There is a town where only ducks live. Every Sunday the ducks waddle out of their houses and waddle down Main Street to their church. They waddle into the sanctuary and squat in their proper pews. The duck choir waddles in and takes its place, then the duck minister comes forward and opens the duck Bible. (Ducks, like all other creatures on earth, seem to have their own special version of Scriptures.) He reads to them: “Ducks! God has given you wings! With wings you can fly! With wings you can mount up and soar like eagles. No walls can confine you! No fences can hold you! You have wings. God has given you wings and you can fly like birds!”
All the ducks shouted, “Amen!” And they all waddled home.
PONDER AND CONSIDER
You were born with wings.
You are not meant for crawling, so don’t.
You have wings. Learn to use them and fly. | Rumi
- We weren’t born to live meaningless, average existence. We have been given gifts, abilities, untapped potential, intelligence, energy, passion and dreams so that we can live an extraordinary life.
- What areas of your life do you feel you are most like the ducks in the parable?
- What steps can you take to begin to “soar” and not just talk about doing so?
Don’t waddle, fly!
There was in a secluded place a lake, which was fed by a running stream, and in this lake were three fishes, one very wise, the second half wise, and the third foolish. One day some fishermen passed by that lake, and having espied the fish, hastened home to fetch their nets.
The fish also saw the fishermen and were sorely disquieted. The very wise fish, without a minute’s delay, quitted the lake and took refuge in the running stream which communicated with it, and thus escaped the impending danger. The half wise fish delayed doing anything till the fishermen actually made their appearance with their nets. He then floated upon the surface of the water, pretending to be dead, and the fishermen took him up and threw him into the stream, and by this device he saved his life. But the foolish fish did nothing but swim wildly about, and was taken and killed by the fishermen.
The wise man is he who possesses a torch of his own;
He is the guide and leader of the caravan.
That leader is his own director and light;
That illuminated one follows his own lead.
He is his own protector; do ye also seek protection
From that light whereon his soul is nurtured.
The second, he, namely, who is half wise,
Knows the wise man to be the light of his eyes.
He clings to the wise man like a blind man to his guide,
So as to become possessed of the wise man’s sight.
But the fool, who has no particle of wisdom,
Has no wisdom of his own, and quits the wise man.
He knows nothing of the way, great or small,
And is ashamed to follow the footsteps of the guide.
He wanders into the boundless desert,
Sometimes halting and despairing, sometimes running.
He has no lamp wherewith to light himself on his way,
Nor half a lamp which might recognise and seek light.
He lacks wisdom, so as to boast of being alive,
And also half wisdom, so as to assume to be dead.
That half wise one became as one utterly dead
In order to rise up out of his degradation.
If you lack perfect wisdom, make yourself as dead
Under the shadow of the wise, whose words give life.
The fool is neither alive so as to companion with Isa, [=Jesus]
Nor yet dead so as to feel the power of Isa’s breath.
His blind soul wanders in every direction,
And at last makes a spring, but springs not upwards.
Source | Source: E. H. Whinfield, The Masnavi (1898)
Another rendition of this Rumi tale by Coleman Barks
This is the story of the lake and the three big fish
that were in it, one of them intelligent,
and the third, stupid.
Some fishermen came to the edge of the lake
with their nets. The three fish saw them.
The intelligent fish decided at once to leave,
to make the long, difficult trip to the ocean.
“I won’t consult with these two on this.
They will only weaken my resolve, because they love
this place so. They call it home. Their ignorance
will keep them here.”
When you’re traveling, ask a traveler for advice,
not someone whose lameness keeps him in one place.
“Love of one’s country
is part of the faith.”
But don’t take that literally!
Your real “country” is where you’re heading,
not where you are.
Don’t misread that hadith.
In the ritual ablutions, according to tradition,
there’s a separate prayer for each body part.
When you snuff water up your nose to cleanse it,
beg for the scent of the spirit. The proper prayer is,
“Lord, wash me. My hand has washed this part of me,
but my hand can’t wash my spirit.
I can wash this skin,
but you must wash me.”
A certain man used to say the wrong prayer
for the wrong hole. He’d say the nose-prayer
when he splashed his behind. Can the odor of heaven
come from our rumps? Don’t be humble with fools.
Don’t take pride into the presence of a master.
It’s right to love your home place, but first ask,
“Where is that, really?”
The wise fish saw the men and their nets and said,
Ali was told a secret doctrine by Muhammad
and told not to tell it, so he whispered it down
the mouth of a well. Sometimes there’s no one to talk to.
You must just set out on your own.
So the intelligent fish made its whole length
a moving footprint and, like a deer the dogs chase,
suffered greatly on its way, but finally made it
to the edgeless safety of the sea.
The half-intelligent fish thought,
has gone. I ought to have gone with him,
but I didn’t, and now I’ve lost my chance
I wish I’d gone with him.”
Don’t regret what’s happened. If it’s in the past,
let it go. Don’t even remember it!
Back to the second fish,
the half-intelligent one.
He mourns the absence of his guide for a while,
and then thinks, “What can I do to save myself
from these men and their nets? Perhaps if pretend
to be already dead!
I’ll belly up on the surface
and float like weeds float, just giving myself totally
to the water. To die before I die, as Muhammad
So he did that.
He bobbed up and down, helpless,
within arm’s reach of the fishermen.
“Look at this! The best and biggest fish
One of the men lifted him by the tail,
spat on him, and threw him up on the ground.
He rolled over and over and slid secretly near
the water, and then, back in.
the third fish, the dumb one, was agitatedly
jumping about, trying to escape with his agility
The net, of course, finally closed
around him, and as he lay in the terrible
frying-pan bed, he thought,
“If I get out of this,
I’ll never live again in the limits of a lake.
Next time, the ocean! I’ll make
the infinite my home.”
Source | Coleman Barks, The Essential Rumi
PONDER AND CONSIDER
- Which fish are you?
- How did the wisest of the fish get away?
- How did the half-wise escape?
- What happened to the foolish fish?
There was a man in Turkey who was travelling with his favourite donkey, a faithful companion for years and an animal very close to his heart. At the end of a hard day on the road he came to an inn and decided to rest there for the night. No sooner than he had taken off the saddle bags than a youth working for the inn came out to greet him.
“Salaam Aleikum, sir, welcome to our humble shelter! Please, come inside and get some warm soup and sit beside the fire.”
“Of course, I’d love to but first I must make sure my donkey is well cared for.” The man said, patting his donkey on the back. The youth smiled generously.
“Please, sir, allow me to attend to such details, you are an honoured guest here.”
“But it’s just that he’s an old donkey and needs a nice bed of hay to lie in.”
“Sir, we guarantee you the best care possible.”
“But you will sweep the floor first to make sure there are no stones? He gets in a terrible mood if he doesn’t sleep well.”
“Please, sir, just trust me, we are professionals here.”
“But you will add some water to his straw – his teeth are getting shakey and he likes just a little fresh grass to begin with.”
“Sir, you are embarrassing me!”
“And you will give him a little rubdown along the spine – he goes crazy for that!”
“Sir, please just leave everything to me.”
So finally the man gave in and entered the establishment to enjoy a fine dinner by the fire and a comfortable bed. Meanwhile the youth rolled his eyes and… then went out to play cards in a nearby den.
The man could not sleep somehow, despite the silk sheets, as he kept having nightmares of his donkey chained up without water or food, lying on the cold stone. The vision wouldn’t leave him and so he got up in his dressing gown, walked down the steps to the stable and there! His donkey was in exactly the condition he’d imagined – cold, hungry and dying of thirst.
The same story can be found in poetry form in The Essential Rumi:
AFTER THE MEDITATION
Now i see something in my listeners
that won’t let me continue this way.
The ocean flows back in
and puts up a foam barrier,
and then withdraws.
After a while,
it will come in again.
This audience wants to hear more
about the visiting Sufi and his friends
in meditation. But be discerning.
Don’t think of this as a normal character
in an ordinary story.
The ecstatic meditation ended.
Dishes of food were brought out.
The Sufi remembered his donkey
that had carried him all day.
He called to the servant there, “Please,
go to the stable and mix the barley generously
with the straw for the animal. Please.”
“Don’t worry yourself with such matters,
All things have been attended to.”
“But I want to make sure that you wet the barley first.
He is an old donkey, and his teeth are shaky.”
“Why are you telling me this?
I have given the appropriate orders.”
“But did you remove the saddle gently,
and put salve on the sore he has?”
“I have served thousands of guests
with these difficulties, and all have gone away
satisfied. here, you are treated as family,
Do not worry. Enjoy yourself.”
“But did you warm his water
just a little, and then add only a bit of straw
to the barley?’
“Sir, I’m ashamed for you.”
sweep the stall clean of stones and dung,
and scatter a little dry earth in it.”
“For God’s sake, sir,
leave my business to me!”
“And did you currycomb his back?
He loves that.”
“Sir, I am personally
responsible for all these chores!”
The servant turned and left at a brisk pace …
to join his friends in the street.
The Sufi then lay down to sleep
and had terrible dreams about his donkey,
how it was being torn to pieces by a wolf,
or falling helplessly into a ditch.
And his dreaming was right!
His donkey was being totally neglected. weak and gasping,
without food or water all the night long.
The servant had done nothing he said he would.
There are such vicious and empty flatterers
in your life. Do the careful,
Don’t trust that to anyone else.
There are hypocrites who will praise you,
but who do not care about the health
of your heart-donkey.
Be concentrated and leonine
in the hunt for what is your true nourishment.
Don’t be distracted by blandishment-noises,
of any sort.
PONDER AND CONSIDER
Rumi then sums up by saying: the world is full of those who say whatever is necessary to get their way. When it comes to looking after your heart donkey, it’s entirely up to us. We are the only real keepers of our feelings and no one knows better than us what we really need, hence the value of trusting our intuition and taking care of our hearts as though it really were an old, faithful companion.
The moral of the tale: if you own something as precious as a donkey or a heart, you’d better take care of it yourself.
A grammarian once embarked in a boat. Turning to the boatman with a self-satisfied air he asked him:
‘Have you ever studied grammar?’
‘No,’ replied the boatman.
‘Then half your life has gone to waste,’ the grammarian said.
The boatman thereupon felt very depressed, but he answered him nothing for the moment. Presently the wind tossed the boat into a whirlpool. The boatman shouted to the grammarian:
‘Do you know how to swim?’
‘No’ the grammarian replied, ‘my well-spoken, handsome fellow’.
‘In that case, grammarian,’ the boatman remarked, ‘the whole of your life has gone to waste, for the boat is sinking in these whirlpools.’
PONDER AND CONSIDER
You may be the greatest scholar in the world in your time, but consider, my friend, how the world passes away – and time!
There was once a successful businessman who had everything – a beautiful wife, adorable children and a big house in which they all lived happily. The pride of his life though was his exotic songbird which he kept in a cage and fed delicious titbits when it entertained his guests.
One day the man had to go on a journey far to the south and he asked his wife and children what presents they would like from abroad – they asked for fine silks, honeycomb and clockwork toys. Finally he asked his songbird if he would like him to bring anything back.
“I wish only for one small favour.” The songbird replied.
“Anything!” his master declared.
“Just this – when you see my cousins in the trees in the place you’re going to, please tell them about my conditions here.”
“Are you sure? I could bring you back a fine jewel-encrusted mirror or dried tropical fruit?”
“No, just this, thank you.” The songbird replied and the man went away feeling a little disconcerted but resolved to carry out his pet’s wishes.
The man made his trip safely and carried out his business to satisfaction and spent his remaining time there buying the presents his family had requested. Finally, he went to a park and saw some birds in the trees that bore a remarkable resemblance to his own songbird. He called up to one of them and told them about how his own bird lived in cage and sang for him.
But no sooner had he finished speaking than one of these exotic birds trembled on its perch and tumbled to the ground and ceased to move. The man held his head in grief and the incident quite spoiled his trip.
He returned home and greeted his wife and family who were delighted at their presents but he couldn’t share their pleasure as long as the forthcoming encounter with his songbird remained on his conscience. Finally he found the courage to go down to the garden.
“Well?” his songbird asked and, hesitantly, the man told him exactly what had happened. The song bird listened intently, then trembled on his perch and fell to the bottom of his cage, dead.
The man was now beside himself with grief and confusion. Weeping openly, he opened the door of the cage and carried out his beloved songbird in his hands. No sooner had he done so, however, the songbird returned to life and flew up to the branches of the nearest tree and let out a shrill of joy at finding its freedom.
The man scratched his head in wonder and eventually asked:
“Okay, you win. But tell me please, what was in the message that contained this trick?”
The songbird looked down at him with pity and said:
“My cousin in Africa showed me that it was my beauty that kept me in the cage. Were it not for the delight of my singing voice you would have lost interest long ago. I had to give up that life in order to become free.”
PONDER AND CONSIDER
The image of dying unto oneself is a common theme in many spiritual traditions. Of particular interest is the dying to world and the things and possessions that we hold precious in order to experience the authentic and radical freedom of living in grace.
In one sense this story is about the self-limitaion of vanity but at a deeper level there’s the notion that as long as we’re in love with ourselves we will always be in a cage of our own making.
There was once a man who was on his way back home from market with his camel and, as he’d had a good day, he decided to stop at a mosque along the road and offer his thanks to God.
He left his camel outside and went in with his prayer mat and spent several hours offering thanks to Allah, praying and promising that he’d be a good Muslim in the future, help the poor and be an upstanding pillar of his community.
When he emerged it was already dark and lo and behold – his camel was gone!
He immediately flew into a violent temper and shook his fist at the sky, yelling:
“You traitor, Allah! How could you do this to me? I put all my trust in you and then you go and stab me in the back like this!”
A passing sufi dervish heard the man yelling and chuckled to himself.
“Listen,” he said, “Trust God but, you know, tie up your camel.”
A young man went to a great master of wisdom and said to him, ‘Master, so great is my trust in God that I didn’t even hitch my camel out there. I left it to God’s providence, for God to take care of it.”
And the wise master said, ‘Go back outside and tie your camel to the post, you nincompoop! There’s no point in inconveniencing God with something that you can do yourself.’
PONDER AND CONSIDER
- If your leave the jar of honey open, by morning it may be full of ants!
- Trust is always and necessarily a cooperative venture between your inner knowing or spirit, and the world in which you live. Trust is active, aware and alert. It is not blind and unknowing.