Yesterday before bedtime I read Rumi’s poem “The Window Within the Soul.” I gave into the temptation to pull just one book off the shelf and read just one poem—which of course turned into more than just one book and more than just one poem. I felt like this was an indulgence I really shouldn’t give in to, I was just putting off going to bed, what was I doing? (Not that this hasn’t happened before.) But in any case, there I was: First, William Stafford’s The Way It Is: New and Collected Poems, and then The Rumi Collection: An Anthology of Translations of Mevlana Jalaluddin Rumi, selected and edited by Kabir Helminski.
Then I was struck by a particular poem. Even though it reverberated in my mind, I kept going a while longer, kept on reading poetry, like a vehicle that takes a while to come to a stop. But after a while I heard it calling me back, so I read it again.
The Window Within the Soul
During prayer I am accustomed to turn to God like this
and recall the meaning of Muhammad’s words,
“the delight felt in the ritual prayer.”*
The window of my soul opens,
and from the purity of the unseen world,
the book of God comes to me straight.
The book, the rain of divine grace, and the light
are falling into my house through a window
from my real and original Source.
The house without a window is hell;
to make a window is the essence of true religion.
Don’t thrust your axe upon every thicket;
come, use your axe to cut open a window.
– Jalaluddin Rumi
Mathnawi III, 2401-2405
*The Prophet Muhammad (peace and blessings be upon him)
is said to have mentioned this as one of the three things
he loved best in the world.
(Translated by Kabir Helminski and Camille Helminski, from
The Rumi Collection: An Anthology of Translations of Mevlana
Jalaluddin Rumi, selected and edited by Kabir Helminski.)
There are so many wonderful lines in this poem, but what I kept coming back to was “the delight felt in the ritual prayer.” I kept thinking about the state of consciousness that’s delighted to go to ritual prayer, and what that implies. And about the word “delight,” and the delicious taste of delight itself. As I put the book back on the shelf and went to do my own spiritual practice I thought, What would it be like to approach this with delight? Is this possible? And, Why not try it?
The idea itself filled me with delight. And I found there was also a sense of subtle amusement, a lightness, a childlike enjoyment, and an actual sense of fun. As much as I value spiritual practice, as much as I consider it a gift and have had enjoyment in it (and also resistance), and beautiful experiences, this sense of fun, actual fun, was totally unexpected.
This opens up a whole new world of possibilities. How much more fun would life be if we approached more of it with delight? In what other areas of spiritual practice can we try it out? In what areas of our daily life? We can try it with anything we want. We’ve all seen how little children can approach almost anything as a game of fun. So this capability is already in us, we were born with it. It is possible for us to bring delight to the table, so to speak, even if we don’t play with our food or throw peas at each other. And I found that what I feared was undue indulgence in reading too many poems before bed turned out not to be indulgence after all, but gave me something beautiful. Letting myself do something I delight in gave me a burst of energy and opened me to new understanding.
And now, writing this, I am not plagued by the thought that there’s something else I should be doing. Instead, I am filled with the energy of delight. Delight itself, and the energy released when delight is allowed. When we allow ourselves to give in to beauty, to poetry, to love, to anything that is delicious nourishment for our soul.
Life was meant to be relished. We are meant to bring delight to the table. Sometimes it comes to us unbidden, and sometimes it is up to us to bring it, and that changes everything. This is our gift and our possibility, and this is the winged energy of delight.
Commentary © 2022 Shanti Natania Grace
Photo: Mike Enerio on Unsplash
~~~~~~~~~~~
As Once the Winged Energy of Delight
As once the winged energy of delight
carried you over childhood’s dark abysses,
now beyond your own life build the great
arch of unimagined bridges.
Wonders happen if we can succeed
in passing through the harshest danger;
but only in a bright and purely granted
achievement can we realize the wonder.
To work with Things in the indescribable
relationship is not too hard for us;
the pattern grows more intricate and subtle,
and being swept along is not enough.
Take your practiced powers and stretch them out
until they span the chasm between two
contradictions…For the god
wants to know himself in you.
– Rainer Maria Rilke
(From Ahead of All Parting: The Selected Poetry and Prose of Rainer Maria Rilke,
translated by Stephen Mitchell)
~~~~~~~~~~~
Art by Michael Leunig
