A recent post offered three poems by the Kashmiri Sufi Nuruddin Rishi, poems about the experience of coming face to face with Reality. With profound simplicity and humility, the poet writes that pretence has vanished, now: Truth is what It is. “A sprig of sweet basil, I cannot call nettle.” What has changed? Not the Truth, of course, for that is, and was, and will always be; if it were not so, it could not be Truth. The change is that the seeker has at last allowed the veil to drop:
When I let go of my thoughts and doubts
I saw Him pervading all—
It sounds so very easy; just let go of your thoughts and doubts, and you will be home again. Why do we delay that homecoming? But everything ripens in its own time. Unripe fruits are hard and sour; unripe nuts are impossible to peel; unripe grain has no nourishment to give. Each must pass through its season, growing through the heat of day and the dark of night, surviving storms and drought, until at last some inner process reaches its culmination.
In the case of the seeker, that culmination comes when the longing for Reality becomes stronger than our attachment to our thoughts and doubts, when the beauty of the Unseen becomes more fascinating than the unrewarding forms and concepts we have clung to.
Fruit and lips
and teeth and tongue and taste
don’t worry about your rind.
The Unseen wants your sweetness.