A mulla was praying the Islamic prayer outdoors. A young woman walked by and passed right in front of him. He saw this and became very angry
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It speaks to me: The Beloved has this pulling, drawing light that blocks out everything except warmth on the face, especially the rote and formulaic and worldly judge... and then this other quality of illuminating the finest details... and a whole kosmos in between.
I would like to add this one to my profile quotes--it's compact and insightful
Gotta love them Sufis. A co-worker, who is Indian and Catholic, says Sufis are highly regarded in India by all religions, Christian, Hindu, Muslim, etc., and that they never do construction work over a Sufi grave but will bypass it... exhuming is also out of the question.
It's interesting that in Budapest, Hungary there is still the prefectly preserved tomb of Gul Baba (which I believe translates a 'father of the roses'- he was, so the story goes, responsible for introducing roses to the west- probably not true, but a nice story nonetheless :o)
A revered Ottoman Sufi, he died during the bloody early modern siege of Budapest which took back control of Hungary from the Turks and so respected was he that his tomb was kept in perfect order even through the Communist era and may still be visited today- it is a most beautiful and calming place even surrounded by nineteenth century and modern apartment blocks as it now is.
if you look at this from the eye of islamic law its very interesting: she did something which is breaking etiquette and is just not ideal. the mullah on the other hand, completely invalidated his prayer because he became angry while in a state of ablution. religious rigidities often create these silly ironies, where the one judging ends up doing something more serious than the person they ahve judged.
Buddhist storyemilyzilchAugust 19 2008, 22:55:30 UTC
I have a similar story, this one is Buddhist.
Two male renunciates - sworn not to make physical contact with a person of the opposite sex - came upon a courtesan at the bank of the river in India. An unexpected rain had made it too deep for her to wade, and it would ruin her expensive robes.
The older monk said, "Jump on my shoulders, I'll carry you across." As the younger monk stared on, totally scandalised, she sat on his neck and he held her by her legs and carried her to the other side. She bowed to him (how you honour a monastic: hands together and bow) and went on her way.
A few miles down the road, the yonger monk couldn't take it anymore. He started angrily ranting about how it was forbidden to even touch a woman, never mind have her up on your neck with, you know, her bits touching you! Plus she was a professional sex worker! And so forth.
The older monk held up his hand and said, "True, I picked up that woman. But I put her down on the other side of the river, and you're still carrying her..."
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I like this one very much! Thanks for posting.
It speaks to me: The Beloved has this pulling, drawing light that blocks out everything except warmth on the face, especially the rote and formulaic and worldly judge... and then this other quality of illuminating the finest details... and a whole kosmos in between.
I would like to add this one to my profile quotes--it's compact and insightful
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A revered Ottoman Sufi, he died during the bloody early modern siege of Budapest which took back control of Hungary from the Turks and so respected was he that his tomb was kept in perfect order even through the Communist era and may still be visited today- it is a most beautiful and calming place even surrounded by nineteenth century and modern apartment blocks as it now is.
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Two male renunciates - sworn not to make physical contact with a person of the opposite sex - came upon a courtesan at the bank of the river in India. An unexpected rain had made it too deep for her to wade, and it would ruin her expensive robes.
The older monk said, "Jump on my shoulders, I'll carry you across." As the younger monk stared on, totally scandalised, she sat on his neck and he held her by her legs and carried her to the other side. She bowed to him (how you honour a monastic: hands together and bow) and went on her way.
A few miles down the road, the yonger monk couldn't take it anymore. He started angrily ranting about how it was forbidden to even touch a woman, never mind have her up on your neck with, you know, her bits touching you! Plus she was a professional sex worker! And so forth.
The older monk held up his hand and said, "True, I picked up that woman. But I put her down on the other side of the river, and you're still carrying her..."
Oh, snap. :-)
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