re yesterday’s post: How can that be? One moment I’m burdened by losses that won’t go away, then I turn inward and outward at the same time to confront that which triggers the grief, and — with that simple act — I’m free. The one who left the house in the morning is not the one who returns at night.
How can that be? I’m still of the same age, weight, address, and place of employment. And yet, I’m not. I have aged by a day, lost or gained a few ounces, tomatoes have turned red in the garden and at work patients have come and gone. In short: nothing stays the same. So what am I holding on to? And who, pray, is doing the holding?
The clear bead at the center changes everything.
There are no edges to my loving now.
I’ve heard it said there’s a window that opens
from one mind to another,
but if there’s no wall, there’s no need
for fitting the window, or the latch.
source: Moyne, J. & Barks, C. (1984) (trans.). Open secret: versions of Rumi. Putney, VT: Threshold Books, Quatrain No. 511.