Music listened to: Sayuri's Theme and End Credits--Memoirs of a Geisha
| One of my more enjoyable poets to read is Rumi.
He catches the excitement of being alive and in love.
He gives us hints on how to connect with our souls,
how to expand and anticipate the good news of rain coming.
Maybe we can catch
a little of his delightful participation in life.
The Friend has come!
My Sun and Moon, my sight and hearing…
that Beauty suddenly appeared by my side.
My fragrant Spring,
who was always in my thoughts
for whom I’ve searched so long,
has come to me with open arms laying flowers on my path.
My deepest wish has been granted.
What can I fear when my shield, my water of life has come?
Today is a day of Glory!
Today I am like Solomon with the ring of abundance on my finger
and the divine crown on my head.
I can fly for He has given me wings.
I can roar like a lion.
I can rise like the dawn.
No more writing for I am taken to a place
from where this world seems so small.
Come to the orchard in spring.
There is light and wine, and sweethearts in the pomegranate flowers.
If you do not come, these do not matter.
If you do come, these do not matter.
The morning wind spreads its fresh smell.
We must get up and take that in, that wind that lets us live.
Breathe before it’s gone.
Here’s the new rule: break the wineglass,
and fall toward the glass blower’s breath.
I live close to the rose.
If I separated myself from You, I would turn entirely thorn.
Ride your horse along the edge of the sword.
Hide yourself in the middle of the flame.
Blossoms of the fruit tree bloom in the fire.
The sun rises in the evening.
I need a language as large as longing.
The fragile vial inside me often breaks.
No wonder I go mad and disappear
for three days every month with the moon.
Try and be a sheet of paper with nothing on it.
Be a spot of ground where nothing is growing,
where something might be planted, a seed;
possibly, from the Almighty.
The scent of Joseph’s shirt comes to Jacob,
who, blind with grief and age,
smells the shirt of his lost son and can see again….
The cloud weeps, and then the garden sprouts.
The baby cries, and the mother’s milk flows.
The nurse of creation has said, “Let them cry a lot.”
This rain-weeping and sun-burning
twine together to make us grow.
Keep your intelligence white-hot
and your grief glistening, so your life will stay fresh.
Cry easily like a little child.
When I am with You, we stay up all night.
When You’re not here, I can’t go to sleep.
Praise God for these two insomnias!
And the difference between them.
We’re here again with the Beloved.
We’ve come into the presence of the One
who was never apart from us.