The day is overcast and the sky is slate gray. Light rain is falling making the air moisture laden and foggy. For some people such a morning might set off a tinge of sadness, or even depression. But not for me. Wet and misty mornings are usually inspiration filled, often bringing deep introspection. During my morning meditation by a window that looks out onto my backyard, today I read some of Rumi’s seven hundred year old work on “love”. It’s as contemporary today as when he wrote it. Three that rang strongest in my heart and mind are below and posted with thankfulness for what the words mean to me.

I want to see you.

Know your voice.

Recognize you when you
first come ’round the corner.

Sense your scent when I come
into a room you’ve just left.

Know the lift of your heel,
the glide of your foot.

Become familiar with the way
you purse your lips
then let them part,
just the slightest bit,
when I lean in to your space
and kiss you.

I want to know the joy
of how you whisper
“more”.
Rumi

There is a candle in your heart, ready to be kindled.
There is a void in your soul, ready to be filled.
You feel it, don’t you?
Rumi

Jalāl ad-Dīn Muhammad Balkhī known in the English-speaking world simply as “Rumi” was a 13th-century Persian poet, theologian, and Sufi mystic. Today his work transcends national and ethnic borders more than ever. Whatever subject I desire a little insight on or inspiration for, I always find a nugget to carry with me in Rumi’s work. Expressed again today, as many times before, I am grateful for Rumi. Through his astute perceptions he is my a dear friend and teacher.

I, you, he, she, we
In the garden of mystic lovers,
these are not true distinctions.
Rumi