|
 Gibran
Kahlil Gibran (Khalil Gibran)
>> Read Extract of the Book: Kahlil Gibran A Nonpareil Artist
by Dr. Joseph Helou
>> Read 'Spirits Rebellious' by Gibran Kahlil Gibran
Lebanese Writer, Painter & Sculptor
Chronology and Works
1883
Gubran Kahlil Gubran was born to a Maronite family, in Bsharri, a town
at the foot of Mount Fam al-MIzab, near the Cedar grove in North
Lebanon. He was the first born to his mother from her second marriage,
her having previously been a widow with only one son, Butros.
1885
Birth of his sister Marianna.
1887
Birth of his second sister, Sultana. 1888 Entered a one-class village
school where he learnt the rudiments of Arabic, Syriac, and Arithmetic.
1894
Immigrated with his two sisters and half-brother to Boston, U.S.A.
settling in Chinatown. The father, Khalil Gubran, a tax collector and
drunkard stayed behind.
1895
Butros opened a small shop, the family's only source of income, while
Gubran joined a local school where his name was anglicized to Kahlil
Gibran.
1897
Showed particular promise in his classes of drawing and painting. Was
introduced to the esoteric Bostonian artist- photographer Fred Holland
Day, who was experimenting with photography as art and in whose studies
Gibran was photographed in various postures, some in the nude. Was sent
back to Lebanon, where he joined al-Hikma high school in Beirut. The
program of study laid special stress on Arabic and French language and
literature.
1901
Returned to Boston.
1902
Came back to the Lebanon as an interpreter to an American family touring
Europe and the eastern Mediterranean countries. Hurried back to
Boston upon hearing of the death of his youngest sister, Sultana of
tuberculosis.
1903
Struck by two losses: the death of his half-brother Butros from
tuberculosis and that of his
mother from cancer.
1904
Held in spring a picture exhibition at Fred Holland Day's Studio.
1905
Published in New York, al-Musiqa (Music), a pamphlet in which he
eulogizes music, in particular Arabic music with its various
intonations.
1906
Published in New York 'Ara'is al-Muruj (Nymphs of the Valley), a
collection of three short stories, expressive of his anti-feudal and
anti-clerical convictions.
1908
Published in New York, al-Arwah al-Mutamclrrida (Spirits Rebellious), a
collection of four short stories much in the spirit of 'Ara is al-Muruj.
Left for Paris to study art through the generosity of Mary Haskell .
1910
Met in Paris Ameen Rihani who was on his way to New York. The two
visited London together for a few weeks to orient themselves with the
art life in the city; they then departed, Gibran to Paris and Rihani to
America. Returned to Boston after having spent in Paris two years and
four months.
1911
Started to spend long intervals in New York City, sometimes staying with
the Rihanis, trying to get introduced to the art and life of the big
city and to draw distinguished personalities for income. He completed
the illustrations and cover picture for Rihani's Book of Khalid. Rented
for $20 in New York a small studio at 51 West 10th Street in a building
said to be the first in America to be built exclusively for the use of
painters and sculptors.
1912
Became a resident of New York City. Published in New York, al-Ajniha
al-Mutakassira - Broken Wings), a novelette, dedicated to Mary Haskell.
His father died in Lebanon.
1913
Moved to a larger studio, Room 40, in the same building, double the size
of the first, with more windows and light.
1914
Published in New York Dam a wa Ibtisaima (a Tear and a Smile), a
collection of poetic prose pieces verging on the aphoristic . Held an
exhibition at the Montross Galleries on December 14.
1916
Met for the first time, in the offices of al-Funun. Mikhail Naimy, his
life long friend and biographer, who had newly arrived that Autumn from
the State of Washington, to join the young Arabic literary movement in
New York.
1918
Published in New York, The Madman, his first work in English, a
collection of parables.
1919
Published in New York, Twenty Drawings, a selected collection of his
drawings with an introduction by Alice Raphael. Published in New York,
al-Mawakib (The Processions), a long Arabic poem in the form of a
dialogue between two voices, one that of a spiritually liberated man and
the other of a man in bondage.
1920
Published in Cairo, al-'AuasiJ (The Tempests), a collection of
poetico-fictional pieces and essays characterized by revolt against man
the self-enslaved in the name of man the self- emancipated. Published in
New York his second English work The Forerunner, another collection of
parables and sayings. Founded with other Syrian co-writers and poets in
New York a literary society al-Rabita al-Qalamiyya (The Pen So-ciety),
consisting of Gubran as president, Naimy as secretary, W. Katsiflis as
treasurer, and N. 'Arlda, 1. Abu Madl, A.h. Haddad, R. Ayyub, and N.
Haddad as members.
1923
Published in Cairo, al-Bada'i' waal-Tara'if (The New and the Marvellous)
a number of narratives and essays in the style of al-'AuasiJ; collected
and named by a publisher in Egypt with the blessing of Gibran. Published
in New York his chef-d'ceuvre The Prophet. Began to show real signs of
ill-health.
1926
Published in New York, Sand and Foam, a collection of parables and
aphorisms.
1928
Published in New York, Jesus, The Son of Man, an attempt at portraying
Jesus through a synthesis of different views on Him offered by a number
of His contemporaries, making Him in essence almost a duplicate of
Almustapha.
1931
Published in New York, The Earth Gods, a long prose poem consisting of a
dialogue between three Earth-Gods on the destiny of man. Died on April
10, at St. Vincent Hospital, New York. In the autopsy he is said to have
suffered of "Cirrhosis of the liver with incipient tuberculosis in one
of the lungs." His body. after sometime in Boston, was returned to
Lebanon and laid in the chapel of Mar Sarkis, an old monastery carved in
a rock near
Bsharrl. Gibran has two works that were published in New York
posthumously: The Wanderer, a collection of parables published in 1932
and The Garden of The Prophet in
1933
This latter work, started by Gibran, was continued and concluded after
his death by another pen and should not, therefore, be taken seriously.
Al-Majmu'a al-Kamila li Mu'allafat Gubran Khalil Gubran (The Complete
Arabic Works of Kahlil Gibran), organized and introduced by Mikhail
Naimy appeared in Beirut, 1961.
The Gibran Khalil Gibran parc, located in Beirut near the E.S.C.W.A.,
inaugurated on March 31 2001.
Gibran's Voice (Pity
the Nation)
Pity the nation that is full of beliefs
and empty of religion. Pity the nation that wears a cloth it does not
weave, eats a bread it does not harvest, and drinks a wine that flows
not from its own wine-press. Pity the nation that acclaims the bully as
hero, and that deems the glittering conqueror bountiful. Pity a nation
that despises a passion in its dream, yet submits in its awakening. Pity
the nation that raises not its voice save when it walks in a funeral,
boasts not except among its ruins, and will rebel not save when its neck
is laid between the sword and the block. Pity the nation whose statesman
is a fox, whose philosopher is a juggler, and whose art is the art of
patching and mimicking. Pity the nation that welcomes its new ruler with
trumpeting, and farewells him with hooting, only to welcome another with
trumpeting again. Pity the nation whose sages are dumb with years and
whose strong men are yet in the cradle. Pity the nation divided into
fragments, each fragment deeming itself a nation.
Extract from the Prophet:
1. Gibran on Friendship...
And a youth said, "Speak to us of Friendship."
And he answered, saying:
Your friend is your needs answered.
He is your field which you sow with love and reap with thanksgiving.
And he is your board and your fireside.
For you come to him with your hunger, and you seek him for peace.
When your friend speaks his mind you fear not the "nay" in your own
mind, nor do you withhold the "ay."
And when he is silent your heart ceases not to listen to his heart;
For without words, in friendship, all thoughts, all desires, all
expectations are born and shared, with joy that is unacclaimed.
When you part from your friend, you grieve not;
For that which you love most in him may be clearer in his absence, as
the mountain to the climber is clearer from the plain.
And let there be no purpose in friendship save the deepening of the
spirit.
For love that seeks aught but the disclosure of its own mystery is not
love but a net cast forth: and only the unprofitable is caught.
And let your best be for your friend.
If he must know the ebb of your tide, let him know its flood also.
For what is your friend that you should seek him with hours to kill?
Seek him always with hours to live.
For it is his to fill your need, but not your emptiness.
And in the sweetness of friendship let there be laughter, and sharing of
pleasures.
For in the dew of little things the heart finds its morning and is
refreshed.
2. Gibran on Love...
Then said Almitra, "Speak to us of Love."
And he raised his head and looked upon the people, and there fell a
stillness upon them. And with a great voice he said:
When love beckons to you follow him,
Though his ways are hard and steep.
And when his wings enfold you yield to him,
Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you.
And when he speaks to you believe in him,
Though his voice may shatter your dreams as the north wind lays waste
the garden.
For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you. Even as he is for
your growth so is he for your pruning.
Even as he ascends to your height and caresses your tenderest branches
that quiver in the sun,
So shall he descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to
the earth.
Like sheaves of corn he gathers you unto himself.
He threshes you to make you naked.
He sifts you to free you from your husks.
He grinds you to whiteness.
He kneads you until you are pliant;
And then he assigns you to his sacred fire, that you may become sacred
bread for God's sacred feast.
All these things shall love do unto you that you may know the secrets of
your heart, and in that knowledge become a fragment of Life's heart.
But if in your fear you would seek only love's peace and love's
pleasure,
Then it is better for you that you cover your nakedness and pass out of
love's threshing-floor,
Into the seasonless world where you shall laugh, but not all of your
laughter, and weep, but not all of your tears.
Love gives naught but itself and takes naught but from itself.
Love possesses not nor would it be possessed;
For love is sufficient unto love.
When you love you should not say, "God is in my heart," but rather, I am
in the heart of God."
And think not you can direct the course of love, if it finds you worthy,
directs your course.
Love has no other desire but to fulfil itself.
But if you love and must needs have desires, let these be your desires:
To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night.
To know the pain of too much tenderness.
To be wounded by your own understanding of love;
And to bleed willingly and joyfully.
To wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of
loving;
To rest at the noon hour and meditate love's ecstasy;
To return home at eventide with gratitude;
And then to sleep with a prayer for the beloved in your heart and a song
of praise upon your lips.
3. Gibran on Marriage...
Then Almitra spoke again and said, "And
what of Marriage, master?"
And he answered saying:
You were born together, and together you shall be forevermore.
You shall be together when the white wings of death scatter your days.
Aye, you shall be together even in the silent memory of God.
But let there be spaces in your togetherness,
And let the winds of the heavens dance between you.
Love one another but make not a bond of love:
Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls.
Fill each other's cup but drink not from one cup.
Give one another of your bread but eat not from the same loaf.
Sing and dance together and be joyous, but let each one of you be alone,
Even as the strings of a lute are alone though they quiver with the same
music.
Give your hearts, but not into each other's keeping.
For only the hand of Life can contain your hearts.
And stand together, yet not too near together:
For the pillars of the temple stand apart,
And the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other's shadow.
4. Gibran on Children...
And a woman who held a babe against her
bosom said, "Speak to us of Children."
And he said:
Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you, yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts.
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit,
not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent
forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and He bends you
with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;
For even as he loves the arrow that flies, so He loves also the bow that
is stable.
5.
Giving
Then said a rich man, "Speak to us of
Giving."
And he answered:
You give but little when you give of your possessions.
It is when you give of yourself that you truly give.
For what are your possessions but things you keep and guard for fear you
may need them tomorrow?
And tomorrow, what shall tomorrow bring to the overprudent dog burying
bones in the trackless sand as he follows the pilgrims to the holy city?
And what is fear of need but need itself?
Is not dread of thirst when your well is full, thirst that is
unquenchable?
There are those who give little of the much which they have - and they
give it for recognition and their hidden desire makes their gifts
unwholesome.
And there are those who have little and give it all.
These are the believers in life and the bounty of life, and their coffer
is never empty.
There are those who give with joy, and that joy is their reward.
And there are those who give with pain, and that pain is their baptism.
And there are those who give and know not pain in giving, nor do they
seek joy, nor give with mindfulness of virtue;
They give as in yonder valley the myrtle breathes its fragrance into
space.
Though the hands of such as these God speaks, and from behind their eyes
He smiles upon the earth.
It is well to give when asked, but it is better to give unasked, through
understanding;
And to the open-handed the search for one who shall receive is joy
greater than giving
And is there aught you would withhold?
All you have shall some day be given;
Therefore give now, that the season of giving may be yours and not your
inheritors'.
You often say, "I would give, but only to the deserving."
The trees in your orchard say not so, nor the flocks in your pasture.
They give that they may live, for to withhold is to perish.
Surely he who is worthy to receive his days and his nights is worthy of
all else from you.
And he who has deserved to drink from the ocean of life deserves to fill
his cup from your little stream.
And what desert greater shall there be than that which lies in the
courage and the confidence, nay the charity, of receiving?
And who are you that men should rend their bosom and unveil their pride,
that you may see their worth naked and their pride unabashed?
See first that you yourself deserve to be a giver, and an instrument of
giving.
For in truth it is life that gives unto life - while you, who deem
yourself a giver, are but a witness.
And you receivers - and you are all receivers - assume no weight of
gratitude, lest you lay a yoke upon yourself and upon him who gives.
Rather rise together with the giver on his gifts as on wings;
For to be overmindful of your debt, is to doubt his generosity who has
the free-hearted earth for mother, and God for father.
6.
Work
Then a ploughman said, "Speak to us of
Work."
And he answered, saying:
You work that you may keep pace with the earth and the soul of the
earth.
For to be idle is to become a stranger unto the seasons, and to step out
of life's procession, that marches in majesty and proud submission
towards the infinite.
When you work you are a flute through whose heart the whispering of the
hours turns to music.
Which of you would be a reed, dumb and silent, when all else sings
together in unison?
Always you have been told that work is a curse and labour a misfortune.
But I say to you that when you work you fulfil a part of earth's
furthest dream, assigned to you when that dream was born,
And in keeping yourself with labour you are in truth loving life,
And to love life through labour is to be intimate with life's inmost
secret.
But if you in your pain call birth an affliction and the support of the
flesh a curse written upon your brow, then I answer that naught but the
sweat of your brow shall wash away that which is written.
You have been told also life is darkness, and in your weariness you echo
what was said by the weary.
And I say that life is indeed darkness save when there is urge,
And all urge is blind save when there is knowledge,
And all knowledge is vain save when there is work,
And all work is empty save when there is love;
And when you work with love you bind yourself to yourself, and to one
another, and to God.
And what is it to work with love?
It is to weave the cloth with threads drawn from your heart, even as if
your beloved were to wear that cloth.
It is to build a house with affection, even as if your beloved were to
dwell in that house.
It is to sow seeds with tenderness and reap the harvest with joy, even
as if your beloved were to eat the fruit.
It is to charge all things you fashion with a breath of your own spirit,
And to know that all the blessed dead are standing about you and
watching.
Often have I heard you say, as if speaking in sleep, "he who works in
marble, and finds the shape of his own soul in the stone, is a nobler
than he who ploughs the soil.
And he who seizes the rainbow to lay it on a cloth in the likeness of
man, is more than he who makes the sandals for our feet."
But I say, 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.
And if you cannot work with love but only with distaste, it is better
that you should leave your work and sit at the gate of the temple and
take alms of those who work with joy.
For if you bake bread with indifference, you bake a bitter bread that
feeds but half man's hunger.
And if you grudge the crushing of the grapes, your grudge distils a
poison in the wine.
And if you sing though as angels, and love not the singing, you muffle
man's ears to the voices of the day and the voices of the night.
7.
Freedom
And an orator said, "Speak to us of
Freedom."
And he answered:
At the city gate and by your fireside I have seen you prostrate yourself
and worship your own freedom,
Even as slaves humble themselves before a tyrant and praise him though
he slays them.
Ay, in the grove of the temple and in the shadow of the citadel I have
seen the freest among you wear their freedom as a yoke and a handcuff.
And my heart bled within me; for you can only be free when even the
desire of seeking freedom becomes a harness to you, and when you cease
to speak of freedom as a goal and a fulfillment.
You shall be free indeed when your days are not without a care nor your
nights without a want and a grief,
But rather when these things girdle your life and yet you rise above
them naked and unbound.
And how shall you rise beyond your days and nights unless you break the
chains which you at the dawn of your understanding have fastened around
your noon hour?
In truth that which you call freedom is the strongest of these chains,
though its links glitter in the sun and dazzle the eyes.
And what is it but fragments of your own self you would discard that you
may become free?
If it is an unjust law you would abolish, that law was written with your
own hand upon your own forehead.
You cannot erase it by burning your law books nor by washing the
foreheads of your judges, though you pour the sea upon them.
And if it is a despot you would dethrone, see first that his throne
erected within you is destroyed.
For how can a tyrant rule the free and the proud, but for a tyranny in
their own freedom and a shame in their won pride?
And if it is a care you would cast off, that care has been chosen by you
rather than imposed upon you.
And if it is a fear you would dispel, the seat of that fear is in your
heart and not in the hand of the feared.
Verily all things move within your being in constant half embrace, the
desired and the dreaded, the repugnant and the cherished, the pursued
and that which you would escape.
These things move within you as lights and shadows in pairs that cling.
And when the shadow fades and is no more, the light that lingers becomes
a shadow to another light.
And thus your freedom when it loses its fetters becomes itself the
fetter of a greater freedom.
8.
Religion
And an old priest said, "Speak to
us of Religion."
And he said:
Have I spoken this day of aught else?
Is not religion all deeds and all reflection,
And that which is neither deed nor reflection, but a wonder and
a surprise ever springing in the soul, even while the hands hew
the stone or tend the loom?
Who can separate his faith from his actions, or his belief from
his occupations?
Who can spread his hours before him, saying, "This for God
and this for myself; This for my soul, and this other for my body?"
All your hours are wings that beat through space from self to self.
He who wears his morality but as his best garment were better naked.
The wind and the sun will tear no holes in his skin.
And he who defines his conduct by ethics imprisons his song-bird
in a cage.
The freest song comes not through bars and wires.
And he to whom worshipping is a window, to open but also to shut,
has not yet visited the house of his soul whose windows are from
dawn to dawn.
Your daily life is your temple and your religion.
Whenever you enter into it take with you your all.
Take the plough and the forge and the mallet and the lute,
The things you have fashioned in necessity or for delight.
For in revery you cannot rise above your achievements nor fall lower
than your failures.
And take with you all men:
For in adoration you cannot fly higher than their hopes nor humble
yourself lower than their despair.
And if you would know God be not therefore a solver of riddles.
Rather look about you and you shall see Him playing with your children.
And look into space; you shall see Him walking in the cloud, outstretching
His arms in the lightning and descending in rain.
You shall see Him smiling in flowers, then rising and waving His
hands in trees.
►► Some
of the artist's artwork
►► Arabic Articles about Gibran
Contact: editorial@onefineart.com
|
