The Prophet by Khalil Gibran
4.5/5⭐
My first introduction to Kahlil Gibran was on The Boondocks’ “Wingmen” (Season 1, Episode 13), when Huey recites, “Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding. It is the bitter potion by which the physician within you heals your sick self. Therefore, trust the physician, and drink his remedy in silence and tranquility.” My 11-year-old brain thought of Kahlil Gibran as a Black revolutionary figure (for some reason). Little did I know that I’d find my way back to Kahlil Gibran just over a decade later—not as my perception of him, but as a Lebanese-American artist, poet, and author. While reading The Prophet, I came across (what I coined) “The Boondocks Quote,” and it shifted both my perception of the show and the book. That’s the interesting thing about reading; your experiences enhance your understanding. That’s what The Prophet does best, and why this book has staying power more than 100 years after its release: it grows with you. Is The Prophet the quintessential guide to live your life by, or is it a book full of pithy platitudes that have no bearing on real life? For me, it’s somewhere in the middle. The Prophet is what you make of it. Whether you love it or you hate it, it can give you something to walk away with. I recommend this book to anyone who comes to it with an open mind. I leave you with (one of) my favorite quotes on Joy and Sorrow: “But I say unto you, they are inseparable. Together they come, and when one sits alone with you at your board, remember that one is asleep upon your bed.”
I was sixteen pages into this book when a coworker of mine asked, “Is it not too artsy-fartsy for you?” with the utmost severity in her voice. I was aghast; I wasn’t even far enough into the book to form a solid opinion on it, and I had liked it so far. I kept that comment in the back of my mind throughout my journey reading this book, hoping to see what led her to that thought process. The Prophet did, at times, seem a little... unrealistic. But I think that’s the joy of reading this book: boiling down the complexities of everyday life and making them simple. Gibran managed to take complex concepts—love, joy, marriage, death—and make them straightforward, as if interpreting them in their purest forms without the perversion of human complexities. I can see how that wouldn’t appeal to some. Life is complex; that’s the curse of being human, so to read a book that ignores those complexities is jarring. But it’s not bad. I think Kahlil Gibran takes the complexities of life into account when writing and decides they don’t matter. In many ways, that’s what love is too — seeing a mountain of problems stacked against you but deciding to continue on your journey. The things that appealed to me about Gibran’s writing were the simplicity intertwined with the whimsical. Nothing is as it seems, yet everything is.
Originally published in 1923 on the precipice of the Great Depression, The Prophet acted as a source of hope for readers. Now, more than 103 years after its publishing date, it acts as a companion. It’s a book you carry with you through the journeys of life. When things get rough, you can lean on it to help guide you out of the darkness. And when things are bright, you can rely on it to share in your joy. This book is what you make of it. It can be your light, or it can be your friend; whatever you decide, this book is there for life’s big and small moments. The Prophet is one of the most popular books of all time — translated into over 100 different languages, this book has touched the hearts of people everywhere. If this has inspired you to read The Prophet, I envy you and the journey you’re about to take. If there’s anything you should take from this book, it’s this: Use it, in your dark times and your light times. Use it.
