Love According to Rumi: Embracing Pain as the Essence of the Soul

By [Your Name], Inspired by Arasp Kazemian (Araspus)
Published: [Insert Date]
Categories: Spirituality, Poetry, Love, Philosophy, Self-Development

Introduction: Redefining Love Through Rumi’s Wisdom

In a world obsessed with happiness and instant gratification, the 13th-century Persian poet and Sufi mystic Jalal ad-Din Muhammad Rumi offers a radical perspective: love is not about joy or pleasure—it’s about pain, separation, and longing. This article draws from Arasp Kazemian’s (Araspus) YouTube video transcript on Rumi’s third verse of the Masnavi, where he unpacks the poet’s profound insights into the nature of love. Far from the romanticized notions peddled by pop culture or the positivity-driven advice of modern psychology, Rumi sees love as a bleeding wound—a force that cuts deep, yet one we embrace for its transformative power.

This exploration will dive into Rumi’s philosophy as interpreted by Araspus, weaving in historical context, poetic analysis, and reflections on how these teachings resonate in 2023. Expect a journey through the soul’s landscape, where love is not a fleeting emotion but a path to spiritual awakening. Whether you’re a poetry enthusiast, a spiritual seeker, or someone grappling with love’s complexities, this article offers a lens to see love anew.

What Is Love? Rumi’s Counterintuitive Truth

Love Beyond Happiness

Araspus begins with a bold assertion: “Love is not happiness, unlike what psychologists may tell you.” In today’s world, we’re often told to “think positive” or “move on” from pain. Yet, Rumi’s vision, as shared in the Masnavi, turns this on its head. He writes:

“I want a bosom torn by severance,
That I may unfold the pain of love desire.”

For Rumi, love isn’t about cozy dates or fleeting pleasures—it’s a visceral, often agonizing experience. Araspus likens it to “a wound that is bleeding again and again,” a pain we not only endure but enjoy. This paradox is central to Rumi’s teaching: love’s essence lies in its ability to hurt, to tear us open, and to reveal something deeper within.

The Bleeding Wound Metaphor

Imagine a physical wound on your elbow, Araspus suggests. As it begins to heal, a new layer of skin forms, promising relief. But then, you scratch it—knowing it will hurt, knowing it will bleed again. Why? “Because human beings like to enjoy that pain,” he explains. This isn’t masochism; it’s a profound truth about love. When we lose someone we cherish—through distance, breakup, or death—the memories linger like an itch. We revisit them, not to suffer needlessly, but to keep the love alive. Rumi’s poetry captures this beautifully:

“The wound is the place where the Light enters you.”

This wound, this pain, is where love resides—not in the moments of togetherness, but in the ache of absence.

When Does Love Truly Begin?

Separation: The Birthplace of Love

Araspus emphasizes a key insight from Rumi: “Love exactly starts when you are separated from that person, temporarily or permanently.” When you’re with your partner, sharing laughter and building memories, it feels like love. But Rumi argues that this is mere enjoyment—true love emerges in solitude, when the beloved is gone. As he puts it, a heart “cut and cleaved by separations” is the one ready to understand love’s desire.

This idea challenges our modern obsession with proximity and presence. Dating apps promise connection, but Rumi suggests that disconnection—being alone with your longing—is where love flourishes. It’s in the quiet moments, remembering a lost love, that the soul awakens to its depth.

True Love Never Fades

What happens when separation becomes permanent—through death or irreparable distance? “Do you think that love vanishes?” Araspus asks. “I don’t think so.” If you truly love someone, that love “stays inside your heart and it destroys you.” But this destruction isn’t negative—it’s a breaking open, a refining fire. Rumi’s own life reflects this: after losing his spiritual companion Shams of Tabriz, his grief fueled the Masnavi, transforming personal pain into universal wisdom.

Eligibility for Rumi’s Love Stories

A Heart Torn Apart

Rumi doesn’t write for everyone. “If you want to understand what love is, first you need to be eligible,” Araspus explains, interpreting Rumi’s call for a “bosom torn by severance.” This eligibility isn’t about intellect or status—it’s about experience. Have you felt “so intensely alone that words cannot even describe it”? Have you lost something or someone dear, leaving you with nothing but memories and a hollow ache? If not, Rumi’s stories might elude you.

This prerequisite sets Rumi apart from casual poets. His Masnavi is a spiritual guide, not a light read. It demands a reader—or lover—willing to face their own wounds. As Araspus notes, “If you have that interpretation of love that it’s just going out and having fun… you will not understand it.”

Love vs. Like: A Critical Distinction

Araspus highlights a common mistake: “When people say ‘I love you,’ they mean ‘I like you.’” Liking is about enjoyment—what you get from another. Love, however, is an internal state, independent of the beloved’s presence or reciprocation. Rumi’s poetry blurs human and divine love, suggesting that all true love is a reflection of the soul’s yearning for God. As he writes:

“Lovers don’t finally meet somewhere. They’re in each other all along.”

This internality is why love persists through separation—it’s not in the “lovee,” but in the lover’s heart.

The Transformative Pain of Love

Why We Embrace the Ache

Araspus’s wound-scratching metaphor reveals a human truth: we don’t just endure love’s pain—we seek it. “You know it hurts, you know it starts bleeding again, but you do it,” he says. Why? Because “that is what love is.” When you say goodbye to someone, when you replay memories of a lost love, the sadness is tinged with a strange sweetness. It’s not about forgetting, as psychologists might advise, but about honoring the essence of love.

Rumi rejects the notion that pain is inherently bad. “Sometimes there are some pains that are enjoyable,” Araspus reflects, drawing from his philosophical background. This aligns with Rumi’s belief that love’s trials elevate us: “It excels your soul to a higher level of humanity and morality.”

A Higher Purpose

In Sufism, pain is a teacher. Separation (firāq) purifies the lover, burning away ego and illusion. Rumi’s own separation from Shams didn’t diminish his love—it deepened it, birthing poetry that has inspired millions. Today, when we’re urged to suppress grief or “be positive,” Rumi offers an alternative: “Embrace your sadness, embrace your pain.” This isn’t wallowing—it’s growth. As he writes:

“Don’t grieve. Anything you lose comes round in another form.”

Loss, then, is not an end but a transformation.

Rumi’s Love in the Modern World

Love Amid Instant Gratification

In 2023, love is often reduced to swipes on a screen or curated Instagram posts. We chase happiness, avoiding discomfort at all costs. Yet, Rumi’s teachings challenge this shallow pursuit. “The essence of love is not happiness or enjoyment—it is the pain,” Araspus asserts. In a culture that pathologizes sorrow, Rumi invites us to see it as sacred—a gateway to the soul.

Consider heartbreak: society tells us to “get over it,” but Rumi says to sit with it. That ache, that bleeding wound, is proof of love’s depth. By embracing it, we reject superficiality and reclaim love’s spiritual dimension.

The Sacredness of Memory

Why do we revisit painful memories? “You feel the essence of the love,” Araspus explains. In my own life, I’ve found that recalling a lost friendship or a departed loved one stirs both grief and gratitude. The pain keeps their presence alive, echoing Rumi’s belief that love is eternal. This practice—holding space for sorrow—contrasts sharply with modern advice to “let go,” offering a richer, more human approach.

Love as Spiritual Discipline

For Rumi, love is a practice, not a feeling. It’s a mirror reflecting the divine within us, a path to wholeness. This resonates today as we seek meaning beyond materialism. By viewing love as a journey—pain and all—we cultivate resilience, compassion, and a deeper connection to ourselves and others.

Historical Context: Rumi’s Life and Legacy

The Catalyst: Shams of Tabriz

Rumi’s transformation began in 1244 when he met Shams, a wandering dervish whose fiery spirit ignited a profound love. Their bond was intense, but short-lived—Shams vanished in 1247, likely murdered or fled due to jealousy from Rumi’s followers. This loss shattered Rumi, yet it birthed his poetic legacy. The Masnavi and Divan-e Shams are testaments to how pain can create beauty.

Sufism: The Path of Love

Rooted in Sufism, Rumi saw love as the soul’s quest for God. Separation was a stage, not a punishment, leading to fana—the annihilation of the self in divine union. The Masnavi, dubbed “the Quran in Persian,” guides seekers through this journey, its verses a map for the heart.

A Deeper Dive: Expanding Rumi’s Third Verse

The Wound That Defines Us

Rumi’s “bosom torn by severance” isn’t poetic exaggeration—it’s a lived reality. Loss leaves scars that shape us, as I’ve seen in my own grief over departed family. The pain lingers, but it’s a companion, not a foe. Araspus’s insight—that we enjoy this pain—reveals its purpose: it keeps love alive, connecting us to what we’ve lost.

Love as Internal Truth

“Love is inside the lover, not the lovee,” Araspus insists. This shifts love from a transactional exchange to a personal revelation. When I love, it’s my soul speaking, not the other’s response defining it. Rumi’s words affirm this:

“The minute I heard my first love story, I started looking for you, not knowing how blind that was.”

Love, then, is a quest within—a recognition of the divine in ourselves.

My Reflection: Wholeness Through Pain

To me, Rumi’s love is a path to wholeness. Pain forces us to face our fragility, to seek healing not in others but in our own depths. It’s not about completion by another, but completion through loving. This reframes heartbreak as a gift, a chance to grow into our truest selves.

Conclusion: Embracing Love’s Painful Beauty

Rumi’s third verse, as illuminated by Araspus, redefines love as a force of pain, separation, and growth. It’s not the happiness we’re sold, but a deeper, more enduring truth. In a world that flees discomfort, Rumi calls us to embrace it—to let our wounds bleed, to let them teach us. “Embrace your pains,” Araspus urges, echoing Rumi’s wisdom. In doing so, we excel, rising to a higher level of humanity.

Next time you feel love’s ache, don’t run. Sit with it, scratch that wound, and let the light enter.