Opening the heart
This past summer I spent a week at a small retreat centre in northwestern New York in silence and conversation, music and dance. We walked labyrinths, communed with nature, danced and sang.
With all the day-to-day obligations and distractions, I can easily forget to open and nourish the heart, not just toward those I love, but to all life.
What nourishes the heart? Awaking at dawn to a flock of geese honking overhead. Slowing for a hour to watch mist wind between mountains. And surrendering the "I" to the divine, as each experiences it.
"What Was Said to the Rose", written by Rumi and read here by Coleman Barks, was recited by one of the women during an evening of dance and poetry. I have returned to these words since then, and wanted to share this reading.
With all the day-to-day obligations and distractions, I can easily forget to open and nourish the heart, not just toward those I love, but to all life.
What nourishes the heart? Awaking at dawn to a flock of geese honking overhead. Slowing for a hour to watch mist wind between mountains. And surrendering the "I" to the divine, as each experiences it.
"What Was Said to the Rose", written by Rumi and read here by Coleman Barks, was recited by one of the women during an evening of dance and poetry. I have returned to these words since then, and wanted to share this reading.
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