My Worst Habit (by Rumi)
My worst habit is I get so tired of winter
I become a torture to those I’m with.
If you are not here, nothing grows.
I lack clarity, my words tangle up and knot.
How to cure bad water? Send it back to the river.
How to cure bad habits? Send me back to you.
When water gets caught in habitual whirlpools,
dig a way out through the bottom
to the ocean. There is a secret medicine
given only to those who hurt so bad
they can’t hope.
The hopers would feel slighted if they knew.
Look as long as you can at the friend you love,
no matter whether that friend is moving away from you
or coming back toward you.
Dedicated to my Anam Cara.
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I’m a faraway friend but you’re not a torture to me….you’re a humourous wisewoman and you’re not afraid to approach the hard stuff.
Winter’s nearly over…it’s lighter in the evening. Everything’s going to be O.K.
I take it out on our Prime Minister…I should probably watch that…bad energy stuff.
No words…only love.