What does it mean to 'let go'? It's such a catch-phrase, but really what are we letting go of? Control? Desire? Pleasures? Belief? Our egos? Our violence or our joy? I sense that whatever that term is referring to is some sort of superstructure that we have placed over top of our selves. Some sense of who or what we should be, all the while forgetting what we are and what we want to be.
Rumi has a lovely story about two types of people in the world. The materialists or fire-stokers of the world are scrapping and scrounging to pile up heaps and heaps of dung. At the end of the day, they derive their worth from how much dung they have piled up. The dung is then collected together and ignited in order to fuel the hot baths of those in the spa above. The other type of person has released themself from the obligation to haul dung. These sit in the water and wash off the grime. And here's the shocker from Rumi:
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The mystery is how the obsessions
of furnace stokers keep the bathwater
of the others simmering perfectly.
They seem opposed, but they're necessary
to each other's work: the proud piling up
of fire worship, the humble disrobing
and emptying out of purification.
As the sun dries wet dung to make it
ready to heat water, so dazzling
sparks fly from the burning filth.
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Not claiming to be anything more than a fire stoker, I ask, what is this world and this mystery? How does the annoying behavior of someone shed light on my own self? Can such a deep yearning be left unanswered?
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There's someone swaying by your side,
lips that say Mashallah, Mashallah.
Wonderful. God inside attraction.
A spring no one knew of wells up
on the valley floor.
Lights inside a tent lovers move toward.
The refuse of Damascus gets turned over
in the sun. Be like that yourself.
Say mercy, mercy to the one who guides
your soul, who keeps time.
Move, make a mistake, look
up. Checkmate.
-Rumi
