"All language is a longing for home"
There are few things on earth that have the power to still the mind and conduct us into a dimension beyond it. A place where something can be transmitted without language… and which makes words seem clunky and superfluous. Poetry is one such thing.
Let’s get into this month’s book page: the first few lines of a poem called The Reed Flute’s Song by Rumi, and its accompanying introduction by Coleman Barks*.
This one packs a punch… we are not messing around with this series.
*If you have a translation by Coleman Barks, pay attention to his introductions of each section. They’re stunning. The quotes below introduce a section of the book entitled “Emptiness & Silence”… two of my favorite things.
I’m neither a poet nor a literature professor, and frankly, Rumi’s writing makes me want to trade in all my words for silence. So I’m mostly going to leave these here with a few reflections. I’ve typed up the highlighted parts & the poem so no need to squint at the photo.
Gems in the introduction, written by Coleman Barks
“Words are not important in themselves, but as resonators for a center.”
“Language & music are possible only because we’re empty, hallow, & separated from the source.”
“All language is a longing for home.”
The first few minutes of sitting down to write about this page in The Essential Rumi consisted of me letting out several deep sighs. There were no words even forming in my head at all, and that’s the whole point.
The Reed Flute’s Song
Listen to the story told by the reed,
of being separated.
“Since I was cut from the reedbed,
I have made this crying sound.
Anyone apart from someone he loves
understands what I say."
When I first read those lines about a month ago, I started to sob. I don’t recall ever being moved to tears from a poem.
Although the last line seems to invoke a person whom we miss, what I read & felt was a longing for source… the place from where I came.
Up to this point, I’d never seen this put into words. I didn’t know anyone else had the same deep ache to return. This is not in a depressive way as if I want my life to end. I just have this feeling of missing… someone? something? that I know created me and that I will return to, even if I have no conscious perception of it. I wasn’t raised religious, and the word I choose to use for the indescribable impression is “source.” What’s your word for it?
In his introduction to this section of the book, Barks says, “Beneath everything we say, and within each note of the reed flute, lies a nostalgia for the reed bed.” This line cracked open my heart.
One of the reasons I feel certain of a realm beyond life & death is because I do feel nostalgia for it. I don’t think it’s possible to feel nostalgia for something, or to long for it, if it never existed.
*long deep sigh*
How did you interpret this lines? What strikes you?
