Sufi parable from Rumi Almost on the very bank of the stream, the Wall stood, rising high. The venerable man once sat on that wall in melancholy and lost his thirst. He looked longingly at the stream, But he could not get it from the wall. Accidentally, he threw a brick down, In response, the stream issued a calling cry. And it seemed: a muffled and short splash, similar to the sweet voice of a friend. To hear this sound again, the thirsty man began to throw stones into the water. It seemed to him that the stream was asking: “What good is your deed?” “In my action,” thought the tired husband, “there are, perhaps, two undoubted benefits. And the first of these two benefits is that the desired splash caresses my ears. That sound is like the sound of Esrafil For the souls of the departed, whose destiny is the grave. The noise reminds me of distant thunder on the day when everything around dried up. That sound is desirable, like the tinkling of pennies For the poor who beg for alms. Strangely enough, it resembles the ringing of keys, Promising freedom to the prisoners of Zindan. When I throw a brick from a wall, I have another self-interest in this matter: The wall becomes much lower, which means I’m closer to the desired water!” Flesh is a wall, you humble the flesh one day, When you really thirst and suffer. The more arrogant we are, the longer our necks, the more difficult it is for us to bow our heads. We destroy stone walls, When we bend our knees in prayer. We destroy all barriers between ourselves and blessed living water. And the lower our wall of temptations, the closer we are to the transparent stream.
Translated from Russian · original on wisdomlib.ru