1.032 - Prostration

1:Uqba ibn Muslim said: 'No quality in a man is dearer to God, Great and Glorious is He, than the longing to meet Him. At no moment is a man closer to God, Great and Glorious is He, than when he sinks down in prostration. ~ Abu Hamid al-Ghazali,

2:All that man does comes to its perfection in knowledge. That do thou learn by prostration to the wise and by questioning and by serving them; they who have the knowledge and see the truths of things shall instruct thee in the knowledge. ~ Bhagavadgita IV-33-34, the Eternal Wisdom

3:Accumulating Prostrations

Why Prostrate at All?

Why fling yourself full-length on an often filthy floor, then get up and do it again hundreds of thousands of times?

Prostrations are a very immediate method for taking refuge and one of the best available for destroying pride. They are an outer gesture of surrender to the truth of dharma, and an expression of our intention to give up and expose our pride.

So, as we take refuge, we prostrate to demonstrate our complete surrender by throwing ourselves at the feet of our guru and pressing the five points of our body — forehead, hands and knees — to the floor as many times as we can.

(In the Tibetan tradition there are two ways of doing prostrations: one is the full-length and the other the half-length prostration, and we usually accumulate the full-length version.)

Prostrations are said to bring a number of benefits, such as being reborn with an attractive appearance, or our words carry weight and are valued, or our influence over friends and colleagues is positive, or that we are able to manage those who work for us.

It is said that practitioners who accumulate prostrations will one day keep company with sublime beings and as a result become majestic, wealthy, attain a higher rebirth and eventually attain liberation.

For worldly beings, though, to contemplate all the spiritual benefits of prostrations and the amount of merit they accumulate is not necessarily the most effective way of motivating ourselves. The fact that prostrations are good for our health, on the other hand, is often just the incentive we need to get started.

It's true, doing prostrations for the sake of taking healthy exercise is a worldly motivation, but not one I would ever discourage.

In these degenerate times, absolutely anything that will inspire you to practise dharma has some value, so please go ahead and start your prostrations for the sake of the exercise. If you do, not only will you save money on your gym membership, you will build up muscle and a great deal of merit.
~ Dzongsar Jamyang Khyentse, Not for Happiness - A Guide to the So-Called Preliminary Practises, Shambhala Publications,

* WISDOM TROVE *

1:There comes a pause, for human strength will not endure to dance without cessation; and everyone must reach the point at length of absolute prostration. ~ lewis-carroll, @wisdomtrove

* NEWFULLDB 2.4M *

1:They think I’m a doll they can dress up and twist into prostration. But ~ Tahereh Mafi,

2:It is man´s faith to live either on agonies of fear and turmoil or in the prostration of boredom. ~ Voltaire,

3:I go from exasperation to a state of collapse, then I recover and go from prostration to Fury, so that my average state is one of being annoyed. ~ Gustave Flaubert,

4:There comes a pause, for human strength will not endure to dance without cessation; and everyone must reach the point at length of absolute prostration ~ Lewis Carroll,

5:There comes a pause, for human strength will not endure to dance without cessation; and everyone must reach the point at length of absolute prostration. ~ Lewis Carroll,

6:I slept after the prostration of the day, with a stringent and profound slumber which not even the nightmares that wrung me could avail to break. ~ Robert Louis Stevenson,

7:Prostration is our natural position. A worm-like movement from a spot of sunlight to a spot of shade, and back, is the type of movement that is natural to men. ~ Wyndham Lewis,

8:The instinctive posture of grief is a shuffling compromise between defiance and prostration; and pride feels the need of striking a worthier attitude in face of such a foe. ~ Edith Wharton,

9:15. And unto Allaah (Alone) falls in prostration whoever is in the heavens and the earth, willingly or unwillingly, and so do their shadows in the mornings and in the afternoons. ~ Anonymous,

10:The supreme thing is worship. The attitude of worship is the attitude of a subject bent before the King... The fundamental thought is that of prostration, of bowing down. ~ G Campbell Morgan,

11:We do not adopt a belief because it is true (they are all true), but because some obscure power impels us to do so. When this power leaves us, we suffer prostration and collapse, a tete-a-tete with what is left of ourselves. ~ Emil M Cioran,

12:Uqba ibn Muslim said: ‘No quality in a man is dearer to God, Great and Glorious is He, than the longing to meet Him. At no moment is a man closer to God, Great and Glorious is He, than when he sinks down in prostration. ~ Abu Hamid al-Ghazali,

13:He who indulges habitually in the intoxicating pleasures of imagination, for the very reason that he reaps a greater pleasure than others, must resign himself to a keener pain, a more intolerable and utter prostration. ~ Robert Louis Stevenson,

14:All that man does comes to its perfection in knowledge. That do thou learn by prostration to the wise and by questioning and by serving them; they who have the knowledge and see the truths of things shall instruct thee in the knowledge. ~ Bhagavadgita IV-33-34,

15:The connection to the Friend is secret and very fragile. The image of the Friendship is in how you love, the grace and the delicacy, the subtle talking together in full prostration, outside of time. When you are there, remember the fierce courtesy of the one with you. ~ Rumi,

16:Prostration: placing the body in reverence, to submit, to surrender. In many faiths it is used to relinquish the ego. In Tibetan tantric Buddhism they do one hundred thousand prostrations to overcome pride. In Islam, prostration has been known to overcome many diseases. ~ Eve Ensler,

17:The word “open” and the expression “opening her legs” were, on her lover’s lips, charged with such uneasiness and power that she could never hear them without experiencing a kind of internal prostration, a sacred submission, as though a god, and not he, had spoken to her. ~ Pauline R age,

18:There will come a day when a person would be willing to give everything they ever loved, everything they ever owned, everything they ever chased in this life, everything between the heavens and earth...just for the chance to come back here and make just one sajdah (prostration). Just one. ~ Yasmin Mogahed,

19:Let my idle chatter be the muttering of prayer, my every manual movement the execution of ritual gesture, my walking a ceremonial circumambulation, my eating and other acts the rite of sacrifice, my lying down prostration in worship, my every pleasure enjoyed with dedication of myself, let whatever activity is mine be some form of worship of you. ~ Adi Shankaracharya,

20:She suddenly saw Wimsey in a new light. She knew him to be intelligent, clean, courteous, wealthy, well-read, amusing and enamored, but he had not so far produced in her that crushing sense of inferiority which leads to prostration and hero-worship. But she now realized that there was, after all, something godlike about him. He could control a horse. ~ Dorothy L Sayers,

21:Like many other unfortunate young people, Harvey had never in all his life received a direct order—never, at least, without long, and sometimes tearful, explanations of the advantages of obedience and the reasons for the request. Mrs. Cheyne lived in fear of breaking his spirit, which, perhaps, was the reason that she herself walked on the edge of nervous prostration. ~ Rudyard Kipling,

22:Harriet was silent. She suddenly saw Wimsey in a new light. She knew him to be intelligent, clean, courteous, wealthy, well-read, amusing and enamoured, but he had not so far produced in her that crushing sense of utter inferiority which leads to prostration and hero-worship. But she now realised that there was, after all, something god-like about him. He could control a horse. ~ Dorothy L Sayers,

23:Had the heavens fallen and mixed themselves with the earth, had the people of London risen in rebellion with French ideas of equality,* had the Queen persistently declined to comply with the constitutional advice of her ministers, had a majority in the House of Commons lost its influence in the country,—the utter prostration of the bereft husband could not have been more complete. ~ Anthony Trollope,

24:I was certainly going the right way for a stroke when I left Paris. I paid for it nicely afterwards! When I stopped drinking, when I stopped smoking so much, when I began to think again instead of trying not to think - Good Lord, the depression and the prostration of it! Work in these magnificent natural surroundings (Arles) has restored my morale, but even now some efforts are too much for me: my strength fails me. ~ Vincent Van Gogh,

25:Thus religion, beginning as a slight and partial acknowledgment of powers superior to man, tends with the growth of knowledge to deepen into a confession of man’s entire and absolute dependence on the divine; his old free bearing is exchanged for an attitude of lowliest prostration before the mysterious powers of the unseen, and his highest virtue is to submit his will to theirs: In la sua volontade è nostra pace. ~ James George Frazer,

26:Ecstatic Eyes
O wondrous ecstatic eyes, o wondrous long locks,
O wondrous wine worshipper, o wondrous mischievous sweetheart.
As he draws the sword, I bow my head in prostration so as to be killed,
O wondrous is his beneficence, o wondrous my submission.
O wondrous amorous teasing, o wondrous beguiling,
O wondrous tilted cap, o wondrous tormentor.
Do not reveal the Truth; in this world blasphemy prevails, Khusrau;
O wondrous source of mystery, o wondrous knower of secrets.
~ Amir Khusro,

27:Even the triumphant issue of his labors could not save him from reaction after so terrible an exertion, and at a time when Europe was ringing with his name and when his room was literally ankle-deep with congratulatory telegrams I found him a prey to the blackest depression. Even the knowledge that he had succeeded where the police of three countries had failed, and that he had outmanoeuvred at every point the most accomplished swindler in Europe, was insufficient to rouse him from his nervous prostration. ~ Arthur Conan Doyle,

28:Poor humanity, to saddle the gods with such a responsibility and throw in a vindictive temper. What griefs they hatch for themselves, what festering sores for us, what tears for our prosperity! This is not piety, this oft-repeated show of bowing a veiled head before a graven image; this bustling to every altar; this kow-towing and prostration on the ground with palms outspread before the shrines of the gods; this deluging of vow on vow. True piety lies rather in the power to contemplate the universe with a quiet mind. ~ Lucretius,

29:Had Allah lifted the veil for his slave and shown him how He handles his affairs for him, and how Allah is more keen for the benefit of the slave than his own self, his heart would have melted out of the love for Allah and would have been torn to pieces out of thankfulness to Allah. Therefore if the pains of this world tire you, do not grieve. For it may be that Allah wishes to hear your voice by way of Dua'a. So pour out your desires in prostration and forget about it and know; that verily Allah does not forget it. ~ Ibn Qayyim Al Jawziyya,

30:To say that there is a case for heroes is not to say that there is a case for hero worship. The surrender of decision, the unquestioning submission to leadership, the prostration of the average man before the Great Man -- these are the diseases of heroism, and they are fatal to human dignity. History amply shows that it is possible to have heroes without turning them into gods. And history shows, too, that when a society, in flight from hero worship, decides to do without great men at all, it gets into troubles of its own. ~ Arthur M Schlesinger Jr,

31:But this intensity of his physical prostration did but so much the more abbreviate it. In an instant's compass, great hearts sometimes condense to one deep pang, the sum total of those shallow pains kindly diffused through feebler men's whole lives. And so, such hearts, though summary in each one suffering; still, if the gods decree it, in their life-time aggregate a whole age of woe, wholly made up of instantaneous intensities; for even in their pointless centres, those noble natures contain the entire circumferences of inferior souls. ~ Herman Melville,

32:Therefore, since existence is from an intelligible movement which transported the universe
from non-existence to existence, the prayer encompasses all movements. There are three
movements: vertical, which is the state of standing in the prayer, the horizontal, which is the
state of bowing, and the downward movement, which is the state of prostration. The
movement of man is vertical, the movement of the animal is horizontal, and the movement of
plants in downward. The inanimate does not have a movement from its essence. If a rock
moves, it moves by other means than itself. ~ Ibn Arabi,

33:Men thin away to insignificance and oblivion quite as often by not making the most of good spirits when they have them as by lacking good spirits when they are indispensable. Gabriel lately, for the first time since his prostration by misfortune, had been independent in thought and vigorous in action to a marked extent-conditions which, powerless without an opportunity as an opportunity without them is barren, would have given him a sure lift upwards when the favourable conjunction should have occurred. But this incurable loitering beside Bathsheba Everdene stole his time ruinously. The spring tides were going by without floating him off, and the neap might soon come which could not. ~ Thomas Hardy,

34:Cradle My Heart

Last night, I was lying on the rooftop, thinking of you. I saw a special Star, and summoned her to take you a message. I prostrated myself to the Star and asked her to take my prostration to that Sun of Tabriz so that with his light, he can turn my dark stones into gold. I opened my chest and showed her my scars, I told her to bring me news of my bloodthirsty Lover. As I waited, I paced back and forth, until the child of my heart became quiet. The child slept, as if I were rocking his cradle. Oh Beloved, give milk to the infant of the heart, and don't hold us from our turning. You have cared for hundreds, don't let it stop with me now. At the end, the town of unity is the place for the heart. ~ Rumi,

35:There is a kind of sleep that steals upon us sometimes, which, while it holds the body prisoner, does not free the mind from a sense of things about it, and enable it to ramble at its pleasure. So far as an overpowering heaviness, a prostration of strength, and an utter inability to control our thoughts or power of motion, can be called sleep, this is it; and yet we have a consciousness of all that is going on about us; and if we dream at such a time, words which are really spoken, or sounds which really exist at the moment, accommodate themselves with surprising readiness to our visions, until reality and imagination become so strangely blended that it is afterwards almost a matter of impossibility to separate the two. Nor ~ Charles Dickens,

36:One Point Contains All
One point contains all;
Learn about the One, forget the rest.
Forget hell and the terrible grave;
Leave the ways of sin and purify
Your heart.
That's how the argument is spun:
It's all contained in One!
Why rub your head against the earth?
What point in your vain prostration?
Your Kalimah read, makes others laugh.
You do not grasp the Lord's word!
Somewhere the truth is written down:
It's all contained in One!
Some go to the jungle in vain
And starve and cause themselves some pain;
They waste their time with all this
And come home tired, nothing gained!
Find your master and become God's slave.
In this way you'll be free of care;
Free of desire, free of worry,
And your heart truthful, pure.
Bulleh has discovered this truth alone:
It's all contained in One!
~ Bulleh Shah,

37:One point contains all; Learn about the One, forget the rest. Forget hell and the terrible grave; Leave the ways of sin and purify Your heart. That's how the argument is spun: It's all contained in One! Why rub your head against the earth? What point in your vain prostration? Your Kalimah read, makes others laugh. You do not grasp the Lord's word! Somewhere the truth is written down: It's all contained in One! Some go to the jungle in vain And starve and cause themselves some pain; They waste their time with all this And come home tired, nothing gained! Find your master and become God's slave. In this way you'll be free of care; Free of desire, free of worry, And your heart truthful, pure. Bulleh has discovered this truth alone: It's all contained in One! [2469.jpg] -- from Islamic Mystical Poetry: Sufi Verse from the Early Mystics to Rumi, Translated by Mahmood Jamal

~ Bulleh Shah, One Point Contains All
,

38:Spain
Spain! You are the trustee of the Muslim
blood:
In my eyes you are sanctified like the Harem.
Prints of prostration lie hidden in your dust,
Silent calls to prayers in your morning air.
In your hills and vales were the tents of those,
The tips of whose lances were bright like the
stars.
Is more henna needed by your pretties?
My lifeblood can give them some colour!
How can a Muslim be put down by the straw
and grass,
Even if his flame has lost its heat and fire!
My eyes watched Granada as well,
But the traveller's content neither in journey
nor in rest:
I saw as well as showed, I spoke as well as
listened,
Neither seeing nor learning brings calm to the
heart!
The veiled secrets are becoming manifest—
Bygone the days of you cannot see Me;
Whosoever finds his self first,
Is Mahdi himself, the Guide of the Last Age.
Not: Written in Spain—on the way back.
~ Allama Muhammad Iqbal,

39:The conditions favoring organized war, conducted by a military machine of great potency, capable of completely destroying massive walls, wrecking dams, razing cities and temples, were greatly enlarged by the genuine triumphs of the labor machine. But it is highly doubtful if these heroic public works, which demanded an almost superhuman effort and endurance, would have been undertaken for any purely mundane purpose. Communities never exert themselves to the utmost, still less curtail the individual life, except for what they regard as a great religious end. Only prostration before the mysterium tremendum, some manifestations of godhead in its awful power and luminous glory, will call forth such excessive collective effort. That magical power far outweighs the lure of economic gain. In those later cases where such efforts and sacrifices seem to be made for purely economic advantages, it will turn out that this secular purpose has itself become a god, a sacred libidinous object, whether identified as Mammon or not. ~ Lewis Mumford,

40:Do we suppose that they can do Him any good or fear, like the chorus in MIlton, that human irreverence can bring about. His glory's diminution? A man can no more diminish God's glory be refusing to worship Him than a lunatic can put out the sun by scribbling the word darkness on the walls of his cell. But God wills our good and our good is to love Him (with that responsive love proper to creatives) and to love Hi we must know Him: and if we know Him, we shall in fact fall on our faces. If we do not, that only shows that what we are trying to love is nearest approximation to God which our thought and fantasy can attain. Yet the call is not only to prostration and awe; it is to a reflection of the Divine live, a creaturely participation in the Divine attributes which is far beyond our present desires. We are bidden to put on Christ, to become like God. That is, whether we like it or not, God intends to give us what we need not what we now think we want. Once more, we are embarrassed by the intolerable compliment, by too much love, not too little. ~ C S Lewis,

41:It was a season of grand ballooning experiments in Paris; word of the flights, including a manned one in November 1783, spread rapidly.3 Jefferson sensed the revolutionary possibilities of human control of the air.4 “What think you of these balloons? They really begin to assume a serious face,” he wrote. Reports had people flying six miles in twenty minutes at three thousand feet. He took a jocular tone, but his words were prescient. “This discovery seems to threaten the prostration of fortified works unless they can be closed above, the destruction of fleets and what not. The French may now run over their laces, wines etc. to England duty free. The whole system of British statutes made on the supposition of goods being brought into some port must be revised. Inland countries may now become maritime states unless you choose rather to call them aerial ones as their commerce is in [the] future to be carried on through that element. But jesting apart I think this discovery may lead to things useful.” Ten years later, in Philadelphia, Jefferson saw the first successful manned balloon flight in America.5 His ~ Jon Meacham,

42:There is a kind of sleep that steals upon us sometimes, which, while it holds the body prisoner, does not free the mind from a sense of things about it, and enable it to ramble at its pleasure. So far as an overpowering heaviness, a prostration of strength, and an utter inability to control our thoughts or power of motion, can be called sleep, this is it; and yet we have a consciousness of all that is going on about us; and if we dream at such a time, words which are really spoken, or sounds which really exist at the moment, accommodate themselves with surprising readiness to our visions, until reality and imagination become so strangely blended that it is afterwards almost a matter of impossibilty to separate the two. Nor is this, the most striking phenomenon, incidental to such a state. It is an undoubted fact, that although our senses of touch and sight be for the time dead, yet our sleeping thoughts, and the visionary scenes that pass before us, will be influenced, and materially influenced, by the mere silent presence of some external object: which may not have been near us when we closed our eyes: and of whose vicinity we have had no waking consciousness. ~ Charles Dickens,

43:Sema is a pure Semitic reference that most probably has been interpreted later on in other cultures to be a 'third eye' as I am witnessing to the works of my friends such as Richard Cassaro and Gary Osborn. However, after establishing the link between Egypt and Mecca, I cannot evade observing the fact that the Shen sign could only have originally referred to 'protection' for that my additional proof lies in Quran where the position of such symbolism is clearly distinguished to be within the Eyes (Quran 52:48). Sema is the concept with which ancient Egyptians unequivocally aspired to Mecca's heritage. They used it to tighten their claim on divine civilization knowing the significance of the mother of all cities (i.e., Mecca). The Symbolism of Sema Tawy is a pure Semitic construct, it is so Semitic that the purest Semitic tongue (i.e., Arabic) and the one nearest to the Proto-Semitic language (according to western scholars themselves) has articulated itself unambiguously in the most influential Semitic book (i.e., Quran) saying: 'Their Sema(s) are on their faces from the trace of prostration'. What this demonstrates to us is that ancient Egypt confused the divine function of protecting the believer with that of the human function of worshipping the creator in its symbolism. ~ Ibrahim Ibrahim,

44:English version by W. Norman Brown Slender as a streak of lightning, composed of the essence of sun, moon and fire, situated above the six lotuses, the manifestation of you in the forest of great lotuses, those with mind free of stain and illusion who view it, mighty ones, experience a flood of supreme joy. Let my idle chatter be the muttering of prayer, my every manual movement the execution of ritual gesture, my walking a ceremonial circumambulation, my eating and other acts the rite of sacrifice, my lying down prostration in worship, my every pleasure enjoyed with dedication of myself, let whatever activity is mine be some form of worship of you. Bearing a mark of vermilion so that the impenetrable darkness of your thick locks with the hosts of their beauties makes it seem like an imprisoned ray of the new-risen sun, may it bring welfare to us, as though the flood of beauty of your face had a channel to flow in, the streak of which is the part in your hair. Your right eye, because it has the sun as its essence, gives birth to the day; Your left eye, which has the moon as its substance, produces the night; Your third eye, which resembles a golden lotus slightly opened, creates the twilight intervening between day and night. [2701.jpg] -- from A Treasury of Sanskrit Poetry, Edited by A. N. D. Haksar

~ Shankara, In Praise of the Goddess
,

45:The first condition, then, of what is called a selfish love among men is lacking with God. He has no natural necessities, no passion, to compete with His wish for the beloved's welfare; or if there is in Him something which we have to imagine after the analogy of a passion, a want it is there by His own will and for our sakes. And the second condition is lacking too. The real interests of a child may differ from that which his father's affection instinctively demands, because the child is a separate being from the father with a nature which has its own needs and does not exist solely for the father nor find its whole perfection in being loved by him and which the father does not fully understand. But creatures are not thus separate from their Creator, nor can He misunderstand them. The place for which He designs them in His scheme of things is the place they are made for. When they reach it their nature is fulfilled and their happiness attained: a broken bone in the universe has been set, the anguish is over. When we want to be something other than the thing God wants us to be, we must be wanting what, in fact, will not make us happy. Those Divine demands which sound to our natural ears most like those of a despot and least like those of a lover, in fact marshal us where we should want to go, if we knew what we wanted. He demands our worship, our obedience, our prostration. ~ C S Lewis,

46:Brother belov'd if health shall smile again,
Upon this wasted form and fever'd cheek:
If e'er returning vigour bid these weak
And languid limbs their gladsome strength regain,
Well may thy brow the placid glow retain
Of sweet content and thy pleas'd eye may speak
The conscious self applause, but should I seek
To utter what this heart can feel, Ah! vain
Were the attempt! Yet kindest friends while o'er
My couch ye bend, and watch with tenderness
The being whom your cares could e'en restore,
From the cold grasp of Death, say can you guess
The feelings which these lips can ne'er express;
Feelings, deep fix'd in grateful memory's store.
'This sonnet is from a transcript in the handwriting of George Keats, which bears the date 1819; but I am disposed to think this date must have been wrongly affixed from memory. The entire absence of high poetic feeling indicates a time of utter physical prostration; and I should imagine that the sonnet might possibly have been written in February 1820, when Keats was still so ill as to be forbidden to write, and that it might have been sent to George with the announcement of the illness; but it seems likelier that it was composed later on in the year, in reply to some letter written by George on receiving hat news -- a letter in which reply the younger brother might have reproached himself for leaving the elder, low in health and funds, and for rushing back to America to mend his own fortunes.'
~ Poetical Works of John Keats, ed. H. Buxton Forman, Crowell publ. 1895. by owner. provided at no charge for educational purposes
~ John Keats, Sonnet To George Keats - Written In Sickness
,

47:Make a ritual ablution before each prayer, beginning every action with "In the name of God, the Compassionate, the Merciful." First wash your hands, intending to pull them away from the affairs of this world. Then wash your mouth, remember and reciting God's name, purifying it in order to utter His Name. Wash your nose wishing to inhale the perfumes of the Divine. Wash your face feeling shame, and intending to wipe from it arrogance and hypocrisy. Wash your forearms trusting God to make you do what is good. Wet the top of your head feeling humility and wash your ears (in preparation) to hear the address of your Lord. Wash from your feet the dirt of the world so that you don't stain the sands of Paradise. Then thank and praise the Lord, and send prayers of peace and blessing upon our Master, who brought the canons of Islam and taught them to us.

After you leave the place of your ablution without turning your back to it, perform two cycles of prayer out of hope and thankfulness for His making you clean.

Next, stand in the place where you are going to make your prayers as if between the two hands of your Lord. Imagine, without forms and lines, that you are facing the Ka'bah, and that there is no one else on the face of this earth but you. Bring yourself to express your servanthood physically. Choose the verses you are going to recite, understanding their meanings within you. With the verses that start with "Say..." feel that you are talking to your Lord as He wishes you to do: let every word contain praise. Allow time between the sentences, contemplating what our Master, the Messenger of God, gave us, trying to keep it in your heart. Believing that your destiny is written on your forehead, place it humbly on the floor in prostration. When you finish and give salutations to your right and to your left, keep your eyes on yourself and your connection with your Lord, for you are saluting the One under whose power you are and who is within you... ~ Ibn Arabi,

48:and only much later, when Mascha wanted a child, did I realize that love is a deadly poison, a vice, a vice that one wants to see shared, & that if one of the two involved is smitten, the other is often no more than a passive participant, or vixxtim, or possessed. And Moravagine was possessed.

Love is masochistic. These cries & complaints, these sweet alarms. this anguished state of lovers, this suspense, this latent pain that is just below the surface, almost unexpressed, these thousand & one anxieties over the loved one's absence, this feeling of time rushing by, this touchiness, these fits of temper, these long daydreams, this childish fickleness of behavior, this moral torture where vanity & self-esteem, or perhaps honor, upbringing & modesty are at stake, these highs & lows in the nervous tone, these leaps of imagination, this fetishism, this cruel precision of senses, whipping & probing, the collapse, the prostration, the abdication, the self-abasement, the perpetual loss & recovery of one's personality, these stammered words & phrases, these pet-names, this intimacy, these hesitations in physical contact, these epileptic tremors, these successive & even more frequent relapses, this more & more turbulent & stormy passion with its ravages progressing to the point of complete inhibition & annihilation of the soul, the debility of the senses, the exhaustion of the marrow, the erasure of the brain & even the desiccation of the heart, this yearning for ruin, for destruction, for mutilation, this need of effusiveness, of adoration, of mysticism, this insatiability which expresses itself in hyper-irritability of the of mucus membranes, in errant taste, in vasomotor or peripheral disorders, & which conjures up jealousy & vengeance, crimes, prevarications & treacheries, this idolatry, this incurable melancholy, this apathy, this profound moral misery, this definitive & harrowing doubt, this despair--are not all these stigmata the very symptoms of love in which we can first diagnose, then trace with a sure hand, the clinical curve of masochism? ~ Blaise Cendrars,

49:4. Religion. Your reason is now mature enough to examine this object. In the first place, divest yourself of all bias in favor of novelty & singularity of opinion... shake off all the fears & servile prejudices, under which weak minds are servilely crouched. Fix reason firmly in her seat, and call to her tribunal every fact, every opinion. Question with boldness even the existence of a God; because, if there be one, he must more approve of the homage of reason, than that of blindfolded fear. You will naturally examine first, the religion of your own country. Read the Bible, then as you would read Livy or Tacitus. The facts which are within the ordinary course of nature, you will believe on the authority of the writer, as you do those of the same kind in Livy and Tacitus. The testimony of the writer weighs in their favor, in one scale, and their not being against the laws of nature, does not weigh against them. But those facts in the Bible which contradict the laws of nature, must be examined with more care, and under a variety of faces. Here you must recur to the pretensions of the writer to inspiration from God. Examine upon what evidence his pretensions are founded, and whether that evidence is so strong, as that its falsehood would be more improbable than a change in the laws of nature, in the case he relates. For example in the book of Joshua we are told the sun stood still several hours. Were we to read that fact in Livy or Tacitus we should class it with their showers of blood, speaking of statues, beasts, &c. But it is said that the writer of that book was inspired. Examine therefore candidly what evidence there is of his having been inspired. The pretension is entitled to your inquiry, because millions believe it. On the other hand you are astronomer enough to know how contrary it is to the law of nature that a body revolving on its axis as the earth does, should have stopped, should not by that sudden stoppage have prostrated animals, trees, buildings, and should after a certain time have resumed its revolution, & that without a second general prostration. Is this arrest of the earth's motion, or the evidence which affirms it, most within the law of probabilities? You will next read the New Testament. It is the history of a personage called Jesus. Keep in your eye the opposite pretensions: 1, of those who say he was begotten by God, born of a virgin, suspended & reversed the laws of nature at will, & ascended bodily into heaven; and 2, of those who say he was a man of illegitimate birth, of a benevolent heart, enthusiastic mind, who set out without pretensions to divinity, ended in believing them, and was punished capitally for sedition, by being gibbeted, according to the Roman law, which punished the first commission of that offence by whipping, & the second by exile, or death in fureâ.

...Do not be frightened from this inquiry by any fear of its consequences. If it ends in a belief that there is no God, you will find incitements to virtue in the comfort and pleasantness you feel in its exercise, and the love of others which it will procure you... In fine, I repeat, you must lay aside all prejudice on both sides, and neither believe nor reject anything, because any other persons, or description of persons, have rejected or believed it... I forgot to observe, when speaking of the New Testament, that you should read all the histories of Christ, as well of those whom a council of ecclesiastics have decided for us, to be Pseudo-evangelists, as those they named Evangelists. Because these Pseudo-evangelists pretended to inspiration, as much as the others, and you are to judge their pretensions by your own reason, and not by the reason of those ecclesiastics. Most of these are lost...

[Letter to his nephew, Peter Carr, advising him in matters of religion, 1787] ~ Thomas Jefferson,

50:The Mosque Of Cordoba
The succession of day and night
Is the architect of events.
The succession of day and night
Is the fountain-head of life and death.
The succession of day and night
Is a two-tone silken twine,
With which the Divine Essence
Prepares Its apparel of Attributes.
The succession of day and night
Is the reverberation of the symphony of
Creation.
Through its modulations, the Infinite
demonstrates
The parameters of possibilities.
The succession of day and night
Is the touchstone of the universe;
Now sitting in judgement on you,
Now setting a value on me.
But what if you are found wanting.
What if I am found wanting.
Death is your ultimate destiny.
Death is my ultimate destiny.
What else is the reality of your days
and nights,
Besides a surge in the river of time,
Sans day, sans night.
Frail and evanescent, all miracles of
ingenuity,
Transient, all temporal attainments;
Ephemeral, all worldly accomplishments.
Annihilation is the end of all
beginnings.
Annihilation is the end of all ends.
56
Extinction, the fate of everything;
Hidden or manifest, old or new.
Yet in this very scenario
Indelible is the stamp of permanence
On the deeds of the good and godly.
Deeds of the godly radiate with Love,
The essence of life,
Which death is forbidden to touch.
Fast and free flows the tide of time,
But Love itself is a tide that stems all tides.
In the chronicle of Love there are times
Other than the past, the present and the
future;
Times for which no names have yet
been coined.
Love
Love
Love
Love
is
is
is
is
the
the
the
the
breath of Gabriel.
heart of Mustafa.
messenger of God.
Word of God.
Love is ecstasy lends luster to earthly
forms.
Love is the heady wine,
Love is the grand goblet.
Love is the commander of marching troops.
Love is a wayfarer with many a way-side
abode.
Love is the plectrum that brings
Music to the string of life.
Love is the light of life.
Love is the fire of life.
To Love, you owe your being,
O, Harem of Cordoba,
To Love, that is eternal;
57
Never waning, never fading.
Just the media these pigments, bricks
and stones;
This harp, these words and sounds, just
the media.
The miracle of art springs from the
lifeblood of the artist!
A droplet of the lifeblood
Transforms a piece of dead rock into a living
heart;
An impressive sound, into a song of
solicitude,
A refrain of rapture or a melody of mirth.
The aura you exude, illumines the
heart.
My plaint kindles the soul.
You draw the hearts to the Presence
Divine,
I inspire them to bloom and blossom.
No less exalted than the Exalted Throne,
Is the throne of the heart, the human breast!
Despite the limit of azure skies,
Ordained for this handful of dust.
Celestial beings, born of light,
Do have the privilege of supplication,
But unknown to them
Are the verve and warmth of
prostration.
An Indian infidel, perchance, am I;
But look at my fervour, my ardour.
‘Blessings and peace upon the Prophet,' sings
my heart.
‘Blessings and peace upon the Prophet,' echo
my lips.
My song is the song of aspiration.
58
My lute is the serenade of longing.
Every fibre of my being
Resonates with the refrains of Allah hoo!
Your beauty, your majesty,
Personify the graces of the man of faith.
You are beautiful and majestic.
He too is beautiful and majestic.
Your foundations are lasting,
Your columns countless,
Like the profusion of palms
In the plains of Syria.
Your arches, your terraces, shimmer with the
light
That once flashed in the valley of Aiman
Your soaring minaret, all aglow
In the resplendence of Gabriel's glory.
The Muslim is destined to last
As his Azan holds the key to the
mysteries
Of the perennial message of Abraham
and Moses.
His world knows no boundaries,
His horizon, no frontiers.
Tigris, Danube and Nile:
Billows of his oceanic expanse.
Fabulous, have been his times!
Fascinating, the accounts of his
achievements!
He it was, who bade the final adieu
To the outworn order.
A cup-bearer is he,
With the purest wine for the connoisseur;
A cavalier in the path of Love
With a sword of the finest steel.
59
A combatant, with la ilah
As his coat of mail.
Under the shadow of flashing
scimitars,
'La ilah' is his protection.
Your edifice unravels
The mystery of the faithful;
The fire of his fervent days,
The bliss of his tender nights.
Your grandeur calls to mind
The loftiness of his station,
The sweep of his vision,
His rapture, his ardour, his pride, his
humility.
The might of the man of faith
Is the might of the Almighty:
Dominant, creative, resourceful, consummate.
He is terrestrial with celestial aspect;
A being with the qualities of the
Creator.
His contented self has no demands
On this world or the other.
His desires are modest; his aims exalted;
His manner charming; his ways winsome.
Soft in social exposure,
Tough in the line of pursuit.
But whether in fray or in social
gathering,
Ever chaste at heart, ever clean in
conduct.
In the celestial order of the macrocosm,
His immutable faith is the centre of the Divine
Compass.
All else: illusion, sorcery, fallacy.
60
He is the journey's end for reason,
He is the raison d 'etre of Love.
An inspiration in the cosmic
communion.
O, Mecca of art lovers,
You are the majesty of the true tenet.
You have elevated Andalusia
To the eminence of the holy Harem.
Your equal in beauty,
If any under the skies,
Is the heart of the Muslim
And no one else.
Ah, those men of truth,
Those proud cavaliers of Arabia;
Endowed with a sublime character,
Imbued with candour and conviction.
Their reign gave the world an
unfamiliar concept;
That the authority of the brave and
spirited
Lay in modesty and simplicity,
Rather than pomp and regality.
Their sagacity guided the East and the West.
In the dark ages of Europe,
It was the light of their vision
That lit up the tracks.
A tribute to their blood it is,
That the Andalusians, even today,
Are effable and warm-hearted,
Ingenuous and bright of countenance.
Even today in this land,
Eyes like those of gazelles are a common
sight.
And darts shooting out of those eyes,
Even today, are on target.
61
Its breeze, even today,
Is laden with the fragrance of Yemen.
Its music, even today,
Carries strains of melodies from Hijaz.
Stars look upon your precincts as a piece of
heaven.
But for centuries, alas!
Your porticoes have not resonated
With the call of the muezzin.
What distant valley, what way-side abode
Is holding back
That valiant caravan of rampant Love.
Germany witnessed the upheaval of religious
reforms
That left no trace of the old perspective.
Infallibility of the church sage began to
ring false.
Reason, once more, unfurled its sails.
France too went through its revolution
That changed the entire orientation of
Western life.
Followers of Rome,
Feeling antiquated worshipping the
ancientry,
Also rejuvenated themselves
With the relish of novelty.
The same storm is raging today
In the soul of the Muslim.
A Divine secret it is,
Not for the lips to utter.
Let us see what surfaces
From the depths of the deep.
Let us see what colour
62
The blue sky changes into.
Clouds in the yonder valley
Are drenched in roseate twilight.
The parting sun has left behind
Mounds and mounds of rubies, the best from
Badakhshan.
Simple and doleful is the song
Of the peasant's daughter:
Tender feelings adrift in the tide of
youth.
O, the ever-flowing waters of Guadalquivir1,
Someone on your banks
Is seeing a vision of some other period of
time.
Tomorrow is still in the womb of
intention,
But its dawn is flashing before my
mind's eye.
Were I to lift the veil
From the profile of my reflections,
The West would be dazzled by its brilliance.
Life without change is death.
The tumult and turmoil of revolution
Keep the soul of a nation alive.
Keen, as a sword in the hands of Destiny
Is the nation
That evaluates its actions at each step.
Incomplete are all creations
Without the lifeblood of the creator.
Soulless is the melody
Without the lifeblood of the maestro.
[Translated by Saleem A. Gilani]
63
Not: This poem was written in in Spain, especially Cordoba
~ Allama Muhammad Iqbal,

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