• Ahsan Jamil

Friends

It was Sunday, the roads were empty and George Washington Bridge was enjoying the rarity of less traffic. We cruised so smoothly all through the journey to reach at Trump Golf Links at Ferry Point within no time. Having empty roads in the New York City area is a luxury so is playing golf at Trump links. We enjoyed it all. In the crew were two dear friends from childhood. Instead of my writings today I am presenting lyrics of Rumi that are about friendship. 





“Give the beautiful ones mirrors, 

and let them fall in love with 

themselves. 


That way they polish their souls 

and kindle remembering in others. 


A close childhood friend once came 

to visit Joseph. They had shared the 

secrets that children tell each other 

when they're lying on their pillows 

at night before they go to sleep. 

These two were completely truthful 

with each other. 


The friend asked, "What was it like 

when you realized your brothers were 

jealous and what they planned to do?" 


"I felt like a lion with a chain around 

its neck. Not degraded by the chain, and 

not complaining, but just waiting for my 

power to be recognized." 


"How about down in the well, and in 

prison? How was it then?" 


"Like the moon when it's getting 

smaller, yet knowing the fullness to 

come. Like a seed pearl ground in the 

mortar for medicine, that knows it will 

now be the light of the human eye. 


Like a wheat grain that breaks open in 

the ground, then grows, then gets 

harvested, then crushed in the mill for 

flour, then baked, then crushed again 

between teeth to become a person's 

deepest understanding. 


Lost in Love, like songs the planters 

sing the night after they sow the seed." 


There is no end to any of this. 

Back to something else the good man 

and Joseph talked about. 


"Ah my friend, what have you brought me? 

You know a traveler should not arrive 

empty handed at the door of a friend 

like me. That's going to the grinding 

stone without your wheat. God will ask 

at the Resurrection, 'Did you bring Me 

a present? Did you forget? Did you think 

you wouldn't see Me?' 


Joseph kept teasing, 

"Lets have it. I want my gift!" 


The guest began, "You can't imagine how 

I've looked for something for you. 

Nothing seemed appropriate. You don't 

take gold down into a goldmine, or a 

drop of water to the Sea of Oman! 


Everything I thought of was like 

bringing cumin seed to Kirmanshah where 

cumin comes from. 


You have all seeds in your barn. You 

even have my love and my soul, so I 

can't even bring those. 


I've brought you a mirror. Look at 

yourself, and remember me." 


He took the mirror out from his robe 

where he was hiding it. 


What is the mirror of being? 

Non-being. 


Always bring a mirror of non-existence 

as a gift. Any other present is foolish. 


Let the poor man look deep intogenerosity. Let the bread see a hungry 

man. Let kindling behold a spark from 

the flint. 


An empty mirror and your worst 

destructive habits, when they are held 

up to each other, 

that's when the real making begins. 

That's what art and crafting are. 


A tailor needs a torn garment to 

practice his expertise. The trunks of 

trees must be cut and cut again 

so they can be used for fine carpentry. 


Your doctor must have a broken leg to 

doctor. Your defects are the ways that 

glory gets manifested. Whoever sees 

clearly what's diseased in himself 

begins to gallop on the Way. 


There is nothing worse 

than thinking you are well enough. 

More than anything, self-complacency 

blocks the workmanship. 


Put your vileness up to a mirror and 

weep. Get that self-satisfaction flowing 

out of you! Satan thought, "I am better 

than Adam," and that *better than* is 

still strongly in us. 


Your stream-water may look clean, 

but there's unstirred matter on the 

bottom. Your Sheikh can dig a side 

channel that will drain that waste off. 


Trust your wound to a Teacher's surgery. 

Flies collect on a wound. They cover it, 

those flies of your self-protecting 

feelings, your love for what you think 

is yours. 


Let a teacher wave away the flies 

and put a plaster on the wound. 


Don't turn your head. Keep looking at 

the bandaged place. That's where the 

light enters you. 


And don't believe for a moment 

that you're healing yourself.”


Credits


-- Mathnawi, I, 3150-3175, 3192-3227 

Version by Coleman Barks 

(Developed from the translation by Nicholson) 

"The Essential Rumi"


Trump Links Golf @ Ferry Point


Google 




By

Ahsan Jamil 

Golfer, Blogger, Entrepreneur, Author, Poet, Wanderer, Photographer, Rebel. 


Email: Golfaij@gmail.com

Website: Golfaij.com

YouTube : morning with golf 


30 views1 comment

Recent Posts

See All