Thousands of Ways To Describe Milk
I said to my heart,
“How is it you are barred from the service
Of He whose name you bless?”
My heart replied,
“You misread the signs.
I am constantly in His service,
You are the one astray.”
Wherever you are, no matter what may happen, always strive to be a lover, a passionate lover. Once love has become your property you will be a lover eternally, in the grave, at the resurrection, or in Paradise, for ever and ever.
When you have sown wheat, wheat will surely grow, stocks of wheat will fill the shed, loaves of wheat will fill the oven.
When Majnun wanted to write a letter to Laila, he took a pen in his hand and wrote: Your name is on my tongue, Your image is within my sight, Your memory fills my heart, Where, then, can I write? Your image dwells in my sight, Your name never leaves my tongue, Your memory occupies the depths of my soul, so where am I to write, seeing that You are here in all these places? The pen broke, and the page was torn.
Many are those whose heart is full of such reality, but they cannot express the words in terms of speech. This is not surprising, and is no limit to that love. On the contrary, the root of the matter is the heart, yearning, and passion.
A child is in love with milk, and from milk it derives succor and strength, yet the child cannot explain milk or describe it, saying, “What pleasure I find in drinking milk, and how weak and anguished I would be without it.” The child has no words for it, yet still it desires milk. Most grown people, on the other hand, even though they might describe milk in a thousand ways, still they find no such pleasure or delight in milk like they did as children.
Fihi Ma Fihi - Discourse 44
“How is it you are barred from the service
Of He whose name you bless?”
My heart replied,
“You misread the signs.
I am constantly in His service,
You are the one astray.”
Wherever you are, no matter what may happen, always strive to be a lover, a passionate lover. Once love has become your property you will be a lover eternally, in the grave, at the resurrection, or in Paradise, for ever and ever.
When you have sown wheat, wheat will surely grow, stocks of wheat will fill the shed, loaves of wheat will fill the oven.
When Majnun wanted to write a letter to Laila, he took a pen in his hand and wrote: Your name is on my tongue, Your image is within my sight, Your memory fills my heart, Where, then, can I write? Your image dwells in my sight, Your name never leaves my tongue, Your memory occupies the depths of my soul, so where am I to write, seeing that You are here in all these places? The pen broke, and the page was torn.
Many are those whose heart is full of such reality, but they cannot express the words in terms of speech. This is not surprising, and is no limit to that love. On the contrary, the root of the matter is the heart, yearning, and passion.
A child is in love with milk, and from milk it derives succor and strength, yet the child cannot explain milk or describe it, saying, “What pleasure I find in drinking milk, and how weak and anguished I would be without it.” The child has no words for it, yet still it desires milk. Most grown people, on the other hand, even though they might describe milk in a thousand ways, still they find no such pleasure or delight in milk like they did as children.
Fihi Ma Fihi - Discourse 44
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