Rumi warned to never travel alone on the path. Yet I look around and find great and silent company everywhere. Still something is missing. Jami said “if you have never trodden the path of love, go away and fall in love and then come back and see us [for guidance]…” I’ve fallen clear through love, from its eyes to the bottom of its feet. Others spoke of a pain in the heart of yearning for God… I can scarcely distinguish love from God, lover from beloved. I am flirting with the eyes to a door, imagining myself on one side, but where I belong being on both sides and in between. Perhaps I am the reflection and every door a mirror. I’m lost to my world, it’s flavorless, even the chores before me remain meaningful. While lost at home, I’m home in ways I cannot adequately describe – strangely at peace with this being lost and something tells me there is a danger in this.
I read and words pour into my heart, which is always a size larger than what there is to be read. Each book ends like a first glass of wine – I’m not drunk or dizzy… Just warm and quiet. I speak when I need to, eat when I need to, exercise when I need to… I’m taking care of two of me. All that can be said has been said, the words are a flock of birds, shifting this way and that. Pretty patterns in murmuration formed by elation as their purpose.
“Know that whenever something permeates another it is assumed into the other.” (Al-Arabi) If the composite is to suffer, that of which it is comprised suffers. The grass eaten by the cow, becomes as much of the cow as the cow becomes the grass.