The Vastness of the Heart
“I saw him on the streets of the hidden with something in his hand. I said, ‘My God, what is this?’ He said, ‘Your heart.’ I said, ‘Has my heart such a station that it lies in your hand?’ He gazed at my heart, and it was like something folded up, so he spread it out. And my heart covered the space from the throne to the earth. I said, ‘This is my heart?’ He said, ‘This is your heart, and it is the vastest thing in existence.’ He took it, as it was still in his hand, to the angelic regions, and I went with him, until I reached the treasury of the hidden. I said, ‘Where are you taking it?’ And he said, ‘’ To the world of eternity, so that I may look in it, and create the wonders of reality in it, and forever manifest myself in it with the attribute of divinity.’” – Ruzbihan Baqli, The Unveiling of Secrets – Diary of a Sufi Master, page 43, translated by Carl W. Ernst
Eruch Jessawala, Meher Baba’s close Mandali, once told me that Krishna kept tiny models of His closest disciples and used to worship them. What is this game that the Beloved plays with His lovers—the game He plays with Himself?
Steven Goodman shared this statement of Rumi as transmitted by Amir Khusro: (The relationship between these two wondrous souls will have to wait for another time.)
“With my Beloved I play the game of love.
If I win, He is mine; if I lose, I am His!”
In the exoteric transmissions of Krishna, Mohammed, Jesus, and perhaps, one day, Meher Baba, this intimacy of relationship between the lover and the Beloved is lost. I said exoteric, meaning scriptural, meaning all that comes through time—all that comes through others. But when you meet Him on the streets of the hidden, it is not only beyond exoteric, it is also beyond esoteric, and it can only be described as the tale of love and:
“The tale of love must be heard from love itself…” – Rumi
“Then he hid, and his face appeared from the window of the angelic realm, and he plundered my heart and spirit. Then his essence and attributes appeared, and he drew me near until there was only one cubit between us.” Baqli, The Unveiling of Secrets – Diary of a Sufi Master, page 110, translated by Carl W. Ernst
Why did He leave one cubit between them? Because if the cubit was erased the game would end in Union. One might say, “How cruel is this Beloved, that for the sake of His game, He would leave the cubit untraversed." Hafez answers; “About what you hear from the Master, never say it is wrong, because, my dear, the fault lies in your own incapacity to understand Him.”
Is it that, as Ruzbihan Baqli says; he wants us to “remain in the enjoyment of intimacy and the sweetness of witnessing.”?
For in union, intimacy is extinguished, and witnessing (without another to witness) ceases to be possible.
“Grandfather, In the past, I have been inspired by the experiences of Ruzbihan that you have spoken of and now I have noticed that your friend has quoted passages from his writings from Dr. Ernst’s book, Diary of a Sufi Master. I have become curious about this Sufi and wonder as to his station in the spiritual world.”
“My dear, if by station you mean his plane of consciousness, all I can say is that the lower cannot see the higher, other than what the higher reveals to the lower, and I consider Ruzbihan’s station far beyond my own—but perhaps, my dear, you have some thoughts of your own?”
“Indeed I do Grandfather, though I realize that trying to gauge another’s spiritual station is a foolish endeavor.”
“Yet you asked.”
“Yes, and hopefully my motivation will prove me more an idiot than a fool.”
“It is true that it is said, ‘God loves and idiot and hates a fool.’”
“Because a fool takes everything seriously except God, while an idiot takes nothing seriously except God.”
“Yes, that is so.”
“So, as I said, perhaps my inquiry will prove me the former rather than the latter.”
“Indeed my dear, indeed.”
“Dear Grandfather, the clearest expositions of the spiritual panorama that I have found are in the teachings of Meher Baba, in particular God Speaks.”
“Also too in His descriptions of the higher planes of consciousness that are found in The Nothing and the Everything that He gave to dear Bhauji.”
“Yes, I agree—and based on those two sources I have concluded that Ruzbihan was a salik-like pilgrim on the fifth or sixth plane of consciousness.”
“Based on Ruzbihan’s own words I would not disagree, though as I said, the lower cannot see the higher, and sometimes a Perfect one, like Hafez, wrote couplets in which He described experiences of pilgrims on all the various planes of consciousness. Still, based on the descriptions of Ruzbihan’s experiences, it seems to me that he saw his Beloved God face to face and yet still experienced himself as something other than the One he was experiencing. What is it that Meher Baba says in God Speaks on the subject?”
“I have it right here Grandfather. Meher Baba says, ‘This mental-conscious human soul of the sixth plane, almost void of all impressions and only conscious of mind, now is confronted with God face to face and sees God in everything but does not see himself in God because, being still conscious of mind, he takes himself as Mind.’”
Voice of the Stream
My heart was so full that day as I walked in the garden my body could not contain its swell.
Joy rose within me. My eyes filled with tears.
“Why do I love this garden so much?” I said aloud.
“Because, I made it for you.”
I turned and saw him, arms held wide, standing beside a tiny stream amidst a stand of white jasmine.
“I have known your father and your father’s father and his father too, before the mighty tree of your lineage had yet become a tiny seed.
“I knew you then and I have loved you forever — before creation — before the time of time itself.
“Long ago, I revealed to your father, seven times removed, a hundred thousand shapes that clothe my mystery. In me he glimpsed the universes of form and energy and mind and all the worlds beyond the universe also. To him, I revealed my infinite colors, countless forms, and my attributes divine. Now see! The gift is yours.”
“There is darkness. I see nothing.”
“This darkness will fade. Can you see yourself?”
“I see a man, small and weak. His eyes are open yet do not see.”
“That man you were has ceased to be. You are all life now, life from stone to tree, every creature, humanity.”
“Yes! I am towering mountains and raging seas. I am mighty rivers and endless plains stretching past the reach of my eye and beyond the grasp of my mind.”
“You have become the earth, its firmament and depths — and you are the source of its life also. but what is your source, and where is your home? Your journey has only just begun.”
“I am light and fire bursting: planets encircle and adore me.
Earth, dearest of all bows reverently at my feet.”
“Now you have become the sun — the source of life to every planet whirling in your sight, but like the moon, you shine with borrowed light. Continue on, for all you are and all you see are merely shadows of Reality.”
“That great and mighty sun I have ceased to be now appears a tiny sphere lost in the vastness of the firmament. Eighteen thousand blazing worlds I have now become. Nothing is beyond me!”
“Oh arrogant one, you say that nothing is beyond you? I am beyond you. Your Self is beyond you. To become the universe is neither knowing you nor me — hidden still is Reality. Close your eyes to these worlds of form and time and enter the subtle sphere of dreams, where things are and are not what they appear to be.”
“I am awake, yet still asleep, and in the distance I hear sounds of chiming bells and from some far away shadowy realm glimpse etheric cathedrals where echo harmonies of sweet melodies that sing, ‘the essence of life is beautiful and free.’
“But now, what is happening? What is all this? The song has changed and waves of desperate cacophony overwhelm its sweet tune. My dream is now a nightmare. I cover my eyes but to no avail, for what I see I see within me and I am terrified. Light submits to shadows. The sea is bound within the drop and happiness bows to sorrow in an endless chain of births and suffering and death.”
“Be not frightened! This dream proceeds by my will. Souls inform themselves to know me, become drops to find the sea and don the cloak of darkness to realize the light.”
“My Lord, your explanation eludes me and I remain sickened and confused, haunted by all the pain and suffering I see.”
“Oh my dear one, listen closely to what I say. All suffer who know me not, for suffering is the remedy for forgetfulness. Suffering stirs the seed to awaken from its earthly cradle and don the tender form of shoot to thirst for light and glimpse the face of the sun. Nurtured in darkness, its destiny has always been the light. I am that glory and I wait for you to see me and know me as I am. I wait beyond time for all life to come to me. In me all suffering is extinguished; in me the dream ends. See now what have you become.”
“I have become energy itself and that sphere of dreams that once seemed so vast and terrifying appears to be no more than a single stitch on an endless tapestry of power. By your grace, dream and dreamer I have ceased to be. I am enfolded in unspeakable bliss. But who am I and what have I become? I no longer know my name.”
“Your name is spirit and you have reached the pinnacle of angelic existence. The entire universe and the sphere of dreams that contain it are less than a speck of dust compared to you. Were I to give the order, you could take that speck upon your tongue and in one swallow it would be gone. You are indeed great! Yet angelic existence with all its intoxicating power is merely a shadow of the infinite knowledge, power, and bliss of God. Go forth! You must now become mind.”
“Oh master, is there any respite in your gift? No sooner do I become one thing than you push me on again to another. First I was an atom on the sea of light and then became that sea. I saw life flicker in the light of the earthly sun and as that solar blaze I drowned in the effulgence of the starry universe that just as quickly disappeared within the sphere of dreams and passed like a shadow before me. I became the mighty domain of power, now power bows powerless before me.”
“My dear, there is no enduring rest upon this pathless path to truth. Only when the endless beginning and the beginningless end are both extinguished in eternity is eternal peace achieved.
“My lover, you have become the mind, the master of thought and feeling and arrived at the chamber of the heart. Remove your shoes and enter this holy abode.”
“Oh beloved, now I seem to be everywhere at once and can no longer discern what is me and what is not me. Inner and outer have no distinction; I am everything and dwell in my own ipseity of shifting feeling colors and ever changing feeling forms. No constant exists for me — but you! You are everything and I am nothing and I do not even exist — except in you!”
“Hear me now! You have reached the abyss that stands between us. You must cross this abyss of non-existence.”
“I cannot! I cannot even glimpse the other side. For all I have become, illusion I remain, while you dwell beyond and in Reality reign. You are the measure of my unendingness. In you alone I am contained. In your reflection I am revealed, my features defined. In the blinding effulgence of your divine light my own radiance quakes with fear of non-existence. How can I cross this abyss? My eye sees no way. My foot finds no holds.”
“You say you see me everywhere, in everything, and you exist in me. Listen carefully when I say that in reality I too do not exist beyond you. Neither do I contain you, nor do you contain me, for in reality You and I are one — not we — come!
“I cannot. I am terrified and fear for my life.”
“Remember my dear one; nothing real can ever be lost. When you awaken from sleep, only the dreams are gone. This final step of your journey is called Mahapralaya — where pure consciousness is retained after annihilation of the limited mind. Here you must trust me completely. Fear not for I will help you. Hear now my story
"You are like a stream that flows through all of time seeking union with the sea. Nearing journey’s end, the stream flows into a vast desert and is trapped in the sands. Weakening more and more, it tries to struggle on, but finds its way to the sea blocked by a great mountain. Hopeless and helpless, its life ebbing away into the sands, the stream cries out, ‘Oh help me Lord!’ and is answered by the voice of the wind.
"‘I am the wind; you must give yourself to me. In my arms I will carry you over the mountain as a cloud and as rain you will merge with the sea.’
"‘But I will cease to be a stream. I will die!’
"‘You will not die,’ whispered the wind. ‘Only your dream of yourself as stream will end. Besides, where is your choice? A stream you can no longer be. Give yourself to me, or be lost forever in the sands.’
"And so, totally helpless and without hope, exhausted beyond belief, the stream gave itself up into the arms of the wind and was carried as a cloud beyond the mountain’s peaks. The cloud drifted over the sea where seeing itself reflected in the water below, began to weep.
" ‘I await you. Come,’ welcomed the sea, and the cloud released itself as tears of joy and fell as rain into the sea.'
"‘We are not we, but one,’ spoke the golden sea and the stream, being no more, heard the voice and recognized it as its own.” – A poem by Michael Kovitz, (c) copyright 2005
We call it a game—God’s game. We heard the term from Him. God loves games, when Rumi lost his queen to Shams, he said, “I have lost again,” to which Shams replied, “No, this time you have won,” and there and then, over a game of chess, He gave Rumi God-Realization.
The candidate for the priesthood said that there are some things that God cannot do. His examiner asked him to explain, to which he replied, “God cannot beat the Ace of Spades with the Duce of Clubs, for to do so, would destroy the game and if the game is destroyed there can be no winners or losers. God loves games.
Meher Baba told us, “In the spiritual game, the loser rejoices and the winner feels ashamed.”
Why does the loser rejoice? Is it in the feeling of happiness for the winner? And why does the winner feel ashamed? Is it for the disappointment of the loser? Meher Baba said, “All souls are one. Who then rejoices and who feels ashamed? It is all His game.
“You must climb to the summit step by step.
Boil your pot by degrees—and in a masterly way;
Food boiled in mad haste is spoiled.
Doubtless God could have created the universe
In one moment of time by uttering the word.
Why then did He protract His work over six days,
Each of which equaled a thousand years?
Why does the formation of an infant take nine months?
Because God’s method is to work by slow degrees;
Why did the formation of Adam take forty days?
Because his clay was kneaded by slow degrees.” – Teachings of Rumi, The Masnavi, translated and abridged by E.H. Whinfield
What lies underneath this game of love? The game began with the quest for consciousness. Playing the game of acquiring consciousness accumulates impressions—the false answers to the question, “Who am I?”—the question that began the game in the first place. In the human form, consciousness is complete, but the game is not, because impressions have become entwined with this full consciousness. And so the game continues—the game to disentangle the impressions from the consciousness—without destroying the consciousness. It is a game that is all played in the vastness of the heart.
“Be not intoxicated with these goblets of forms,
Pass them by and linger not.
Yes, there is wine in the cups, but the wine originates elsewhere.
Look to the Giver of the wine with open mouth—
When His wine flows all cups are too small to hold it.
Oh Adam, quit your infatuation with the husk and the form,
For form proceeds from the world that is without form,
Even as smoke arises from fire.” – Ibid.
Eruch Jessawala, Meher Baba’s close disciple once said, “A man delivers you a check for a thousand dollars, do you throw yourself at his feet, or do you remember the one who sent the check?”
It is on the vast field of the heart that the game of love is played, and as with every game, there seems to always be a commentator, and so it is with the game of love. From the sublime utterances of Rumi, “The tale of love must be heard from love itself, for like the mirror it is both mute and expressive,” to the game’s reflection in the mundane innocence of popular culture, “It started long ago in the Garden of Eden when Adam told Eve, ‘Baby you’re for me,’” (The Game of Love, Wayne Fontana and the Mindbenders), the game of love is held by some in the highest esteem and denigrated by others as the greatest farce ever perpetrated on mankind.
As for me, I have always loved love. Not that I haven’t looked for it in all the wrong places, but eventually I did learn where not to seek it, and more importantly also, where it can be found—“Under the lamppost, where the light is better.” – Mullah Nasruddin If you wish to hear about love, listen to the utterances of the Masters, but if you wish to experience that love, then find His door and camp yourself before it and try to remain awake to the moment when He appears.
This keeping awake is no easy matter. The disciples of Jesus fell asleep in the Garden of Gethsemane—even after He told them not to—but there is always hope—and His compassion.
“And those who stood before the door, cried ‘Open up! You know our life is short, and lo, once departed we may not pass this way again!” – The Rubaiyat of Omar Kyam, interpretation Michael Kovitz
“And for today do not prepare, and toward tomorrow do not stare, His voice in the Tavern speaks, ‘Within your sighs is what you seek.’” – Ibid.
At some point, does it come to the realization that this game of love is all that there is?
“Grandfather, what do you think Meher Baba means when He says that in the spiritual game the loser rejoices and the winner feels ashamed?”
“Granddaughter, in the spiritual game nothing is what it seems—strength become weakness, failure success. Did not Rumi say as much when he said?
“‘Through love, bitter things seem sweet,
Through love, bit of copper are made gold,
Through love, dregs taste like pure wine,
Through love, pains are a healing balm.
Through love, thorns become roses,
And through love, vinegar becomes sweet wine.’”
“And grandfather, ‘through love the king becomes a slave.’” – The Masnavi: Translated and abridged by E.H. Whinfield
“Indeed my dear, indeed. There are so many levels on which the Great Ones can be understood. As for me, the winner feels ashamed because he feels pride in his victory at the expense of the loser, and the loser rejoices in happiness for the winner.”
“Indeed grandfather, indeed.”
“Dear Grandfather, you speak of His game of love on such a high level, but sometimes I have a problem making the connection between His game and life as I experience it; can you give me a few examples of how He plays out His game on the level of life?”
“Yes, my dear, His game which is played on the field of the heart, consists of many games played simultaneously on multiple levels, some of which can be understood, to some degree, by the mind, but most of which are beyond the mind, its status relegated to that of a mere spectator to the game. The mind has no power to effect change in the game, but none the less, is itself affected by the game, rising and falling through states from elation to consternation, and desperation, depending on what it thinks it perceives happening on the vast field of the heart.”
“The Beloved appears to give and take away, but not for the sake of cruelty. He never takes away anything that is real. He gives, what we are calling, the finer things of life, and no doubt, they bring a certain amount of pleasure—and it is understandable that one can become attached, thereby experiencing the state of loss, of disappointment, of pain, when they are taken away. But, as Hafez, says, ‘He never tries His slave in vain.’
“These sources of pleasure though nearly unlimited—they could be a husband or a wife, a child, riches, health, fame, home, possessions—the list goes on and on, but all this abundance is impermanent, passing, and therefore, ultimately disappointing.”
“And so the beggar must become the king to experience the giving and the king become a beggar to experience the withholding.”
“Yes, my dear, and through this game, this back and forth, played out over many lifetimes, both the beggar and the king becomes progressively disenchanted and ultimately disinterested in their respective and shifting states.”
“And so, Grandfather, you have helped me to see that all the, so-called, finer things, are not the problem, it is the attachment to them that is the problem—the cause of the pain.”
“Yes, my dear, indeed, the finer things when given are to be enjoyed—He wants that. To seek them is not His wish, but when given, to accept them is His wish.”
“To be in the ‘state of be as it may’ as dear Upasani Maharaj says.”
“And Grandfather, when one becomes detached from the state of abundance and the state of loss, is the game over?”
“No my dear, the game is not over, in fact it has just begun! for along with this game He simultaneously has been playing another game—the game of His Reality—His Presence—His Love—His Beauty and His Divinity. As the disenchantment over life’s dashed dreams and broken promises proceeds, He never fails to send gifts of His love and reminders that our real and ultimate destiny is infinite bliss.
“But these gifts and reminders, the real gifts and reminders, are veiled by many veils, because to receive them without the veils, in their pure and undiluted form, would destroy the very game He has designed for our ultimate realization. And so each game reaches its zenith and then proceeds to its nadir and thus initiates a third game—the game of neither.”
“And what dear Grandfather is the game of neither?”
“The game of neither is when He takes away the world and all its affairs and then hides Himself from the His lover—wounding him with arrows that He shoots from His state of concealment. ‘ Now I have neither the world nor Your company,’ complains the lover, only these wounds to my heart from arrows you shoot that never fail to miss their mark.
“In resignation, helpless and hopeless, the lover concludes, ‘But do not stop shooting Your arrows, for they are all I have, and therefore have come to take solace in these empty wounds.’”
“But the game is still not over?”
“No, my dear, He would not leave His lover in that state—the state of dust.”
“There is no life in the real dust;
It nourishes nothing,
Sustains nothing, and takes no interest in anything.
All hopes and aspirations end in dust at His feet,
And being useless in every way,
Dust wins the heart of the Beloved,
Who turns it into Fire.
‘Like waves upon my head the circling curls,
So in the sacred dance weave ye and whirl.
Dance then, oh heart, a whirling circle be;
Burn in that flame,
Is not the candle He?’” – Meditation and Prayers on 101 Names of God, (second edition) page 101, by Michael Kovitz – eladi-publications.com
“I looked at the beauty of his transcendent face with the eye of the heart, and he said to me, ‘How can they reach me by strivings and disciplines, if my noble face remains veiled to them? This is reserved for my lovers and the near ones among the knowers of God; there is no way to me except through me, and by the unveiling of my beauty.’” – The Unveiling of Secrets – Diary of a Sufi Master, translated by Carl W. Ernst
In His Discourses, messages and teachings, Meher Baba draws a distinction between the personal aspect of God and the impersonal aspect of God. For Christians, the impersonal aspect of God is represented by the Father and the personal aspect of God is represented by the Son. For followers of the Vedas, the Avatar of Vishnu represents the personal aspect of God, for Buddhists it is the Buddha, while for the Sufis, the personification of God in human-form is called Parvardigar.
Technically, the words Avatar, Parvardigar, Christ, and Buddha are not the names of the one God who has periodically taken on an appropriate human form; instead, they are terms reserved to describe the state and mission of these Divine Incarnations—in other words, the God-man. Thus, the Buddha in the man-form was named Gautama; the Christ was named Jesus; and the Avatar of the present age is named Meher Baba.
Man-God, as opposed to God-man, is a term that Meher Baba reserves for Perfect Masters—God Realized beings who have passed through the whole process of evolution, reincarnation, and involution and who have achieved God-consciousness while retaining creation consciousness.
Other souls too, become God-realized, but lose their consciousness of creation either wholly or in-part before they drop their bodies. But because Perfect Masters have a more extensive duty to perform for creation before dropping their bodies for the final time, there is the need for them to retain creation consciousness.
Meher Baba says that there are always five Perfect Masters on the planet of involution—our planet Earth being that planet at this time. In addition to their duty towards creation they also have another duty to perform, and that is to precipitate—to bring down to human form—the God-man every 750 to 1,400 hundred years. Both the Avatar and the Perfect Masters represent the personal aspect of God and share the same state of God realization. It is always the personal aspect of God that is being referred to as the Beloved in Ruzbihan’s Diary of a Sufi Master.
“Then I sought him after midnight, and I said to myself, ‘Would that I have seen the Truth (glory be to him) in the form of eternity!’ Then he appeared to me in the most beautiful shape. Facing me, he said, ‘Do you doubt that I am the lord of the worlds?’” – Ibid
“Worldly senses are the ladder of the earth,
Spiritual senses are the ladder of heaven.
The health of the former is sought in the leech,
The health of the latter from the Friend.” – The Masnavi of Rumi, translated and abridged by E.H. Whinfield
“Grandfather, it is most significant to me, having not been in Meher Baba’s physical presence, that we are still in the hundred year period that began when He dropped the body.”
“Because He said that during this period of time we can come to Him in the same way that we could when He was physically present?”
“Yes Grandfather, the personal aspect of God is still available to us at this time.”
“Indeed, in those places of pilgrimage that He created for us—around His tomb-shrine in India, His center in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, and of course, in our hearts—the vastness of which contains the whole of creation as does the vast ocean contain a single drop.”
“After bringing my life under Your command,
You have hidden Yourself.
Where should I look for You? Where should I search for the Truth?” Meher Sarod, by Bhau Kalchuri
Most complain to everybody, most blame everybody, but who complains to, who blames, God? Complaint is reserved for those who are intimidate with Him, who are consciously engaged in His game, the game of lover and Beloved, played upon the vast battlefield of the heart.
Krishna was the Avatar as Dwapara Yuga was coming to an end and the age of Kali was dawning. It was like the period of dusk that ends the day and begins the night—it was a period of transition known by some as Sandhi—the joint—a time known when, a place where, one can slip between two opposites and become free. Real yogis know the opportunities afforded by a Sandhi and that is why they can be seen doing their practices at dawn and dusk, and other auspicious times like the between the waxing and waning of the moon.
And so it was that when Arjuna, with Krishna as his charioteer, was suspended in the Sandhi between the two armies—between peace and war—and became conflicted and confused as to where his duty lay, he sought the counsel of his Beloved—that response was later to be immortalized in the teaching called the Bhagavad Gita—Krishna’s celestial song.
Krishna spoke about many things, he spoke about duty—the warrior’s duty—and told Arjuna that he must fight. But Arjuna remained confused and asked, “Krishna, is this battle of which you speak—this battle of sacred duty you urge me to fight—is this battle inside of me or outside of me?” Krishna replied, “I fail to perceive a difference.”
“I entered the oceans of ecstasies and joy, witnessing him in the station of intimacy. I was hidden from him for a time. He removed the veil of pride from in between, though there was no in between. I saw him in that form and he drew me near kindly, displaying affection and acceptance, and said, ‘Welcome Ruzbihan.’ I cried out in joy, I clapped, I hummed. I learned from him that he was mine, and time passed. I was hidden from him. I implored him to let me expire in pleasure from him. Time passed.” – Ruzbihan Baqli, The Unveiling of Secrets, translated by Carl W. Ernst
“Grandfather, how interesting, Ruzbihan said, ‘I was hidden from him,’ not that he was veiled from me!”
“Indeed my dear, he is saying that we veil ourselves from Him, not Him from us; in this case, it was the veil of pride.”
“And yet, dear Grandfather, Ruzbihan goes on to say that there is no in between, and if there is no in between, then no veil can part the oneness that is the Truth.”
“If such a veil were to exist at all, then it would be an illusion.”
“And illusion is not Truth.”
“Above and below, within and without, East and West, do not exist—are illusion. Nothing can be beyond Everything, but were Nothing to exist at all, it would be existing within Everything. When this Truth is realized, the game of the heart is over—finished for good—and seen to have never existed at all.”
“As Meher Baba said, ‘You and I are not we, but One!’” – Meher Baba
Labels: Amir Khusro, Dwarpara Yuga, Eruch Jessawala, Krishna, mystical poetry, planes of consciousness, Rumi, Ruzbihan Baqli, Sufi, The Unveiling of Secrets – Diary of a Sufi Master, translated by Carl W. Ernst