Kahlil in the Desert

I recently sent a copy of Kahlil Gibran's 'The Prophet' to one of the dedicated readers of 'So Large Against the Sky' - my dear cousin A. I first read the book on a holy mountain in India, right outside the city of Pushkar. The mountain is actually one of a pair that bookend the city, each with a temple at the top. One temple is dedicated to Brahma's wife, Savriti. The other to Brahma's brief mistress, Gayatri, of whom Savriti did *not* approve.



I'm not sure which mountain it was, actually, but I had gone past the temple to sit on some isolated rocks in Rajastan's lovely, desert-scape. I pulled out 'The Prophet' and slowly, worshipfully read each passage. Each word feels so right.

Here is one sample, from the section on eating and drinking:

And in the autumn, when you gather the grapes of your vineyards for the winepress,
say in your heart,
"I too am a vineyard, and my fruit shall be gathered for the winepress,
And like new wine I shall be kept in eternal vessels."
And in winter, when you draw the wine, let there be in your heart a song for each cup;
And let there be in the song a remembrance for the autumn days, and for the vineyard, and for the winepress.


I too am a vineyard.