The Story Of Rumi: A Journey Of Mystical Love

In 13th-century Persia, a young Rumi, deeply connected to the mystical realm, dreams of a radiant bird, hinting at a unique spiritual path. As he matures, a pivotal meeting with the enigmatic dervish Shams of Tabriz transforms his life, igniting a fervent love for the divine, which he expresses through ecstatic poetry and dance.

Though their profound friendship is brief, it leaves Rumi heartbroken yet inspired. His admirer, Husam, captures Rumi's enlightening verses in the revered Mathnawi. As Rumi's life draws to a close, his teachings endure, embodying the eternal dance of love and divinity.

Transcript

The Story of Rumi Chapter 1.

The Boy with a Dreaming Heart In the sun-baked city of Bagh,

Nestled amidst the vibrant markets and soaring minarets of 13th century Persia,

Lived a boy named Jalal ad-Din Muhammad,

Known to his family as Rumi.

He was a child unlike any other.

While boys his age were enamored with games and toys,

Rumi was in love with the world of words.

His father,

Bahauddin,

Was a renowned theologian and jurist.

A wise and gentle man,

He was also a mystic who saw the spark of divine curiosity in his son's eyes.

Rumi,

He would say,

His voice a tender lullaby,

Your heart is a garden in which God's love grows.

One night as a silver moon bathed the world in a serene light,

Rumi had a dream so vivid it felt as real as the waking world.

In this dream,

A radiant bird,

Resplendent with feathers of pure light,

Appeared before him.

Come,

Sang the bird,

Its voice a melody of pure joy,

I will show you the world.

In the embrace of the dream,

The bird lifted Rumi into the sky.

They soared over cities of golden domes,

Through valleys of blooming roses,

And above oceans that sparkled like endless diamonds.

As they flew,

The bird whispered secrets in Rumi's ear,

Secrets of love,

Of sorrow,

Of the dance between the earth and the heavens.

You,

Dear boy,

Cooed the bird,

Are destined for a path like no other.

One day,

You will meet someone who will guide you on this path.

Rumi awoke with a dawn,

His heart still fluttering with the magic of his dream.

He rushed to his father and recounted everything,

His words tumbling over each other in excitement.

Bahauddin listened intently,

His eyes reflecting the morning light.

Such dreams,

He whispered,

Are the whispers of God.

Keep it in your heart,

My son,

It is a promise of a journey you are destined to take.

That prophecy did not have to wait long.

The rise of unrest and danger in their homeland due to invading forces,

The family had no choice but to leave their beloved.

With tears in his eyes but hope in his heart,

Young Rumi set out with his family on a journey toward the unknown.

As they journeyed through deserts and over mountains,

They encountered people of various cultures and beliefs.

Rumi,

His father,

Was one of them.

They encountered people of various cultures and beliefs.

Rumi,

Curious as ever,

Listened to the stories of travelers,

Studied the prayers of different tongues,

And felt his mind and heart expand like the boundless horizon.

It was through a Christian monk he learned about silence.

From a Jewish scholar,

The deep reverence for scripture,

And from the joyful songs of Sufi wanderers,

The intoxicating love for the divine.

Each person,

His father taught him,

As they sat around their campfire,

Is a unique verse in the grand poem of existence.

They are all to be cherished and learned from.

By the time they reached the flourishing city of Konya,

Where they would make their new home,

Rumi was no longer just the boy from Balkh.

Rumi was no longer just the boy from Balkh.

He was a young man with a heart full of dreams and a soul that yearned for the divine secrets the radiant bird in his dream had promised.

Young Rumi gazed at the starlit sky over Konya,

His heart full of longing and wonder,

Whispering a quiet prayer of gratitude and excitement for the path that lay unfolding before him.

In the bustling and vibrant city of Konya,

Rumi grew to be a respected scholar,

Just as his father had been.

He taught students the intricate verses of the Quran and the wisdom of the Prophet.

But deep inside,

He felt an indescribable yearning,

The ember ignited by his childhood dream.

One autumn day,

As amber leaves danced in the wind,

The city buzzed with news of a stranger's arrival,

A wandering dervish with wild,

Ecstatic eyes.

His name was Shams of Tabriz.

Rumi,

Usually engrossed in his books,

Found his curiosity inexplicably piqued.

Their meeting was like the confluence of two rivers.

In the crowded marketplace,

Rumi's eyes met those of Shams,

And they met each other's eyes.

Rumi's eyes met those of Shams,

And in that simple gaze,

He saw reflections of the radiant bird from his dream.

His heart recognized Shams before his mind did,

A soul companion,

A mirror reflecting his deepest self.

Shams was raw and untamed,

His words a fervent fire.

He challenged Rumi's intellect,

Questioned his teachings,

And laughed at his formalities.

Questioned his teachings,

And laughed at his formalities.

You speak of God,

Shams would exclaim,

But do you live with God?

Under Shams' influence,

Rumi began to change.

Together,

They would talk until the moon was high in the sky,

Their conversations a passionate exploration of God's mysteries.

It was Shams who introduced Rumi to the practice of Sama,

The whirling dance that allowed the soul to ascend to divine love.

In these moments,

Rumi felt as though he was both earth and sky,

Spinning between two worlds yet rooted in profound love.

Rumi's poetry,

Once careful and measured,

Began to pour from him like never before,

Wild,

Ecstatic,

And profoundly intimate.

His verses were not just words,

They were his soul's melodies,

Singing his divine friendship with Shams and their shared longing for the infinite.

However,

Not everyone looked kindly upon this transformation.

The people of Konya,

Who had revered Rumi as a paragon of piety and wisdom,

Were startled by his newfound intensity.

Rumors swirled like storm clouds.

Why would a revered scholar be so taken with a wandering dervish?

One faithful night,

After a particularly intense session of whirling and poetry under the moonlight,

Rumi awoke to find Shams gone,

Vanished as though he were a wisp of a dream.

Desperation clawed at Rumi's heart.

He felt as though the sun had been plucked from his sky.

Yet,

In his deepest core,

He knew that Shams had been a divine gift,

A key to unlock a door within him.

His separation from Shams was not a loss,

It was a new chapter of his journey towards God.

In his longing for his beloved friend,

Rumi composed some of his most heart- In his longing for his beloved friend,

Rumi composed some of his most heart-rending poetry.

Rumi composed some of his most heart-rending poetry.

His words were imbued with both the sweet nectar of their friendship and the bitter pang of their separation.

Each line was a step on his path towards the divine,

A path that Shams had shown him,

But he must walk alone.

Shams,

My sun,

My moon,

Rumi wrote,

In your absence I whirl in the dark.

But it is by this darkness I am drawn closer to the light.

Rumi is not a broken man,

But a soul set ablaze.

Alone in his room,

He turns slowly,

Lost in a whirling dance,

His face wet with both tears and joy,

A living testament to love's transformative,

Eternal power.

To love's transformative,

Eternal power.

With Shams gone,

Rumi's world was forever altered.

He became a lighthouse of spirit,

Shining brightly amidst the tumult of his own heart.

In the hollow of his loss was born an astonishing depth of creativity and love.

The melancholy poet was reborn a vessel of divine light.

Now,

Rumi was not just a teacher in the scholarly sense.

He became a spiritual guide,

His very presence a sermon on love.

His lessons were not confined to the walls of a madrasa.

They were in the way he greeted people in the streets,

How he handled a blooming rose,

Or the kindness that sparkled in his eyes when he spoke to a child.

He had his own disciples,

A blend of scholars and mystics,

Christians and Jews.

Christians and Jews,

Rich and poor.

They were called the whirling dervishes due to their practice of Sama.

In their dance,

They sought the very ecstasy Rumi and Shams had discovered together.

One day,

As Rumi was teaching under the shade of a great tree,

A young man arrived with a parchment and ink in hand.

Hussam,

He was called,

And he had a humble request.

Your words,

Hussam implored,

They are a healing balm for aching souls.

Allow me to write them down so that they may outlive us all.

With a soft smile,

Rumi agreed.

His collaboration birthed Rumi's magnum opus,

The Mathnawi,

A sprawling,

Intricate tapestry of poetic tales and divine wisdom.

It was not just a book.

It was a mirror in which readers could see their souls reflected and reflected.

It was a mirror in which they could find.

Through his verses,

Rumi painted vivid scenes of human folly and divine love.

Of the struggles of the soul and the sweet surrender to the beloved.

The Mathnawi was his gift to the world.

A companion for the lost,

A companion for the seeker,

A friend for the lonely.

Come,

Come,

Whoever you are,

Rumi invited in one of his most beloved poems.

Wanderer,

Worshipper,

Lover of leaving.

Ours is not a caravan of despair.

Come,

Yet again,

Come.

Years passed like turning pages,

And Rumi,

Now an old man,

Felt the tug of another world.

The call of a far-off divine melody.

He knew his time was nearing its end.

One evening,

As Rumi was seated by the fireplace,

The room softly lit by flames,

A peculiar sense of serenity settled over him.

He looked to his disciples,

His spiritual family,

And knew that his teaching was complete.

Not because he had imparted all his wisdom,

Not because he had imparted all his wisdom,

But because he had ignited a flame that would continue to warm hearts for generations to come.

I am not this body,

He whispered,

His voice as soft as the breeze.

I am the echo of a sweet song that will never end.

When I leave,

Find me in those loving words we shared.

And then,

When his day of passing arrived,

It was not a day of mourning,

But a celebration,

Or as Rumi called it,

His wedding day.

The day he would reunite with the divine and with Shams,

His beloved friend and guide.

As he took his last breath,

It is said that the room filled with an indescribable light,

And the air was perfumed with roses.

The world didn't lose a poet.

It gained a timeless voice that would continue to whisper in longing hearts.

Rumi,

In the boundless realm of the divine,

Is with Shams once more,

Together.

They are in a radiant garden,

Reminiscent of Rumi's childhood dream.

Engaged in their whirling dance,

Around them flowers bloom with each spin,

And the air is alive with their laughter and poetry.

As they dance,

Rumi says,

Close your eyes,

Dear friend,

For in the garden of the heart,

Every moment is a fresh beginning.

The enduring light of Rumi's spirit shines brightly,

A comforting reminder that love,

Pure,

Divine love,

Is the essence that dances at the core of all existence.