Moving Words; Kahlil Gibran.
Today’s ramblings will be a little different from the usual. They are more like talks inspired by some recent reads. One in particular: ‘The Prophet’ by Kahlil Gibran. I read this little book years ago at a really low point in my life. I appreciated the words but my mind was so tired and I couldn’t spare any emotions to ‘feel’ the words at that point. I have since come back to this book with a clear head, with a new outlook on life, and a heart filled with emotions that are ready to be released. Kahlil Gibran writes in a way that I cannot even explain, it’s like every intuitive thought, desire, sensation, good or bad is somehow perfectly written out to touch your heart, mind and soul.
I’m happy I had this book as a comfort during some of my darkest days, and I’m happy to have revisited it during happier times. It’s funny how the mind chooses to select certain bits and pieces of writing based on the emotional state you’re in during a particular period of time. My appreciation of this book has now become even greater.
You give but little when you give of your possessions.
It is when you give of yourself that you truly give.
For what are your possessions but things you keep and guard for fear you may need them tomorrow?
And tomorrow, what shall tomorrow bring to the over-prudent dog burying bones in the trackless sand as he follows the pilgrims to the holy city?
And what is fear of need but need itself?
Is not dread of thirst when your well is full, the thirst that is unquenchable?
There are those who give little of the much which they have–and they give it for recognition and their hidden desire makes their gifts unwholesome.
And there are those who have little and give it all.
These are the believers in life and the bounty of life, and their coffer is never empty.
There are those who give with joy, and that joy is their reward.
And there are those who give with pain, and that pain is their baptism.
And there are those who give and know not pain in giving, nor do they seek joy, nor give with mindfulness of virtue;
They give as in yonder valley the myrtle breathes its fragrance into space.
Through the hands of such as these God speaks, and from behind their eyes He smiles upon the earth.
And a woman spoke, saying, “Tell us of Pain.”
And he said: Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding.
Even as the stone of the fruit must break, that its heart may stand in the sun, so must you know pain.
And could you keep your heart in wonder at the daily miracles of your life, your pain would not seem less wondrous than your joy;
And you would accept the seasons of your heart, even as you have always accepted the seasons that pass over your fields.
And you would watch with serenity through the winters of your grief.
Much of your pain is self-chosen.
It is the bitter potion by which the physician within you heals your sick self.
Therefore trust the physician, and drink his remedy in silence and tranquility:
For his hand, though heavy and hard, is guided by the tender hand of the Unseen,
And the cup he brings, though it burn your lips, has been fashioned of the clay which the
Potter has moistened with His own sacred tears.”
Your children are not your children. They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself. They come through you but not from you, and though they are with you, yet they belong not to you. You may give them your love but not your thoughts. For they have their own thoughts. You may house their bodies but not their souls, for their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet