Rumi was a 13th century Persian poet, jurist, Islamic scholar, theologian, and Sufi mystic.
Maybe you've read some of his poetry? Or read some quotes attributed to him, such as:
"Stop acting so small.
You are the universe in ecstatic motion."
"What you seek is seeking you."
"Yesterday I was clever,
so I wanted to change the world.
Today I am wise,
so I am changing myself."
Some nice stuff. But then, one day I was reading through a book I had picked up from somewhere long forgotten called "The Essential Rumi: Translations by Coleman Barks with John Moyne."
I was particularly struck by one story I read called, "The Importance of Gourdcrafting." I shall transcribe it for you.
The Importance of Gourdcrafting
There was a maidservant
who had cleverly trained a donkey
to perform the services of a man.
From a gourd,
she had carved a flanged device
to fit on the donkey's penis
to keep him going too far into her.
She had fashioned it just to the point
of her pleasure, and she greatly enjoyed
the arrangement, as often as she could!
She thrived, but the donkey was getting
a little thin and tired looking.
The mistress began to investigate. One day
she peeked through a crack in the door
and saw the animal's marvelous member
and the delight of the girl
stretched under the donkey.
She said nothing. Later, she knocked on the door
and called the maid out on an errand,
a long and complicated errand.
I won't go into details.
The servant knew what was happening, though.
"Ah, my mistress," she thought to herself,
"you should not send away the expert.
When you begin to work without full knowledge,
you risk your life. Your shame keeps you
from asking me about the gourd, but you must
have that to join with this donkey.
There's a trick you don't know!"
But the woman was too fascinated with her idea
to consider any danger. She let the donkey in
and closed the door, thinking, "With no one around
I can shout in my pleasure."
She was dizzy
with anticipation, her vagina glowing
and singing like a nightingale.
She arranged the chair under the donkey,
as she had seen the girl do. She raised her legs
and pulled him into her.
Her fire kindled more,
and the donkey politely pushed as she urged him to,
pushed through and into her intestines,
and, without a word, she died.
The chair fell one way,
and she the other.
The room was smeared with blood.
Reader, have you ever seen anyone martyred
for a donkey? Remember what the Qur'an
says about the torment of disgracing yourself.
Don't sacrifice your life to your animal-soul!
If you die of what that leads you to do,
you are just like this woman on the floor.
She is an image of immoderation.
and keep your balance.
The maidservant returns and says, "Yes, you saw
my pleasure, but you didn't see the gourd
that put a limit on it. You opened
your shop before a master
taught you the craft."
OK, then. Now, isn't that special?
I'm sure not all Muslims enjoy fucking donkeys.
Just like not all hillbilly farmers enjoy fucking farm animals. It's just a thing they do.
It's apparently universal. Bravo, Rumi, for speaking the truth, so many years ago, and turning it into a parable that can live forever.