when the call comes . . .
A coddiwomple with paint, brushes, new painting surfaces, and Rumi turns into . . . . whirling with wonder.
Light dawns, and any talk of proof resembles a blind man’s cane at sunrise. Remember the passage, We are with you wherever you are . . .
Rumi's Ruba'ie or Quatrain #77 seems to have inspired numerous translations, each with their own nuances . . .
let yourself be brushed by amaranth or spicebush while you wander wild allow yourself to be smudged even when there is no smoke
Reading the Maulana's poems grounds me, provides comfort, and also opens doors to contemplation. They are a source of awe, wisdom, and inspiration that ever inform; that centuries after he lived his words are relevant today I find breathtakingly marvelous! I've been wondering: if he lived today, what would come forth? Following the thread from... Continue Reading →
Today the sky is clear, Three birds brush blue wings against it; Their trills sweep across the mountains. Tomorrows clouds drift around, Wisps carrying sheep and dragons into a field Where they dance in ecstatic motion. Next week a dark gathering, I become the pea under a pile of mattresses Struggling to be free of... Continue Reading →