I love Rumi, obviously the English translation is all I can understand
But take a look at this poem
"Be with those who help your being.
Don't sit with indifferent people, whose breath
comes cold out of their mouths.
Not these visible forms, your work is deeper.
A chunk of dirt thrown in the air breaks to pieces.
If you don't try to fly,
and so break yourself apart,
you will be broken open by death,
when it's too late for all you could become.
Leaves get yellow. The tree puts out fresh roots
and makes them green.
Why are you so content with a love that turns you yellow?"
Take a second and think about what that means to yourself.
I won't talk about myself this post, but you can talk to me.
I want you to be happy, in this world where in a crowd of billions somehow you end up just being stranded and lost at sea.
Whether you're 23, 18, 40, 50...80, isn't it important to remember that right it's spring, and there are cherry blossoms that have bloomed and gone, revealing bright green leaves. And when they die, the tree renews again, and when the tree dies, something else will take its place. While you're still alive, bloom.
I disagree that we are all just a collection of stories to be shared; I think there's more to the eye when it comes with just sitting in front of a sunrise, sharing it with someone you love, or just opening it to something bigger than yourself, and let your own spirit float.
You can't make that into a story, but all the same, it's what makes you break apart and fly.
Anyways, Rumi tends to write verses that make you think you're on the floor, ready to get up to love, and...why not? There's more to living in this haze of the world, so go out, trip, fall, drink in both poison and elixir but always stay coherent of your feelings, and find out what turns you yellow and discard it. Find the right roots.
Read the poem again, if you find similar meaning, I hope you'll learn to fly from whatever might be keeping you down, and be broken open by life.
Love,
Tanim
But take a look at this poem
"Be with those who help your being.
Don't sit with indifferent people, whose breath
comes cold out of their mouths.
Not these visible forms, your work is deeper.
A chunk of dirt thrown in the air breaks to pieces.
If you don't try to fly,
and so break yourself apart,
you will be broken open by death,
when it's too late for all you could become.
Leaves get yellow. The tree puts out fresh roots
and makes them green.
Why are you so content with a love that turns you yellow?"
Take a second and think about what that means to yourself.
I won't talk about myself this post, but you can talk to me.
I want you to be happy, in this world where in a crowd of billions somehow you end up just being stranded and lost at sea.
Whether you're 23, 18, 40, 50...80, isn't it important to remember that right it's spring, and there are cherry blossoms that have bloomed and gone, revealing bright green leaves. And when they die, the tree renews again, and when the tree dies, something else will take its place. While you're still alive, bloom.
I disagree that we are all just a collection of stories to be shared; I think there's more to the eye when it comes with just sitting in front of a sunrise, sharing it with someone you love, or just opening it to something bigger than yourself, and let your own spirit float.
You can't make that into a story, but all the same, it's what makes you break apart and fly.
Anyways, Rumi tends to write verses that make you think you're on the floor, ready to get up to love, and...why not? There's more to living in this haze of the world, so go out, trip, fall, drink in both poison and elixir but always stay coherent of your feelings, and find out what turns you yellow and discard it. Find the right roots.
Read the poem again, if you find similar meaning, I hope you'll learn to fly from whatever might be keeping you down, and be broken open by life.
Love,
Tanim
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