from the Vadan of Inayat Khan

These rules are a wonderful guideline for developing the art of personality and worthy of contemplation for creating greater love, harmony and beauty in our daily lives.

GOLDEN RULES

My conscientious self:

Keep to your principles in prosperity as well as in adversity.
Be firm in faith through life's tests and trials.
Guard the secrets of friends as your most sacred trust.
Observe constancy in love.
Break not your word of honor whatever may befall.
Meet the world with smiles in all conditions of life.
When you possess something, think of the one who does not possess it.
Uphold your honor at any cost.
Hold your ideal high in all circumstances.
Do not neglect those who depend upon you.

SILVER RULES
My conscientious self:
Consider duty as sacred as religion.
Use tact on all occasions.
Place people rightly in your estimation.
Be no more to anyone than you are expected to be.
Have regard for the feelings of every soul.
Do not challenge anyone who is not your equal.
Do not make a show of your generosity.
Do not ask a favor of those who will not grant it you.
Meet your shortcomings with a sword of self-respect.
Let not your spirit be humbled in adversity.

COPPER RULES
My conscientious self:
Consider your responsibility sacred.
Be polite to all.
Do nothing which will make your conscience feel guilty.
Extend your help willingly to those in need.
Do not look down upon the one who looks up to you.
Judge not another by your own law.
Bear no malice against your worst enemy.
Influence no one to do wrong.
Be prejudiced against no one.
Prove trustworthy in all your dealings.

IRON RULES
My conscientious self:
Make no false claims.
Speak not against others in their absence.
Do not take advantage of a person's ignorance.
Do not boast of your good deeds.
Do not claim that which belongs to another.
Do not reproach others, making them firm in their faults.
Do not spare yourself in the work which you must accomplish.
Render your services faithfully to all who require them.
Seek not profit by putting someone in straits.
Harm no one for your own benefit.

The Sweetness of Bitter Melons

another selection from the Mathnawi: Rumi's Tales from the Silk Road

Though Luqman was a slave, he was a master himself because he was free of anger, lust, resentment, greed, and pride. His enlightened king, Hamid, who could discern the difference between chaff and grain, appearance and truth, had seen through Luqman's role as slave to his inner state and loved him dearly Kind Hamid was quite weary of the constricting role of master, and found great joy in humble service to his slave and beloved, Luqman.

King Hamid would have set Luqman free a long time ago, but Luqman, who liked being slave to a king such as Hamid, did not want to be free. Whenever the king went to a place where he was not known, he would place Luqman on his own horse, and travel behind him on an ass, like a slave. King Hamid would put his own clothes on Luqman, wear the latter's clothes, and serve him. When the king's cooks prepared feasts for him, or when his friends and subjects brought him delicacies from all over the world, he would feed Luqman with his own hands before partaking of it himself. His greatest delight was eating Luqman's leftovers. If Luqman did not eat, the master would also forego his food. Such was his love for his slave.

One day, King Hamid received a basket of the best melons from the Punjab in India. They were reputed to be the sweetest in the world, and when cut, showed the brightest saffron. Before tasting any himself, King Hamid sent for Luqman, and when he arrived, seated him on a cushion on his own chair. When the master cut a slice and gave it to Luqman on his own gold plate, Luqman ate it with such relish, such slurping of its juices, that everyone present craved a slice, too. The master gave him another slice, and Luqman ate it in the same way. The master continued to offer him slices, and Luqman continued to eat them with great pleasure. When Luqman was surfeited, King Hamid decided to eat some himself.

As soon as the king bit into it, however, his face puckered up with distaste and he spat the melon out. His tongue was blistered and his throat was burned with its bitterness. He threw his hands up in pain and distraction, and cried out to his slave:

"Oh, how did you eat this again and again? Why didn't you complain? How did you turn so much poison to sweetness?"

"From your generous hand and bounty, O my master," Luqman replied, "I have received so many gifts. Tell me, how can I complain about one bitter thing? Bitter or sweet, I am content to eat whatever you delight in giving me, my master."

"But how could you endure the bitterness of slice after slice?" the master asked.

"By love, my master, bitter things become sweet. By love, iron becomes gold, pain becomes healing, the hungry man content, the dead man living," Luqman replied.

"And a burdened king a joyous slave," said King Hamid, bowing before Luqman and kissing his feet.

Spend! Spend! Spend!

from Rumi's Tales from the Silk Road - Kamla Kapur, translator, from the Mathnawi:

Farad was a happy, joyous man who roamed from town to town. He owned nothing but the clothes on his back and tattered shoes that were adequate for his travels. He knew that when they fell apart, Allah would provide him with a pair of old shoes that would do. They may be a bit too big, or a tiny bit too small, but good enough to protect his feet. Once a stranger had even taken Farad to a shop and bought him a pair of shining new shoes that fit very well! Sometimes he had to go without food, or make do with only a crust, but never for too long because there were always kind people who fed him enough to keep him healthy and happy. Didn't the mullah of his mosque always tell him to trust in Allah? Farad's trust was never betrayed. When you throw yourself on Allah's mercy, He provides.

Because Farad's faith had relieved him of struggle and worry, he spent all of his time adoring Allah, being happy and singing his joy at the top of his lungs.

One day, skipping down the street of a town far from his own village, merrily singing a song, Farad heard the sound of crying and lamenting. He turned the corner and there, kneeling over his dog, was the mullah from his village, weeping loudly. The dog looked very thin and emaciated, his ribs showing through the thin upholstery of his skin. He was breathing his last breath.

"What happened?" Farad asked the mullah to whom he owed so much of his faith and joy.

"My dog," sobbed the mullah. "He's dying! I loved him so much! He was such a faithful companion - he loved me when I was alone, hunted for me, caught prey for my food, watched over me at night."

"Is he sick? Did someone harm him?"

"Hunger," replied the mullah. "He's dying of hunger! No, look, he's dead. He has breathed his last!"

"But...how can that be?" Farad asked, confused about how the mullah's dog could die of starvation. The mullah, thanks to contributions by his congregation, was well off. Seeing a fat bag lying by the mullah, he asked, "What's in this?"

"My food bag," replied the mullah, tears streaming down his face.

"But why didn't you give some morsels to your dog?" the dumbfounded man asked.

"I'm going for Hajj, and Mecca is a long way from here. I will need all this food for the journey."

"Oh, mullah, you are nothing but a water-skin full of wind! You do not live your sermons!"

"Sermons are all very well, but one has to be practical. What will I eat when there isn't any left? If I don't provide for myself, who will?"

"God, O fool, God! It is your ego that keeps you from trusting! It is your ego that keeps you from love! It is your ego that worries about the future! Let go your ego that makes you constantly struggle and fear, and God will provide. You taught me to tame my ego but couldn't tame your own. Despite knowing the truth, you have chosen your ego over trust, a crust of bread over the feast of love! Do not hoard up the purse of your service, but give everything for love! God tells us: Spend! Spend! Spend! Hold nothing back! Rush into the fire of love like a moth, O ignorant mullah!"