for those who do not know, Rumi was, among many things, a poet.
I sit in front of him in silence,
and set up a ladder of patience,
and if in his presence a language from beyond joy
and beyond grief begins to pour from my chest,
I know that his soul is as deep and bright
as the star Canopus rising over Yemen.And so when I start speaking a powerful right arm
of words sweeping down, I know him from what I say,
and how I say it, because there’s a window open
between us, mixing the night air of our beings.
the above, from a competition of laziness between three brothers, each being judged by a fourth as to their worthiness to inherit their father’s legacy. the third brother, here quoted, won.
Rumi has a certain profound insight and beauty, mostly for the utter acceptance of what is and the manner in which suchness, embraced, turns all life to beauty and all things to connectedness and the delight of the beloved.
i am sleepless again tonight, so i read Rumi and think of everything and nothing at all. mostly sit still and let the words thrum over my brain and wash cool water refreshment into me.
i enjoy the way contradiction is used by him to underscore imponderables. i enjoy as well the clarity of utter equanimity and emptiness that is so often found in his words. ecstatic poet, Rumi. if you’re one willing to let go of view and swim in the endless river, take some time to explore him. and delight.