Where Everything is Music

This week I have struggled a little bit with some of the Rumi that I’ve read. Here are a range of my journal notes: Reading Rumi’s poems, I wonder what it must have been like for him to try to portray through his words what his revelations were. How do you describe the sky to a blind person? It’s always there but it has it’s moods and is always changing. Even in the moment of describing the sky it may change before your eyes. On another day I wrote: I think Rumi is telling us we try too hard. Even if we do nothing we will reap the rewards of the harvest. And one day I questioned who actually wrote the poem (Only Breath) or who was it who inspired Rumi to write the words he did?

Today “Where Everything is Music” resonates with me. In 2015, as an adult with no musical background, I decided to learn to play cello.(Seen in the above photo!) I have loved every minute of the journey. It has been challenging for sure but it has opened my eyes to a world I had been on the periphery of before. I feel I have “opened a window” as Rumi suggests in his final stanza of this poem.

“We have fallen into the place

where everything is music.

Stop the words now.

Open the window in the center of your chest,

and let the spirits fly in and out.” ~ Rumi

Rumi compares love, his passion for life and living, to the intoxicating effect of music, with its enlivening effect on the soul.

Throughout the day today I see references to Bach and to Nietzsche, “Without music life would be a mistake.” Reminders of Rumi’s words are everywhere. A quote from Virginia Woolf falls open, “That is the quality which dance music has – no other: it stirs some barbaric instinct – lulled asleep in our sober lives – you forget centuries of civilization in a second and yield to that strange passion which sends you whirling round the room – oblivious of everything save that you must keep swaying with the music -” I listen to my favorite songs and I know that Rumi’s assessment of music will resonate with many!

Graceful Partners

They dance
a beautiful dance
as only two exquisitely familiar can.

Age old friends move,
comfortable in each others orbit,
no words necessary.

Arms length apart
graceful glides take place
while chaos reigns around them.

Echo of guns
aimed in the name of a cause
are forgotten for a moment
in the gentleness of the dance.

Slowly, smoothly,
glowing bright then dim,
tides rise, sunsets fade,
each accept the other, waiting in time.

Hungry, homeless
nomads search,
then pause in witness
of the familiar dance.

The ancient duo outlive, outlast,
wars and famine,
great empires and floods.

Steps take them on a path
travelled around
and around,
then around once again.

Their orbit flows
with continuous turns,
an inseparable pair.

Earth and moon,
fluid partners,
inspire devotion
moving along
to their own tune.

Wind Dance

winter wind

A chilly, desolate wind whistles into a wintertime city.

Snow covered rooftops and bare, unadorned skyscrapers shiver.

Loose shutters knock and rattle on rusty hinges.

Goose bumps rise on flesh touched by raw air.

Dark wool collars are raised high.

Bright, puffy down filled jackets tighten.

Crumpled paper swirls; a colorful tempest of red wrappers, yellow cellophane

and discarded coffee cups whirl, twist, funnel up and down

until a sudden stop

when encountering a dead end alley.

Pedestrians bury themselves deep into winter furs.

Plaid scarves,

Plain scarves,

Scarves of exotic hues and intricate design

protect frosty cheeks.

Stiff boots enclose cold feet tapping anxiously toward indoor warmth.

Little eddies of snow drift across sidewalks,

approaching people sitting around a fire.

Pink, orange, blue and yellow flames light a darkened sky.

Puffs of air rise from mouths and noses.

Puffs of steam rise from hot cocoa mugs cradled by mittens.

Wind dances and sways in delighted bursts.

Puffs of ash spark.

The fire hesitates, then roars as the wind snakes around

trying to get closer to the people.

Wind wants to sing a joyful song, participate with the group.

Blankets and mugs are quickly gathered.

Snow tossed onto the flames.

Burning logs sizzle angrily, sputter and become charcoal.

Hasty kisses peck rosy cheeks.

Discordant good-byes are called out through blowing snow,

and

All are gone.

Wind remains.

Lonesome.

Misunderstood.

Dancing Dragon

dancing dragon
(image credit: ddfengshui.com)

She danced to the music
twirling step by step
her little skirt spinning out from her body
like a toy top set in motion

Her eyes closed
lashes dark against porcelain cheeks
that were red and glowing as if lit from within

Happy go lucky
she practiced jaunty quick moves
hops
skips
bows
sashaying
this little show girl was
putting on quite a display
her joy was unmistakable

I felt grateful
for the gift of her dance
the vision of her
carefree performance
awoke a sleeping dance dragon
within my heart

I found my foot tapping
myself smiling
and soon
I too
was dancing with abandon

Bubbles

bubbles

(photo credit: rustspolecne.cz)

Captivating spheres
iridescent rainbows
full of air
laughter
love
They bring happiness
smiles, joy
entertainment to those
chasing them
as they dance
on the wind
drift
haphazardly around
exploding with pleasure
at the slightest touch
spreading enchantment
in a splash
of giggles