The Little Book of Life's Wisdom

  granate, I heard a seed saying, “Someday I shall

  become a tree, and the wind will sing in my

  branches, and the sun will dance on my leaves,

  and I shall be strong and beautiful through all

  the seasons.”

  Then another seed spoke and said, “When I

  was as young as you, I too held such views, but

  now that I can weigh and measure things, I see

  that my hopes were vain.”

  And a third seed spoke also, “I see in us

  nothing that promises so great a future.”

  And a fourth said, “But what a mockery our

  life would be without a greater future!”

  Said a fifth, “Why dispute what we shall be,

  when we know not even what we are?”

  But a sixth replied, “Whatever we are, that

  we shall continue to be.”

  And a seventh said, “I have such a clear

  idea how everything will be, but I cannot put it

  into words.”

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  Then an eight spoke—and a ninth—and a

  tenth—and then many—until all were speak-

  ing, and I could distinguish nothing for the

  many voices.

  And so I moved that very day into the heart

  of a quince, where the seeds are few and almost

  silent.

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  SOLITUDE

  Solitude is a silent storm

  that breaks down all our dead branches.

  Yet it sends our living roots deeper

  into the living heart of the living earth.

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  LIVING WATER

  And in this lies my honor and my reward:

  that whenever I come to the fountain to drink

  I find the living water itself thirsty.

  And it drinks me

  while I drink it.

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  OTHER SEAS

  A fish said to another fish, “Above this sea of

  ours there is another sea, with creatures swim-

  ming in it—and they live there even as we

  live here.”

  The other fish replied, “Pure fancy! Pure

  fancy! When you know that everything that

  leaves our sea by even an inch, and stays out of

  it, dies. What proof have you of other lives in

  other seas?”

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  THE RIVER

  In the valley of Kadisha1 where the mighty

  river flows, two little streams met and spoke to

  one another.

  One stream said, “How came you, my friend,

  and how was your path?”

  And the other answered, “My path was most

  encumbered. The wheel of the mill was broken,

  and the master farmer who used to conduct me

  from my channel to his plants is dead. I strug-

  gled down, oozing with the filth of laziness in

  the sun. But how was your path, my brother?”

  And the other stream answered and said,

  “Mine was a different path. I came down the

  hills among fragrant flowers and shy willows.

  Men and women drank of me with silvery cups,

  and little children paddled their rosy feet at my

  edges, and there was laughter all about me, and

  1. A valley southeast of Tripoli in northern Lebanon. “Kadisha” or

  Qadisha means “holy” in Aramaic. The Kadisha valley’s many

  natural caves were occupied since Paleolithic times and served

  as places of refuge for Christian and Muslim mystics. In 1998,

  UNESCO added the valley to its list of World Heritage Sites.

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  there were sweet songs. What a pity that your

  path was not so happy.”

  At that moment the river spoke with a loud

  voice and said, “Come in, come in, we are going

  to the sea! Come in, come in, speak no more. Be

  with me now. We are going to the sea. Come in,

  come in, for in me you shall forget your wan-

  derings, sad or gay. Come in, come in! And you

  and I will forget all our ways when we reach the

  heart of our mother the sea.”

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  CONTENTMENT AND THRIFT

  Should nature heed

  what we say of contentment

  no river would seek the sea,

  and no winter would turn to spring.

  Should she heed all we say of thrift,

  how many of us would be

  breathing this air?

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  THE LOTUS-HEART

  A lover and beloved at the time of Jesus:

  Upon a day, my beloved and I were rowing

  upon the lake of sweet waters. And the hills of

  Lebanon were about us.

  We moved beside the weeping willows,

  and the reflections of the willows were deep

  around us.

  And while I steered the boat with an oar, my

  beloved took her lute and sang thus:

  What flower save the lotus

  knows the waters and the sun?

  What heart save the lotus-heart

  shall know both earth and sky?

  Behold my love, the golden flower

  that floats ’twixt deep and high

  even as you and I float betwixt a love

  that has forever been

  and shall forever be.

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  Dip your oar, my love,

  and let me touch my strings.

  Let us follow the willows,

  and let us leave not the water-lilies.

  In Nazareth there lives a poet,

  and his heart is like the lotus.

  He has visited the soul of woman.

  He knows her thirst is

  growing out of the waters,

  and her hunger is for the sun,

  though all her lips are fed.

  They say he walks in Galilee.

  I say he is rowing with us.

  Can you not see his face, my love?

  Can you not see where the willow bough

  and its reflection meet—

  how he is moving as we move?

  Beloved, it is good to know the youth of life.

  It is good to know its singing joy.

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  Would that you might always have the oar
r />   and I my stringed lute,

  where the lotus laughs in the sun,

  and the willow is dipping to the waters,

  and his voice is upon my strings.

  Dip your oar, my beloved,

  and let me touch my strings.

  There is a poet in Nazareth

  who knows and loves us both.

  Dip your oar, my lover,

  and let me touch my strings.

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  THE SHADOW

  Upon a June day the grass said to the shadow of

  an elm tree,

  “You move to right and left over often, and

  you disturb my peace.”

  And the shadow answered and said,

  “Not I, not I. Look skyward. There is a tree

  that moves in the wind to the east and to the

  west, between the sun and the earth.”

  And the grass looked up, and for the first

  time beheld the tree. And it said in its heart,

  “Why, behold, there is a larger grass than

  myself!”

  And the grass was silent.

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  THE SERPENT AND THE LARK

  Said the serpent to the lark, “Thou flyest, yet

  thou canst not visit the recesses of the earth

  where the sap of life moveth in perfect silence.”

  And the lark answered, “Aye, thou knowest

  over much. Nay, thou art wiser than all things

  wise—pity thou canst not fly.”

  And as if he did not hear, the serpent said,

  “Thou canst not see the secrets of the deep, nor

  move among the treasures of the hidden empire.

  It was but yesterday I lay in a cave of rubies. It

  is like the heart of a ripe pomegranate, and the

  faintest ray of light turns into a flame rose. Who

  but me can behold such marvels?”

  And the lark said, “None, none but thee can

  lie among the crystal memories of the cycles—

  pity thou canst not sing.”

  And the serpent said, “I know a plant whose

  root descends to the bowels of the earth, and

  the one who eats of that root becomes fairer

  than Astarte.”

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  And the lark said, “No one, no one but thee

  could unveil the magic thought of the earth—

  pity thou canst not fly.”

  And the serpent said, “There is a purple

  stream that runneth under a mountain, and the

  one who drinketh of it shall become immortal

  even as the gods. Surely no bird or beast can

  discover that purple stream.”

  And the lark answered, “If thou willest, thou

  canst become deathless even as the gods—pity

  thou canst not sing.”

  And the serpent said, “I know a buried tem-

  ple, which I visit once a moon. It was built by a

  forgotten race of giants, and upon its walls are

  graven the secrets of time and space, and the

  one who reads them shall understand that which

  passeth all understanding.”

  And the lark said, “Verily, if thou so desirest

  thou canst encircle with thy pliant body all

  knowledge of time and space—pity thou canst

  not fly.”

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  Then the serpent was disgusted, and as he

  turned and entered into his hole he muttered,

  “Empty headed songster!”

  And the lark flew away singing, “Pity thou

  canst not sing. Pity, pity, my wise one, thou canst

  not fly.”

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  FROGS: ON THE NATURE OF

  DISTURBANCE

  Upon a summer day, a frog said to its mate, “I

  fear those people living in that house on the

  shore are disturbed by our night songs.”

  And its mate answered and said, “Well, do

  they not annoy our silence during the day with

  their talking?”

  The frog said, “Let us not forget that we may

  sing too much in the night.”

  And its mate answered, “Let us not forget that

  they chatter and shout overmuch during the day.”

  Said the frog, “How about the bullfrog who

  disturbs the whole neighborhood with its God-

  forbidden booming?”

  And its mate replied, “Aye, and what say you

  of the politician and the priest and the scientist

  who come to these shores and fill the air with

  noisy and rhymeless sound?”

  Then the frog said, “Well, let us be better

  than these human beings. Let us be quiet at

  night, and keep our songs in our hearts, even

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  though the moon calls for our rhythm and the

  stars for our rhyme. At least, let us be silent for a

  night or two, or even for three nights.”

  And its mate said, “Very well, I agree. We

  shall see what your bountiful heart will bring

  forth.”

  That night the frogs were silent, and they

  were silent the following night also, and again

  upon the third night.

  And strange to relate, the talkative woman

  who lived in the house beside the lake came

  down to breakfast on that third day and shouted

  to her husband, “I have not slept these three

  nights. I was secure with sleep when the noise

  of the frogs was in my ear. But something must

  have happened. They have not sung now for

  three nights, and I am almost maddened with

  sleeplessness.”

  The frog heard this and turned to its mate

  and said, winking its eye, “And we were almost

  maddened with our silence, were we not?”

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  And its mate answered, “Yes, the silence of

  the night was heavy upon us. And I can see now

  that there is no need for us to cease our sing-

  ing for the comfort of those who must needs fill

  their emptiness with noise.”

  And that night the moon called not in vain

  for their rhythm nor the stars for their rhyme.

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  SONG OF THE FLOWER

  I am a kind word uttered and repeated

  by the voice of Nature.

  I am a star fallen from the

  blue tent upon the green carpet.

  I am the daughter of the elements

  with whom winter conceived,

  to whom
spring gave birth.

  I was reared in the lap of summer,

  and I slept in the bed of autumn.

  At dawn I unite with the breeze

  to announce the coming of light.

  At eventide I join the birds

  in bidding the light farewell.

  The plains are decorated

  with my beautiful colors,

  and the air is scented with my fragrance.

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  As I embrace slumber

  the eyes of night watch over me,

  and as I awaken I stare at the sun,

  which is the only eye of the day.

  I drink dew for wine

  and harken to the voices of the birds

  and dance to the

  rhythmic swaying of the grass.

  I am the lover’s gift.

  I am the wedding wreath.

  I am the memory of a moment of happiness.

  I am the last gift of the living to the dead.

  I am a part of joy and a part of sorrow.

  But I look up high to see only the light

  and never look down to see my shadow.

  This is wisdom that humanity must learn.

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  SPRING IN LEBANON

  Spring is beautiful everywhere, but it is most

  beautiful in Lebanon. It is a spirit that roams

  round the earth but hovers over Lebanon, con-

  versing with kings and prophets, singing with

  the rivers the songs of Solomon and repeating

  with the Holy Cedars of Lebanon the memory of

  ancient glory.

  Beirut, free from the mud of winter and the

  dust of summer, is like a bride in the spring, or

  like a mermaid sitting by the side of a brook dry-

  ing her smooth skin in the rays of the sun.

  Poets of the West think of Lebanon as a

  legendary place, forgotten since the passing of

  David and Solomon and the prophets, as the

  Garden of Eden became lost after the fall of

  Adam and Eve.

  To those Western poets, the word Lebanon is

  a poetical expression associated with a mountain

  whose sides are drenched with the incense of the

  Holy Cedars. It reminds them of the temples of

  copper and marble standing stern and impregna-

  ble and of a herd of deer feeding in the valleys.

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