Thursday, June 27, 2013

blessed

The sorrow of the lover is continual, in the presence and in the absence of the beloved: in the presence for fear of the absence, and in absence in longing for the presence. According to the mystical view the pain of love is the dynamite that breaks up the heart, even if it be as hard as a rock. When this hardness that covers the light within is broken through, the streams of all bliss come forth as springs from the mountains.

It is the thoughts that spring from the depths of the heart which become inspirations and revelations, and these come from the hearts of awakened souls, called by the Sufis, Sahib-i Dil. The bringers of joy are the children of sorrow. Every blow we get in life pierces the heart and awakens our feelings to sympathize with others, and every swing of comfort lulls us to sleep, and we become unaware of all. This proves the truth of these words, 'Blessed are they that mourn.'
 

-Pir-o-Murshid Inayat Khan