Don't come to prayers clothed with piety,
leave your plans and your banality!
Do you want to bore the Beloved to death
with all your pre-digested litany?
Don't pranam out of bland formality,
save the salaams and all your solemnity –
if your heart is not aching for love in depth,
then dance, dance till you drop this charade of "I"...!
Come naked, come with open hands,
come only with your desire, only that, and
all your most awake attention – give breath
to your words, infuse the silence with expression!
Just don't fall asleep during japa or zikr – don't zombie out!
I know what I'm talking about, I've done it a thousand times.
(Parable out of the mid-1980s)
Two
monks traveling in company together came by a loaf of dry bread which
they divided between themselves. Not having eaten for days, it was a
welcome pittance. The first monk gave thanks profusely, while the
second uttered nothing, preparing enthusiastically to consume his
portion of the find. Familiar with the latter's insufferable bent toward
bypassing devotions, the conscientiously pious monk prayed all the more
fervently for both of them the customary table-grace.
While
thus engaged, eyes tightly drawn, jaw firmly set, with hands clasped in
emphatic rightousness, he could not have noticed the stranger passing
by. His incorrigably undisciplined brother, on the other hand, judging
the visitor's condition to look much worse for wear than either of
theirs, calmly and without hesitation or thought, gave his share of the
catch to the stranger, and this with a nod and finger to his lips, so as
not to distract his companion's devotions.
The
stranger disappeared quietly and grace continued uninterrupted. Since
this simple monk failed to mention the incident entirely, his companion
in the Order had to assume, as usual, that his holy brother had once
again thoughtlessly gone and devoured his half during the grace.
