Rumi’s writing, to me is like\u00a0a middle-aged woman.<\/p>\n
Empowered.<\/p>\n
Joyful.<\/p>\n
Able to witness, hold space and be there.<\/p>\n
A whirling dervish of delight while dating, making love or walking the dog alone. Strong arms, shoulders and silence capable of holding anything and everything.<\/p>\n
I need my women friends and I need my poets.<\/p>\n
Few can inhabit bliss like a woman who has walked the earth for decades and who has mothered, nurtured and tended to wounds, babies, fevers, dreams and lovers.<\/p>\n
Few can write like Rumi with words are playful, erotic, pleasing and deep.<\/p>\n
They always bring me joy but it’s not why I need them or him. Many bring joy. Rumi brings peace.<\/p>\n
Rumi is who I long for when I grieve and can’t find peace within.<\/p>\n
It’s not that he guides me in a self-help way or tells me how to get by, over or through pain.<\/p>\n
Not,\u00a0it’s better.<\/p>\n
Like Pema Chodron, he welcomes, honors and even celebrates longing, sorrow and the need for connection.<\/p>\n
He’s not surprised or alarmed by anything human and invites me always to tune in to another deeper realm.<\/p>\n
In hard times his\u00a0words wait, like blanket, to warm my chilled soul when I end up in my own bed.<\/p>\n
I let my heart rest in verses when it’s too heavy and pick it up only when he’s lightened it for me.<\/p>\n
Like the other night.<\/p>\n
His words are in\u00a0volumes, poems, books and quotes we turn to before bed and during prayers.<\/p>\n
Rumi mothers, preaches, teaches and reaches me.<\/p>\n
This longing you express Those are his words and they are the cup I needed to reach for and sip from.<\/p>\n I felt\u00a0held\u00a0by a stranger from\u00a0another time who could hold\u00a0a space I know exists but can’t yet feel or believe or inhabit.<\/p>\n At those times, which are these times, I am seeking, searching and questing.<\/p>\n And Rumi I find.<\/p>\n Rumi is a giver and a lover and shares the sacredness of life without promises of only ease. Complexity is cherished, honored and spoken of as honesty which I sometimes need to feed on.<\/p>\n I get to hear him love, long, search and be wise.<\/p>\n It makes me better as a friend, mother and spirit\u00a0walking this earth at this time. I am comforted in the words he uses that are nothing like my own and which tickle this infantile skin with ancient timeless wisdom.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Rumi’s writing, to me is like\u00a0a middle-aged woman. Empowered. Joyful. Able to witness, hold space and be there. A whirling dervish of delight while dating, making love or walking the dog alone. Strong arms, shoulders and silence capable of holding anything and everything. I need my women friends and I need my poets. Few can […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":2710,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[39,25],"tags":[],"yoast_head":"\n
\n<\/em> is the return message.<\/em>
\nThe grief you cry out from<\/em>
\n draws you toward union.<\/em>
\n Your pure sadness<\/em>
\n that wants help<\/em>
\n is the secret cup.<\/em><\/p>\n