In an age where ‘holy’ men with big guns are oppressing and judging women. From Kabul to Texas, we have to let the world know that there is only one true religion – Love. The quest for truth is hard, with fictions and misinformation streaming into our eyeballs. Leading some to question our governments and even science. To them, I say don’t believe your eyes. Read The Forty Rules of Love by Elif Shafak, and let love be your guide.
I had an online discussion yesterday with someone. We were arguing about vaccines. He said that we can’t trust anything our governments or media say. It’s all lies. He said, the only thing we can trust are our own eyes.
I ended the argument there. I have realised, that I can’t even trust my own eyes. And I didn’t want to come across as a smart alec, or just some heavily contradictory arsehole. So, I never replied.
Don’t believe your eyes
I am not talking about being blind drunk. Or psychedelic induced visual alterations. I am talking about totally natural, visual distortions.
This time last year, I was in my Mum’s garden. It was a glorious sunny day. I had just finished practicing yoga on the grass. When I was struck by the beauty of the flowers. I am 55, I need glasses to see things clearly up close now. And I wasn’t wearing my spectacles. But I was amazed that I could see every little detail of the plants and flowers up close. Crisp, sharp, perfectly focused details, which even with my glasses on, I wouldn’t have seen so clearly. I could see the fine hairs on the plants, the trichome.
I remember thinking at the time to try and ‘photograph’ this moment. And I don’t think the experience will ever leave me. Other things happened that weekend, which are equally indelible. But they are for another time.
So, I thought, yeah, I can’t believe my eyes. Is my brain compensating for my poor far sightedness? Is it rendering the detail lost by my eyeballs? Is it applying an organic “Sharpen” filter? Had Bill Gates installed Photoshop in my brain? I can’t explain it. My eyesight is as poor as ever now. Whatever was working then, is not working now.
The Forty Rules of Love
I was reading ‘The Forty Rules of Love‘ that weekend too. A remarkable book by British-Turkish author Elif Shafak.
It tells the story of the 13th Century Islamic scholar, known as Jalal Al-Din Rumi. Rumi, for short, or Mawlana -Our Master- if your prefer. He was regarded as a beacon to all Muslims.
In 1244, Rumi met Shams of Tabriz, that Sufis in the centuries to follow likened to the meeting of two oceans. Shams was a wandering dervish with unconventional ways and heretical proclamations.
Rumi was transformed from a mainstream cleric to a committed mystic, passionate poet, advocate of love and originator of the ecstatic dance of the whirling dervishes. Daring to break free of all conventional rules. In an age of deeply-embedded bigotries and clashes, he stood for a universal spirituality.
I couldn’t stop reading the above passage. I recognised the simple truth. That Heaven and Hell are just fictions, that only obscure. To be in the moment. Is to love. That is heaven. That is paradise. That is the truth. Hell, is when you start patting yourself on the back for being ’special’, because of your meditation, yoga, puja or prayers. This again is a fiction. It leads you straight off the Bridge of Sirat. To the demons of delusions waiting for you below. To walk the razors edge is not easy. But also is incredibly simple. Anyone can do it. But we don’t. We prefer our fictions. The promise of virgins or hanging out with Jesus are especially alluring. And off we go to the depths of hell.
My neighbour had been through hell last summer. We hadn’t seen for months. She explained to us her dreadful Covid near-death experience, and her ongoing battles. Which was why we hadn’t seen her. And her Covid story sparked my passion for vaccines.
Don’t search for heaven and hell in the future. Both are now present. Whenever we manage to love without expectations, calculations, negotiations, we are indeed in heaven. Whenever we fight, hate, we are in hell.Shams of Tabriz
But anyway, she is a bit of a gypsy/witch and said my aura was ‘very kind’. Which is probably one of the nicest things anyone has said to me. She then told me that her angel is telling her that I should read the Forty Rules of Love by Elif Shafak. I did. And her guardian angel, was spot on. I needed to hear this book. It is a simply profound and wise book – about love. The only true religion. And hidden in the dogma of all other religions.
Beware of ‘holy men’ with big guns
In Texas and Kabul, right now, ‘holy men’ with big guns are oppressing women’s rights in the name of their fictions. Blessed are the fruit. It is God’s job to judge others. Our only purpose is to love.