The poet Rumi talks a lot about the “Beloved”.
Of whom or what does he refer?
His guru, Shams, who helped open him to the delight of the Universe?
Or perhaps Awareness itself, rising as such an amazing gift, unbidden?
Is the Beloved love itself, singing itself into existence in impossible ways, obliterating the mind’s judgments and assessments?
I’ve always been fascinated: what exactly is the Beloved that Rumi pens in such a way that we fall helpless before his poetry?
Byron Katie shares: I experience reality as something so benevolent, so beautiful, so pure that there is no word for it. I don’t have a problem calling it “God.” It exists wherever I turn my eyes (and even saying “exists” is saying too much). When I first realized this, I was amazed. I was ecstatic, and I still am. God, God, God—that was the song I heard. That is the song I keep singing. There is nothing that doesn’t fit into this kindness, this pure abundance. And who of right mind wouldn’t be devoted to it? It was—is—so obvious. That’s where I found myself—on my knees internally, at its feet, without reservation, unceasingly, awake to what I had realized. God, for me, is the beloved, the goodness and purity of the world. And in my experience, I can’t know God until I know myself.
God, God, God.
What other song shall we sing? Shall we continue to sing the song of thoughts which paint the world in separate colors and textures and rhythms? Or shall we sing of the Beloved, over and over again, not caring who hears, only feeling the thrill of our soul recognizing itself as divinity in each expression, each landscape, each play?
Fall on your knees, Oh love, for the Beloved is born. Now, and now, and now again…