mere dust

In their quest for God they have turned away

from all else but Him. Be dust at His door.

We are what we are because of Him,

Be we kings in His grace, or paupers pure.

#540: From Rumi's Kolliyaat-e Shams-e Tabrizi

Search word: turn

I feel like I've reached a turning point. No one turned up at the meeting yesterday, it was a flop for me, the end of the road. Finality feels good, however, it feels like it's time to turn over a new leaf, start afresh, start anew.

This morning I don't feel like agreeing with Rumi's verse. I don't like the characterization of God here. I don't like it that it's a "Him". I don't like it that "He" dictates whether I shall be rich or poor. Who the hell is "He" anyway? God is spirit alone, without body, perhaps even without soul. Why turn only to that?

If I ask myself: What am I? Yes, firstly, I would say: I am woman. But I can be man too. Oh yes, I have it in me to be man. Or I can be cat or dog (less likely) or flowering hibiscus. I can be a simple pebble on a path. Or a grain of sand on the beach, or ... OK, dust at the door.

Bouquet d'hibiscus @ stylepochoir.com