“Look for the soul, you become soul; Hunt for the bread, you become bread Whatever you look for, you are.” – Rumi
A glorious magenta thistle blossom a humpback whale breaching a haiku by my friend John a kitten swatting at a bouncing string a silent moment just sitting peacefully Debussy’s La Mer a giggling baby a golden leaf falling from oak.
This morning I had a moment meditating that brought tears to my eyes. It felt like drops from heaven. As I wrote the above piece, I thought of Rumi and looked over on my bookshelf spying a decorative box: “The Card and Rumi Book Pack.” I took it down and opened it. Inside the book cover was a well written affirming inscription from the one who had gifted me this beautiful volume in 2001 upon my reception of an “excellence in teaching” award. It was from Valerie, a former student who is Native American. She ended her remarks with “Aho!” a Kiowa word that means thank you. I opened the book and turned to a tabbed page and read this quote from Rumi: “ At every moment, Love’s voice talks to us from left and from right, all we have to do is to know how to listen.”
With the benefit of hindsight it should have been me…not him. with the benefit of hindsight I’d have better teeth - Oh yeh, and be slim… and, with the benefit of hindsight that chap that drowned needlessly… well, he’d definitely have learnt to swim.
With the benefit of hindsight I’d have tried harder in maths With the benefit of hindsight. my classmates would’ve shown respect not just scorned me with laughs. With the benefit of hindsight - we’d be IN! we wouldn’t have lost on penalties we would have had a ****** rip-roaring win!
With the benefit of hindsight of course you’d all do your best approach tasks with vigour verve, and zest. With the benefit of hindsight we’d all show true-grit, determination… vim With the benefit of hindsight I would have been smarter not quite so dim What chance a little bit of foresight?… SLIM!
Paris, earlier today. It’s a (vaccinated) summer family reunion and I’m catching up with relatives I haven’t seen for AGES. Like my impeccably dressed (three piece suit on a warm, un-air-conditioned, Saturday) 83 year old great uncle.
We cheek kiss
“STILL searching for love, Uncle Remy?”
“Forget love. My dear, I’m an old, self-absorbed narcissist. What I look for is someone young and frivolous whose most complicated desire is fun - specifically fun that can be bought - that’s an important distinction.”
I gasp and pose.
“You’re looking for MEEEE!,” I squeal.
“Oh, if I needed a spoiled, over-serious, temperamental, unappeasable rich girl - I’d think of you.”
“You GET me!,” *I beam with pride
My French family are SO funny - they are brutal with complements. =]
We always try to keep looking up... But when we stop... And look down... We see the ground... It pushes us upward and supports our steps. Because of the mud, we don't fall into the unknown depths... We see the rock that guides our way. We see how far we could be falling and where we could lay. Looking at the clouds should only be done when our backs are sore... When we can't look down anymore. When we look at the stars, we sometimes find where we must go... But we won't see the rivers and the streams that flow... When we look beneath our feet... Let's be glad that we are not dead meat. I believe we should look all around. Let's take turns to face the sky and the ground. It is best to also look left and right. To the darkness and light. Without one of them, we will fall. So let's face it all. Yes, we all have our fears. Yes, we learn sometimes the hard way for years. Yes, we will scar and get bruised. Yes, we will be naive and be used. But I know and believe... An easy life makes us forget the meaning of relief. Life would be boring without these tests and lessons. Easy or hard, we know what to do with these lemons.
I forgot what I was looking for, was it money, love or some valuable ore? I don’t even know what I want more, to go home or to explore the town, the forest, and the shore, or maybe I could try the store? Inside me is a raging war, between the voices, everyone told me to ignore, but I don’t know if I can do it any more. They just get right into my core. Did I lose my mind or-? Was it my sense I wanted to restore? In front of me a locked white door, and I am lying on the cold white floor. Sometimes I am visited by a lady, who I adore, when she was here the last time she wore a white cloak someone tore. She says that my mind is sore. But what matters to me is same as before – will I ever find what I am looking for?