Walking With the Soul

 

Seeing the shadow of a rose petal makes me think that life might be a little more tender than I realize.  I am two months away from retiring from ministry. I am grateful for the message that the time has come to learn to walk in a new way. 

Inside the Rose (2)    

Rumi, translated by Coleman Barks

    

But there are those in bodies

who are pure soul. It can happen.  

   

These messengers invite us to walk with them.  

They say, You may feel happy enough where you are, 

but we cannot do without you any longer. Please.      

  

So we  walk along the rose,

being pulled like the creeks and rivers are 

out from the town onto the plain.  

   

My guide, my soul, your only sadness

is when I am not walking with you.   

   

In deep silence, and with some exertion

to stay in your company

I could save you a lot of trouble. 

    

   

    

image: San Leandro, November 2024   

     

Spirit of Place

 This morning I decided to walk to our local produce market. The market is less than a mile away and it is generally a pleasant walk to get there. On today's excursion, I needed to take a couple of unexpected turns because of street repair work, but that was of little concern. Well, okay, except when one driver ran a red light because of his confusion about not being able to turn right. I do not think he ever saw me in the crosswalk. Fortunately, I saw him, and was able to smile about it.    

People in this part of San Leandro have planted many flowers over the years, and as I walked towards home, I thought about the phrase, "spirit of place". Spirit of place takes in much: history, architecture, plant and animal life, and probably much more.  It is something not quite definable, but can very much be felt. Our spirit of place is our fertile soil and the backdrop of the Dunsmuir Ridge. We are also close to Lake Chabot, and while we can't see it from our neighborhood, I think that body of water influences the area as well.  Unfortunately, spirit of place is something that is too often ignored and bulldozed. We should cherish it more. It strengthens our humanness, and, unless a place feels negative, it can give us a sense of gratitude and peace. 

Anyway, on the way home, I took a slightly different route, and came across a rose bush with large white blossoms. I paused to take a picture, and then  realized there was not only the scent of rose in the air, but also of orange blossoms. An orange tree was right behind me. Standing there in the pleasantly warm sunlight, I could pause a moment and simply give thanks for it all. 

 May we all find something to celebrate right where we are. Let us befriend the spirit of the earth.  She is doing a beautiful job. 

     

"This moment this love comes to rest in me, 

many beings in one being.

In one wheat grain a thousand sheaf stacks. 

Inside the needle's eye, a turning night of stars."

Rumi the Book of Love, translated by Coleman Barks 

Hanging on to the Letting Go

We have been moving things around in the house to accommodate  the dismantling of some of our floors, and the noisy fans that are supposed to go for twenty four hours.  I struggle with and in the noise and at the moment they are unplugged - a temporary reprieve.  However, in the shuffling, I found  a book of Rumi poems given to me by a friend a few years before she died  (as much of any of us die).  Her memory often surfaces, and at times I hear her laughter as I mutter a lament about some matter that eventually reveals itself as being surprisingly trivial.  My laughter joins hers as it always has.   It is a good thing to hold this book,A Year with Rumi by Coleman Barks, and  I give thanks for all the ways we humans are connected. As intangible as poetry is, its strength is enough to hold us securely in love.        

   

A Single Brushstroke Down  

 

Light dawns, and any talk of proof 

resembles a blind man's cane at sunrise. 

 

Remember the passage, 

We are with you wherever you are. 

  

Come back to that. 

When did we ever leave it? 

  

No matter we're in a prison of forgetting 

or enjoying the banquet of wisdom, 

we are always inside presence. 

 

Drunkenly asleep, tenderly awake, 

clouded with grief, laughing like lightening, 

angry at war, quiet with gratitude, we are nothing 

in this many-mooded world of weather  

but a single brushstroke down, 

speaking of presence.   

   

Coleman Barks adds, "The word Allah in Arabic begins with strong downward mark."