For several decades I've had a series of literary infatuations. I'd fall in love with a mystical/spiritual author or genre and read everything I could on that subject.
I had my Meister Eckhart phase. Along with a Christian mystic phase: St. John of the Cross, Teresa of Avila, Pseudo-Dionysius, whoever wrote The Cloud of Unknowing. I devoured writings by and about Plotinus. I was deep into Fritjof Schuon and other Perennialists for a while. And I never stopped being attracted to Buddhist and Taoist books no matter whatever other writings turned me on.
But my biggest love affair was with Rumi. Oh, yeah, he and I hit it off big time.
I ended up with several book shelves dedicated to Rumi. I'd repeatedly wander the Sufi section of Powell's Books, Portland Oregon's amazing literary temple that some say is the largest new and used bookstore in the world, never failing to bring home a new Rumi title. Or two. Or three. Or a half dozen.
About ten days ago I sat at my laptop, picking up books from several boxes and seeing what Amazon's "Sell Your Books" program was offering for them. Many of them were previously-beloved Rumi books.
As I typed in the title of each one to see how much money I could get for it, sometimes I'd feel a mild nostalgia, as if I wasn't completly sure whether I wanted to decisively cut my ties with an old friend. So I'd thumb through a Rumi book, looking at the highlighting I'd made when a passage was especially appealing to me, remembering how much enjoyment I"d once gotten from the book.
Now, though? The thrill was gone. I'd fold the book shut and toss it into either a "ship to Amazon box" or a "donate to Friends of Salem Library" box, if Amazon told me it wasn't salable.
I was not the same Me any longer. Whoever once loved Rumi was not the person who shipped off a bunch of his books to the Amazon buyback program, and was excited to get an email message a few days ago saying that most of the Rumi titles had been purchased.
I'd sold a big chunk of my Rumi soul for about thirty dollars, with more cash coming when I get around to selling or donating my remaining Rumi books.
Not long ago I would have considered my Rumi collection to be priceless, at least in a spiritual sense. I loved reading his words and writings about his teachings so much. For years I felt that Rumi touched me, knew me, spoke to me, in an amazing, wonderful, impossible-to-describe way.
Now, though? He's just a way to get some credits to my Amazon account so I can buy some new books that do appeal to me.
Philosophically-minded neuroscientists often talk about a thought experiment involving the slow but steady replacement of someone else's neurons in a brain. What if, for example -- to take a deeply scary example -- one-time Republican vice-presidential candidate Sarah Palin's neurons gradually replaced my own?
At first the part of my brain that wasn't Me would be so tiny as to be unnoticeable. Gradually, though, I'd become a mixture of Me and Sarah Palin. The change would be so gradual it'd be difficult to tell at what point I stopped being Me and started becoming someone else.
(But when I incessantly talked about "mama grizzlies," I guess that'd be a pretty good sign I'd gone over the Palin edge.)
This is pretty close to how I feel about my changing spiritual proclivities. Selling my Rumi books brought this home to me. When did I stop being a person who loved Rumi and became a person who loved selling his Rumi books for a few bucks?
I don't know. I can't tell.
I have no idea how, or when, the Me I used to be, Rumi-wise, became the Me I am now. More generally, I guess I'm constantly changing into someone else, yet the alterations are so gradual it takes a while to realize, "Hey, whatever happened to the old Me?"
Maybe that guy never existed, at least not as the substantial person he superficially appeared to be. If so, that says a lot. Perhaps more than all my Rumi books ever said.
Or, it could be that you made Shams of Tabriz very proud, since he was the madman, as legends sometimes tell us, that threw Rumi's books into a pond or well or lake (variations exist).
Posted by: David Lane | September 06, 2011 at 11:02 PM
brian if you have any spiritual books related to santmat you want to dispose of even of RUMI collection please give it to me .
I would buy them all.
Posted by: Account Deleted | September 07, 2011 at 10:43 AM
As one ages, one can only hope that insight is liberating one from knowledge, and not the other way around.
Posted by: cc | September 07, 2011 at 04:02 PM
The same thing has happend to me Brian! Rumi has gone from a favourite to .. well nothing! And I don't know why either!
Posted by: jeremy29 | September 07, 2011 at 10:44 PM
Once he was your roomie. Now he's just rheumy.
Posted by: cc | September 08, 2011 at 09:04 AM
cc, I am honoring you with the Church of the Churchless Best Play on Words Award. Excellent job. You have a long and mildly rewarding career ahead of you as a writer for a greeting card company.
Posted by: Blogger Brian | September 08, 2011 at 10:08 AM
Just out of interest Brian, have you boxed up any of the 3 books you have written or do they have a place special place on your bookself?
And do you look back at the books you have written as little gems or have you moved on/changed your mind from what you have written in any of these books?
Any more books in you?
Marina
Posted by: Marina | September 08, 2011 at 10:15 AM
Marina, the books I've written still occupy a special place in my heart, and on a living room bookshelf.
Because I am an enlightened Buddha-being who has no trace of ego -- no matter what my wife says to the contrary -- my books are modestly placed on the far right side of a top shelf, one of them even being partially hidden behind a bookcase trim piece.
Yes, they are "little gems" which undoubtedly will have a special place in history, as well as in my heart and my bookshelf. (This is how egoless Buddha-beings speak, no matter how my words may appear to the unenlightened.)
My first next-book goal is to get a rewrite of "God's Whisper, Creation's Thunder" published. The rewrite has been virtually completely finished for several years. It's just my laziness and marvelous ability to procrastinate that has stopped me from moving ahead.
I'd also like to write a book based on writings I've done on this blog. That would be pretty easy to do also. I'd just have to produce some coherence, topic and chapter-wise, out of a bunch of my favorite blog posts.
And some day, preferably before I die, I'd like to write a book about dealing with death. Tentative title: Dying Doesn't Have to Scare You to Death. Of course, now that I've shared my idea, somebody else probably will steal my title, write the book, and make millions of dollars while I procrastinate.
Posted by: Blogger Brian | September 08, 2011 at 10:27 AM
Ah, I guessed you wouldn’t box them! And I wouldn’t blame you.
Fair play to anyone who can write a book, no matter how good or crappy it is; I wouldn’t know where to start or better still when to stop.
I have read two out of three of your books –I haven’t read ‘Return to the One’, no particular reason apart from the fact, I never heard of it until I came on to the blog.
I do so understand when you say ‘....this is how egoless Buddha – beings speak, no matter how my words may appear to the unenlightened.’
I find the same thing - especially here on this blog. My words most of the time are misunderstood when it comes to the unenlightened.
I wouldn’t think you could make your millions out of a book on death. I think most people would be too scared to read it in the first place. Maybe you could call it "Life Doesn't have to Scare you to Death" and stick in a sneaky long, long, long chapter on the death part.
Marina
Posted by: Marina | September 08, 2011 at 11:04 AM
"cc, you have a long and mildly rewarding career ahead of you as a writer for a greeting card company."
I'll accept your mildly punishing comment as my reward.
Posted by: cc | September 08, 2011 at 03:24 PM