It is related that one day they came upon Majnun sifting the dust, and his tears flowing down. They said, "What doest thou?" He said, "I seek for Layli." They cried, "Alas for thee! Layli is of pure spirit, and thou seekest her in the dust!" He said, "I seek her everywhere; haply somewhere I shall find her."
(Baha'u'llah, The Seven Valleys, p. 6)
Friday, 3 December 2010
Braving every danger
Danger might be an exaggeration - the walk to Lobster Falls is, after all, rated easy on most web sites. Still, for those seekers who are old, fat, and arthritic (that's me), it was a significant challenge. And the path, if you can call it a path, was narrow enough and, at one point, beside a steep enough drop to ensure that in addition to our usual devotions one of us who suffers from vertigo uttered perhaps the most heartfelt prayers to the Help in Peril that have ever been said on our trips.
But it was worth it. Lobster falls is no pristine wilderness but perhaps for that very reason it feels truly wild.
Very little effort is made to accommodate visitors or manage the flora and fauna. Fungi, of course, flourish with no special care.
And the usual beautiful chaos of the forest floor.
We did, most of us, finally reach the Falls.
On the way we encountered birds, flowers, and thanks to a sharp-eyed member an echidna virtually buried beneath the forest litter. But we didn't find Layli. Or maybe we did. When four of us settled down to say and sing some devotions, in unplanned and unspoken agreement, we said and sang them in whispers as though in that place we sensed a presence and didn't wish to disturb it with our bungling, human efforts to express the Divine. Maybe it was Layli or maybe just a local farmer. Or maybe there's no difference.