In honor of the birthday of Rumi (today, Sept 30!) and his great love for Hu (the Sufi name of the Divine that transcends all genders and names), I post one of my favorite Rumi poems:
one part of you is gliding in a high windstream,
while your more ordinary notions
take little steps and peck at the ground.
Conventional knowledge is death to our souls, and it is not really ours.
It is laid on. Yet we keep saying
that we find “rest” in these “beliefs.”
We must become ignorant of what we have been taught and instead be bewildered.
Run from what is profitable and comfortable.
If you drink those liqueurs, you will spill the springwater of your real life.
Distrust anyone who praises you.
Give your investments money, and the interest on the capital, to those who are actually destitute.
Forget safety. Live where you fear to live.
Destroy your reputation.
I have tired prudent planning long enough.
From now on, I'll be mad.