rumi: poem of the week.

today i went to a new yoga class and loved it. it was a close-knit group that had a sense of humor and also took practice very seriously at the same time; an ideal combination, i think. one of the many amazing bits that my new teacher ( i know i will be going back to study with him much more) offered was a comment that, in the west, we often prefer to think about how things are, or to read about them than to actually play in the direct experience. i myself am often guity of this: being a perfectionist, i often get trapped in researching indefinitely before i feel i am ready to try something "for real." it was a good reminder today to think that maybe one is never really ready, and that the only way to become ready is to experience something directly.

browsing through rumi later on, i found this week's poem, "unfold your own myth," and felt it was a much more elegant way of putting this than i am able to here.

unfold your own myth

who gets up early to discover the moment light begins?
who finds us here circling, bewildered, like atoms?
who comes to a spring thirsty
and sees the moon reflected in it?
who, like jacob blind with grief and age,
smells the shirt of his lost son
and can see again?
who lets a bucket down and brings up
a flowing prophet? or like moses goes for fire
and finds what burns inside the sunrise?

jesus slips into a house to escape enemies,
and opens a door into another world.
solomon cuts open a fish, and there's a gold ring.
omar storms in to kill the prophet
and leaves with blessings.
chase a deer and end up everywhere!
an oyster opens his mouth to swallow one drop.
now there's a pearl.
a vagrant wanders empty ruins.
suddenly he's wealthy.

but don't be satisfied with stories, how things
have gone with others. unfold
your own myth, without complicated explanation,
so everyone will understand the passage,
we have opened you.

start walking towards shams. your legs will get heavy
and tired. then comes a moment
of feeling the wings you've grown,
lifting.

translation: coleman barks with john moyne.

i love the orders not to be satisfied with other's stories. so often i am trapped in the enjoyment of them: novels, movies, career stories in books. it is easy to forget to follow ones own path. perhaps there is a fear that our own stories will not live up to the ones we have heard before. and it is tiring to follow them. i am excited to do just this, knowing that eventually there will be the feeling of lifting out of tiredness and fear, from the exhilaration of having followed my own cues and from actually sinking into experience. it is so much easier to hide in the hypothetical; it is my edge to press forward into actual lived life. 

Comments

[Ryan]

That is a fantastic poem and such a powerful idea - make your own story instead of admiring those of others. I've always wanted to read Rumi but never got the chance. When you work surrounded by books the options are overwhelming.

[caroline]

thank you! so glad you enjoyed. rumi is amazing- one of my favorites. plus poems are lovely as they are so bite sized. i know what you mean about books everywhere being overwhelming- since i've been subbing at book soup i have to hold myself back from spending twice what i make every shift!