Wake and Walk Out
If I flinched at every grief, I
would be an intelligent idiot. If
I were not the sun, I’d ebb and
flow like sadness. If you were not
my guide, I’d wander lost in Sanai.
If there were no light, I’d keep
opening and closing the door. If
there were no rose garden, where
would the morning breezes go? If
love did not want music and laughter
and poetry, what would I say? If
you were not medicine, I would look
sick and skinny. If there were no
leafy limbs in the air, there would
be no wet roots. If no gifts were
given, I’d grow arrogant and cruel.
If there were no way into God, I
would not have lain in the grave of
this body so long. If there were no
way from left to right, I could not
be swaying in the grasses. If
there were no grace and no kindness,
conversation would be useless, and
nothing we do would matter. Listen
to the new stories that begin every
day. If light were not beginning
again in the east, I would not now
wake and walk out inside the dawn
Form is Ecstatic
There is a shimmering excitement in
being sentient and shaped. The
caravan masters sees his camels lost
in it, nose to tail, as he himself is,
his friend, and the stranger coming
toward them. A gardener watches the
sky break into song, cloud wobbly with
what it is. Bud, thorn, the same.
Wind, water, wandering this essential
state. Fire, ground, gone. That’s
how it is with the outside. Form
it ecstatic. Now imagine the inner:
soul, intelligence, the secret worlds!
And don’t think the garden loses its
ecstacy in the winter. It’s quiet, but
the roots down there riotous.
If someone bumps you in the street,
don’t be angry. Everyone careens
shout in this surprise. Respond in
kind. Let the knots untie, turbans
be given away. Someone drunk on this
could drink a donkeyload a night.
Believer, unbeliever, cynic, lover,
all combine in the spirit-form we are.
but no one yet is awake like Shams.
I was at the hospital today, visiting my friend who is recovering from the surgeries well, but she still has Stage 4 cancer. And I could hear Rumi putting words in my head, and I could feel his energy and his reminder that his religion is Love, and our religion is Love, no matter what path you follow. The ecstasy in the path of Love can help you get through the trying times and sometimes in the devastating times. When the going is the toughest, it’s good to remember that the God is Love, Lover and Beloved, and nothing else can be all three.
O how I love Rumi, this blog and you, dear heart!!
Beautiful thoughts mined from depths of human emotions , gift-wrapped in unique symbols and images that soothe and uplift depressed souls and refine humankind for centuries after his time…so is the power of Rumi’s poetry . My heart is with you barbara as you invoke that healing spirit to wish your friend’s speedy relief from pain and suffering…hugs…raj .