I can't sleep…
At night I open the window and ask
the moon to come and press its
face against mine.
Breathe into me.
— Rumi, excerpt of Some Kiss We Want (tr. by Coleman Barks)
Photo: DK @ Rowayton Beach, Norwalk, CT. 7:30 to 7:45 PM. 43° F. Saturday Feb 27, 2020
Don’t turn your head.
Keep looking at the bandaged place.
That’s where the light enters you.
And don’t believe for a moment that you’re healing yourself.
– Rumi, in It’s Not All in Your Head by Tony Giordano
Notes:
Am I the sun inside me?
~ Kazim Ali, from “Dear Rumi,” The Far Mosque
Notes:
There was a beautiful forest close…a place I would go to periodically for a hike. I tended to go there when it felt like the world was crashing down around me, when I felt overwhelmed. The woods were my escape, my get-away place of sanity. Walking under the shade of tall trees and listening to the sound of running water from rivers and waterfalls, I always had the same thought: I feel so whole when I am here. Why don’t I do this more often?
I know what makes me feel more. Why isn’t this an everyday practice for me?
In these days, it seems like we are living on the brink. Pomp and bluster seem to rule the day. There is conflict here, at home and around the world. Our very home, this tiny third rock from the sun, is in real danger.
One of the truths we know is that we live in an enchanted universe. The up-there and down-here mingle, the earthly and the heavenly mirror each other. We have no choice but to continue to redeem the world, to save the world from our own selves. We are, ironically, the cause of the breaking and just might be the channel of healing. To make the world whole, we ourselves have to become healed, become whole. Our well-being and the world being well are linked together.
To tend to our own inner lives is not selfishness; it is wisdom, it is essential, and it is unavoidable. […]
We are so attentive to our devices, making sure they are charged. Do we show the same care and concern for our hearts? Do we wait until we are running on fumes? How lovely and wise to make sure that the recharging is not through being a “weekend warrior” or even once-every-few-years vacations (both are lovely), but rather a matter of daily practice. […]
Let us, you and I, friends, find what sustains our soul. Let us find what nurtures our heart, who nurtures our heart, where our heart is nurtured.
Let us go there
daily
And make a habit of it.
If we may paraphrase the great Rumi:
Out beyond the realms of this faith
and that faithof no-faith
There is a field of goodness and beautywhere hearts our nourished
With each breath
I’ll meet you there
~ Omid Safi, excerpts from Tending Our Inner Life to Make the World Whole (onbeing.org, May 18, 2017)
Notes:
…We go outside with simple, old-fashioned boxes of sparklers, and give a few sparklers to each child. How magical and otherworldly it is to watch their beautiful round faces lit up by these lights that sparkle for ten to 20 seconds before giving way to the darkness…
It’s easy to see why so many cultures have worshipped the sun. But there is also something beautiful, something humble, about the passing nature of beauty and light in this realm. Something terrestrial and finite, limited and passing. Like the sparklers. It comes on, fluttering, lighting up the face of the beholder and those around for a minute or two, and then gently gives in to the darkness.
What is it about this passing light that so fascinates us? Is it that it reminds us, echoes in us, something of our own finite nature? Are we like this too, coming out of the darkness of nothingness, and then for a moment or two having these brilliant, life-giving, light-giving moments?
The always-lovely Rumi talks about this scattering of light:
We come spinning out of nothingness,
scattering stars like dust.
~ Omid Safi, from “Beauty in a Flash of Light and Life” from On Being, January 7, 2017
Notes:
Live & Learn 
