Fluidity

This weekend brought rain. An excellent performance of "A Child’s Christmas in Wales", with original musical accompaniment. New people to meet. It brought Mars, Jupiter and Mercury "nestling together" like jewels in the dawn sky. An afternoon walk in the slant of sun rays. A book about alchemy. Spectacular sunset. Aroma of C’s homemade brownies. Questions of identity.

"Who am I?" Is this a question too often asked, or not often enough? Who am I in the blaze of a sunset? In the drenching rain? In a workday office? Playing a drum or guitar? Taking a photograph? In the midst of a nightmare? Walking the creaking floors of dawn?
Who am I in the arms of a lover? Screaming in rage? Comforting a crying child? Dancing in ecstasy? Holding the hand of a frail grandmother? Weeping in joy?

What is the fluidity of clouds, the solidity of earth? And who are we?

I am dust particles in sunlight.
I am the round sun.

To the bits of dust I say, Stay.
To the sun, Keep moving.

I am morning mist,
and the breathing of evening.

I am wind in the top of a grove,
and surf on the cliff.

I am a tree with a trained parrot in its branches.
Silence, thought and voice.

The musical air coming through a flute,
a spark of a stone, a flickering

in metal. Both candle,
and the moth crazy around it.

I am all orders of being, the circling galaxy,
the evolutionary intelligence, the lift,

and the falling away. What is,
and what isn’t…
--Rumi