When we get down to the nitty-gritty of life

When we get down to the nitty-gritty of life and we go into those places that harbor an emptiness, a dark tide of loneliness and perhaps some good old-fashioned fear, it weighs heavily upon our breast.  Sometimes it takes the form of illness.  When we hit home sometimes it is like we remember, sometimes it is not.  And most times there is no home to hit, only a jaundiced memory that is like an infection.

My little one, for what do you long?  Where is this path called life leading you?  Why does the small mind wish to rob you of that which you are?  Plenty of questions, yes?

When we dig deep enough and the spade becomes well worn, we oftentimes hit a dampness, it becomes more difficult to throw the soil of the past over our back.  It is heavy.  What do you throw over your back, precious one?  What threshold have you come upon?

Oh this puzzle called life!  Shams, why don’t you come right out and tell me!  You would hate me if I did that.  Besides, what if I was wrong?  But I am never wrong and Rumi would be the first to tell you that.

When we get down to our core pictures, when we have moved earth and sand and muddied waters, when we have found the stone that stands before the cave, where do we find the strength to move such a stone?  In worry?  In fear?  In hope?  I think you know.

Go into that place if you wish, not with trepidation but with the torch of the sun in your hand, with me and Rumi, with the Beloved.  And perhaps you will look and say something like, “Oh, it’s you.  Are you still here?”  And then you will take the hand of that lost and lonely piece of your humanness and bring it into the garden.
Shams of Tabriz