There’s nothing like facing
being cut open (even on an out-patient basis) to make one a little…introspective.
So I’m turning to Rumi, the 13th Century Sufi mystic poet.
Last year I gave you “The
Guest House” from him, instructing us to be a guest house to all the
possibilities. This time the entry is another kind of invitation, one in
keeping with Gratitude Monday.
“What Was Told, That”
What was said to the rose that made
it open was said
to me here in my chest.
What was told the cypress that made
it strong
and straight, what was
whispered the jasmine so it is what
it is, whatever made
sugarcane sweet, whatever
was said to the inhabitants of the
town of Chigil in
Turkestan that makes them
so handsome, whatever lets the
pomegranate flower blush
like a human face, that is
being said to me now. I blush.
Whatever put eloquence in
language, that’s happening here.
The great warehouse doors open; I
fill with gratitude,
chewing a piece of sugarcane,
in love with the one to whom every that
belongs!
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