our greatest blessings come to us by way of madness Phaedr. 244a

2012/10/04

unfold your own myth

If you put your hands on this oar with me, they will never harm another, and they will come to find they hold everything you want. If you put your hands on this oar with me, they would no longer lift anything to your mouth that might wound your precious land that sacred earth that is your body. If you put your soul against this oar with me, the power that made the universe will enter your sinew from a source not outside your limbs, but from a holy realm that lives in us. Exuberant is existence, time a husk. When the moment cracks open, ecstasy leaps out and devours space; love goes mad with the blessings, like my words give. Why lay yourself on the torturer's rack of the past and the future? The mind that tries to shape tomorrow beyond its capacities will find no rest. Be kind to yourself, dear ­ to our innocent follies. Forget any sounds or touch you knew that did not help you dance... ~ Rumi ~



Who gets up Who gets up early early


to discover the moment light begins?


Who finds us here circling, bewildered, like atoms?


Who comes to a spring thirsty


and sees the moon reflected in it?


Who, like Jacob blind with grief and age,


smells the shirt of his lost son


and can see again?


Who lets a bucket down and brings up


a flowing prophet?


Or like Moses goes for fire


and finds what burns inside the sunrise?


Jesus slips into a house to escape enemies,


and opens a door to the other world.


Soloman cuts open a fish, and there's a gold ring.


Omar storms in to kill the prophet


and leaves with blessings.


Chase a deer and end up everywhere!


An oyster opens his mouth to swallow on drop.


Now there's a pearl.


A vagrant wanders empty ruins.


Suddenly he's wealthy.


But don't be satisfied with stories, how things


have gone with others. Unfold


your own myth, without complicated explanation,


so everyone will understand the passage,


We have opened you.


Start walking toward Shams. Your legs will get heavy


and tired. Then comes a moment


of feeling the wings you've grown,


lifting.








(Taken from The Essential Rumi, translated by Coleman Barks)






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