The secret of an almost poem

on

path to happiness

“You are song, a wished-for song.
Go through the ear to the center,
where the sky is, where wind,
where silent knowing…”
~ Rumi

Unnerving little verses, aren’t they…

But that is life. Your life. Every life.

That is the knowing, which some discover and trust, and some don’t discover, or else just distrust, which is kind of the same thing.

Why do you think it might be so? Do you not know where you’re going?

Perhaps not. All you see is chaos. Random aggravations. Nothing makes sense.

And of course, you want something wonderful and exciting. But in reality, you ask for a neatly paved road, with predictable signs and a comfortable bench here and there, a cold beverage, some shade.

But you can’t stand the idea…to travel so that you can stop to yawn as you grow old. To follow a checklist. To hope that some creature will stray onto your path and offer distraction from that maddening, calculated pace and silence you follow.

You’re still thinking of the verses…

You want to be song, a wished-for song. More than anything. Of course.

Doesn’t everyone? It’s what your soul and every soul was born to seek. To be that is to be you, and to be home.

But for that there is another path. The one that emerges out of chaos and random aggravations. The one revealed when choices and destiny meet at the edge of the impossible. It isn’t as random as we might believe, but it isn’t predictable either. It’s hidden and obvious.

And that path is not neatly paved. It might have rocks on it, some with sharp edges. But also moss. Soft and beautiful. And grass too. Patches of sand, and pebbles perhaps. It might even be all covered with pink flowers. Lots and lots.

A charming path really, one that strays towards the ocean, into the forest and hills far far away, and to a little house somewhere…to a bed, and a table, and a life where you are song, a wished-for song.

It’s probably not the smoothest path. They never are. But it’s not harsh. It’s also not strange. But not entirely familiar either. It’s like that verse. The center.

The best thing is that on it, you will meet yourself. That meeting, as you might have suspected, is called happiness.

Are you scared? Of course you are. What a relief. Because that fear you feel is the excitement of the soul. The mind makes a mess of it in the translation. It always does.

It’s not easy. Just like those verses. Then again, if you are a song, a wished-for song, it will never be easy.

Instead, it is and will always be simple. That is the secret. And it makes all the difference.

4 Comments Add yours

  1. Anonymous says:

    What an amazing almost poem. i like how you say that fear is the exitement of the soul. thank you for this!

    Like

    1. Joanna L. says:

      Thank YOU! And you are most welcome. 🙂

      Like

  2. Kev says:

    Beautiful pic and poem. 🙂

    Like

    1. Joanna L. says:

      Thank you, Rumi is good! 😉

      Like

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