Sparkling waters, an old friend, and Rumi

While on my usual five-mile walk by the river, I stopped for a while to watch the flow.  It flows not for you or for me or for anybody else. The water simply flows. That is it. Some seasons the flow is more, and less it is in others. It just is.

If only I could similarly truly understand life as "it is what it is."

While watching the sparkling waters under the cloudless summer sky, I was reminded of my friend Shahab. The late friend, that is.

I wondered whether it was the anniversary of his death and whether, therefore, the cosmos was somehow reminding me about it.  Turns out it is not the anniversary, but this July 9th is real close--Shahab died on June 9th, 2008.

Shahab, who was from Iran, simply adored the poetry and message in Rumi's works.   I am willing to bet that, for Shahab, no translation into English could ever come anywhere close to the poetry in the original.  But, people like me have no choice but to only appreciate Rumi through the translated works.

Like this one, via my favorite poetry site  So simple, so elegant, and so profound.  I am sure Shahab would have enjoyed this in the original.

What was told, that
by Jalalu'l-din Rumi
translated by Coleman Barks

What was said to the rose that made it open was said
to me here in my chest. 

What was told the cypress that made it strong
and straight, what was

whispered the jasmine so it is what it is, whatever made
sugarcane sweet, whatever

was said to the inhabitants of the town of Chigil in
Turkestan that makes them

so handsome, whatever lets the pomegranate flower blush
like a human face, that is

being said to me now. I blush. Whatever put eloquence in
language, that's happening here.

The great warehouse doors open; I fill with gratitude,
chewing a piece of sugarcane, 

in love with the one to whom every that belongs!

Life becomes wonderful when Rumi puts it this way, right?  I suppose that is at least one distinction between water flowing just because versus us humans who can appreciate the world around us and even those who are no more around us.

Thank Iran (Persia) for Bollywood!

There is a good chance that most of the buffoons who chant "bomb, bomb, bomb, bomb, bomb Iran" don't care to know anything at all about the country's gloriously rich history.  The theocratic buffoons ruining running the country seem to be hell bent on making sure the world would understand Iran only as a country of nutcases.

A long time ago, I read somewhere (where? the older I get, the more I forget such details!) that even as Arabic gained currency in West Asia as the language of science, Persian reigned supreme as the language of culture.  Something like the comparison between French and German, I suppose.

It was a good thing that the Central Asians invading India brought along with them the Persian culture, which then filtered all the way down to memorable Bollywood stars who played memorable Muslim characters with memorable melodies.

Some of my favorites: