GRIT INTO GRACE
There are two images of The Path. One is
the solitary Way of the Pilgrim climbing a winding trail up a
mountain, disappearing into the clouds of enlightenment that
shroud its summit. The other is the Way of the Bodhisattva,
coming down into the village to embrace the joys and sorrows of
humanity, and relieve the suffering of all living things.
Rumi walked both paths. He spent his time
in the fiery solitude of the desert where he opened himself to
the great silent, joyful mystery we call God, and he, more
intimately, the Beloved. His later life was one long unblushing attempt
to assemble a worthy report for others, to share the Beloved with all
humanity.
To report on the Unreportable, Rumi used
bodily movement, jokes, music, whatever was at hand, but he
shines out most in his poetry, which spontaneously came to him,
full formed in complex rhyme and meter.
One of his particular blessings in his
poems is just how deeply he lets himself enter into the pits of
doubt and loss and despair with the rest of us—and then,
miraculously—not only climbs out, but pulls us up with
him. One might call this the transformation of grit into grace.
Awhile back Coleman Barks was doing a Rumi
concert-reading in Philadelphia, and it fell to me to assemble
some musical accompaniment, so I got a few musician friends
together to noodle around. Almost by accident, we discovered
that Rumi’s mystic yearning could merge, without a
ripple, with the harmonies of our own Appalachian / gospel /
blues tradition.
We began shaping songs, and didn’t
they sound sweet! Not a trace of the mysterious East or the
like, though. Was it authentic Rumi? We thought so—the
thread was intact. The eternal message, the baraka was coming through.
Only it was more like the mysterious West now. It was a
transmission: old wine, new bottles. Mystical Persian poetry as
music heard in a West Texas truck stop.
Truth is, a current of old soul-longing
runs through both traditions like a river, and they meet and
mingle without a single false note. What makes it special is
that Rumi is on first-hand terms
with the cure for longing. Grit into
grace.
At the concert the audience gave the music
a standing ovation. They got it too. We sensed we had been
given something important, a vehicle to carry this grace to a
whole new audience. Even a way to help ourselves hear him
better.
Today, all over the Middle East, musicians
and seekers of the Beloved gather to sing and recite
Rumi’s poetry to music deep into the night. The music of The Illumination Band is just a homegrown American version of that tradition.
Desperate times call for desperate measures. Why not a night of
ecstatic poetry, old time songs, non-duality chants and
metaphysical field hollers?
Michael Green
Artist / author Michael Green is the
creator, along with Coleman Barks, of the bestselling book
The Illuminated Rumi,
nd now,
ONE SONG • A New Illuminated Rumi