Here are some of the inspirational stories from The Prophet,
Written by Khalil Gibran,
Revealing insights into the impulses of the human heart and mind.
The essays are free of dogma,
And I invite you to enjoy them as a modern addition to the classic sacred wisdom traditions.
Before we begin,
Please take your time to make yourself as comfortable as possible.
It might feel good to stretch your arms above your head,
And feel that stretch all the way down to your toes.
And if you wish,
You can pretend to yawn,
And feel how that becomes a signal for your mind and your body that it's time to rest.
Whenever you feel ready,
Allow your eyes to close.
And if it feels good,
You can enjoy a few gentle and slow breaths.
Breathing in.
And as you breathe out,
Allow yourself to sink a little deeper into your bed.
Beginning to release.
Beginning to let go.
For now,
There's nothing to have to do or fix or change.
Just the chance to let go and release from all preoccupations.
At any time,
You can defocus your attention from my voice and let yourself drift off to sleep.
Or you can simply listen and let the story be a soothing guided meditation.
Listening to a sleep story without any effort at all can be as soothing and as replenishing as sleep itself.
Now let's continue with stories from the Prophet.
And the priestess spoke again and said,
Speak to us of reason and passion.
And he answered,
Saying,
Your soul is oftentimes a battlefield upon which your reason and your judgment wage war against your passion and your appetite.
Would that I could be the peacemaker in your soul.
That I might turn the discord and the rivalry of your elements into oneness and melody.
But how shall I,
Unless you yourselves be also the peacemakers,
Nay the lovers of all your elements?
Your reason and your passion are the rudder and the sails of your seafaring soul.
If either your sails or your rudder be broken,
You can but toss and drift,
Or else be held at a standstill in mid-seas.
For reason ruling alone is a force confining,
And passion unattended is a flame that burns to its own destruction.
Therefore,
Let your soul exalt your reason to the height of passion,
That it may sing.
And let it direct your passion with reason,
That your passion may live through its own daily resurrection,
And like the phoenix,
Rise above its own ashes.
I would have you consider your judgment and your appetite,
Even as you would two loved guests in your house.
Surely you would not honor one guest above the other,
For he who is more mindful of one loses the love and the faith of both.
Among the hills when you sit in the cool shade of the white poplars,
Sharing the peace and serenity of distant fields and meadows,
Then let your heart say in silence,
God rests in reason.
And when the storm comes,
And the mighty wind shakes the forest,
And thunder and lightning proclaim the majesty of the sky,
Then let your heart say in awe,
God moves in passion.
And since you are a breath in God's sphere,
And a leaf in God's forest,
You too should rest in reason and move in passion.
And a woman spoke,
Saying,
Tell us of pain.
And he said,
Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding.
Even as the stone of the fruit must break that its heart may stand in the sun,
So must you know pain.
And could you keep your heart in wonder at the daily miracles of your life,
Your pain would not seem less wondrous than your joy.
And you would accept the seasons of your heart,
Even as you have always accepted the seasons that pass over your fields.
And you would watch with serenity through the winters of your grief.
Much of your pain is self-chosen.
It is the bitter potion by which the physician within you heals your sick self.
Therefore,
Trust the physician and drink his remedy in silence and tranquility.
For his hand,
Though heavy and hard,
Is guided by the tender hand of the unseen.
And the cup he brings,
Though it burn your lips,
Has been fashioned of the clay which the potter has moistened with his own sacred tears.
And a man said,
Speak to us of self-knowledge.
And he answered,
Saying,
Your hearts know in silence the secrets of the days and the nights,
But your ears thirst for the sound of your heart's knowledge.
You would know in words that which you have always known in thought.
You would touch with your fingers the naked body of your dreams,
And it is well you should.
The hidden wellspring of your soul must needs rise and run murmuring to the sea.
And the treasure of your infinite depths would be revealed to your eyes.
But let there be no scales to weigh your unknown treasure.
And seek not the depths of your knowledge with staff or sounding line.
For self is a sea,
Boundless and measureless.
Say not,
I have found the truth,
But rather,
I have found a truth.
Say not,
I have found the path of the soul.
Say rather,
I have met the soul walking upon my path.
For the soul walks upon all paths.
The soul walks not upon a line,
Neither does it grow like a reed.
The soul unfolds itself,
Like a lotus of countless petals.
Then said a teacher,
Speak to us of teaching.
And he said,
No man can reveal to you ought but that which already lies half asleep in the dawning of your knowledge.
The teacher who walks in the shadow of the temple among his followers gives not of his wisdom,
But rather of his faith and his lovingness.
If he is indeed wise,
He does not bid you enter the house of his wisdom,
But rather leads you to the threshold of your own mind.
The astronomer may speak to you of his understanding of space,
But he cannot give you his understanding.
The musician may sing to you of the rhythm which is in all space,
But he cannot give you the ear which arrests the rhythm nor the voice that echoes it.
And he who is versed in the science of numbers can tell of the regions of weight and measure,
But he cannot conduct you thither.
For the vision of one man lends not its wings to another man.
And even as each one of you stands alone in God's knowledge,
So must each one of you be alone in his knowledge of God and in his understanding of the earth.
And a youth said,
Speak to us of friendship.
And he answered,
Saying,
Your friend is your needs answered.
He is your field,
Which you sow with love and reap with thanksgiving.
And he is your board and your fireside.
For you come to him with your hunger,
And you seek him for peace.
When your friend speaks his mind,
You fear not the nay in your own mind,
Nor do you withhold the aye.
And when he is silent,
Your heart ceases not to listen to his heart.
For without words,
In friendship,
All thoughts,
All desires,
All expectations are born and shared with joy that is unacclaimed.
When you part from your friend,
You grieve not,
For that which you love most in him may be clearer in his absence,
As the mountain to the climber is clearer from the plain.
And let there be no purpose in friendship save the deepening of the spirit.
For love that seeks ought but the disclosure of its own mystery is not love,
But a net cast forth,
And only the unprofitable is caught.
And let your best be for your friend.
If he must know the ebb of your tide,
Let him know its flood also.
For what is your friend that you should seek him with hours to kill?
Seek him always with hours to live.
For it is his to fill your need,
But not your emptiness.
And in the sweetness of friendship,
Let there be laughter and sharing of pleasures.
For in the dew of little things,
The heart finds its morning and is refreshed.
And then a scholar said,
Speak of talking.
And he answered,
Saying,
You talk when you cease to be at peace with your thoughts.
And when you can no longer dwell in the solitude of your heart,
You live in your lips,
And sound is a diversion and a pastime.
And in much of your talking,
Thinking is half-murdered.
For thought is a bird of space that in a cage of words may indeed unfold its wings,
But cannot fly.
There are those among you who seek the talkative through fear of being alone.
The silence of aloneness reveals to their eyes their naked selves and their wood escape.
And there are those who talk,
And without knowledge or forethought,
Reveal a truth which they themselves do not understand.
And there are those who have the truth within them,
But they tell it not in words.
In the bosom of such as these,
The spirit dwells in rhythmic silence.
When you meet your friend on the roadside or in the marketplace,
Let the spirit in you move your lips and direct your tongue.
Let the voice within your voice speak to the ear of his ear.
For his soul will keep the truth of your heart as the taste of the wine is remembered when the color is forgotten and the vessel is no more.
And an astronomer said,
Master,
What of time?
And he answered,
You would measure time,
The measureless and the immeasurable.
You would adjust your conduct and even direct the course of your spirit according to hours and seasons.
Of time,
You would make a stream upon whose bank you would sit and watch its flowing.
Yet the timeless in you is aware of life's timelessness and knows that yesterday is but today's memory,
Is today's dream.
And that that which sings and contemplates in you is still dwelling within the bounds of that first moment which scattered the stars into space.
Who among you does not feel that his power to love is boundless?
And yet who does not feel that very love,
Though boundless,
Encompassed within the center of his being and moving not from love thought to love thought,
Nor from love deeds to other love deeds?
And is not time even as love is,
Undivided and paceless?
But if in your thought you must measure time into seasons,
Let each season encircle all the other seasons.
And let today embrace the past with remembrance and the future with longing.
And one of the elders of the city said,
Speak to us of good and evil.
And he answered,
Of the good in you I can speak,
But not of the evil.
For what is evil but good tortured by its own hunger and thirst?
Verily,
When good is hungry,
It seeks food even in dark caves.
And when it thirsts,
It drinks even of dead waters.
You are good when you are one with yourself.
Yet when you are not one with yourself,
You are not evil.
For a divided house is not a den of thieves.
It is only a divided house.
And a ship without rudder may wander aimlessly among perilous isles,
Yet sink not to the bottom.
You are good when you strive to give of yourself.
Yet you are not evil when you seek gain for yourself.
For when you strive for gain,
You are but a root that clings to the earth and sucks at her breast.
Surely the fruit cannot say to the root,
Be like me,
Ripe and full and ever giving of your abundance.
For to the fruit giving is a need as receiving is a need to the root.
You are good when you are fully awake in your speech.
Yet you are not evil when you sleep while your tongue staggers without purpose.
And even stumbling speech may strengthen a weak tongue.
You are good when you walk to your goal firmly and with bold steps.
Yet you are not evil when you go the the limping.
Even those who limp go not backward.
But you who are strong and swift,
See that you do not limp before the lame deeming it kindness.
You are good in countless ways.
And you are not evil when you are not good.
You are only loitering and sluggard.
Pity that the stags cannot teach swiftness to the turtles.
In your longing for your giant self lies your goodness.
Is in all of you.
But in some of you,
That longing is a torrent rushing with might to the sea,
Carrying the secrets of the hillsides and the songs of the forest.
And in others,
It is a flat stream that loses itself in angles and bends and lingers before it reaches the shore.
But let not him who longs much say to him who longs little,
Wherefore are you slow and halting?
For the truly good,
Ask not the naked,
Where is your garment?
Nor the houseless,
What has befallen your house?
Then a priestess said,
Speak to us of prayer.
And he answered,
Saying,
You pray in your distress and in your need.
Would that you might pray also in the fullness of your joy and in your days of abundance.
For what is prayer but the expansion of yourself into the living ether?
And if it is for your comfort to pour your darkness into space,
It is also for your delight to pour forth the dawning of your heart.
And if you cannot but weep when your soul summons you to prayer,
She should spur you again and yet again,
Though weeping,
Until you shall come laughing.
When you pray,
You rise to meet in the air those who are praying at that very hour,
And whom,
Save in prayer,
You may not meet.
Therefore,
Let your visit to that temple invisible be for naught but ecstasy and sweet communion.
For if you should enter the temple for no other purpose than asking,
You shall not receive.
And if you should enter it to humble yourself,
You shall not be lifted.
Or even if you should enter it to beg for the good of others,
You shall not be heard.
It is enough that you enter the temple invisible.
I cannot teach you how to pray in words.
God listens not to your words,
Save when he himself utters them through your lips.
And I cannot teach you the prayer of the seas and the forests and the mountain of the mountains,
And the forests and the seas can find you.
And if you but listen in the stillness of the night,
You shall hear them saying in silence,
Our God who art our winged self,
It is thy will in us that willeth.
It is thy desire in us that desireth.
It is thy urge in us,
Our nights which are thine,
Into days which are thine also.
We cannot ask thee for aught,
For thou knowest our needs before they are born in us.
Thou art our need,
And in giving us more of thyself,
Thou givest us all.
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