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!

Puppeteer

An ornate time piece on a wrist
jeweled
shiny, elegant chrome chronograph
or matte finish
functional
practical, purposeful chronometer

A puppeteer’s handcuff
controlling movement subtly
directing thoughts subliminally
a marionette to be pushed, pulled, directed

Steady tick, tick, tick
hypnotizes
activity done mindlessly
going through motions without attention
glazed eyes
striving to make it from one
paycheque to the next
without breaking the strings of the masterminder
oblivious to the pull
of the masterminder

Second hand sweeps
behind the minute
behind the hour
striving to move ahead
but wired into place
hour leads
minute follows
second lapses
wired into place
pulled along by the others
gears and cogs manipulating movement
invisible strings manipulating movement
time manipulating movement

World focused on clocks and calendars
great energy expended keeping up to the time keepers

Obsession with timepieces
and calendars is restricting
what is this competition that has been thrust upon wrists,
on walls, on clock towers in time squares
town squares

Shirk wrist pieces, cell phones
anything that strives to own your being
Pay no attention to these measurements
these pushes and pulls
prods to direct you

Allow no thoughts of time to settle upon you
consume you
control you
and watch your mind settle
rest
and give birth to new ideas