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The Little Book of Life's Wisdom

Page 6

by Kahlil Gibran


  furthest dream, assigned to you when that dream

  was born.

  And in keeping yourself in labor, you are in

  truth loving life, and to love life through labor is

  to be intimate with life’s inmost secret.

  K A H L I L G I B R A N ’ S L I T T L E B O O K O F L I F E

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  It is not in sleep but in the over wakefulness

  of noontide that the wind speaks not more

  sweetly to the giant oaks than to the least of all

  the blades of grass.

  And he alone is great who turns the voice

  of the wind into a song made sweeter by his

  own loving.

  Work is love made visible.

  L I F E ’ S H U M A N J O U R N E Y

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  BUILDERS OF BRIDGES

  In Antioch, where the river Asi goes to meet the

  sea, a bridge was built to bring one half of the

  city nearer to the other half. It was built of large

  stones carried down from among the hills on the

  backs of the mules of Antioch.

  When the bridge was finished, upon a pillar

  thereof was engraved in Greek and in Aramaic,

  “This bridge was built by King Antiochus II.”

  And all the people walked across the good

  bridge over the goodly river Asi.

  And upon an evening, a youth, deemed by

  some a little mad, descended to the pillar where

  the words were engraved, and he covered over

  the graving with charcoal, and above it wrote,

  “The stones of this bridge were brought

  down from the hills by the mules. In passing to

  and fro over it, you are riding upon the backs

  of the mules of Antioch, builders of this bridge.”

  K A H L I L G I B R A N ’ S L I T T L E B O O K O F L I F E

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  And when the people read what the youth

  had written, some of them laughed and some

  marveled. And some said, “Ah, yes, we know

  who has done this. Is he not a little mad?”

  But one mule said, laughing, to another

  mule, “Do you not remember that we did carry

  those stones? And yet until now it has been said

  that the bridge was built by King Antiochus.”

  L I F E ’ S H U M A N J O U R N E Y

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  RENOWN

  Be grateful that you do not have to

  live down the renown

  of a father or the wealth of an uncle.

  But above all be grateful that

  no one will have to live down

  either your renown or your wealth.

  K A H L I L G I B R A N ’ S L I T T L E B O O K O F L I F E

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  LIFE IS A PROCESSION

  Life is a procession.

  The slow of foot finds it too swift

  and steps out.

  And the swift of foot finds it too slow

  and also steps out.

  L I F E ’ S H U M A N J O U R N E Y

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  SONG OF HUMANITY

  I was here from the

  moment of the beginning,

  and here I am still.

  And I shall remain here

  until the end of the world,

  for there is no ending to

  my grief-stricken being.

  I roamed the infinite sky,

  and soared in the ideal world,

  and floated through the firmament.

  But here I am,

  prisoner of measurement.

  I heard the teachings of Confucius.

  I listened to Brahma’s wisdom.

  I sat by Buddha under the Tree of Knowledge.

  Yet here I am,

  existing with ignorance and heresy.

  K A H L I L G I B R A N ’ S L I T T L E B O O K O F L I F E

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  I was on Sinai when Jehovah approached

  Moses.

  I saw the Nazarene’s miracles at the Jordan.

  I was in Medina when Muhammad visited.

  Yet here I am,

  prisoner of bewilderment.

  Then I witnessed the might of Babylon.

  I learned of the glory of Egypt.

  I viewed the warring greatness of Rome.

  Yet my earlier teachings showed

  the weakness and sorrow

  of those achievements.

  I conversed with the magicians of Ain Dour.

  I debated with the priests of Assyria.

  I gleaned depth from the prophets

  of Palestine.

  Yet I am still seeking truth.

  I gathered wisdom from quiet India.

  I probed the antiquity of Arabia.

  I heard all that can be heard.

  Yet my heart is deaf and blind.

  L I F E ’ S H U M A N J O U R N E Y

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  I suffered at the hands of despotic rulers.

  I suffered slavery under insane invaders.

  I suffered hunger imposed by tyranny.

  Yet I still possess some inner power

  with which I struggle to greet each day.

  My mind is filled, but my heart is empty.

  My body is old, but my heart is an infant.

  Perhaps in youth my heart will grow,

  but I pray to grow old and reach

  the moment of my return to God.

  Only then will my heart fill!

  I was here from the

  moment of the beginning,

  and here I am still.

  And I shall remain here

  until the end of world,

  for there is no ending to

  my grief-stricken being.

  K A H L I L G I B R A N ’ S L I T T L E B O O K O F L I F E

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  SINGING IN THE SILENCE

  Life sings in our silences

  and dreams in our slumber.

  Even when we are beaten and low,

  life is enthroned and high.

  And when we weep,

  life smiles upon the day

  and is free even when

  we drag our chains.

  L I F E ’ S H U M A N J O U R N E Y

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  MODESTY

  Your clothes conceal much of your beauty, yet

  they hide not the unbeautiful.

  And though you see in garments the freedom

  of privacy, you may find in them a harness and

  a chain.

  Would that you could meet the sun and the

  wind with more of your skin and less of your

  raiment. For the breath of life is in the sunlight

  and the hand of life is in the wind.

  Some of you say, “It is the north wind who

  has woven the clothes to wear.”

  But shame was his loom, and the softening

  of the sinews was his thread. And when his work

  was done, he laughed in the forest.

  Forget not that modesty is for a shield against

  the eye of the unclean.
<
br />   And when the unclean shall be no more,

  what were modesty but a fetter and a fouling of

  the mind?

  And forget not that the earth delights to feel

  your bare feet and the winds long to play with

  your hair.

  K A H L I L G I B R A N ’ S L I T T L E B O O K O F L I F E

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  BETWEEN

  I am forever walking upon these shores,

  betwixt the sand and the foam.

  The high tide will erase my footprints,

  and the wind will blow away the foam.

  But the sea and the shore

  will remain forever.

  L I F E ’ S H U M A N J O U R N E Y

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  IGNORANCE

  I am ignorant of absolute truth.

  But I am humble before my ignorance

  and therein lies my honor and my reward.

  K A H L I L G I B R A N ’ S L I T T L E B O O K O F L I F E

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  WHEN YOU MEET A FRIEND

  When you meet your friend on the roadside or

  in the market place,

  let the spirit in you move your lips and direct

  your tongue.

  Let the voice within your voice speak to the ear

  of his ear.

  For his soul will keep the truth of your heart,

  as the taste of the wine is remembered

  when the color is forgotten

  and the vessel is no more.

  L I F E ’ S H U M A N J O U R N E Y

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  STRANGERS TO LIFE

  My friend, you and I shall remain

  strangers unto life,

  and unto one another,

  and each unto ourselves,

  until the day when you shall speak

  and I shall listen,

  deeming your voice my own voice,

  and when I shall stand before you,

  thinking myself standing before a mirror.

  They say to me,

  “Should you know yourself

  you would know all people.”

  And I say,

  “Only when I seek all people

  shall I know myself.”

  K A H L I L G I B R A N ’ S L I T T L E B O O K O F L I F E

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  LIFE IS A RESOLUTION

  Life is a resolution that accompanies youth,

  and a diligence that follows maturity,

  and a wisdom that pursues senility.

  Knowledge is a light

  enriching the warmth of life,

  and all may partake who seek it out.

  Humanity is a brilliant river,

  singing its way and carrying with it

  the mountains’ secrets into

  the heart of the sea.

  The spirit is a sacred blue torch,

  burning and devouring the dry plants,

  and growing with the storm,

  and illuminating the faces of the goddesses.

  L I F E ’ S H U M A N J O U R N E Y

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  LONGING

  He who longs the most

  lives the longest.

  K A H L I L G I B R A N ’ S L I T T L E B O O K O F L I F E

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  TO AMERICAN IMMIGRANTS FROM THE

  MIDDLE EAST (1926)

  I believe in you, and I believe in your

  destiny.

  I believe that you are contributors to this new

  civilization.

  I believe that you have inherited from your

  ancestors an ancient dream, a song, a proph-

  ecy, which you can proudly lay as a gift of

  gratitude upon the lap of America.

  I believe you can say to the founders of this

  great nation, “Here I am, a youth, a young

  tree whose roots were plucked from the

  hills of Lebanon, yet I am deeply rooted

  here, and I would be fruitful.”

  And I believe that you can say to Abraham

  Lincoln, the blessed, “Jesus of Nazareth

  touched your lips when you spoke, and

  guided your hand when you wrote. And I

  shall uphold all that you have said and all

  that you have written.”

  L I F E ’ S H U M A N J O U R N E Y

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  I believe that you can say to Emerson and Whit-

  man and James, “In my veins runs the blood

  of the poets and wise men of old, and it is

  my desire to come to you and receive, but I

  shall not come with empty hands.”

  I believe that even as your ancestors came to

  this land to produce riches, you were born

  here to produce riches by intelligence, by

  labor.

  And I believe that it is in you to be good

  citizens.

  And what is it to be a good citizen?

  It is to acknowledge the other person’s rights

  before asserting your own, but always to be

  conscious of your own.

  It is to be free in thought and deed, but it is to

  know that your freedom is subject to the

  other person’s freedom.

  It is to create the useful and the beautiful with

  your own hands, and to admire what others

  have created in love and with faith.

  K A H L I L G I B R A N ’ S L I T T L E B O O K O F L I F E

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  It is to produce wealth by labor and only by

  labor, and to spend less than you have

  produced, so that your children may not be

  dependent on the state for support when

  you are no more.

  It is to stand before the towers of New York,

  Washington, Chicago, and San Francisco say-

  ing in your heart, “I am the descendant of a

  people that built Damascus and Byblos, and

  Tyre and Sidon and Antioch, and now I am

  here to build with you, and with a will.”

  It is to be proud of being an American, but

  it is also to be proud that your fathers

  and mothers came from a land upon which

  God laid his gracious hand and raised his

  messengers.

  Young Americans of Syrian origin, I believe

  in you.

  L I F E ’ S H U M A N J O U R N E Y

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  4

  Seasons

  of Life

  Life pulses in the rhythms that we find

  in the revolutions of day and night, the

  changing of the seasons, and the beating

  of our own hearts.

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  CHANGING WITH THE SEASONS

  The mountains, trees, and rivers change their

  appearance with the vicissitudes of times and

  seasons, as one changes with one’s experiences

  and emotions.

  The lofty poplar that res
embles a bride in

  the daytime will look like a column of smoke in

  the evening.

  The huge rock that stands impregnable at

  noon will appear to be a miserable pauper at

  night, with earth for its bed and the sky for its

  cover.

  And the rivulet that we see glittering in the

  morning and hear singing the hymn of eternity

  will, in the evening, turn to a stream of tears

  wailing like a mother bereft of her child.

  And Lebanon, which had looked dignified a

  week before, when the moon was full and our

  spirits were happy, looked sorrowful and lone-

  some that night.

  K A H L I L G I B R A N ’ S L I T T L E B O O K O F L I F E

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  NO MIRACLES BEYOND THE SEASONS

  An astronomer speaks of Jesus:

  You question me concerning the miracles of

  Jesus.

  Every thousand thousand years, the sun and

  the moon and this earth and all her sister plan-

  ets meet in a straight line, and they confer for a

  moment together.

  Then they slowly disperse and await the

  passing of another thousand thousand years.

  There are no miracles beyond the seasons,

  yet you and I do not know all the seasons.

  And what if a season shall be made manifest

  in the shape of a human being?

  In Jesus, the elements of our bodies and our

  dreams came together according to law. All that

  was timeless before him became time-full in him.

  They say he gave sight to the blind and walk-

  ing to the paralyzed, and that he drove devils out

  of the mad.

  Perchance blindness is but a dark thought

  that can be overcome by a burning thought.

  S E A S O N S O F L I F E

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  Perchance a withered limb is but idleness

  that can be quickened by energy.

  And perhaps the devils, these restless ele-

  ments in our lives, are driven out by the angels

  of peace and serenity.

  They say he raised the dead to life. If you can

  tell me what is death, then I will tell you what

  is life.

  In a field, I have watched an acorn, a thing

  so still and seemingly useless. And in the spring,

  I have seen that acorn take roots and rise—the

  beginning of an oak tree—towards the sun.

 

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