Ya Haqq,

Lotfan arze tasliyate bandaro khedmate khanoomjoon, Jenabe pir doktor Alireza Noorbakhsh va saayere farzandaano baazmaandegaan eblaagh befarmaaeed. Misoozim dar feraaghash.


Amir, Holland

When Sieged By Darkness,GOD send Hazrate Nurbakhsh as the Knight and chivalrously he saved many....as his name Imply he offered his Light ,and Joined the Source of Light with 3 steps in the day ONE.YA ALI

a.h.n !GOD

i have missed you when were on this earth, but knowing that you are no longer here is even harder to bare.  you called me your friend , indeed you were truly that, thank you then and now for knowing you & loving me.

Thank you for adding this page. This is when everybody is grieving and words can not express ours true feelings. Some of us can’t even cry and remain in disbelief though we knew it is coming. I remember one of the very first things he thought me was to let go of everything but right now don’t know how to let go of this pain which will be my friend for the rest of my life. He would often play jokes and would say ‘never be afraid of going deep down into your being when you’re beloved is with you’. I learned that and was not afraid of anything anymore and would dive into except the fear of losing him one day which that came true. As Agha joon was saying ‘have you ever been in love?’

Our beloved Master showed us how to live. His Love and kindness was an example for us all. To be with him was to be without any need for anything, at peace and in love.
His family has shown so much strength and love at this difficult time. My heart goes out to all of them.
He is in all of those he touched.
His message is simple. Be nobody, love everyone and selflessly serve society. I hope I can honour his memory by becoming free of selfisness and like him giving love freely to all.
Ya Haqq

We will all keep aghajoon in our hearts and prayers. He was an amazing man that all must strive to be like. His words touched everyone around him. His light will always be a bright one.

My condolences to all Nurbakhshian.

After initiation, at first paboosi, followed by exchanging few taarofs, Agha Jaan hanged these few words on my ears;

"I, am just a proxy and there comes a day that I will get absorbed and those who strive, will be capable of seeing the Noor themselves" 

Now, His matter is converted into energy, into PURE LIGHT.

Though, HE is no longer with us, HE is all around us.

Nurbakhsh remains Nurbakhsh.

Hágheer-e Velgárd

I met peer only once. That was more than

enough for me. He showed me the light of

his heart by few glimpse and loving words.

Men like him never die.  Our hearts are beating

his passion and mesmerising his words .

He is alive in all our hearts.

Prace and love upon everyone.

Ebby.

That is why I am happy.

'' MY MASTER...MY GUIDE...MY PAIN...MY CURE... I LIVE IN YOUR LOVE... MY MASTER... MY GOD"

"I love you past my mind and beyond my heart, I love you with my soul where only you reside"

Tears are shed and heart are aching but love is what will heal our pain. I love you Agha joon...And I miss you so

love said
you are a candle
attracting everyone
gathering every one
around you

I am no more
a candle spreading light
I gather no more crowds
and like smoke
I am all scattered now

love said
you are a teacher
you are a head
and for everyone
you are a leader

I am no more
not a teacher
not a leader
just a servant
to your wishes

love said
you already have
your own wings
I will not give you
more feathers

and then my heart
pulled itself apart
and filled to the brim
with a new light
overflowed with fresh life

now even the heavens
are thankful that
because of love
I have become
the giver of light.

(Rumi)

You will always shine in my heart.

Roya Pournoorbakhsh

Bismillah, The Quran says, For those who do good and righteous deeds Allah most Gracious will bestow love. Dr Nurbakhsh was the example of this ayat, let us follow his example and show our appreciation to the Truth by following the teachings of the Giver of Light. Peace to all.

Agha-jun was the absolute embodiment of selflessness. The grandmaster of mysticism who incredibly tolerated even the company of simpletons like me, always with graciousness, warmth, and uncompromising sincerity. He continued to give selflessly and service our needs right to the end, so we should have no doubts about how to proceed in the most difficult of times, after his departure.
Haqqan, Haqqan, Hu, Haqqan.

Friendly Master, Shining Master, Greatest Master, Effective Master, You have changed our lives for those who come accross us because your advice on serving others beside the Zekr has a tremendous effect on the whole humanity. We are sad because we will miss a friendly human being with touching voice and sparkling appreance with a curing smile and sights. But we also know that our Master is alive because He is not detached from the Single One. Because friendship and connections were never truly made with his physical contact we are still connected and will stay connected all of our life. The most respect we can show you is to strive all of our life to live the values, the teachings and advices you provided us! Yo Man Hi! Yo Man Haqq! Yo Man HU!

We always feel you in the house, so all his lover please please please accept our condolences ,i opend be half of Them Shakespeare’s sonnets and Number 46 Manifest... As thus: mine eye’s due is thine outward part, And my heart’s right thine inward love of heart. GOD YA ALI

We love you Agha Joon.

You wake up in the morning wishing everything was a dream and you know you are surrounded by his love equally as everyone else but which one is dream? Are we dreaming these minutes without having a minute glance of your face and not hearing you’re out loud laughs? Oh by you, loved your laughs although my entire body was trembling in your presence. Your love is the eternity gift sparkling from your eyes down to the deepest being of our hearts. You have given us a torch of love to carry, give and share, you say look to the eyes of others with my love and service others.

thank you Mr Nurbakhsh

Our Master has not left us, but is alive in the lessons of loving-kindness, humility and service that was his life, and in the Sufi wisdom and poetry he has left behind, and in the bounty of spiritual attention he has passed on to his most worthy successor, Alireza Nurbakhsh, and through him to us. We are blessed beyond words. Truly he has but taken the final turn on the Path of Love.

Sadness dissipates,
Love shines forth

From the Bestower of Light
In his passing comes

This lesson: Serve creation
And fear nothing

God is ever with you
O darvish, open your

heart and behold
Him in yourself.

Ya Haqq!

the Beloved came looking for a heart. i got excited and showed him the heart in my chest. he laughed, reached in and pulled it out. i thought i would die. hey- its only death why so glum? all my addictions, all my pain, all my comfortable sorrow, gone. Then he gave me a big box with a bow on it-like a birthday present. I opened it. A new heart? for me? you shouldn't have! He said 'take it'. He put it in my chest. 'Now...what are you going to do with it?' he asked. 'well i spose i had better look after it!' I made you my promise then, and now you are dead i make it to you once more- i will keep your heart clean, by your grace, in your grace, beating through your love alone. Light. Love. Service. Nothingness. These are the teachers of the way of the tavern, keeping us all alive, beat by beat.

Thanks for your thoughts.  There are some nice comments that have been posted on your own blog.  I hope you don't mind my linking them here, in this message.

All love.

http://darvish.wordpress.com/2008/10/10/dr-javad-nurbakhsh-1926-2008/#comments

Only you can love so much..

You are more than a teacher for me, you are my heart, my life, my God..

You has not left, you became more close for me.

My  Beloved.. call me when time will come..

Ya Haqq!

I think Mr.Nikt'ab is the happiest of all. Time for him to dance and celebrate the union between a lover and the beloved.

tiny tiny he swims in my tears
bigger than huge he stretches across the sky of my soul
inhabiting this dimension or another
he makes every corner
and every moment
the right place
and the right time

ya haqq
nurbakhsh lives in our hearts forever

Az dast dadan e pedar e geramiyetan ra az samime ghalb tasliyat migouiam. Agar che marg bahre asheghan nist, Saraye zistan ham in jahan nist. 110 Ali Toronto

Ya Haqq!

"'He never die whose heart is liven in Love.' This sentence is written down on the board of the world." Hafiz

Ya Pir! Madadi.

Alas that beautiful beloved where hence?

Alas that graceful Goddess where hence?

In our midst like a candle brightly shone Where hence,

alas, without us where hence

Khedmat Khanewadeye gerami Nurbakhsh, be khosos khanoom jun wa hazrat pir Dr. Alireza Nurbakhsh tasliyat arz mikonim.

Mohsen, Mahta, Mahin,

az Holland

I am very grateful to God and happy that I had a chance to meet such a man like our Master. I will never forget His beautiful shining eyes, His kind smile, His attention, openness and Love towards every person, His jokes.

He is an example of a true Sufi, and the best thing we can do in memory of Him is to follow the principles that He taught us.

I miss Him, but I know He is in our hearts, He is near, with us.

Dear Pir, thank you for all!

Ya Haqq

Now the words are over

and the pain they bring is gone.

Now you have gone to rest

in the arms of the Beloved.

(Rumi)

Gracias por el post, era muy interesante leer

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"All is Hu and we are manifestations of Him The Master is now part of us, and we all are now part of Master" Concluded Reza Ali Shah at Nur Ali Shah's memorial (11-Oct-2008) Whomever whose life has ever been touched by Him, feels the truth of these words, light shining in the dark lonely nights, light melting the heart, light bringing laughter in tears, light pouring tears in laughter. Love is my guide, Love is my Master, Love is my witness, keep us well oh God, keep us well under his cloak, give us heart that keeps his beat, give us sight that sees his light, allow us to serve him, give us the strength to do your work, oh Lord, give us the strength to do your work. Oh Master, my love, they say you are gone, but your presence is ever more intense, your warmth and love, your smile and light, ah how beautiful, how delicate is your form, so soft, so light, lighter than the soul, lighter than the air. Oh Master, they say you emptied your cloak, but I saw with my own eyes, that my soul departed, yet the next dawn, you joke again, your cloak full of light, your sharp eyes, your piercing arrows, at work again, every breath you give life to a thousand universes, in every breath you take away a thousand universes. The ones you love, you slain, the ones who love you are always – like earth - at your feet, for ever, since others, come and go like the morning wind. Oh Master, until last week there was a thin veil of light keeping you from Hu, and now: " Who is Hu, besides Hu? and who is the one that is not Hu? "

To my teacher, Thank you for making me a better man. 

It is no gift I tender,
A loan is all I can;
But do not scorn the lender;
Man gets no more from man.

Oh, mortal man may borrow
What mortal man may lend;
And 'twill not end tomorrow,
Though sure enough 'twill end.

If death and time are stronger,
A love may yet be strong;
The world will last for longer,
But this will last for long.

Don’t say a word of advice to me now that I am left with a burning heart.

I know nothing of this world and thereafter except you Nurbakhsh.

You are the bestower of light.

This world is a dream as you said Nurbakhsh.

you are my light in the darkness, my hope of reunion when waking up from this dream.

These days will pass and this fire will burn my impurities I know..I know.

Your body meant not last forever, but your love oh the love my life and thereafter, is the only treasury I have.. I have.

Assalam o Alaikum to all Nurbakhshi followers. I am writing this condolence from Pakistan, I used to visit your website frequently, which gives me the feeling of being connected with my fellow followers. I keep reading about Dr Nurbakhsh, he was a source of energey for me and the other Nurbakhshis. Today the light is dimmed Allah may grant peace to his soule; Ameen. Respected Dr Ali Reza may Allah give you strength to bear this great loss, and serve the followers.

Why

As a recent attendee of a Nimatullahi khanaqah, the shaikh informed me this week of the Master's passing. I tell you something: this man may have "died" but he is just being born to me. His words and writings come alive moment by moment.

In living a great tree provides shelter, firewood, beauty and residence to natures animals and humankind. When it falls it continues doing so indeed, its very essence nurtures the same soil that bore it. Shukran
Dr Nurbakhsh, shukran.

GOD strengthen you Hooshang.

I have just heard though a fellow darvish of Master's passing last week. How apropiate he leaves this world at a time when all seems hopeless financial collapse, poverty, climate change....

Yet for me he leaves at the perfect time - giving us the strength and wisdom for the Great Work he assigned us all to do.

Oh! Agha Joon Your Power and Love still and will always abide with me when I have the strength and
sincerity to remember your name.

I love You

Ya Haqq

Didam be har diyar basi mahrooy ra - Ey Nurbakhshe del, cho to mahi nadideam

Master once said "A real Sufi consumes all of Reality, all of Eternity, and then asks "What's next?". Lord, now your darvishes wait breathlessly for what's next. Ya Haq

che ghone bavar konam ke Pir va Morad ma rafteh , aghar raftan ra bavar konam , pas che ghone bavar konam ke morid Nur boodam, Maghar khod naghofti ke az Azal Ta Abad yek dam ast va Nur , Nur vahedeh . Ghorobe Shams NurbakhshJan  , va Tooloe Shams (Pir va Morad asheghan Dr. AliReza Nurbakhsh ) ra be tamam asheghan tasleyat va tabrik mi ghoyam.

Thankyou Master for your rapturous face, for your incredible courage, for mending my damaged heart and spirit, for restoring my faith in mystical paths, for accepting me into the most precious home of all, the circle of Friends. You will live forever in our hearts. May we be worthy of you.

Master has gone. Master for us. Master for many to come.

May we all cherish the love, may we all burn in time.

Blessed are we all, to have had the chance, to live in the world were Nurbakhsh held our hands.

My Master is dead only if God is dead!

My Master is dead only if Light is vanished!

My Master is dead only if Love is dead!

My Master is dead only if Truth is dead!

and my Master is dead only if Hope is dead ...

When there is no more to say in words, it is the end of me, but you are endless....

With best regards to the beloved master, Dr. Alireza Nurbakhsh

I envy this soil who is embracing your body This earth and sky that is holding your image Since my heart now knows only of this endless burning. Although your image is in every tiny bit of particle I still die to see your image in this body which you had temporary Come, come, come and look at me still with those eyes Call me to your house and say ‘you back again’ and make me dance like a weightless feather in the wind of love I am in the house of mercy and will go nowhere without you Come, come I have lost my intellect now Come, oh you..you the only cure to this burning heart

The King of Love is dead.

Long live the King of Love.

For those few words that set me free, thank you.

For those few words that became a blueprint for how to live life, thank you again.

Ya Haqq.

Master’s worldly manifestation was kaleidoscopically varied, encompassing qualities and behaviors both endearing and absolutely outrageous. He was utterly unpredictable in his continual efforts to guide us past the obstacles to true surrender. I will share a few brief incidents that barely begin to express his wisdom and boundless capacity for both beauty & wrath.

When the Master left Tehran in 1979, several Khaniqahs had already been established in the USA. Seattle Khaniqah, in the northwest near Canada, became the first Khaniqah in the Americas that he personally selected and decorated.

Dervishes from Iran, London and the states gathered with him in San Francisco and we caravanned from there to Seattle, stopping for overnight in a hotel by Mount Shasta. We arrived in Seattle around 3 in the afternoon and shortly thereafter he was touring the city with a real estate broker. The fact that he had just spent 2 long days on the road did not slow him down one bit.

At the fifth house, now early evening, the Master inquired about another bigger one he saw just across the street. The realtor said that despite the “For Sale” sign out front, the house was not yet officially listed. Master walked up the steep driveway and right onto the shaded front porch and began peeking into windows. Moments later, he turned and said,

“Buy it.”

Without further investigation or even setting foot inside the building, we assured the sellers that that we were serious buyers. Since the funds for the purchase were not yet available in US dollars, (no one expected a decision to be made so quickly) we could not actually buy the house yet. As such, the seller insisted on several thousand dollars in earnest money before taking down the FOR SALE sign. The Master asked each of us to empty our pockets. Amongst those present we had just enough to cover the expense and shocked the realtor by making the entire payment in cash!

While waiting to take possession of the new Khaniqah, Master took walks and played tennis with some of us. I remember playing at a nearby park, two of us against him. I thought for sure we would win if only by just exhausting him. Not a chance. Years later, in Banbury, as I am sure many of you recall, we had animated games of volleyball.

He played to win, and win he did.

As Master’s English evolved, he began to play scrabble. He had the uncanny capacity to beat even skillful native speakers at this game. Eventually I realized that he was not only using his wit and intelligence to win, he was cheating. He would turn over letters and use them as blanks.

As soon as I recognized his trick, I myself began doing the same. At first he let me get away with it. But as my scores approached his, he began tossing my fakes off the board and calling me “bad gens”.

Some people were appalled at my behavior and angrily admonished me to never try to trick the Master and to always let him win at games. I saw the games as metaphors for the challenges on the path and often felt that the moment called for a little playfulness and humor. He seemed to appreciate a well-timed prank.

Master exhorted us to savor the joy of each moment. To me, that includes approaching something as mundane as a game a scrabble with spirited and light-hearted devotion. He himself was a relentless tease, carrying on some running jokes for years on end. As recently as a month ago he was still making references to an amusing conversation we had shared almost thirty years ago in Boston Khaniqah. He seemed never to forget even the smallest detail.

His laughter was rich, full and uninhibited. His whole being could sparkle with delight even as he conveyed a deeper message to those who listened carefully. Many lessons were cloaked in his charm and mischievous humor and no subject seemed to be “off-limits” to him.

It appeared at times that he intentionally broached subjects normally not discussed openly. No topic in the world of multiplicity seemed sacrosanct. Despite intense embarrassment or shock, one accepted that he knew our hearts and each word or gesture was crafted to help us move closer to God.

Sometimes he would say something, or make a subtle movement or give a fleeting glance and pierce your heart. Suddenly, instead of laughing, you would feel broken, empty, bewildered at the rapid transformation, yet clearly understanding the lesson he just gave you. Then slowly, he would fill you up again with his love, radiating grace and generosity.

A few years ago we were speaking on the phone about some Khaniqah business in West Africa. The tone of the conversation was gentle and open and I thought it a good time to ask a question about myself. It was the first and only time I had taken the liberty to bring my personal life before him and ask a direct question. I had barely finished the sentence when he bellowed, “NO!” and slammed the phone down. The ferocious intensity of his one word response left me quivering, just standing with awe, staring at the dead receiver in my hand.

Clearly, being his disciple on the path of love was hardly a life of warm fuzzies and cuddles. Despite the jokes and teasing, he meant business and he expected us to do our work on the path. Careless mistakes and selfishness did not go unnoticed nor, often, unpunished.

Many of his speeches were painful to hear. Year after year at deeg jush-es in Banbury, he berated us for our failures, surely with the intent of stirring us to greater devotion. In one his discourses, he referred to us as children riding pretend horses and believing we were ready for battle. Yet he never truly abandoned a devotee, no matter what awful things one might have done. He accepted and loved us despite all of our imperfections.

Many felt delight in the blessing of just being near him, at being privy to his teasing and wise counsel even if seemingly not directed at you. Even if not spoken in a language you understood. But we all know that physical proximity was not necessary to receive his gifts.

His awesome charismatic presence is still palpable and his essence ineffable. He infused us with the understanding that although we come from different places and speak in different tongues, our hearts beat as one.

His breath is everywhere and he lives on in each of us.

نیکی پیر مغان بین که ما بدمستان هرچه کردیم به چشم کرمش زیبا بود

I was told you bought me "as is"
So I came to see what I could get

Nothing

Thank you Hazrati Pir!

Living all our lives in night,

We have never seen a rising sun.

You have seen it and described it to us;

If we didn't believe you, there would be none

Having been reminded seeing it before -

Sitting emptied in a tavern waiting for the Saqi to pour!

Those asleep need not worry,

God receives them with their reverie;

Those awake tonight are yearning, smiling, weeping -

Graced with an ancient burning flame;

Melting - calling out His Name.

Despite being harmless, they call us maniacs. So be it!

Saqi! More wine for love drunk insomniacs!



A true doctor heals with a glance,
a grimace, a frown or even a burp!
With words read for free online
or in a bookstore. With people we would never
imagine are connected to him.
As his guest I was honored despite my bad manners.
I thought I had good manners but with him I learned true adab.
The last thing he said to me was 'Bon Voyage!'
I was sustained by that even since.
Thank you Hazrati Pir! Ya Haqq!

For any of us not knowing....
You confirmed it.....
         
             Love Is Real   

Happy are the madmen who ignored their mother's warning,
"Never play with fire"

Our wings are singed, but you've dove straight in!!!

Consumed.

Darvishes! Build the bonfire! Lets Go, Lets Go, LETS GO!!!!!!

Oh Love!
You gave meaning to the phrase,

           " I have a Friend "

Oh scent of Jasmine, pure Sunshine face, elegant stature, noble being, full of Grace

the world will miss you now.

                    Someone remind us!  Sufis never cry!

The proof of the pudding is in the sauce.

Among all these eloquent words from so many of Nurbakhsh’s lovers, after struggling to find the beginning of the path for thirty years, I realize now that my entire portion of him consisted of exactly eight words spoken in two groups of four words each, two years apart.

On the first occasion, I arrived in Banbury, long- haired, bearded, overweight, and walking with cane, having sprained my ankle getting off the plane.   When I arrived, late, I found a dozen dervishes waiting patiently at the luncheon sofre for my arrival.  And, when I arrived, Nurbakhsh looked up at me and said exactly four words, “Alan, you got old.”

Two years later, having cut my hair, shaved my beard, and lost weight, no longer encumbered by the cane, I arrived late for lunch, once again, to find a dozen or more dervishes waiting patiently at the sofre for my arrival – again. 
 

This time, Nurbakhsh looked up at me, smiled, and said, “Alan, you got younger.”

At first, this didn’t mean much to me but, over the years, I gradually realized how those eight simple words were his way of letting me know that I mattered to him, and the knowledge that I mattered to him, gradually changed how I regarded myself, finally leading to the realization that, indeed, I had always been on the path I had been seeking, and that Nurbakhsh had always had my back, whether I realized it or not.

My own father passed away in March, and my first reaction, then, was joy, that his life’s struggle was finally over, pleased that he had lived well, and died well.  Now that my second father has passed away, I find no grief, no sorrow, no tears, except now, as I write these words, because Nurbakhsh lived well, and died well, and  because whenever I reach out for him, there he is…as he has always been…in my heart. 
 

The door that was never closed remains open. 

Nurbakhsh still has our backs, and always will.

The proof of the pudding remains in the sauce, and we are the sauce.
 

With all my soul I search and seek
My environ my eyes do trick
Where is it gone? Why is it missed?
Nowhere to be found in this earthly feast
In every direction I glance and peek
Yet its signs to me don’t speak
O pious men, where is that beauty
That like a candle glows in duty.
Affirm that name, whoever thus repeat
To him even death will taste soft & sweet
Whoever once that face has kissed
His bones are blessed in gravely mist.
Which do I praise? That face or hair?
Whom both worlds enslave and spare.
No wonder the earth falls out of sight
Love transmutes all to celestial light.
Praise Shams-e Tabrizi far and wide
From seekers his face do not hide.

The Light
of Nur Ali Shah
is an Eternity of
Radiant Suns...
not a mere candle
to be snuffed out by
the wind of death

Ya Haqq, oh King of Love, as you passed it felt like you smashed the glasses from the table in a bliss and the true feast has begun...I remember what you did to me each time you received me: coming was wonderful, yet nóthing compared with each time you said goodbye, goodbye to me..! Thank you for sending me further and further away, away from my self into Love....

Hu, Hu, Hu

یا پیرتو بودی و برای همیشه خواهی بود

THE EYE UPON US


I feel the
eye upon me

Watching my
every step;

Do you feel
the eye upon you

Watching
your every step?

 

I feel the
ear around me

Listening
to my every word;

Do you feel
the presence

Of the
listener when you speak?

 

The
indwelling observer grows slowly;

We create
him with every objective breath

The more we
forget ourselves

The more we
become ourselves again.

 

The God in
which I do not believe

Dwells in
me as much as He dwells in you;

For the God
in which we do not believe is

The true
crucible of consciousness

 

The eye I
feel on me

Is the same
eye you feel on you;

And nowhere
is the eye stronger

than in the
presence of our master

 

We are
pages in a book

He reads
with ease

the
expressions and gestures we use

To say what
we thought we said

While we
exposed ourselves instead.

 

In the
meditation hall,

The ear
with which you hear

Is the ear
of the master

And that is
my ear too.

 

We see
ourselves though his eyes

We hear
ourselves through his ears

There is no
escape from his attention

Neither
time nor distance distracts him.

 

The sages
said,

"He
who knows himself knows his Master"

but they
then  also whispered

"He
who knows his Master knows Himself."

 

And you
think you've caught me misquoting,

but is not
our lord our master and is our master not our lord?

The lord of
the present moment is the lord of all moments,

past,
present and future.

 

This is the
goal to which the devout strive

To see
themselves through their Lord's eyes

Sing
"Isq'allah ma'bud la'llah"

And
remember, "I see God in you,”

For there is an eye upon us

That never sleeps,

An ear that hears each whisper....

یاحق

ذات پیرم همه جا ناظر اعمال منست

بهش ای دل که خطایی نکنی

O Sun!

O Holy Sun who truly sees 

with all pervading Eye,

You shine upon soul’s darkness

unleashing tortured sighs

Every form bears witness 

to Your loving kiss

warm, cool, soft, hard

Any touch brings solemn bliss

O Amazing Sun on High

You’ve set the world on fire

How can this lonely heart ignore

the yearning You inspire ?

Such radiance, such love,

such mercy. such grace,

O how this bloodied heart now cries,

one gaze upon Your Face.

In the glow of winter’s night

amidst Your loving  flame

O this pen can’t say enough,

least of all its shame

For in this burning world of Love

I spend my days asleep

Yet profess this great Love for You

all the while, in “me”, so deep

Yet this heart knows how much, O Sun

You have drawn it out

Your mercy surely knows no end

Oh God, Yo Pir, I shout!

So infused, this heart now turns

and bleeds and burns and spins

No more to rest till, You, O Sun!

is manifested from within

In life there are a few sure things

One of them is death,

Of all, be told, this heart knows well,

O Sun! You’ll never set. . .

Ey Nurbakhsh-e jaan

Ya pir! Sarab ast bi tu anche migozarad....

One can't breath without your love Nurbakhsh.

You said farewell I am leaving my body

Oh, don’t you know there is no farewell ?

Where my heart knows no parting from you

Nurbakhsh, oh the light of the sky and the earth

You sewed my lips for the life time

But how can you silence this burning heart now?

صد هزار آیینه دارد یار من

می نماید در همه دلدار من

گفتم که : دلم هست به پیش تو گرو

دل باز ده ، آغـــــــاز مکن قصــــه ی نو

افشــــاند هـزار دل ز هر حلقه ی زلف
  گفتــــا که : دلـت بجوی و بردار و برو

He is and was One with the Unperishing, before and after this.

The Unperishing was and will be, before and after all. 

This is the moment where contact with the Unperishing is possible, not one moment past or another yet to be.

Look! Here it is!

His breath is everywhere, indeed, and he lives on in each of us for ever.

Being Close to the Master


Let me begin by reading a poem written by the son of a long-time darvish, expressing beautifully and succinctly the feeling one should have of the Master, since he has, as the Sufis say, 'emptied his cloak':

You can shed tears that he is gone
or you can smile because he has lived
and given so many so much
 


You can close your eyes and pray that he will come back

or you can open your eyes and see all that he has left
with his wisdom, his guidance, his touch
 


Your heart can be empty because you can't see him

or you can be full of the love that you shared
his love shall always stay
 


You can turn your back on tomorrow and live yesterday

or you can be happy for tomorrow because of yesterday
 

You can remember him and only that he is gone

or you can cherish his memory and let it live on
 


You can cry and close your mind, be empty and turn your back

or you can do what he would want: smile, open your eyes to
his infinite message, the message that shall go on...

The reality of the Master is not the corporeal figure who has passed, but the spirit in our hearts. This is the message which he resoundingly gave me time and again. He would say, "Do not think that those who are around me are necessarily close to me." This was emphasize that his reality was not the corporeal human figure sitting there, but the powerful inward projector of light into the heart.

For those who understand this, his material departure from the world has only confirmed the fact that his reality was and is the bringer of joy and light within one.


Having spent some time in a prison in Iran, as soon as I was released, the Master gave the word that I was to come directly to London, where he was residing at the time.
When I arrived, he said, "You have come from the prison of Khomeini to the prison of Nurbakhsh." Of course, the Master's prison was not a harsh edifice of walls, but a cocoon of love - albeit, 'tough love'.

Being physically close to the Master was not an easy thing. It was like being in a crucible, heated to melt steel. It was a relationship of awe and sometimes fear and trembling. There were light moments, of course, but the emphasis was to focus one on the inward moment and not to be conscious of self and of the material world around one.

There were light moments in being around the Master, as when he was visited by a pair of religious fundamentalists with the bristley whiskers of men who wear their religion on the outside. He invited them to stay for lunch. When one of them, to be provocative, asked how he could become a Sufi, the Master said, "Cut off your beard."

"But," protested the man, "what about him?," pointing to Mr. Niktab, the sheikh of sheikhs, who had a long white beard.

"Ah," said the Master, "his is not a beard of religion, but a beard of love."


The Master had all sorts of guests, of every stripe. Even back in Tehran I remember a Zen Buddhist master, who was advisor to the empress of Japan. After a long period of passing back and forth words of wisdom with the Master, almost like a tennis match, the Japanese guru had to confess that our Master had gotten the better of him - and he was the happier for it.

Mme. de Salzmann, head of the Gurdjieff organization, was captivated by the Master. When he offered to initiate, she admitted she was tempted but had to refuse, since she was committed to keeping the organization of her late master together.

Dr. Seyyed Hossein Nasr, the distinguished Iranian scholar and expert on Sufism, was a frequent visitor of the Master in both Tehran and London. He was also a speaker at the three conferences which the Master sponsored on the subject of Sufism: two in London and one in Washington. At one of the conferences, when an American scholar got too heavily involved in the intricacies of a study of the thought of Ibn `Arabi, the Master stood up and declared that Sufism had ended with the Spanish Arab thinker.

The American was too flustered to respond, but Nasr, with the smoothness of an Iranian of ancient culture, stepped up and declared, "If Sufism had ended with Ibn `Arabi, how could we have such a great master as Dr. Nurbakhsh today?" Without soliciting praise or drawing attention to himself, the Master had - in the slyness of his spiritual wisdom - drawn a laudatory comment from Sufism's greatest apologist!

The French professor Henry Corbin was a regular guest of the Master in Tehran. Corbin was the great ground-breaker for awareness of the contributions of great traditional Iranian thinkers, like the 12th-century Shihab ad-Din Suhrawardi and the 16th-century Mulla Sadra, amongst the Iranian intelligentsia, let alone the world at large. Yet despite his vast erudition in Mazdean and Islamic theosophy, he was still too grounded in the dictates of the intellect to accept the Master's principle that love was the basis of true cognition, not reason.

The Master never insisted on a point. He was not out to convince anyone of what that person was not ready to accept. His loving-kindness and chivalry were such that he preferred that people go away happy for having been in his presence - as long as they were sincere. He was hard only on people who were not sincere, like the fundamentalist who was trying to provoke him.


Once an American woman who was a darvish brought a young American man to meet the Master to seek his approval of the fellow as a potential husband. The young man was the member of a Sufi order which required its followers to wear a religious uniform of beards, white skull-caps, and other paraphernalia. When the man saw the Master, he bowed and declared in a broad American accent, "Salaamun alaykum."


The Master raised his hand with a chummy gesture and said, "Hi!" The American was so terrified that he turned around and fled, never to come back again.


The Master was able to expose hypocrisy and insincerity in a trice. Once a darvish from Germany entered a room in which the Master was sitting. As soon as the Master saw him, he raised his left hand and held it out limply, saying, "Hi, Hitler!" Rather than be amused at the Master's mockery of the Nazi salute, he declared indignantly, "Wrong hand!", thus exposing the tendencies that lay deep beneath his Sufi pose. The Master had showed his essence in the twinkling of an eye.


The Master was famous for saying, "Westerners can never be Sufis!" This seemed like a condemnation of Westerners. Yet once at a Dig Jush, the great Sufi in-gathering, he declared, "For years I've been talking and you Sufis never listen!" This was in Persian, so that it was not meant for Western ears.


In both cases, the hearers were being put to the test. Some of those who heard the words - the Westerners in one case and the Iranians in the other - were frustrated and thought, "What's the point? I've been struggling on this path for years and the Master just won't accept me! I might as well quit!" Others, however, took the Master's words to heart in the most profound way and thought, "This is a challenge for me to try harder!"

Whatever the Master said had as many dimensions as the listeners to his words. Each would take in his message according to his/her own capacity and mode of understanding. Listeners would come away from him claiming to hear different things. Sometimes his words would be veiled from a given listener's consciousness as being meant for only a certain person, as when the American re-creator of Rumi's verse, Coleman Barks, paid him a visit and asked, "What is it like to be the Beloved?" Although I was translating, the answer that came back reached only the questioner's ears and was not for me to know.

When Barks, the man who made Rumi a best-seller and a household word in America, emerged from his moment with the Master, he exclaimed excitedly, "I'm so glad I came! He's the real thing! He's the real thing!"


Whatever the Master did was packed with charisma, so that even when he seemed harsh, he was giving inspiration. One example is when an agricultural expert came to visit the orchard at the retreat in Banbury and recommended that moats be dug around the trees. So the Master called me in and told me to start digging. Since it was midwinter, the ground was frozen. So I had to use a pick for much of the work.

Over the course of two and a half months I managed - with the occasional help of a visitor, there being few since it was the middle of winter - to dig moats around all the trees in the small forest on the site. I had already done a couple of rows in the smaller orchard when another expert showed up.

When the newcomer saw the moats, he threw up his hands in shock, declaring, "What is this! All these ditches around the trees are going to expose the roots! This is the worst thing you could do!" So the Master called me in and told me to fill them all in. That took another month or so.

Then there was the matter of the hillock next to the barn. The Master said that his protuberance had to be removed, so that we could construct a parking area. As one darvish put it, "If you can do a job in a couple of hours with a bulldozer, the Master will mobilize a dozen darvishes with wheelbarrows to take a month to do it." The purpose was, of course, to encourage service. The whole meaning of the orchard was to provide a venue for the darvishes to serve.

So I went to work digging at the hillock and transporting the dirt to the bridle path to build up that right-of-way. Again the visiting darvishes pitched in. Of course, the work, which took a couple of months, was inwardly rewarding, as well as outwardly beneficial in body building. As with all the Master's orders, the benefits wereimanifold and multi-dimensional.

Finally, perhaps the biggest challenge the Master gave me came when he called me in to slaughter the chickens. I had been the fond father and fosterer of a flock of chickens. I had, indeed, grown quite fond of many of those chickens. There was a small rooster and an old hen from a previous brood who always came to greet me when I came to the pen. There was a mother hen, known as a brooding hen, who took care of all the chicks rejected by other hens. Then there was a young teenager, just entering into life. There were twenty in all - and they all had to be slain.

The challenge was for me to plunge into my zekr, the mantra which the Master gives us on initiation, to be in the moment and to appeal to him in my heart: "Ya Pir, madad! Ya Pir, madad! O Master, help! O Master, help!" I had to be in the moment, as a disciple has to be in times of crisis – which, from the Sufi point of view, all come from the One Absolute Being.


Then I set to work with the aid of another darvish. I had to learn detachment. I had to learn that death is just a stage of transition, coming to all of us.

The Master gave me his final lesson in that, in his last words to me, which were: "Get out!" He drove me from his presence six weeks before he "emptied his cloak", as the Sufis say, so that he had fully prepared me for his ultimate transition from corporeal existence. The eve of his departure he transmitted his power to me in a way more powerful than at any time he had graced me by having me in his physical presence. He had made it clear to me that his reality was not in the physical body but in the spirit which lives in our hearts.

Amongst the words which he told me personally that have remained most vividly within me is this counsel: "Why trudge on your own feet when you can fly on my wings?"

هرگز مگو که معشوق رفت و شهر عشق خالیست

که دنیا هرگز از پیر کامل تهی نمی شود

اما بگو

مریدخالص کجاست

If i knew his secrets,then i knew him,then, when i know him,i may worry him,as those with pure in heart never wishes they true being to be revealed by Men except those people that love to be seen by others in every step they take and those that want to be counted in every step they take and being noticed by others,cause for them waits a reward and worldly pleasure.

what a great chance if my secrets never revealed by Men and only been reviled by God.

                                                                         VAHID,G

                                                                      18/11/2008

                                                                    Sydney,Australia

My sincere condolences to Dr Ali Reza Nurbakhsh, Mr Safa Nurbakhsh, Khanoom and all other members of the family. A faghir from Seattle

Agha joon (Hazrat e Nuralishah e Kermani)

Kist ke begooyad peer miravad !!!!?

just khergheh tohee mikonad va  peer bad va  khaliftaollah bad ra bar zamin mazoon be dastgeeri az moridan va tamaami mardom minamaayad .

 In sonate Sufism az ebtedaa taa haal bodeh va khaahad bood .......!

tamaamee peeran yeki bodeh va hastand .Az Rasulallah va Moval ta agha Joon . Va haal jenab e Rezaalishah (Selallah) Peer va morad sufian va vali motlagh e khoda !

tanhaa mishvad goft Agha joon be vesal reseedi ke saalhaa dar entezaarsh neshasteh boodi asheghaneh !!!!!!!!!

That GOD by GOD I see !!!!

va maa ra dastgeeri kardi ke har che hastim az tost agar khoob baashad va har kaasti az mast ke dar baraabar azamat e to hich boodim !!!!!!!

Ya Haqq

he's allways in my heart forever