Tuesday, September 09, 2008


I finished reading "The Thirteenth Tale" in two days. It took that long because I had other things to do between page turning.

I was still in the mood for reading, so I devoured "Jonathan Livingston Seagull" in about an hour. I didn't remember that it was so swift a read. It had been at least 20 years since I first ate it.

Then, someone lent me some books to take with me to Arizona when I go. I've asked several people for suggestions and I hit the jackpot when our hostess at work brought in a bounty for me to choose from.

I first cracked open some Nietzsche and read some passages. The words I read didn't inspire me. I think I've read them before, or variations of the same things many times. It will probably not get picked up again.

Then, I picked up "The Essential Rumi", translations by Coleman Barks with Hohn Moyne. I started in the middle, became intrigued and am now reading it like a storybook.

Rumi's words contain much that comforts and inspires. Just today, I came across this passage and thought of sharing it here.

The Least Figure
I tried to think of some way
to let my face become yours.

"Could I whisper in your ear
a dream I've had? You're the only one
I've told this to."

You tilt your head, laughing,
as if, "I know the trick you're hatching,
but go ahead."

I am an image you stitch with gold thread
on a tapestry, the least figure,
a playful addition.

But nothing you work on is dull.
I am part of the beauty.

(*I don't know if the following lines were meant to be part of it, but it came next with no title, a little leaf in between and then the chapter ended.)

I reach for a piece of wood. It turns into a lute.
I do some meanness. It turns out helpful.
I say one must not travel during the holy month.
Then I start out and wonderful things happen.

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