Keep walking, though there’s no place to get to.
Don’t try to see through the distances. That’s not
for human beings.
Move within, but don’t move the way fear makes
you move.
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.
I can’t believe that more a thousand centuries ago a poet named Rumi could think such thoughts in his day and age.
I found this poem and set it in a nice font and framed it for my wall. I love every bit of it. “Today we wake up empty and frightened…” I don’t know about you but there are days when I don’t relish what might come down the pike at me, and I’m empty until I refill my prayer tank. And I try to no longer to let fear rule me.
“Let the beauty we love be what we do.” That sounds simple enough, kind of like “Be the change you want to see in the world.” But the beauty I love is in the world around me, in landscapes, in people, in beagles and kittens, and my question is: How do I DO that? I want to believe that the beauty I love the most is this: one human being connecting with another human being, and THIS I can do.
When you’re frightened, Rumi says, don’t go to your hideaway and read a book. Create something. Communicate with the air, the notes, the music of living.
And my favorite: “There are hundreds of ways to kneel and kiss the ground.” The idea that I can pay homage to the Creator in hundreds of ways pleases me. I love my homeland, I love my life, I love my family—there are hundreds of ways to show honor to them.
I dearly love this poem. It seems a fitting way to start my Sunday. God bless you all.
Chris Alba
Don’t try to see through the distances. That’s not
for human beings.
Move within, but don’t move the way fear makes
you move.
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.
I can’t believe that more a thousand centuries ago a poet named Rumi could think such thoughts in his day and age.
I found this poem and set it in a nice font and framed it for my wall. I love every bit of it. “Today we wake up empty and frightened…” I don’t know about you but there are days when I don’t relish what might come down the pike at me, and I’m empty until I refill my prayer tank. And I try to no longer to let fear rule me.
“Let the beauty we love be what we do.” That sounds simple enough, kind of like “Be the change you want to see in the world.” But the beauty I love is in the world around me, in landscapes, in people, in beagles and kittens, and my question is: How do I DO that? I want to believe that the beauty I love the most is this: one human being connecting with another human being, and THIS I can do.
When you’re frightened, Rumi says, don’t go to your hideaway and read a book. Create something. Communicate with the air, the notes, the music of living.
And my favorite: “There are hundreds of ways to kneel and kiss the ground.” The idea that I can pay homage to the Creator in hundreds of ways pleases me. I love my homeland, I love my life, I love my family—there are hundreds of ways to show honor to them.
I dearly love this poem. It seems a fitting way to start my Sunday. God bless you all.
Chris Alba
