It’s as if a king has sent you to some country to do a task, and you perform a hundred other services, but not the one he sent you to do. So human beings come to this world to do particular work. That work is the purpose, and each is specific to the person. If you don’t do it, it’s as though a priceless Indian sword were used to slice rotten meat. It’s a golden bowl being used to cook turnips, when one filing from the bowl could buy a hundred suitable pots. It’s like a knife of the finest tempering nailed into a wall to hang things on.
You say, “But look, I’m using it. It’s not lying idle.” Do you hear how ridiculous that sounds? For a penny an iron nail could be bought. You say, “But I spend my energies on lofty projects. I study philosophy and jurisprudence, logic, astronomy, and medicine.” But consider why you do those things. They are all branches of yourself and your impressiveness.
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Chapter Twenty-Two : Lord of The Heart : The One Thing You Must Do, Rumi : The Book Of Love : Poems of Ecstasy and Longing by Coleman Barks
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