“You are a forlorn one in this world
Ergo laugh not but cry o heart!” (Yunus Emre)

Forlorn ones are only a few; a few heroes of the heart, and unknown holy ones. A forlorn person is one who sighs and groans, whose heart burns and aches. A person who is forlorn is beaten and persecuted because of the sublime truths they hold. They face trouble every day, and are threatened by all different kinds of death. They are despised and held in contempt.

Forlorn ones are not necessarily away from country or home, isolated from friends and companions. Forlorn ones are the ones whose societies do not understand them. They are considered odd and scrutinized by those around them. A forlorn one’s supreme ideals and transcendent thoughts are considered strange. They contradict the rules of their society through their willingness to sacrifice personal yearnings for communal good.

The masses forlorn ones run to help persecute them, sometimes exile them, sometimes throw them into prison, and sometimes even threaten them with death. The forlorn ones, however, grapple with these threats every moment, and live to rescue other victims. At times, they challenge dangers like Heraclites. When they can, they rush to put out fires; at the very least they moan like caring mothers. Society never tires of cruelty, and forlorn ones never tire of loyalty!

Mostly, forlorn ones feel alone and separated from their society on material terms, because they cannot establish a permanent dialogue with them. Nevertheless, a feeling of altruism and the thought of living for the sake of others takes over a forlorn one’s entire spirit. This feeling is deep and multidimensional enough to make them forget their separation and loneliness. Despite the fact that they might moan with a feeling of loneliness for a moment, they can be happy and elated with the idealist worlds established in their souls.

Forlorn ones are like the early spring grass. These flowers of the dawn face snow and ice. They undertake a sublime fight against blizzards and thunderstorms, occasionally finding reprieve from the snow and ice.

Yes, forlorn ones running to the light with a thousand joyous shouts in the realms beyond the heavens are just like the snowdrops, showing off under the sun, their dimples and white muslins rising from multicolored snow. They appear before heat warms the land, before the ices melt. Their survival is a hard one; they grapple with hazards defying them, are injured and torn, are devastated and destroyed without even experiencing a breeze of the earthly joys. They go, but their going is brave. They do not go under the earth without a few hyacinths. They die once, but revive twenty times.

Every day, forlorn ones, with a dozen of the most sacred thoughts in their hearts and minds, stand on the gate of society to offer life to the dead ones, and to return the values they lost. They knock on the door a few times, cry out the inspirations of their soul, and then turn back. They are roughed up, scolded and exiled; but they never fear, they never grow tired, and they especially never resent. They always keep their eyes on the spiritual realms and expect tidings of revival every time the sun rises and sets. They are freshly enthusiastic every new day, rushing to every corner to assume responsibilities, and to show the masses the path to Khidr fountain.

Those who understand and sympathize with them achieve eternal existence. Those left apart fade away forever. They have united with Archangel Gabriel and met Khidr fifty times; as the dirt on their feet becomes an elixir of life, the earth beneath them grows very green.

Disbeliefs, heresies, and misguidance melt away like ice under their warm breath, and it is their breath that turns arid places into gardens of paradise.

They always suffer. They are disappointed and bent over double in the face of the varying emotions and thoughts and deteriorating customs of the society that raised them. Nevertheless, they are also faithful, hopeful, and marvelously motivated. Occasionally, they are left alone and unattended, and are insulted by society. Yet, they are always joyful and in peace.

No familiar face like it is empty everywhere;

Roads are curly and slopes are steep:

Suffering, agony; cry, groan and there is the path!

How sweet is this path despite everything, and how pleasant it is to be forlorn!

All sorts of sorrow and sadness are apparent in the broken hearts and misty looks of the forlorn ones. With their groans and sighs, they remind us, respectively, of Prophet Adam and Prophet David, peace be upon them. Because they are reproached and are far away from home, they say, “Now that I am left apart from the beautiful ones, I say woe, my longing!” They groan, and yearningly await the moment of reunion, the moment when they will become a constant companion with the Beloved One. They wait, and reach a distinct union and zeal in every moment with the winds blowing from the city of mercy to the longing hearts. And if they find familiar hearts to discharge the intuitions of their spirit into, they let themselves go, turning into a waterfall. The forlorn ones never demonstrate sorrow, even if their wealth is looted and their family perishes on this path they took with love. As they see that the light they’ve spread amongst the spirit of their people is shining, the forlorn ones soar to infinity singing “O friend!” with the delight of the heavens!

A thousand heralds of good news to the forlorn ones! A thousand glad tidings to those breathing hope and fulfillment, forgetting their personal pleasures and tastes for the welfare and happiness of the public in a period of anarchy and turmoil that terrorizes everyone!

And there are also forlorn ones – in other words, the poor in character – who become estranged from their own people and their own culture in their own country, and they are very similar to the former ones with their sorrow and misery. But they are slovenly, wretched, hopeless and unenlightened. More than anything, they are lackluster and debilitated in their heartfelt and spiritual lives. Their days are darker than their nights; their nights remind of the grave. These miserable ones, their spirits torn by numerous paradoxes and deprived of a root and a personality, almost forget what it is like to be human. Questions arising from their minds and afflicting their souls make it impossible for them to benefit from the joys of this life – in fact making it even more miserable. They are dark inside; their thoughts are foggy; their eyes are misty. The questions they endlessly puzzle over remind us of one stuck in hell. Would you call this experience a “life”? But because they think of death as final, they have no choice but to prefer this life comprised only of hesitation and doubt.

For them, life is torment; being a human is another misfortune; death is a maelstrom, a black hole; existence is chaos, and the only way to avoid pain is intoxication.

How unfortunate this way of thinking is and those miserable ones are! Have pity on these kinds of forlorn ones!

“In heaven all is gladness. In hell all is sorrow. Upon this earth, since it lies between, sometimes the one, and sometimes the other. We have our being between the two extremes, and so it partakes of both.” -Baltasar Gracian

I.

At some time in our lives, if we are mildly introspective and equally as observant, the incessant obviousness of life’s modus operandi is unmasked: That life, in essence, operates not as a utopia would, but as a dystopia, wherein woe is inextricably conjoined to its antithesis-felicity. Following this observation, many of us may find ourselves pondering over that timeless question which feigns simplicity: Why do bad things happen to good people? A vast myriad of philosophers have attempted-with little more than modest triumph at best-to make sense of this seemingly cruel paradox. Whether you are one of those who contemplate the visitation of woe upon yourself, or upon the good people you know, is only half of the task; at some point, woe shall manifest itself in our lives and in those of our loved ones. The other half of the task, then, involves acceptance and coping with it.

People of faith and without faith alike find themselves habitually treading on common ground, and they wonder: Is nature inherently our own worst enemy? Is God deliberately targeting us with misfortune for having transgressed? In a word, no; but eminent men and women have speculated. Ralph Waldo Emerson once wrote that “Nature is no sentimentalist,-does not cosset or pamper us. We must see that the world is rough and surly, and will not mind drowning a man or a woman; but swallows your ship like a grain of dust.” Natural laws operate indiscriminately; history has provided endless examples of this, where both the bad and the good perish from disease, natural disasters, or by fang and claw. Not even the intensely pious and god-fearing are exempt from suffering; one only need consult the story of Job in the Bible-and other holy scriptures-to see this. The Prophet Job, a man who was “blameless and upright, who feared God, and turned away from evil,” suffered legendary misfortune, yet did not curse God, nor did he give in to his plight, but accepted it, saying: “Naked I came from my mother’s womb, and naked shall I return; the Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord.” To say that God and/or Nature contrive, through duplicity, for the good people of this world to taste the suffering which should, as some perceive it, be reserved for the wicked, is positively absurd. What must be kept in mind is the fact that this is not Heaven, and that laws of nature do not discriminate-they simply act.

Menander, an ancient Grecian dramatist, gave prima facie advice on how to avoid woe: “If you want to live your whole life free from pain you must either become a god or else a corpse. Consider other men’s troubles and that will comfort you.” Also, consider the words of stoic philosopher and Roman Emperor Marcus Aurelius: “Nature gives and nature takes away. Anyone with sense and humility will tell her, ‘Give and take as you please,’ not out of defiance, but out of obedience and goodwill.” The sooner we accept our humble stations in life, and the sooner we realize that neither nature nor God owes us a life of pleasantries and unending bliss, we can conclude that it is not an applicable question of “why bad things happen to good people”, but a question of “what can I do to live the best amidst misfortune, and how can I assuage my fellows in times of their misfortune?” Misfortune, as the German philosopher Arthur Schopenhauer once wrote, is not “….exceptional; but misfortune, in general, is the rule.” By helping our fellow man, and by not giving in to woe, we can try breaking that rule.

II.

In this dystopia, there is no possible way to traverse along without encountering an unpleasant incident; ironically, however, it is often those very incidences that shape us into exceptional human beings. Nietzsche’s perspicacious adage of “what does not kill us makes us stronger,” should be the byword of humanity and our heroic equanimity when it comes to enduring misfortune. Reflect on how many myriads of good people have suffered and have turned that suffering in on itself, only to rise above, changing themselves-or the societies they live in-into more benevolent mechanisms. Reflect on how many good people have perished in wars, subsequently gaining liberty, or bettering their fellows’ lives by extirpating oppression; reflect on the good people who have endured sickness; and though possibly succumbing, lent us their strength, their hope; and reflect on the good people in your life today, on their misfortunes, and how you, as a good person, may become a better one by assuaging their suffering. Remember that both good and bad people are equal prey, and woe does not differentiate.

My own personal experience with misfortune will hopefully illustrate the point I mentioned above, about how unfortunate incidences can shape us into better people; therefore misfortune, at times, will not always deserve the appellation “bad” but can merit that of “good.”

Close to a decade ago I suffered an injury that forever deprived me of the use of about eighty percent of my body; as a result, I am confined to a wheelchair. The caustic arrow of misfortune that struck me seemed like an exceedingly pitiless one-especially considering the fact that I was only twenty years old, strong, and capable of almost anything. Abruptly I became paralyzed from the middle of my chest down, the arrow of misfortune leaving me with the scar of incomplete quadriplegia. Questions to ask: Was I a good person before woe’s arrow struck me? Good enough. Am I a better person now? Absolutely. Whether it was divine intervention, or the desultory act of nature instigated by my actions, rapidly began to matter little. And as I lay in the hospital, the words of Harriet Beecher Stowe echoed within my mind: “Never give up, for that is just the place and time that the tide will turn.” The tide did turn, and my dreadful situation turned into an auspicious new beginning.

Within most of us, there is a better person imprisoned behind the guise of a bad or indifferent one; moreover, for myself, “why a bad thing happened to a good person” was and is not applicable, because I’ve chosen it not to be applicable, simply by the recognition that what could be interpreted as bad was really a good thing disguised as a bad thing, and it changed my life for the better. By believing a misfortunate event in one’s life to be bad, and by agonizing over it unremittingly, we exacerbate the “badness” of it; we unwittingly inundate ourselves with negativity, thereby breeding fresh misfortune; we lament on how much of a good person we were, forgetting that we still can be; and finally, we wrongfully cast maledictions upon God, the world, or the people closest to us. If we accept the misfortune, if we accept the injury, and if we accept the pain-knowing that it will soon regress and dissipate-the quicker we can begin to heal and return to our life’s path.

Thoughts to keep in mind: The misfortune and woe that manifests within our lives will certainly vary in degree; not all of us who are brought low will ever rise up again. Undoubtedly some will perish, and fate-that unstable force impervious to all attempts to be controlled-will operate according to her own dictates, even as the tears of humankind wash over her like waves on a lonely sea…

III.

Long ago, Sophocles said of fate: “Dreadful is the mysterious power of fate-there is no deliverance from it by wealth or by war, by towered city, or dark, sea-beaten ships.” Indeed, fate can be as odious as it can be charitable, analogous to time. The domineering trait ascribed to fate is its immutability. Should fate meddle in an adverse fashion against a magnanimous person (why bad things happen to good people), it may be denounced as a person’s bad luck-or as something opprobrious and unfair. But is it that simplistic? Human beings have a domineering trait of their own-imprudence. A hypothesis not heretofore mentioned is one in which good people are responsible for succumbing to adverse turns of fate based on their own imprudent actions and inactions. The vicissitudes of fortune, then, should not always come as a surprise-nor as something inexorable.

For a moment, let us suppose a person leads his or her life as the absolute paragon of goodness. He/she is charitable, pleasant, humble, and ethical when meeting out all endeavors; in a word, they are like a saint. Now presume they have an unhealthy diet, smoke profusely, and never exercise-all imprudent choices which carry foreseeable fates. Suddenly they find out at a young age that they are diagnosed with lung cancer, diabetes, or cardiovascular disease; suppose that they soon die. Do we attribute these “bad” things (i.e., sickness and eventual death) as bad things happening to a good person? Should we not, instead, label it as mere folly? Their own choices led to them being struck by the arrow of misfortune, and in this example, fate could possibly have unfolded differently had their life choices been more innocuous. This is not to say we should castigate a person for their life choices. Instead, we should offer advice and encouragement which would lead them to obviate an adverse fate.

Indifference, or inaction, can be just as fatal. Charities, for instance, rely on the actions of empathetic people. Thus, if those people were to become wholly indifferent, and were to stop donating their money or time (inaction), how many more good-yet poor-people would suffer misfortune? By being proactive, as a whole, we can ameliorate the suffering of those whose circumstances are less fortunate, and even if it is a one percent reduction in the sum misery of the human race, it shall have been worth it. By contributions of food, medicine, or funds we can alter a worse fate into a better one: we can prevent the arrows of misfortune from striking, and in so doing, give others opportunity to a life in the midst of less woe. In doing nothing, we allow suffering to breed. Therefore, seemingly bad things will happen to good people-all the more so if we remain in moral stasis. A poem by Emily Dickinson inspires us to act:

If I can stop one heart from breaking,
I shall not live in vain;
If I can ease one life the aching,
Or cool one pain,
Or help one fainting robin
Unto his nest again,
I shall not live in vain.

IV.

As avowed earlier in this essay, I attempted to convey why bad things happen to good people, not as a matter of choice by God, who is loving and merciful than any other attribute; nor by nature-in the guise of a nefarious collaborator specifically targeting us-but rather as a consequence of our own choices and the nature of the dystopian structure in which all life, past and present, exists. Misfortune can be overcome by the acceptance of it; thereafter, one can move on without losing stride. Furthermore, as a result of an episode of suffering, we may become better people, and perhaps after we overcome our suffering we can help others through their times of crisis-thereby lessening an adverse turn of fate.

Fate, then, is immutable only to the degree that we allow. By our actions, inactions, and life choices, we contribute to either the sum of misfortune, or to the subtraction of misfortune.

Nothing happens without a purpose, including woe. Yet woe seems to be a sightless archer. Still, if we keep our faith in God, and if we recognize that all anguish and suffering must-and will-come to an end, the arrows of misfortune can do us no harm.

Harold R. Olcese is a history major at Western Connecticut University and will be receiving his B.A. this Fall. He is an accomplished landscape artist and lives in CT. Contact him via email at: harold.r.olcese@hotmail.com.

This world and its pleasures are a heavy burden. No one (except the corrupt in spirit) is contented with it. Rather than suffering from dependence on almost the whole universe, being needy of all means and causes, and appealing to contending deaf, dumb, and blind masters, people should seek refuge in a single, All-Hearing, and All-Seeing Master. If they place their trust in Him, He is enough for them.

Fourth truth

Know, O ego, that the scientific inventions woven around your head, the lines of conscious artistry connected to you, and the things put in your hands stretched out in neediness all demonstrate that your Creator, Maker, and Helper hears your sighs of destitution and your cries for help. Having mercy on you, He gratifies all your needs. Seeing that the Creator and Maker answers your tiniest cells’ calls for help, why should He ”the All-Hearing, All-Seeing” not answer your call for help?¹

Know, O spacious cell called ego or selfhood and built up of lesser cells. Say: O God! O Lord! O my Creator! O my Fashioner! O my Owner! O my Master! O my Guardian! Yours is the dominion (of all things) and to You is all praise! I am a guest in this body, Your property that You have entrusted to me.

O selfhood! Why do you claim to own that which you will never own? Give up this false claim that throws you into acute pain. Consider the emotions of pity and affection, which are among the spirit’s exhilarating embellishments: If they were left to your pretended ownership, they would harm and torment the spirit.

For example, the misfortune and calamities striking you or others would cause you to remain in continual pain and go so far as to blame Destiny for them. However, when you see a soldier who has lost his horse or whose residence has been burnt down by mistake working directly under a king, you do not feel much pity for the soldier. If you consider that both the horse and residence belong to the king, you will see that their disappearance does not cause a significant decrease in his property. Nor does the soldier worry about it”indeed, inasmuch as he is poor, it is highly probable that out of pity the king will compensate his losses with something better. In the same way, God is the All-Compassionate and always treats His servants with utmost compassion.² Therefore, compassion for creatures as creatures of God exhilarates the spirit. By contrast, pity arising from supposing that everything owns itself continually suffocates and distresses the spirit.

One with a sound viewpoint based on belief in Divine Unity sees every living being’s body as resembling a hired captain on a king’s ship being controlled by that king, who controls his property as he wills. This viewpoint does not allow one to see an ant or a honeybee as contending with attacking causes. Rather, according to it, the ant controls an earthly vehicle while the other controls an aircraft, the reins of which are in the hands of the Power of an All-Powerful One. Causes do not have much weight in the sight of either animal, which depend on the True Owner (of all things).

By saying: Surely we are God’s and surely we are returning to Him (2:156), when struck by misfortune, one means: All property is God’s and I am under His command, journeying to Him. My relation with my body, which is His property, is like that of a soldier holding something belonging to the king. When robbers attack him, he states: I am responsible for guarding this property entrusted to me. However, I am unable to guard it now. Like this property, I also belong to the king and am going to him. When those with such a viewpoint see a fellow struck with misfortune or suffer personal misfortune, they are relieved of continual distress. Otherwise, they are constantly weighed down with pain and distress.

Footnotes

1. For example, a person equipped with the limited powers of sight, hearing, and learning may conclude that the Creator must be All-Seeing, All-Hearing, and All-Knowing. One’s poverty, helplessness, and mortality may lead one to discover that the Creator is Absolutely Wealthy, Powerful, and Permanent. (Tr.)
2. The best analogy applicable to certain aspects of the relation with God and the creation is that between a monarch and his subjects. Since many immaterial truths, especially those pertaining to the Divine Being, are abstract and difficult to understand, Divine Scriptures usually use parables, metaphors, similes, and analogies. For example, God is sometimes introduced like a monarch or king, having a throne and armies. Another reason why Said Nursi used such analogies may be that he wrote this book in the 1910s, when there was still a sultanate in Anatolia. (Tr.)

Adapted from Bediuzzaman’s Epitomes of Light (Mathnawi al-Nuriya)