The Most Alive Momentby Rumi
The most living moment comes whenthose who love each other meet eachOther’s eyes and in what flowsbetween them then. To see your faceIn a crowd of others, or alone on afrightening street, I weep for that.Our tears improve the earth. Thetime you scolded me, your gratitude,your laughing, always your qualitiesincrease the soul. Seeing you is awine that does not muddle or numb.We sit inside the cypress shadowwhere amazement and clear thoughttwine their slow growth into us.
Rumi talks about the most alive moment being when we meet ourselves and there is no separation, no union, just one alone at the silent core.
I have been there – painting milkweed at Dayspring, sitting in the hot meadow, the sun beating down on me, evaporating the paint almost before it touches the page, leaving a lasting impression of a fleeting moment. I see the picture months later and hear the insistent buzz of the bee, wish again I could capture the essence of the butterfly on her wing, wonder if this tight mauve popcorn ball of buds really transforms itself into white strands of silt which will waft through the wind to begin again. The stages are as magical as a butterfly’s.
Playing with the Spirograph, I marvel at the engineering behind it, how someone determined the radii and curves the various holes and gears would make. I marvel at the beauty and grace of the repetitive curves and loops, no angles, making shapes that truly fill me with glee.
Joy unbounded because of patterns and swirls?
It brings me joy to produce patterns that meet one another harmoniously and then glance off each other to mesh with another. The rainbow colors blending seamlessly together. I do not understand the compulsion nor the pleasure, but it feels healthy and whole and complete. I can spend hours at play, pursuing patterns, learning how they work, asking “I wonder what would happen if…?”
Perhaps I am finally allowing myself a happy childhood. Are Legos and Erector Sets next? I could go into Dylan’s closet and pull out the Playmobil and Legos and build towns and cities and make up stories like Laura and Dylan used to do. I could let my mind wader with joy over the mountains and valleys of my imagination. Is there a joy greater than this?