“Nothing new I say when I speak, I only renew the memory of things which may not be forgotten.”
Imagine falling asleep and waking up devoid of memory. This is a description of the human condition.
We are travelers from beyond time and space. We are extraterrestrials—in fact, extracelestials.
My place is the Placeless, my trace is the Traceless;
‘Tis neither body nor soul, for I belong to the soul of the Beloved.
But we’ve fallen into amnesia. We imagine our skin is the boundary of our being. We forget we are children of the void, siblings of the stars, and parents of a new universe.
We are like the lion cub that wandered away from its pride and fell in with a herd of sheep. Before long it too began bleating and eating grass. One day a lion found the cub. As the cub quivered in terror, the elder lion nudged it along to the shore of a lake. The cub looked into the lake’s mirror, and looked again. The face staring back was not the face of a sheep.
The Murshid is the lion that shows you that you are a lion.
Music of the Spheres: Gamaka Commentaries, Vadan
Imagine falling asleep and waking up devoid of memory. This is a description of the human condition.
We are travelers from beyond time and space. We are extraterrestrials—in fact, extracelestials.
My place is the Placeless, my trace is the Traceless;
‘Tis neither body nor soul, for I belong to the soul of the Beloved.
But we’ve fallen into amnesia. We imagine our skin is the boundary of our being. We forget we are children of the void, siblings of the stars, and parents of a new universe.
We are like the lion cub that wandered away from its pride and fell in with a herd of sheep. Before long it too began bleating and eating grass. One day a lion found the cub. As the cub quivered in terror, the elder lion nudged it along to the shore of a lake. The cub looked into the lake’s mirror, and looked again. The face staring back was not the face of a sheep.
The Murshid is the lion that shows you that you are a lion.