Tag Archives: mystic

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Craftsmanship and Emptiness

Today I felt I was sitting at Rumi’s feet listening to him teach. His calm, gentle demeanor radiated out to create a calm, gentle atmosphere in the circle of his teaching.

“I’ve said before that every craftsman

searches for what’s not there

to practice his craft.”

Rumi goes on to say how a builder notices a hole in a roof, a water carrier notices an empty jug, a carpenter notices a house without a door. Each craftsman is looking for something that isn’t there so they can then practice their craft, have something to do. But then Rumi states:

“Their hope, though,

is for emptiness, so don’t think

you must avoid it. It contains

what you need!”

The poem continues with a teaching frm another Sufi mystic, Attar. As always, I am left with a hint of knowing but still not 100% sure of Rumi’s message. I am left with more of a feeling than actual knowing. But I believe from this hint of knowledge, great knowing can be acquired if I am patient.

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Starting the year with Rumi

On December 30, 2022 I decided to read a Rumi poem each day. 365 days with Rumi. I have been wanting to do this project for some time; waiting for the “right” book, the right journal – maybe a lightning bolt for guidance. I realize I have everything I need. I just have to take the plunge and commit. No more dipping my toe and pulling back. I’m going in. I am excited to be surrounded by Rumi, to bathe in the waters of his teachings. I’m not sure what to expect. I look forward to the journy, the paddling about, maybe gasping for breath as I go under but knowing I will surface again. Maybe I will be able to look at life from a new direction, breathe more deeply.

Yesterday I was clever, so I

wanted to change the world.

Today I am wise, so I am

changing myself. ~ Rumi

Each day I have been faithfully reading a Rumi poem and writing in my journal. Today I have taken another leap of faith and come back to my ScribbleDarts to share my thoughts with who ever may care to read them.

January 13, 2023

The Fragile Vial (from The Essential Rumi translations by Coleman Barks)

Each poem of Rumi’s that I read is filled with an intense longing – for answers? – about life? love? Shams? He doesn’t tell us directly. We have to feel some of the unease that he does. Maybe then we will receive some of the answers he did. Reading Rumi’s poems leaves me feeling sometimes more than a little uncomfortable. Almost like I’m a voyeur witnessing an intensel personal experience. I’m not quite sure where to look or sit. Do I interact? Do I call bullshit? Or do I seek reverence? Seek answers, too? Or do I turn the page to a new poem? Rumi is feeling a little bit intangible to me.

Try and be a sheet of paper with nothing on it.

Be a spot of ground where nothing is growing,

where something might be planted,

a seed, possibly from the Absolute. ~ Rumi