The Prophet is a small book, yet full of wisdom. Gibran reflects on life’s struggles: giving, friendship, freedom, law, time, self-knowledge, pain, and even death. The book challenges our understanding of good and evil.
I have books I return to every now and then because of the impact they've had on my life. I first read The Prophet in 2017, when my life looked very different from what it does now. I was young and saw the world from a different perspective, so the book spoke to me in a uniquely meaningful way. Each time I pick it up, I discover something new, and in this new season, rereading it feels timely.
The Prophet is a classic by Lebanese-American writer Kahlil Gibran, first published in 1923. A century later, its teachings still feel strikingly relevant. That is the beauty of books: they defy time and space.
This is a collection of advice from Almustafa, a man who has waited 12 years for a ship to take him home. During that time, he has mainly kept to himself, yet he is kind and deeply respected by the people of Orphalese.
Now, as he is about to leave, he is overcome with sadness at the thought of parting. That is the thing about human beings: we get attached to people, places, and moments, and there is no escaping it. It is in our nature to want to belong to someone or somewhere.
“Too many fragments of the spirit have I scattered in these streets, and I cannot withdraw without a burden and an ache. It is not a garment I cast off, but a skin that I tear with my own hands.”
His departure saddens the entire town, and before he leaves, they ask him for advice on different aspects of life. His words ground you. They are drawn from various traditions, including Christianity, Hinduism, and Sufism.
The first question is on love. His response: “When love beckons you, follow him, though his ways are hard and steep.” I agree with this deeply. Love can crucify you, but it can also reward you. Past pain should not make you shut it out forever. When it comes, let it. Love allows us to see and experience life’s beauty. As Gibran writes, “Love possesses not nor would it be possessed; for love is sufficient unto love.”
Love does what love does. Let it.
From love, people naturally turn to marriage, curious about what it takes to walk that path together. The Prophet says the secret lies in being together while also giving each other space – to remain your own person while still working toward the same vision of togetherness.
“Sing and dance together and be joyous, but let each one of you be alone. Even as the strings of a lute are alone, though they quiver with the same music.” I believe this is how you sustain a marriage or any relationship: by allowing each other space to be whole on your own while still living and working toward the values that unite you.
After marriage came children, and rightly so. I am always fascinated by the reasons people give for wanting children. Most of them are quite selfish.
The Prophet reminds people of a truth they often forget: “Your children are not your children. They are the sons and daughters of life’s longing for itself. They come through you, but not from you, and though they are with you, yet they belong not to you. You may give them your love, but not your thoughts, for they have their own thoughts.”
If one chooses to have children, it should be out of love, without expecting anything in return. Parenting is not about ownership but about guidance. One of the most selfless acts of all.
Love, marriage and children teach us about connection and belonging. But in these, joy and sorrow are inevitable. With great joy comes great sorrow, often from the same person. It is a risk we take to live fully.
“When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy. When you are sorrowful, look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.”
And perhaps that is the point. Joy and sorrow are not opposites. They live in the same house, each giving meaning to the other.
The Prophet is a small book, yet full of wisdom. Gibran reflects on life’s struggles: giving, friendship, freedom, law, time, self-knowledge, pain, and even death. The book challenges our understanding of good and evil. “For what is evil but good tortured by its own hunger and thirst?”
One reading may not be enough. Each time you return to it, the book meets you where you are, offering new light for that season of life.
Jane Shussa is a digital communication specialist with a love for books, coffee, nature, and travel. She can be reached at [email protected].
