We Came from the Soil, We Go to Love

He took a handful of earth from the ground and ran his fingers through each grain of sand. Were not the particles of dust on his palm those that he always walked on, whose existence he was not even aware of when he was crushing them under his feet, and that he even shook off when they were smeared on him?

“Soil,” he said, “soil!” The raw material of creation, the cause of chaos among those who always want more. The cause of people fighting for centuries; nations eliminating each other for just a little more. It is the main unseen cause of all wars on earth. The very same soil in which one rests in the end is that which, the possession of, everyone strives for. The soil that offers a place to every living being and has no final owner.

While the colour differs in each climate, it always contains the same substance. Even if no one notices, it is the symbol of existence. The seed that is entrusted is solid ground to those who live on it, as well as shelter. A fermentation with the one who is both inhabited by himself. Besides, it provides protection to everything that is buried in it.

The soil does not call anyone accountable because its existence is not noticed. Neither criticism is expressed nor praise expected. For people who value soil, it is especially fruitful. Furthermore, soil does not disadvantage those who are ungrateful. This could be compared to a mother who does not favor any particular one of her children or disadvantage another. The Turkish folk singer Aşık Veysel describes the bond of love between people and the earth as follows:

“How many people I embraced as a friend,
My faithful friend is the black soil.
I wandered uselessly, and became exhausted unnecessarily
My faithful friend is the black soil.

“I’ve hugged such people as I thought they were friends,
My faithful beloved is the black soil
I’ve wandered in vain, I got tired for nothing
My faithful beloved is the black soil”

Soil is our friend; without enmity, it is kind and patient…

In many ancient religions, soil was also seen as the final resting place of the deceased. The corpse was buried in the soil. Soil embraces each dead person, like the affectionate arms of a loving mother.

Soil is just soil and serves the purpose it was created for…

While he was sinking into deep thoughts, he focused on himself and the senselessness of his life. “And we,” he murmured with regret, “we are humans, but how much do we live up to the purpose for which we have been created? What was the purpose of human creation?”

He noticed that his hand hurt because he had carried the soil for too long and so finally dropped it. He massaged the aching hand with his other hand while he tried to clean the earth between his fingers. He thought that he could wash his nails later.

While having these thoughts he was still sitting on the ground. He did not want to continue on his way as he had planned. He had reached a level of meditation and wanted to continue being connected to it.

He tried to remember what level of meditation he was at, because if he were to become distracted he would need time to focus again. He stared at the soil hoping to remember…

He believed that humans were created from soil, so the purpose of their creation had to be at least as noble as that of the earth. What was the feeling that made them humans? What noble feeling was present in human beings and qualified them to be a reasonable creation?

He raised his head and looked towards the tree in front of him and its freshly blossomed leaves. As spring had ended, the plum tree had lost its blossoms and was trying to hide its fruits with the new-blossomed leaves. Two swallows landed, one after another, on the tree’s branches and called each other by their chirping. One did not have to be able to understand birdsong to know their endeavor. He grinned and turned his gaze toward the sky, as if searching for an answer to his question. His legs hurt from sitting on the ground for so long, so he stretched them out and straightened his back. As he moved, the swallows became scared and flew away.

“Love,” he said. “Exactly! The noblest feeling human beings have is love.” Even him mentioning the word ‘love’ made him feel warmth inside and a smile graced his face. Love was like a cure for anyone who felt it. His heart warmed at the mere thought of love. Of course, how could a heart that feels love remain cold. Every person has experienced love at some stage in their life.

Love was just like soil. Everyone can relate to love in some way, even if its existence cannot be noticed in a stressful day. However, the absence of love leads to chaos. Even if one does not possess love, its warmth envelopes one. One can feel love, but not possess it.

Love harmonizes differently with each person. Everyone loves differently. Some want to possess their beloved. Others want to protect their beloved kindly, like the plum tree that tried to protect its fruits. Still others betray their beloved, like the ivy that grows up the trunk of a tree. A few let their beloved ones fly freely, for their pleasure, and merely fly alongside. And who knew how many kinds of love still exist.

When love is present, it does not call attention to its existence loudly. However, the absence of it is always painful. It is a tremendous emotion that is unnoticed in its presence, needed in its absence, and when love is lost, it leads one to feel nothing. Everything passes in this life and all that remains is love, to love, to be loved, and to know that you are loved by the divine Creator.

As stated by the poet and philosopher Fuzûlî in the famous poem:
“I am content with being lovesick, healer! Do not prescribe me medicine. My doom will be the poison you prescribe for sorrow.”

Despite all the difficulties, sorrows and sadness, the thing that makes a person the happiest in life is love.

How should love be so that it serves existence? How does the soil serve its purpose of existence? Love needs attention and should not be neglected, just like the soil that needs water to produce crops. In this regard, the right amount is decisive. Love should not be thrust upon others but it should still be able to be realized. Neither too much nor too little. It should be felt unobtrusively and noticed without attracting attention.

He thought of his loved ones and those he did not love. He realized that he had a different kind of love towards every living being and even objects in his life. Some out of need, some out of pity, some out of passion, and some unconditionally.

To love decently was the greatest form of art. To love without hurting, without being hurt, neither losing one’s own personality nor taking the personality of the other person as a scourge; without taking the self-captive, be able to love as it is.

Love should be sincere, but not ordinary. It should be wholehearted, not to show off. It must be felt from the heart, not a spontaneous feeling. It must be loyal, patient, unexpected, affectionate and compassionate. The lover must be able to unite with the beloved without hesitation. Love must give a higher meaning to the individual’s existence. Even if it is hidden in the details, it should spread to the whole.

After all, we are human beings and we were created from soil. We came from God, we came via the womb, and we go back to absolute love. Our return is only to Him.

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