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Authors: Muhammad Ali With Hana Yasmeen Ali

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BOOK: The Soul Of A Butterfly
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GOD BLESS

the world

I hope that one day all

nations great and small

will be able to stand up and say

we lived in pursuit of peace for all.

Maybe then there will come a day

when instead of saying, “God bless America,”

or “God bless some other country,”

everyone everywhere will say,

“God bless the world.”

 

Love is the only thing that every soul brings to earth with it
.

A Hindu poet said: “The desire to love brought me to earth, and the same desire to see the beloved I am taking with me to heaven.”

Wouldn’t it be a beautiful world if just 10 percent of the people who believe in the power of love would compete with one another to see who could do the most good for the most people? So many of us enjoy taking part in competitions, why not hold a competition of love instead of one that leads to jealousy and envy? If we continue to think and live as if we belong only to different cultures and different religions, with separate missions and goals, we will always be in self-defeating competition with each other.

* * *

Once we realize we are all members of humanity, we will want to compete in the spirit of love.

In a competition of love we would not be running against one another, but with one another. We would be trying to gain victory for all humanity. If I am a faster runner than you, you may feel bad seeing me pass you in the race, but if you know that we are both racing to make our world better, you will feel good knowing that we are all racing toward a common goal, a mutual reward.

In a competition of love we’ll all share in the victory, no matter who comes in first.

A heart enlightened by love is more precious than all of the diamonds and gold in the world.

inspired by
a sufi message

 

The outer beauty of a person must merge with the inner beauty and become one
.

This is the source of true beauty
.

Sufi Wisdom

 

LOVE

THE IDEAL OF BEAUTY

True beauty is found in the heart of the beholder
.

As I begin the story of my journey, I would like to share a short story that I learned from the teachings of Sufism. There once was a king who enjoyed spending his spare time in the company of philosophers and friends, debating various subjects. One afternoon, the debate concerned where beauty lies. As they were talking together on the terrace of the palace, the king and his friends could see their children playing in the courtyard. The king called to one of his servants. He gave him a jeweled crown and asked him to place it upon the head of the most beautiful child in the courtyard.

The servant took the crown and walked out to the middle of the courtyard, where all the children were playing as their parents watched from the terrace.

First the servant placed the crown on the head of the king’s son. He saw that it suited him well. The boy was a handsome lad but, somehow, the servant was not satisfied. He tried it on the head of another child, and another, until he came upon his own son, who was sitting in the corner. He placed the jeweled crown on his son’s head and found that it suited him wonderfully.

The servant then took his son by the hand and led him to the king. When he reached the terrace, he bowed his head and spoke. “Sire, I have found that of all the children, the crown suits this one best. Indeed, if I tell the truth I must say this. I am ashamed to appear so bold, for the child is the son of my humble self.”

Then the king and those beside him laughed very heartily and thanked the servant, for they all thought his son to be very ugly indeed. The king walked over to the servant and said, “You have certainly told me what I wish to know: It is the heart that perceives beauty.”

coauthor’s note

 

Myths are about gods, legends are about heroes, and fairy tales describe the endless worlds of magic and dreams. This book is neither myth nor fairy tale, but the story of a legend with unwavering conviction. In the following pages you will read about a man who asked his heart what actions to take, and his heart replied like the beat of a drum that has yet to fade. You will read about a man who stood up for those who could not stand up for themselves. About a man who stared adversity in the face. A man who shared himself with the world and all who came his way.

You will read about a man who embodies the conflicts, struggles, and hopes of hundreds of years, a man who mesmerized the world with his artistry in the boxing ring, and won its respect with his courage outside it. Yet, his greatest accomplishments—love, kindness, and generosity—all occurred outside the spotlight. Throughout his life, he has moved us to tears, of both joy and sorrow. He has found a home in the heart of the people of all nations, and become the epitome of a champion and a hero.

It is said that more has been written about Muhammad Ali than any other living person. When you have a heart as big as the world, the world wants to write about it. The difference between this book and all the others about him is that this book is from his heart.

In the following pages, you will see the world through my father’s eyes. You will learn about his dreams, his obstacles, his heartbreaks, and his victories from his youth to the present moment. This book is a journey through the defining moments in my father’s life. It is filled with his personal recollections, occasionally sprinkled with my own memories, and laced with the stories and poems that touched his heart.

I have witnessed the humanity and compassion of this man whose innocence of heart has gone untouched by time, a man with the soul of a butterfly. It has been a gift and an honor working with my father to help share his thoughts, beliefs, and motivations with the world. If we all have parts to play in life, this is the story of the man who played the part of love.

Daddy, you are my constant truth, my strength, my heaven on earth. Thank you for being there for me, thank you for believing in me, thank you for holding my hand in the dark and always standing by me. You have been more than just my father; you have been my teacher of love, my friend, and my guardian angel. I cherish you and adore you more than you could ever know. God bless you, Daddy. You are my inspiration
.

with love,

hana yasmeen ali

 

Ali

You will never truly know

the depth of my father’s soul,

how deep his dignity flows.

To love and give is all he’s known,

And his honor is a virtue of its own.

Words are not enough to tell his story.

Colors aren’t lovely enough to depict his face.

Legend is not sturdy enough to uphold his name.

His spirit has surpassed our descriptive plane.

A billion stars could never replace,

The space his heart has filled.

A universe of doubt could never erase,

The faith his heart has embraced.

No picture has ever sufficiently captured

The smile in his angelic eyes,

And no book will ever fully explain

the beauty that Ali has defined.

HANA YASMEEN ALI

With my third wife, Veronica, and our daughters, Hana and Laila.

 

With my brother, Rahaman, and my parents, Mama Bird and Papa Cash, soon after I became an Olympic champion.

 

I CAN REMEMBER
, when I was just a kid in Louisville, Kentucky, my mother would wake my brother and me early every Sunday morning. She would come into our room, kiss us on the forehead, and say in a gentle whisper, “Wake up, tinky baby, wake up, Rudy, we’re going to thank the Lord!”

My mother would sometimes call me “GG,” too, because those were the first syllables I had spoken. After I won the Gold Gloves, I told her that from the very beginning I was trying to say “Golden Gloves.” I thought my mother had a tiny little bird nose. I don’t know why I thought that, because birds
don’t
have noses, but from the moment I said it we all started calling her Mama Bird. After waking me and Rudy, Bird would cook us a nice breakfast. While we ate, she would iron our best clothes and lay them out on the bed. Then she would call us for a bath. After getting dressed, Rudy and I would go outside to sit on the front porch and shoot marbles before we headed off for Sunday school.

I can remember trying hard not to get dirty. I knew I looked handsome in my freshly ironed shirt and bow tie. When Bird walked out beside my father, Cassius Clay, or Cash, I remember looking up at them with pride, thinking how pretty she looked and how handsome he was with his thick black mustache. Cash would often say to me, “Most men envy me because they can’t grow a mustache as long and thick as mine.”

What he said has always stuck with me. I think that to him, his mustache was a source of pride. To this day, every so often, I let my own grow.

I had a strong foundation growing up; my parents were loving, affectionate people. Ever since I can remember, my father was always hugging and kissing us. He would say “give me those jaws” (his term for kissing our cheeks). Then he kissed us until our cheeks turned red. Cash always made me feel important. Although, at times my father had a quick temper, and my parents had disagreements, I had a happy home life and I knew that I was loved. My parents made me feel special. When it wasn’t my father’s affection, it was my mother’s stories. Mama Bird was always telling me about the time I was born. She said that I was such a pretty baby, everyone thought I was a girl,
and
that from the moment they brought me home, Cash was “biting my jaws.” My parents weren’t perfect, but they each had a loving nature. My father was a painter. He made his living painting murals and signs. Almost every Baptist church around Louisville has his work in them. My father was very talented; I have one of his paintings hanging on my office wall, right above my desk. Cash used to tell people that he wasn’t just a painter; he was an artist. Sometimes he would take me and Rudy to work with him. Cash would teach us how to mix the paint and lay out a sign. I could draw a little, but nothing special. It was Rudy that took after Cash. He is an artist, too. Cash used to say that if it weren’t for the way things were then, a lot more people would have known what he could do. My father raised us well. He made sure we were surrounded by good people, taught us to always confront the things we feared, and to try to be the best at whatever we did. After delivering his advice, Cash would say, “These are the things my father said to me, and you don’t learn them by accident, they have to be taught.”

Cash was one of a kind; he was full of life and energy. He loved hugging, kissing, talking, and debating. He was my father and my friend. He was at my side when he could be and we had a lot more good times together than bad.

Sometimes, after school, when we finished our homework, Rudy and I would play outside with some of the other kids in the neighborhood. I used to ask Rudy to throw rocks at me to see if he could hit me. He thought that I was crazy, but no matter how many he threw, he could never hit me. I was
too
fast. I was running left, and right, ducking, dodging, and jumping out of the way. My brother and I had a lot of fun together, we never really got into fights. My mother used to tell me that when I was about four, whenever she would try to discipline Rudy, I would step in and say, “Don’t you spank my baby.” Rudy and I have always been close. He’s my younger brother and I love him.

I wasn’t much trouble as a child, but when I did cut up, Mama Bird just sat me in a corner and put an old bear head rug in the middle of the floor. I was so scared of it, I didn’t move an inch. I thought the rug might jump up and bite me. My mother was a gentle lady. She always spoke in a tender voice and I never heard her say a bad thing about anyone. She didn’t gossip or meddle in other people’s business. She taught us that prejudice was wrong, and to always treat people with love and respect. My mother loved to cook, eat, make clothes, and be with her family. I loved her very much; there’s never been anyone better to me in my whole life.

I learned a lot from my parents while I was growing up. I noticed how they remained dignified in the face of injustice. I saw how they responded to the people around them; I witnessed how my mother would forgive, not hate. And how Cash always held his head high and he worked hard. Growing up, we were poor in terms of money, but we were rich to have had so much love and pride in our household. We were raised with strong values and learned the importance of integrity and compassion. More important than the words, I learned by their example.

My mother was a Baptist and my father was a Methodist, but we always went to my mother’s church. She taught us everything she believed was true about God. Cash used to say that he let Mama Bird raise us her way, because she was a good Baptist, and that a woman is better than a man, so we should follow our mother.

When I was in junior high school I applied for a job cleaning the blackboards and desks and doing odd jobs at Spalding College in Louisville. Sister James Ella gave me the job. I made a few dollars a week, working under the direction of Sister Ann. Sister James Ella was a sweet lady. She showed me how to clean shelves and sweep the floor. She passed away a few years ago, but I will always remember her. I had a good childhood. There were obstacles, and hardships, but I remained on the straight path. I kept my values in mind, and my faith remained strong. Although my religion would change later in my life, God was always in my heart.

My mother once told me that my confidence in myself made her believe in me. I thought that was funny, because it was her confidence in me that strengthened my belief in myself. I didn’t realize it then, but from the very beginning, my parents were helping me build the foundation for my life.

BOOK: The Soul Of A Butterfly
6.09Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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