In her recent letter, my niece sent me this line from "The Great Wagon" written by Rumi. I've included the entire poem below but for now, the one line:
* * *
Let the beauty we love be what we do.
There are hundreds of ways to kneel and kiss the ground.
* * *
Words written thousands of years ago that transcend distance of deserts, mountains, rivers, lands far and wide. Words that prove time irrevelent. These words a gift to be sure. This poem a weaving of words that teaches me once again there is beauty in what is, in who I am in all the many layers, in what I do, in where I am in this space in time.
Engaging in what we do in who we are with that is beauty. There is joy in following what I love doing more so than in forcing myself into something where the fire does not burn where my inner voice is saying "no." Moving in the direction where my intuition leads, where my energy ignites feels right. I am learning Who I am is not defined by a job title. Who I am is everything I do. Mother.Designer. Writer. Listener a collage of doing what I love revealed in mixed textures, colors and shapes.
I feel myself pushing on through this path of transition. bush-wacking through rough terrain some days, meandering others through gentle quiet meadows. I stop in moments and take a breath. I appreciate that I am moving, progressing forward at my pace, each step a new frontier in the experience of being.
This past week I've felt particularly energized when it comes to my work. I completed for the most part my portfolio website. I have more work to do but the site is up and running and that feels good.With the help of a good friend, I put together a new round of my photo notecards to sell and I have a couple of freelance jobs on my plate.And I'm on the verge of making a decision about an educational pursuit that could start as early as January. The training is something I've been dreaming about for years. For various reasons, I've shyed away. I chalk it up to fear prompting me to create excuses for not moving ahead. But why? There are no words I can write or say aloud that make sense. What I know is that through continuing to walk my path, I get somewhere.
There is fear as I look ahead. Fear that I know I can face and greet. Befriend even. Fear that can propel me, challenge me, grow me. Fear and intuition strange cousins.Fear that can halt progress...sometimes. Intuition, that inner knowing that along with courage ignites the next step. Onward. Keep moving onward. Loving all the beauty that surrounds.
I thank my niece for sending this to me this day for inspiring me to think, dream and write.
Happy Thanksgiving to all who celebrate. We're off to warmer weather for a few days.
* * *
The Great Wagon
When I see your face, the stones start spinning!
You appear; all studying wanders.
I lose my place.
Water turns pearly.
Fire dies down and doesn't destroy.
In your presence I don't want what I thought
I wanted, those three little hanging lamps.
Inside your face the ancient manuscripts
Seem like rusty mirrors.
You breathe; new shapes appear,
and the music of a desire as widespread
as Spring begins to move
like a great wagon.
Drive slowly.
Some of us walking alongside
are lame!
~
Today, like every other day, we wake up empty
and frightened. Don't open the door to the study
and begin reading. Take down a musical instrument.
Let the beauty we love be what we do.
There are hundreds of ways to kneel and kiss the ground.
~
Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing,
there is a field. I'll meet you there.
When the soul lies down in that grass,
the world is too full to talk about.
Ideas, language, even the phrase
each other
doesn't make any sense.
~
The breeze at dawn has secrets to tell you.
Don't go back to sleep.
You must ask for what you really want.
Don't go back to sleep.
People are going back and forth across the doorsill
where the two worlds touch.
The door is round and open.
Don't go back to sleep.
I would love to kiss you.
The price of kissing is your life.
Now my loving is running toward my life shouting,
What a bargain, let's buy it.
~
Daylight, full of small dancing particles
and the one great turning, our souls
are dancing with you, without feet, they dance.
Can you see them when I whisper in your ear?
~
They try to say what you are, spiritual or sexual?
They wonder about Solomon and all his wives.
In the body of the world, they say, there is a soul
and you are that.
But we have ways within each other
that will never be said by anyone.
~
Come to the orchard in Spring.
There is light and wine, and sweethearts
in the pomegranate flowers.
If you do not come, these do not matter.
If you do come, these do not matter
* * *
and one more to share
A Community of Spirit-Rumi
There is a community of the spirit.
Join it, and feel the delight
of walking in the noisy street
and being the noise.
Drink all your passion,
and be a disgrace.
Close both eyes
to see with the other eye.
Open your hands,
if you want to be held.
Sit down in the circle.
Quit acting like a wolf, and feel
the shepard's love filling you.
At night, your beloved wanders.
Don't accept consolations.
Close your mouth against food.
Taste the lover's mouth in yours.
You moan, "She left me." "He left me."
Twenty more will come.
Be empty of worrying.
Think of who created thought!
Why do you stay in prison
when the door is so wide open?
Move outside the tangle of fear-thinking.
Live in silence.
Flow down and down in always
widening rings of being.
– Translated by Coleman Barks