There are some poets who pierce my heart with their words. And when I sit outside and read of their sorrows, their longings, and their open-heartedness, I often sit and weep (I use this word “weep” deliberately because “cry” seems too…flat).When I sit among the trees, or in the grass, or sometimes even floating on the water in my kayak, weeping is a refreshment. This moving of emotion matters to me. When I weep, I come clean.
Some poets move me like nothing else. I particularly love Mary Oliver and Rumi. Something about their storytelling and the cadence of words rips and shreds me open.
This week, I read this poem from Rumi.
My recommendation?
Take this outside with you. Find someplace quiet. Be alone.
Read this poem out loud to your heart. To your Soul. In dedication of your Spirit.
Read it out loud. Let the words moisten your mouth.
Let the words be a love song, a healing song, you sing to yourself.
Go outside and read this poem out loud to your heart.
Sorrow prepares you for joy.It violently sweeps everything out of your house,so that new joy can find space to enter.It shakes the yellow leaves from the bough of your heart,so that fresh, green leaves can grow in their place.It pulls up the rotten roots,so that new roots hidden beneath have room to grow.Whatever sorrow shakes from your heart,far better things will take their place.~Jalaluddin Rumi
PS: Want an advanced tip? Substitute “Me/My” everywhere you see the word “you/your.” Indeed, this will magnify and personalize these words like nothing else.