The weekend trip was great in Texas. You never know where you're going to end up or what you'll come across. We came across many great vintage items but we ended up coming home with a truck load of spiritual wisdom from the poetry of Rumi.
This was my favorite tent but it was over priced but beautifully done. They had lots of old French club chairs.
We ended up in a tent full of rugs and the guy saw through us all and began telling the tale of each of ours lives. We could not believe how spot on he was with each one of us. He used Chinese Zodiac charts to read us. Now remember I hit the road on Friday looking to be renewed and I found my answer. He looked at me and said I was in a very important year and that I was in my last life on earth if I so chose to not come back, which explains my disappointment in mankind. Apparently I have lived 8 lives before this and am in my 9th. He said that this will be a creative period for me and to trust it. Money will come with ease and that I will be welcoming to all people. In this last life, I will be like water, just a current.
A special day!
Rumi
CHICKPEA TO COOK
A chickpea leaps almost over the rim of the pot
where it’s being boiled.
“Why are you doing this to me?”
The cook knocks him down with the ladle.
“Don’t you try to jump out.
You think I’m torturing you.
I’m giving you flavor,
so you can mix with spices and rice
and be the lovely vitality of a human being.
Remember when you drank rain in the garden.
That was for this.”
Grace first. Sexual pleasure,
then a boiling new life begins,
and the Friend has something good to eat.
Eventually the chickpea
will say to the cook,
“Boil me some more.
Hit me with the skimming spoon.
I can’t do this by myself.
I’m like an elephant that dreams of gardens
back in Hindustan and doesn’t pay attention
to his driver. You’re my cook, my driver,
my way into existence. I love your cooking.”
The cook says,
“ I was once like you,
fresh from the ground. Then I boiled in time
and boiled in the body, two fierce boilings.
My animal soul grew powerful.
I controlled it with practices.
and boiled some more, and boiled
once beyond that,
and became your teacher.”
A chickpea leaps almost over the rim of the pot
where it’s being boiled.
“Why are you doing this to me?”
The cook knocks him down with the ladle.
“Don’t you try to jump out.
You think I’m torturing you.
I’m giving you flavor,
so you can mix with spices and rice
and be the lovely vitality of a human being.
Remember when you drank rain in the garden.
That was for this.”
Grace first. Sexual pleasure,
then a boiling new life begins,
and the Friend has something good to eat.
Eventually the chickpea
will say to the cook,
“Boil me some more.
Hit me with the skimming spoon.
I can’t do this by myself.
I’m like an elephant that dreams of gardens
back in Hindustan and doesn’t pay attention
to his driver. You’re my cook, my driver,
my way into existence. I love your cooking.”
The cook says,
“ I was once like you,
fresh from the ground. Then I boiled in time
and boiled in the body, two fierce boilings.
My animal soul grew powerful.
I controlled it with practices.
and boiled some more, and boiled
once beyond that,
and became your teacher.”
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