وَبَشِّرِ الصَّابِرِينَ


In fact a mature person does not fall in love, he rises in love. The word ’fall’ is not right. Only immature people fall; they stumble and fall down in love. Somehow they were managing and standing. They cannot manage and they cannot stand – they find a woman and they are gone, they find a man and they are gone. They were always ready to fall on the ground and to creep. They don’t have the backbone, the spine; they don’t have that integrity to stand alone.
A mature person has the integrity to be alone. And when a mature person gives love, he gives without any strings attached to it: he simply gives. And when a mature person gives love, he feels grateful that you have accepted his love, not vice versa. He does not expect you to be thankful for it – no, not at all, he does not even need your thanks. He thanks you for accepting his love. And when two mature persons are in love, one of the greatest paradoxes of life happens, one of the most beautiful phenomena: they are together and yet tremendously alone; they are together so much so that they are almost one. But their oneness does not destroy their individuality, in fact, it enhances it: they become more individual.

Two mature persons in love help each other to become more free. There is no politics involved, no diplomacy, no effort to dominate. How can you dominate the person you love? Just think over it. Domination is a sort of hatred, anger, enmity. How can you think of dominating a person you love? You would love to see the person totally free, independent; you will give him more individuality. That’s why I call it the greatest paradox: they are together so much so that they are almost one, but still in that oneness they are individuals. Their individualities are not effaced – they have become more enhanced. The other has enriched them as far as their freedom is concerned.

Immature people falling in love destroy each other’s freedom, create a bondage, make a prison. Mature persons in love help each other to be free; they help each other to destroy all sorts of bondages. And when love flows with freedom there is beauty. When love flows with dependence there is ugliness.



erzsèbet rosenkreutz

Last night, in private, I asked the wise old man to reveal to me the secret of the world. Softly he whispered, Hush!, in my ear: It’s something you learn, not words you can hear. - Rumi

I’ve always seen this photo circulating around on my dash, but I never really knew the background story to it. Here it is:
Insane asylum, Kabul, Afghanistan, 1992
The pain of war has become too much for these men. Wrapped in blankets, they have retreated into themselves. Vulnerable and haunted by demons, they are the uncounted casualties of decades of war. 

I’m just not someone who goes to find someone to talk to when something happens to me.

I keep it to myself. I think it over. I deal with it myself. I ask myself why I’m feeling whatever I’m feeling. Whether it makes sense that I’m feeling that way. Is it just my ego talking, or do I actually have a reason to feel the way I do? Am I just trying to avoid feeling or having to do something else? What do I do with this feeling now? Do I act on it, is that wise… all things I think abt when I’m having my internal monologue. All things I don’t like to tell people about. and that’s just the way that I am.

and to a large extent, that’s based on the premise that I feel like other people won’t get it. because there’s really only three people in my life who’ll get it immediately. and even with them, I don’t even tell them when certain things happen (not because I think they won’t get it but because I just don’t think it’s necessary) so much so that I forget to update them about my life. I forget what I’ve told them about and what I’ve not. I thank God that these people don’t take my lack of communication as an indicator of how much I love them, because not everyone works like that.

so when I meet someone who isn’t one of those three, who gets it almost immediately, I don’t quite know what to do with that person. and I do the stupidest thing ever: I not only run away, but I make it seem like I don’t get what they’re talking about.

I’m sorryyy, I’m just not ready to let someone in that quickly. I swear I’m not trying to screw anything up, but I feel like I really am. That’s my fault, and it’d be wonderful if you could just be patient with me, but I can’t ask that of you.

And when I encounter someone who doesn’t relate to people in the same way, who relates to people in the exact opposite way, immediately wanting to tell someone when something happens in their lives, I don’t know what to do with it either. I don’t get how one could be so trusting of others, it’s anathema to my entire being.

Don’t. I can’t be your person.


Sunset by MrQ1984 on Flickr.

you think you’re better than me. it’s clear as day, the way you raise an eyebrow at me, the way you shake your head, the way you explain things to me. 

maybe you are. maybe you aren’t. Allah knows best. 

but I don’t get it.

was the point of getting back to God solely just to make you feel better about yourself? isn’t it supposed to work in reverse? you weren’t given hidayah because you deserved it more than other people did. you were given hidayah simply because Allah willed it for you, and He guides whomever he chooses. which also means that He could take away all that He has given you in the blink of an eye. He is the source. so what reason is there to feel self-righteous? 

maybe you’re right. maybe you are closer to God than I am. maybe. that doesn’t hurt me. I still have a lot to work on with Him. 

but what does hurt, is that you’re supposed to be my friend. we see things differently, I know. but that doesn’t make either one of us better than the other. 

an atom’s weight of pride, our entrance fee to hellfire. remember? 


Pakistani children sit on the window of a train while waiting to travel with their family from Rawalpindi to Peshawar. 

“When you witness how this groom helps his bride walk in wearing that traditionally heavy dress, you know that no woman should ever settle for less.”
Sitwat & Insiya Photography

#momdadimok #hearst