I’ve been afraid of fame, for a long time now. Of people knowing my name.
I like being in the shadows, I’ve stayed anonymous on the internet and loved it.
Today, reading a poem by Hafiz led me to thinking.
Where is ‘me’, where is Aditi?
It’s just a name, a vehicle to be known to express my views and emotions.
Why be entangled in empty words? Why be scared of something that wouldn’t belong to this name?
It all belongs to the Beloved, whatever names you call Him by.
There is nothing that is not His. Even fame. Even failure.
It makes my heart laugh, like Hafiz’s did, like Rumi’s did.
We are empty bodies, swirling in the ocean,
trying to take credit for the Beloved.
~ ~ ~ ~
Here is the poem, The thousand-stringed instrument by Hafiz from the book The Gift.
The heart is
The thousand-stringed instrument.
Our sadness and fear come from being
Out of tune with love.
All day long God coaxes my lips
So that your tears will not stain
His green dress.
It is not that the Friend is vain,
It is just your life we care about.
Sometimes the Beloved
Takes my pen in hand,
For Hafiz is just a simple man.
The other day the Old One
Wrote on the Tavern wall:
“The heart is
The thousand-stringed instrument
That can only be tuned with
~ Hafiz, The Gift