can almost infinitely unfold— reveal more and more facets... of the Jewel. The Jewel, that is another word, to some, for God.
…
What causes the movement of anything, or its sounds or thoughts?
It is the breathe of God. The wake in the unfoldment of the Rose.
Where on a single petal— in its veins are universes flowing from
the divine Root. A divine root that exists in us too, my dears.
And beholding the Christ— the Rose— on the Cross, which is the
suffering of any creature. My head is now forever bowed upon any
foot, or fin, or hoof or wing that has ever known a tear. And when
I lift my head from the holiness of all in existence, I will lift it into
heaven again.
You will be the wake from the unfoldment of God, emanating out
to bless all things. And dare I say: You will know you are the womb
from where God came. Why not my love, the worth of every form
is such.
—Hafiz rendering, expounding by Daniel Ladinsky
And here are those believed-to-be-original words of Hafiz. This is the last half of the third couplet:
“... whatever my Master does is of the highest benefit to all concerned.”
…
Yes, I can still so remember sitting there on Meher Baba's birthday all alone in that meditation (Mandali) hall, some almost 46 years ago, as I write. And with the word Master capitalized, I thought it could surely be a synonym for the word God. And then to me, even back some 46 years ago, it always seemed to make some sense that: if there really was a real God who was Omnipresent, thus omnipresent existence, that God is really the only doer (and really the only existence); and thus all is the unfoldment of the Rose.
All is The Unfoldment Of The Rose— and “of the highest benefit to all concerned.” Who can really live that with all the suffering in this world? Moreover in some ways, even deeply honor that? There is a part of me that feels: “How dare anyone ever even say that? Unless you first spend 100 years on your knees praying in a cave to know the Truth, and then maybe you do.”
I am just telling a story—writing a blog from my little heart. But I think Rumi and Hafiz were there in that sublime Realization, and Meher Baba, and my teacher Eruch (whom I have often spoken about in my blogs who was the person closest to Meher Baba for years) who I feel is so a part now of anything I ever write— and he said he would be.
On one level, from one angle: what can I say to any scholars, or those of interest, about my work with Hafiz and Rumi and other great poet saints over the last 30 years? What can I say happens when a rich line of Rumi or Hafiz cracks open in front of me, and a beautiful drunk Buddha might roll out and start dancing & singing— from the invisible soul of a line. I just take notes like any good student might, but then plagiarize the best I can from what the Mountain sang.
On a good day, the word God to me, or a single line of Rumi or Hafiz can be like a holy well I can toss my little bucket into and bring up all kinds of images and some golden fish I can then peddle in the market ... in wanting to help.
As Hafiz says in one of my poems in A Year With Hafiz: “Love kicks the ass of time and space.” (See page 85 there for proof.) Aka: you might get a real high-five from Buddha, or see his tail is really sticking out from everywhere. You just have to zero in on that— uncloud your radar— and grab hold, then you can turn one line of Hafiz into many.
On a good day, isn’t it all some kind of Alice in Wonderland, where probably the best of poems, songs, art (and scientific discoveries) and kindness, love, and fun happen? And just looking at the miracle of your own hand is all the magic mushrooms you ever need.
Want to end with these thoughts:
Sweet that bird and sun equal petals on the Rose.
And a whimsical fact, being:
The eyes honeybees.
That seems so true angels. Think about that a bit. What your eyes most want to see in other eyes and in this world. And the sustenance of beauty we need.
…
P.S. Coming back to this after a day or two away, and having to factor in more horrific, horrible world news. Soooo, soooo much going on in the world now. How can a bird keep singing? Or anyone keep writing? Though guess we should. And maybe even love more!
One of my blogs on this website is titled: For A Single Tear. It is a poem by Hafiz; and as is most every single one of his poems… he is trying to help. To me he is always, always trying to help! And can in remarkable ways.