Rumi's Advice

After two days of assisting in kid’s concerts, I’m retired again. Not a single thing on my calendar for the next— two days! I don’t have to get dressed today or shave if I don’t want to, no one is checking to see if I’m ticking off my list (yes, I still have lists), my wife has plans out in the world so the house is entirely mine. What to do? 

 

One choice is to just sit at the window and look out at the rain. Keep my fingers crossed that the leak the roofers fixed is really fixed. (So far, so good!) Clean out my desk drawer. Consider making a winter soup. Get a head start on my New Year’s Day tradition of re-memorizing some 10 to 15 poems.

 

Speaking of poems, today is December 17^th and as mentioned earlier, the poet Rumi’s Wedding Night celebration— the way his followers chose to speak of his death as a wedding with the Beloved (his word for Divine Presence). One out of many poems that speak to me is worth repeating here (though in truth, I woke up quite happy, neither empty nor frightened):

 

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.

 

Good advice all, especially that next to last phrase. I once heard Robert Bly read that poem and have the audience repeat it nine times, accenting a different word each time and feeling the subtle shift in meaning. Try it! Out loud as you plan your own day. 

 

Let the beauty we love be what we do.

Let the beauty we love be what we do.

Let the beauty we love be what we do.

Let the beauty we love be what we do.

Let the beauty we love be what we do.

Let the beauty we love be what we do.

Let the beauty we love be what we do.

Let the beauty we love be what we do.

Let the beauty we love be what we do.

 

And if you do take down a musical instrument, come on over to my house and let’s jam. I’m free all day.