A spoon of salt

October 25, 2007 by gbrown 

shams_ud-din_tabriz_1502-1504_bnf_paris.jpgI received an email yesterday, from my blog. A rare, but welcome event. It seemed quite poignant as I was intending to blog about tolerance and why Japanese trains always run on time, but that’s another story.

The sender asked me “Why is your blog called ‘There is a Field’?”

Well, the words are from a 700 year old poem, which I’ll talk about in a minute.

But before I do, take one moment to consider the era from which that poem hailed. It was the 13th Century, an era that saw 6 crusades. Six attempts by Christendom to recapture the middle east, securing its most important assets and strategic vantage points under the auspices of a greater good. Needless to say, it’s a theme that although seemingly archaic still reverberates through the halls of modern politics.

So, I chose the name because I had the opportunity to experience the alternative viewpoint, at least a couple of times during my travels.

I had been accosted by Maoist Rebels in Nepal who, it turned out, like myself, liked The Who and Led Zep. They also liked Marlboro Lights, but found them difficult to get hold of since the government blockade and couldn’t agree on whether Barcelona or Manchester United were the greatest soccer team on the planet.

And then there was the ex-coworker who was Iraqi and a mad Arsenal fan, but had difficulty making evening cup games and after-match drinks when it interfered with his prayers.

And for individuals such as Greg Mortenson who have dedicated their lives to others high up in the Hindu Kush despite death threats from his “own people”.

Because we live in an era, where The Muslim Council of Britain condemns the recent “evil actions” of terrorists. Because Pope Benedict XVI urged young Catholics to resist the “snares of evil” at a rally in Brazil.

Those are just some of the reasons…

Jalal ad-Din Muhammad Rumi was a sufi mystic raised in 13th Century Turkey. Although his name does not rank alongside Shakespeare as a literary heavyweight in the eyes of the masses because he remains relatively known, the volume of his repertoire certainly does.
What is known, however, that although he was a Muslim, Rumi’s teachings were inspired by the “mystic tradition”, and I’m not talking about Hogwarts in pointy hats, but a tradition that echoes back to the Gnostic writings of the 1st century and possibly beyond. Perhaps Rumi’s most beautiful words inspired the title of my blog:

“Somewhere out beyond our ideas of right-doing and wrong-doing, there is a field. I’ll meet you there.”

Right and wrong are powerful concepts. We learn them at a very early stage from being reprimanded in the creche for stealing toys or slapping other kids. We also learn that wrong should be punished and that we should strive to be “right” in order to achieve moral superiority.

So it also challenges us when we are “wronged”. If the oppressor was in some way exhibiting human fallacies then it also follows that we too could, under the right circumstances, exhibit the same tendencies. So could I also, under the right circumstances, be a terrorist? It’s an uncomfortable thought. I’ve been naughty at school, but surely it’s a difference in quality rather than quantity?

It would be easier, and more comfortable for our collective psyche, to draw a distinction between good and evil. As Solzhenitsyn says, “As If only there were evil people somewhere insidiously committing evil deeds and it were necessary only to separate them from the rest of us and destroy them. But the line dividing good and evil cuts through the heart of every human being. And who is willing to destroy a piece of his own heart?”

So we conclude that “evil wrongdoers” are so by nature, at least in our own eyes. Good and evil is not a natural condition but a paradigm through which we see the world, a paradigm reinforced consistently throughout our formative years - Frodo vs Sauron, Harry Potter vs Dumbeldore, the wicked witch etc etc. There are few archetypes that exist in the grey margin although philosophers such as Andre Gide would argue that “The colour of truth is grey”.

It’s in the margin that we find the vast majority of humankind. If we can find an “Axis of Evil”, “Evil Empire”, “Great Satan” or an “Imperialist Oppressor”, we can however remove the discomfort that arises from our own uncertainty, that underneath all they may just be like us. We can cling to the security that these dualities provide us and how they frame our understanding of global events.

Pema Chodron said “Until we stop clinging to the concept of good and evil, the world will continue to manifest as friendly godesses and harmful demons”, and so our need for duality manifests its own reality. As long as we teach right, wrong, good and evil, we teach the politics of partition, of freedom fighters and terrorists.

Minds won’t change over night, but the words can like tiny drops eventually fill an ocean. In a world beset by dualities and the problems they manifest, Rumi’s words are indeed tiny drops.
“Rumi is neither exclusively the world of a Sufi, nor the world of a Hindu, nor a Jew, nor a Christian; it is the highest state of a human being — a fully evolved human. A complete human is not bound by cultural limitations; he touches every one of us. Today Rumi’s poems can be heard in churches, synagogues, Zen monasteries, as well as in the downtown New York art/performance/music scene.” (Shahram Shiva)

A spoon of salt in a glass of water makes the water undrinkable.

A spoon of salt in a lake is almost unnoticed.

Filed under: Out beyond our ideas
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Comments

One Response to “A spoon of salt”

  1. Niamh Ni Chanainn on January 5th, 2008 2:01 pm

    Hi again
    Just enjoyed reading about the spoon of salt….I had recognized the words ‘there is a field..’ from Chopras ‘Creating Affluence’ which I read every morning…have you read it?

    Kind Regards

    Niamh

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