Waiting

I've been reading Rumi.  Some of you out their may already know that if you pay attention to what's "in my carryon." [smile] My parents gave me the book along with some candy hearts for Valentine's Day.  And the night that it arrived (which was actually several days after Valentine's Day) I just so excited to flip it open to a random page and just began reading.  Everything I had heard of Rumi up to this point was kinda shrouded in mystery.  The people I knew who really enjoyed reading his words, often said I should read him, but never really why.  I'm coming toward an understanding of what they meant.  I always find it remarkable when I connect with an author's words, especially words that were written thousands of years before.  There is something that feels so personally relevant in every passage I've read out of the book so far.  I find myself continually feeling like the words written on the page are ones that I have always intuitively felt, but never able to express.  A real union of souls... 

In the midst of reading Rumi on Sunday during some Sabbath time, I began to think about the coming of Lent.  (Let me illuminate the whole picture:  I was also listening to some music through my faithful Macbook- a mix tape with a little of this and that.  Anyway Matthew Sweet's song I've Been Waiting came on and I thought of Lent.)  And without beginning to sound so preachy (I can't deny that it is in the genes, but I can choose not to indulge [smile])... I thought about how Lent is about waiting, anticipation of something, i.e. Easter, to come.  Its also associated with a time of self-denial, but thats really the part of Lent I can never quite master.  I don't mean being committed to giving up sweets or some TV show, ect.  I mean that I can't master the feeling of self-denial, which I usually think of as being quite negative. 

I've had a lot of experience with waiting.  There are some things in my life that I feel like I've been waiting for for 25 years.  And I guess I could, after all this time, fall easily into doubt... believing that because it (falling in love or figuring out what I'd like to do with the rest of my life or finally finding a place to live for longer than just a few years at a time) hasn't happened yet it never will.   I just can't wait, even in Lent, without looking toward what is to come, Easter, with hope.  Some may consider this optimism to be naive, but I feel blessed to be able to look at life this way.  Hoping and trusting God to guide me through all these experiences is very exciting and it helps me to live more fully into the present.  That brings me back to Rumi, who I feel must have also felt this way waiting for those moments of epiphany, fulfillment of hope, for little Easters.  He writes, "The Most Alive Moment":

The most living moment comes when 

those who love each other meet each

other's eyes and in what flows

between them then.  To see your face

in a crowd of others, or alone on a

frightening street I weep for that.

Our tears improve the earth.  The

time you scolded me, your gratitude, 

your laughing, always your qualities 

increase the soul.  Seeing you is a 

wine that does not muddle or numb, 

We sit inside the cypress shadow

where amazement and clear thought

twine their slow growth into us.    

Just waiting, Margaret