The New Rule

The great Sufi Master, Rumi, born 700 years ago, says,

“It’s the old rule that drunks have to argue and get into fights.”

He’s talking about zealots. Fanatics are drunk on bad wine – the wine of the ego – and  the outcome is always predictable: arguing and fights. We have many zealots these days, and a lot of bad wine. In troubled times like ours, it’s hard to tell the difference between justice-making and zealotry. The guide, as always, seems to be if there is any real listening going on, or just sermonizing and shouting.

Rumi goes on to describe the mystic (“the lover”) who wanders the land trying to find true spiritual inspiration. Wandering around, head in the clouds, she falls into hole.

The lover is just as bad: she falls into a hole.
But down in that hole she finds something shining,
worth more than any amount of money or power.

And then, Rumi’s poem leaps into the stratosphere:

Last night the moon came dropping its clothes in the street.
I took it as a sign to start singing,
falling up into the bowl of sky.
The bowl breaks. Everywhere is falling everywhere.
Nothing else to do.

This is where we are right now. Everywhere – the ground that we have been standing on for so long – is breaking, and the shards of what we once stood on are falling everywhere. Then, in one of the most beautiful lines ever written, he says:

Here’s the new rule: break the wineglass,
and fall toward the Glassblower’s breath.

(Rumi, “The New Rule,” translated by John Moyne and Coleman Barks)

I try to keep those two lines as a mantra in the back of my mind to help me through these times where everything is falling everywhere. Those words describe what I hope, hope, hope, is happening to our world right now.

In every spiritual system, there is the idea that Spirit, not humans, control reality. “Let go; Let God” is a common phrase for some.

Buddhist teacher Robert Thurman offers a sweetly potent prayer as part of larger meditation: Imagine holding the globe of the earth in your hands. See all the trouble, the vitriol, the fear, going on in that small ball. Raise the globe up to the heavens, release it, give it away, and, addressing the uncountable Buddhas, the deities, the enlightened teachers and mentors, the powers of creation, say, “Here, you take the planet. We’ve messed it up. We can’t fix it. We can’t fix our own problems. But you can. Take it. It’s yours.”

I was harshly resistant to this brief practice at first, because it reminded me of religious zealots saying “God is in control! God's will!" whenever they are faced with issues they don’t want to see or attend to – issues of justice and suffering that we absolutely can change.

But I must say, I have used this little visualization frequently in my daily practice in the last year, and there is something in it that relieves some pressure for me, and helps me breathe more freely.  The thing is, we do have to remember that we are not in control. It is one of the secrets of human life that we must come to terms with. HOW you come to terms with it - how you relate to the lack of overall control - determines what kind of life you will lead. 

If you have any sense of the Great Mysterious Spirit of Life, it’s helpful to remember that, as mere humans, we know nearly nothing of the larger reality in which we swim. It’s helpful to formally acknowledge that, and “let go.” And, if you do have sense of Spirit as willing or eager to interact with you, then a prayer acknowledging this lack of control over realty is great, followed by asking Spirit for strength and help navigate the world, asking for clarity, love, wonder and compassion to guide you, rather than fear.

As summer begins to open, as the full moon approaches, my wish for each of you is to let the moon help you disrobe from any outdated clothing you’ve been wearing for too long, and sing with ecstasy as you allow yourself to fall toward the glassblower’s breath.