Desire. Resist. Gaze. Repeat.
BRING THE MAN TO ME
From The Gift, by Ladinsky, inspired by Hafiz
A Perfect One was traveling through the desert.
He was stretched out around the fire one night
And said to one of his close ones,
“There is a slave loose not far from us.
He escaped today from a cruel master.
His hands are still bound behind his back,
His feet are also shackled.
I can see him right now praying for God’s help.
Go to him.
Ride to that distant hill;
About a hundred feet up and to the right
You will find a small cave.
He is there.
Do not say a single word to him.
Bring the man to me.
God requests that I personally untie his body
And press my lips to his wounds.”
The disciple mounts his horse and within two hours
Arrives at the small mountain cave.
The slave sees him coming, the slave looks frightened.
The disciple, on orders not to speak,
Gestures toward the sky, pantomiming:
God saw you in prayer,
Please come with me,
A great Murshid* has used his heart’s divine eye
To know your whereabouts.
The slave cannot believe this story,
And begins to shout at the man and tries to run
But trips from his bindings.
The disciple becomes forced to subdue him.
Think of this picture as they now travel:
The mission candles in the sky are lit and singing.
Every particle of existence is a dancing altar
That some mysterious force worships.
The earth is a church floor whereupon
In the middle of a glorious night
Walks a slave, weeping, tied to a rope behind a horse,
With a speechless rider
Taking him toward the unknown.
Several times with all of his might the slave
Tries to break free,
Feeling he is being returned to captivity.
The rider stops, dismounts—brings his eyes
Near the prisoner’s eyes.
A deep kindness there communicates an unbelievable hope.
The rider motions—soon, soon you will be free.
Tears roll down from the rider’s cheeks
In happiness for this man.
Anger, all the fighting and tormenting want,
Mashuq,**
God has seen you and sent a close one.
Mashuq,
God has seen your heart in prayer
And sent Hafiz.
*Persian: teacher
**Persian: sweetheart
Soul Friend,
The Beloved keeps having his way with me. Yesterday it was reaching out to my not-so-easy-to-love mother-in-law. This morning it was risking a brief and tender email to a relative that recently hung up on me and then blocked me from all social media.
Let me be clear about whose horn I'm tooting. See it with me like this:
I'm as much a stubborn camel as anyone else. When Love comes to draw me out of my cave-dwelling captivity, I dig in my splayed toes. I bray loudly (even if its an inward cry). I'm afraid of the unknown into which I am being led. I resist.
Love desires so much more for me. And will go to great lengths to free me. Sending all sorts of emissaries whom I mistake as the enemy, or simply and unparadoxically, the enemy.
Between Love's desire and my resistance stands a Compassionate Witness, a divine and compassionate gaze. This one sees and hears it all. Love's insistence on my freedom. Love's tender, tender intention. My hiding. My shackled escape to freedom. My fear of the unknown. This one ties a cord of love around my center and contains me, subdues me. This one looks deeply into my fearful eyes. This one leads the way. This one stops when I start to freak out, and comes closer. This one knows something that my fear does not.
At some point, willingness begins to carry me, sprung open by that pooling happiness in the Witness' eyes.
Or, look at it like this:
I've heard my marching orders. I will go to the distant (Capitol) hill. I am calling my representatives. I am writing, trying to stay in touch with those I love and those I have a hard time loving. I am resisting.
The desire of my enemy is incomprehensible. What I think I can comprehend, I despise. I question what the Master is up to. I am afraid.
I see that One has been sent, whose compassionate witnessing gaze pools with kindness and beckon us both, desire and resistance. I hear One who keeps trying to communicate: follow me; you have no idea the freedom that awaits you. Who asks, would you risk looking through my eyes?
Or, try this on:
I witness how the patriarchy is caught. By some divine grace I can hear his hidden prayer/desire and discern his fear/resistance. Some parts are hiding out in a cave, seeking freedom. Some parts are going to fight tooth and nail any suggestion of greater freedom. Some parts have had a cord tied around their waists and are, unwittingly, approaching freedom. All parts are tormented.
Words are going to be of little help here.
So, witnessing, I must speak through a deep kindness in my eyes. I remember all the times I too have been beheld in such eyes— moments of my undoing, moments of my freedom.
**
Where do you locate yourself in the poem or scenarios above?
Soul friend, these are all stories what I call The Triangle of Transformation, and what others refer to as The Law of Three.
This law basically states that in order for any transformation to take place —whether that is personal transformation or collective transformation—three ingredients must be present: desire, resistance, contemplative presence/compassionate witness.
In other words, each of these dynamics belongs.
Just take that in a moment.
Most of us spend most of our time caught in the tug-of-war of desire and resistance. In such a tug-of-war there is movement, but only the sort that creates a rut. Here there is a LOT of drama, but no transformation. And, let's be clear: it is war. In this dualism, only one energy belongs. Its goal is to win (dominate) and defeat (kill) the other. It is violent.
Real transformation requires a third force: a gently curious, compassionate gaze that beholds both the desire and resistance (as impure, or shallow, or out-of-balance as they each may be). This long, loving, soft-eyed gaze opens up space for something NEW to happen.
We are, all of us, subject to this law, whether we like it or not.
We are, all of us, invited to become transforming embodiments of this law.
I'm here to practice this publicly, and vulnerably, with you. And to share with you what I am experiencing and learning along the way. I'm also seeking new ways to explore this with you and support you even more.
How can I do that? Would you like more writing? A workshop? A live Q and A? Interested?
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