“Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing,
there is a field. I’ll meet you there.
When the soul lies down in that grass,
the world is too full to talk about.
Ideas, language, even the phrase each other
doesn’t make any sense.” — Rumi.
This is potent, to me. I drink up the words – they speak to the part of me that so desires stillness, and love. And clarity.
… “even the phrase each other doesn’t make any sense” … it sounds like the end – the end of suffering. Of wanting. Of painful desires and pleasurable ones too.
I want to feel that.
I … I …I …. See, I am so far away. I am still waiting for the word that follows “I am …” I cannot yet leave it as I Am.
Where to from here?