Pasture for gazelles

There was a time I would reject those
who were not of my faith.
But now, my heart has grown capable
of taking on all forms.
It is a pasture for gazelles,
An abbey for monks.
A table for the Torah,
Kaaba for the pilgrim.
My religion is love.
Whichever the route love’s caravan shall take,
That shall be the path of my faith.

Ibn Arabi
Andalusian Sufi mystic, poet and philosopher, 1165-1240

There’s a glorious super-moon illuminating the unlit streets and byways of our village tonight, the peace and calm of holy-night remembrances, as it were, all about us. There’s a liberality, a generosity about such tranquility that is in such stark contrast to the same moon’s shining over destruction and devastation in countless places all over the earth. So many of us alive in our twenty-first century have not learned what Ibn Arabi had learned in the twelfth.

And so I shall continue to hope and to listen and to pray until “my heart has grown capable of taking on all forms”.

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