The Prophet is a book of prose poetry that made its Lebanese-American author famous. Commonly found in gift shops and frequently quoted at weddings or any occasion where uplifting 'spiritual' thoughts are required, the work; to my surprise when doing research on it, has never been a favourite of intellectuals. The Prophet begins with a man named Almustafa living on an island call Orphalese. Locals consider him something of a sage, but he is from elsewhere, and has waited twelve years for the right ship to take him home. From a hill above the town, he sees his ship coming into the harbour, and realises his sadness at leaving the people he has come to know.
The elders of the city ask him not to leave. He is asked to tell of his philosophy of life before he goes, to speak his truth to the crowds gathered. The Prophet provides timeless spiritual wisdom on a range of subjects, including giving, eating and drinking, clothes, buying and selling, crime and punishment, laws, teaching, time, pleasure, religion, death, beauty and friendship.
The three most powerful points I took from the book were;
A true marriage gives both people space to develop
Suffering is the means to heal ourselves
In your longing for your giant self lies your goodness
Love and marriage.
Foolish is the person, the prophet says, who 'would seek only love's peace and love's pleasure', for to wish this leads to less of a person, who has seen less pain but also less pure joy. The prophet says: "When love beckons to you, follow him. Though his ways are hard and steep". We cannot wish for love to reach only a certain measure, or to presume that we can direct the way its course, "for love, if it finds you worthy, directs your course." As much as love allows for our growth, it also acts to prune us so that we grow straight and tall. When questioned about marriage, the prophet departs from the conventional wisdom that it involves two people becoming one. A true marriage gives both people space to develop their individuality, in the same way that "the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other's shadow".
It is not just the loss of a wage or even status that is so disheartening, but the feeling that you have been left out of the normal procession of life. Neither is it enough just to work for money alone. People think of work as a curse, the prophet says, but in doing your work "you fulfil a part of earth's furthest dream, assigned to you when that dream was born." Through work you express your love for whoever will benefit from it, and satisfy your own need to create. Those who enjoy their work know that it is a secret to fulfilment, that we can be saved through what we do.
Sorrow and pain.
Sorrow carves out our being, says the prophet, but the space it makes provides room for more joy in another season of life. In one of his standout lines, he remarks, "Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding." Try to marvel at your pain as another experience of precious life. If you can do this, you can be more serene about your emotions, like the passing of the seasons. Few realise, the prophet says, that suffering is the means to heal ourselves, "the bitter potion by which the physician within you heals your sick self." Consider, the next time you are in a state of sorrow, that it may have been self-chosen at some level of your being, to bring about an enlargement of your self. Without struggles we would learn nothing about life.
Guard against the love of houses and things, the prophet warns, for these comforts erode the strength of the soul. If you attach yourself too much to the domestic luxuries of life, "Your house shall not be an anchor but a mast." You will be tied to it when the ship sinks.
The longing for freedom is itself a kind of slavery. When people speak of wanting to be free, often it is aspects of themselves they are trying to get away from.
You cannot ask for anything in prayer, because God already knows your deepest needs. As God is our main need, so we should not pray for other things, but ask for more of God.
The divided self
The prophet likens the soul to a battlefield, in which our reason and passion seem eternally opposed. Yet it does not do much good to fight either: You have to be peacemaker, loving all your warring elements before you can heal yourself.
The boundless self
The prophet tries to convey to those gathered that the lives we lead on earth represent only a fraction of our larger selves. We all have 'giant selves' inside us, but we have to first recognise that they may exist. "In your longing for your giant self lies your goodness", the prophet says. In pursuit of self-knowledge, therefore, we are looking for the best in ourselves.
What I took from it.
Taken as a whole, Gibran's book is a metaphor for the mystery of life: we come into the world and go back to where we came from. As the prophet readies himself to board his ship, it is clear that his words refer not to his journey across the seas but to the world he came from before he was born. His life now seems to him like a short dream. The book suggests that we should be glad of the experience of coming into the world, even if it seems full of pain, because after death we will see that life had a pattern and a purpose, and that what seems to us now as 'good' and 'bad' will be appreciated without judgement as good for our souls. The prophet also teaches that the separation we feel from other people and all forms of life while on earth is not real. We are merely expressions of a greater unity now forgotten. As he looks forward to his journey, Almustafa likens himself to "a boundless drop in a boundless ocean." To feel yourself to be a temporary manifestation of an infinite source is greatly comforting, and perhaps accounts for the feeling of peace and liberation many experience in reading The Prophet.