“When the violin can forgive the past It starts singing. When the violin can stop worrying about the future You will become such a drunk laughing nuisance That God will then lean down and start combing you into His hair. When the violin can forgive every wound caused by others, The heart starts singing.”
--Hafiz (14th century Persian Sufi master) from The Gift translated by Daniel Ladinsky
I think I have the perfect job.
Here’s what I get to do as a driver for U.S. Xpress. See if you agree.
I wake up at the crack of 9 AM in a place called Beaverdam. I lollygag for a few hours –talk to Aubray, enjoy some McGriddles, catch up on baseball standings—and mosey over to Dollar General in Van Wert. There I begin an 8 ½ hour stretch of back-breaking labor in three small western Ohio towns, hand-unloading a hair under 40,000 pounds –20 tons—of five-and-dime store merchandise –everything from light bulbs to Chicklets to kitty litter to peanut butter, and one ridiculously heavy Ohio State lawnchair, 2700 pieces in all—and shoot everything down a belt of rollers that is extended onto the trailer from inside the store, all on a sunny humid day that probably reached the upper 80s. (One woman at the store in Napoleon was a saint; when I showed up 1 ½ hours late she didn’t have a word of complaint, and during the unload she offered me both cold water and a plug-in fan. I would’ve hugged her if I weren’t drenched in a layer of sweat)
When I finish at 9 PM I have that amazingly satisfying feeling of every muscle and joint in my body aching because they’ve been used in a way that they haven’t for a long time, and I am free to stop wherever I’d like for a to-go dinner on my way out of town – in this case, Taco Bell; gotta try the new Baja Blast Mountain Dew. When
I get back to the truck, I take off my sweat-soaked shirt (and decide I’m not even gonna try to wash it so it goes straight into the trash; it was a raggedy old thing anyway, dating back to the Laconia, N.H. Bike Rally in 1997). Then I get to cruise back halfway across Ohio under a full moon, topless, window down (fuel and shower en route) and the stereo blasting Ride’s “Nowhere” and “Going Blank Again,” David Bowie’s “Ziggy Stardust” and Tom Waits’ “Small Change.”
At some point during the trip back to Zanesville, I calculate all the extra pay for this trip (unloading the truck, making multiple stops) and realize that by doing all this stuff, I earned over $300.
Today I slept from 2 to 8 AM, read some Hafiz (this book was in among our stuff that was packed away in our old Honda in Vermont; must be Aubray’s. I didn’t even know we had it –what a find!), prepared and mailed a bunch of P&K manuscripts, enjoyed a leisurely breakfast at Steak-n-Shake, emailed some Chronicles at the Zanesville library, fiddled-and- diddled with the wireless internet card along with the folks who supposedly installed it at Best Buy Saturday (it seems to work now), and now I have 11 hours to make an 8-hour trip out of Columbus and arrive in Elizabeth, New Jersey by 4 AM, which I believe calls for one of those double-shot espresso coffee drinks around midnight.
OK, maybe it’s not for everybody. But this life suits me so well that it’s almost embarrassing. So much of my past, my growth and development, my deepest flaws and imperfections, so much of everything I am is the perfect foundation for a life of drivin’ & writin’, that it’s hard to see it as anything less than a calling anymore, one of those God-given cravings I talked about in the last chapter.
I know I said that Part Two would focus on autobiographical material relevant to the discussion of Christotheism or spirituality in general –depending on how you feel about autobiographical exposition in this type of setting, you could consider that either a promise or a threat—and I didn’t get into that much on the second tour. It’s harder material to work with, maybe because it’s the past, maybe because it’s my past. I also need to make sure I stick to relevant material and not load the Chronicles down with what Holden Caulfield called “that David Copperfield crap.” Unless a reader has specifically sought out a biography or autobiography of a person who interests them, I assume they don’t care about the quaint New England village where the subject was raised, or the fairy godmother/6th grade teacher who encouraged him to write. So just as Holden did for his readers, I vow not to veer into the nostalgia lane on this freeway into my past. But I don’t think I can move on to my intentions for Part Three without traveling it somehow, so I must try a little harder. Just letting you know that I’m aware I’ve been skirting the issue.
* * * *
“God, disguised as a myriad things and playing a game of tag, has kissed you and said, ‘You’re it— I mean, you’re Really IT!’
Now it does not matter what you believe or feel, for something wonderful, major-league wonderful, is someday going to happen.” –Hafiz
I have a feeling I’ll be throwing in a lot of Hafiz quotes, at least until I learn to write as well as he did. He was on a level far beyond me when it comes to putting out words that speak God’s love. Every page of this book is such a sweet little love note from God through his pen. And to think it was hiding, out in the open, in our house, probably for years while I paid no attention! I feel like I’ve met another best friend.
And again, I feel compelled to revisit an earlier question, adressed specifically to the Christians in the audience: does Christianity have anything to learn from the writings of a Sufi master? Should we stand there with our Bibles in hand and say, “Yes Hafiz, but have you accepted Jesus Christ as your Lord and Savior?” every time he talks about the experience of God’s love? Or can we be humble enough to admit that there might be something we’re missing –something that people like Thomas Merton and Mother Teresa and Mahatma Gandhi and Hafiz are trying to share with us?
Hafiz studied under the same teacher for over forty years, they say, to learn his craft. They had to meet in secret because in the 14th century Persia was in the grips of an extreme Islamic fundamentalist regime, and small-minded, small-hearted Muslims tortured and killed Sufis, whom they considered dangerous heretics. This still happens today in some places.
Are Christian fundamentalists guilty of the same godless brutality? Depends –pick your time and place. In 21st century America? No, not that I know of.
What our contemporary Christian fundamentalists do is worse.
If an Islamic fundamentalist knows that you do not agree with him on spiritual matters, and you push some of his buttons, he may deprive you of your life –which you are bound to lose sometime anyway.
If a Christian fundamentalist knows that you do not agree with him on spiritual matters, and you won’t “repent,” he will try to deprive you of your spirit. He will tell you that you are not a child of God.
Am I overstating that? Go back and reread the chapter about Oliver B. Greene and his “Gospel Hour” tract, and realize that this is just the less-PC, logical extension of what is taught at my own church in Ashland.
Western Orthodox Church: I will give you my head on a silver platter before I let you tell me that the Spirit of God is not in a man like Hafiz, or in me, or in any of our brothers and sisters. Then you will have to face the fact that you have taken roost in King Herod’s den of iniquity. Who will be repenting then?
“I have learned so much from God that I can no longer call myself a Christian, a Hindu, a Muslim, a Buddhist, a Jew.
The truth has shared so much of itself with me that I can no longer call myself a man, a woman, an angel, or even pure soul.
Love has befriended Hafiz so completely, it has turned to ash and free me of every concept and image my mind has ever known.”
May God visit us all with such great fortune in our lifetime!
