Winter is the season when the scattered and overflowing soul regains its balance. It may not be the season of the body, but it is the season when the hearts attain golden tranquility, when our insides take on the serenity of an island that has just been born in the ocean and is still experiencing spring...

Free from makeshift enthusiasms, where ripe diamonds sparkle, where the distinction between earth and sky ends... I wrote about autumn in an article recently. Muslim, a friend of mine from the faculty, sent me the following message after reading that article, which I am writing without changing it:

"Beautiful person with a beautiful heart and pen. When you are in search, when your perspective is not hidden but with a clean soul, you will also love the winter season. Close to death, when you are cold and shivering in the winter of your life, you feel a warmth in your body and want to transfer your essence with the love in your soul to the subconscious realm. I am sure that day you will write about the beauty of death".
"I think you have tasted the taste of disappearing in existence. Tell me the filters you use to purify your soul. Tell me about the treasure in the treasury of the palace of the heart in your body country. Describe the flavor of the nuts of the tree of love under which you live. Tell me not about your conversations with ordinary people, but about your conversations with yourself, with your deepest self. Not the realm of matter, but the realm of meaning. There are no more colors I am painted with, Allah is forty colors. The Holy One, who is known by His name, tell me about ME...".

I promised this beautiful person that I would tell her about ME and "WINTER", the last season of man and the last season of the universe...
The next day, with the departure of my rosy face, my beloved auntie, I felt an indescribable pain. I am in a very heavy state of mind. As I drift in the midst of a flood of emotions that cause heart outbursts and pain, I realize that death is no joke. I don't know when my soul will start to thaw, but I am once again shaken by the fact that this life is a holographic lie. But I am not without hope when I hear that somewhere deep inside my soul, new and sincere forces are sprouting that will make me realize that I am alive.

Death, like winter, makes us feel as if we have been left without air and sun. A noble death is the noblest of longings for every soul. How painful it would be to be forced beings living forever. I think the most beautiful part of the gift of life is that it is adorned with death. Would life be so delicious and beautiful without death?

If the meal of life has been eaten, there is to linger with the crumbs. But this is unnecessary for those who taste the eternity of existence, unnecessary for those who know the language of the soul. It is imprisonment for a soul that burns with the desire for air and coolness! For the overflowing souls, for the souls that drink immortality, this reality is as beautiful as it is self-existent.
Here come the winter days. Isn't the glow of the sun more inviting than in summer, in this beautiful season when the dark world is but a decoration for the light sky?

When a tree is nearing death, all its leaves are painted the color of the morning red. Death is like the winter that comes after the fall seasons of life... Like ripe grapes at the end of autumn. The competent person knows this.
I believe that it is death that makes us who we are and that only our own will to power binds us so intimately to the world.

What an unpleasant world this would be, and what a cold world it would be, if, from the very beginning, all its beings had not been trying to create a unity and an agreed life by a sweet force from within? And if there were no death, what a soulless and corrupt order would remain as a work, a work of art?

Just as there is winter after summer and spring after spring, so the soul on the endlessly spinning wheel of life is immortal. That 99.99% chaos, that emptiness inside everything, called the field, called the unified field, called the collective field, is one in every human being and living being. This is the gift of the Lord who says, "I breathed into you from my own breath. The SELF of all of us is one and immortal. The soul is our immortality, the body is like the dress we wear and use in this reality. When the time comes, we leave it behind. However, the soul immortal part of us continues to live eternally in our unity consciousness, as Yunus said "There is an I within, within the I". As Hallac El Mansur said "En-el Hak!", how blessed are those who drink the sweet sherbet of that ONE-ness...

I love Hölderlin's hopeful words about death: "Surely, not a single weed can grow and flourish without a seed of vitality in it! I believe in my eternity and immortality because I feel myself superior and unprecedented with the high meaning given to me by the Creator who put it in the living being. A potter can throw and break his vessel at will. But what is alive is not such an artifact, it has to be a divine creation from its very seed. A creation so divine that it is beyond the reach of any power, any art, and therefore untouchable and eternal."

Mukaddes Pekin Başdil

Researcher-Author

Source: Denizli Haber