When my Sorrow was born
I nursed it with care,
and watched over it with loving tenderness.
And my Sorrow grew like all living things,
strong and beautiful and full of wondrous delights.
Hi! This is Nideesh Vasu
and I read writings and poetry
from the great saints and sages from across time
to help us introspect where we are at
in our lives at the moment
and to help us evolve and become better students,
better children, better parents, better friends,
better lovers, and better humans.
Welcome to a Stereo Tales presentation.
You're listening to
Sages and the Madman with Nideesh Vasu.
Thank you for listening in to my podcast.
This week we continue
reading from Khalil Gibran’s work.
And in each episode we also try to gather
insights into the experiences
and struggles of Gibran’s life
that shaped his personality
and inspired his work.
Let us continue where we left off
in the ever-fascinating story
of Gibran and  Mary Haskell.
Their engagement was called off,
because Mary clearly saw that
Kahlil was not an ordinary man.
She understood his spirituality,
his difference from other beings and moreover,
his destiny that lied in far greater things.
In her journal she wrote
“ ..for Kahlil there waits a
different love from that he bears me
— an apocalypse of love
— and that shall be his marriage.
His greatest work will come out of that
— his greatest happiness, his new, full life.”
In another reflection, Mary said,
that there was no doubt in her mind that
their relationship was permanent.
She wanted
“continuity of conscious togetherness”!
How beautifully put and
how well understood is that!
Don't get me wrong, the decision
wasn't easy on both of them.
In her journal, after their decision, she writes
“Again at the door I cried a little
— while he wiped my eyes,
saying only, ‘Mary — Mary — Mary.’
And as he went he said as well as he could,
‘You've given me a new heart tonight.’
Upon my tears after I went to bed
it was suddenly as if a
great peace and light broke
— and he and I were in it
— so that I cried,
“Thank you, God, thank you!”
again and again.
I was so ineffably happy.
That I have given him up I realize.
But it has not parted us
— it has brought us even
much nearer together.”
Mary was no ordinary woman,
that much is clear to us.
She was not just some “modern woman”,
but I believe, she herself
was a deeply spiritual person.
Both of them shared a bond, that was deeper
than physical or mental compatibility.
In a letter to Mary, Gibran says
“I wish I could tell you, beloved Mary,
what your letters mean to me.
They create a soul in my soul.
I read them as messages from life.
Somehow they always come
when I need them most,
and they always bring that element
which makes us desire more days
and more nights and more life.”
You don’t write letters like this
to a muse, or a girlfriend.
There’s was a connection
at the soul level.
When Gibran decided that
he would start writing in English,
it was Mary who did his
corrections and editions.
She spent most of her nights
to correct his work.
When she went to visit him in New York,
he would dictate and she would write.
When he had an idea
and could not articulate,
she would help him
come up with the right phrases.
Such was her dedication
and belief in him.
Mary eventually got married
to someone else,
but her connection to Gibran
remained unchanged.
She continued to support him
and work with him till the very end.
I can only sum up their love
in one of the shortest letters
that Gibran wrote to her.
“I love to be silent with you, Mary.”
Today we'll take a look at a fable
from Khalil Gibran’s ‘The Madman’ called
 ‘When my Sorrow was born’.
When my Sorrow was born
I nursed it with care, and
watched over it with loving tenderness.
And my Sorrow grew
like all living things,
strong and beautiful
and full of wondrous delights.
And we loved one another,
my Sorrow and I,
and we loved the world about us;
for Sorrow had a kindly heart
and mine was kindly with Sorrow.
And when we conversed,
my Sorrow and I,
our days were winged and
our nights were girdled with dreams;
for Sorrow had an eloquent tongue,
and mine was eloquent with Sorrow.
And when we sang together,
my Sorrow and I,
our neighbors sat at
their windows and listened;
for our songs were deep as the sea and our
 melodies were full of strange memories.
And when we walked together,
 my Sorrow and I,
people gazed at us with gentle eyes and
 whispered in words of exceeding sweetness.
And there were those who looked
with envy upon us
for Sorrow was a noble thing
 and I was proud with Sorrow.
But my Sorrow died,
like all living things,
and alone I am left to muse and ponder.
And now when I speak
 my words fall heavily upon my ears.
And when I sing my songs
 my neighbors come not to listen.
And when I walk the streets
no one looks at me.
Only in my sleep
 I hear voices saying in pity,
” See, there lies the man
 whose Sorrow is dead.”
Gibran talks about
the delights of Sorrow,
which he’s personified,
like he often does in his works.
He's in love with Sorrow.
He romances sorrow.
He talks about the compassion it elicits.
How, almost like a person,
 he’s in love with,
he experiences all the motions with.
He talks about his journey with Sorrow.
The experiences of Sorrow within us
– birth, growth, evolution
and finally death.
Sorrow awakens compassion,
 kindness and empathy within himself.
His own emotions are unlocked.
He’s grown as a person. Becomes more
 understanding and is compassionate.
Sorrow has revealed the depths
where he’s hidden his pain and suffering.
And the tales from those depths
 rise up to the surface.
People often relish in others pain.
They also come to understand better
 their own sufferings.
The acquire perspective
 through the sufferings of others.
They thrill in watching the romance
 between the sad man and his sorrow.
Pain is often the root
 of creative expression.
Many a beautiful song were
 written and composed from pain.
And we love listening to such sorrow.
When his sorrow died, no one cared.
He lost the very thing which
 made him romantic and attractive.
People no longer
 looked towards him.
He no longer deserved their
 compassion or empathy.
His songs were no more deep.
At the end of the poem though,
Gibran leaves us with
him and his inner voice,
looking at himself as the man
 whose sorrow is dead.
This I feel, depends on the lens
 through which you look,
could either be his inner self
longing for that Sorrow and
everything that it gave him
or acknowledging that
he has truly moved on
and is beyond that which
gave birth to this Sorrow.
What do you feel about this pain?
About this sorrow?
We've all spent time with sorrow
at some time or the other in our lives.
How did we deal with it?
What were our experiences?
Did it help us evolve?
Are we better from the experience
 or have we turned bitter?
Have we moved on?
Or do we still yearn
to wallow in Sorrow.
Do we understand others
who are suffering at the moment?
Are we able to give of our
 patient selves to those in pain?
I'd love to hear your take on this poem
and how you've connected with it in your life.
Thank you for listening in
 to this week's podcast.
Please try to take some time out in the quiet
just before you go to sleep for yourself,
loving yourself, appreciating the good
 from the day and the lessons learnt.
Please do send out a prayer of healing for the world and
 for those in need and those at high risk.
See you next week and be safe.
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