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On Entering—Living In—Leaving the World [Revisit]

The March of Time.

Man, you enter the world reluctantly, crying, as a forlorn babe;
Man, you leave this life, deprived again, crying again, with regret.
Therefore live this life in such a way that none of it is really wasted.
You have to become accustomed to it after not having been accustomed to it.
When you have become accustomed to it, you will have to become used to being without it. Mediate upon this contention.
Die, therefore, "before you die," in the words of the Purified One.
Complete the circle before it is completed for you.
Until you do, unless you have—then expect bitterness at the end as there was in the beginning; in the middle as there will be at the end.
You did not see the pattern as you entered; and when you entered—you saw another pattern.
When you saw this apparent pattern, you were prevented from seeing the threads of the coming pattern.
Until you see both, you will be without contentment—
Whom do you blame? And Why do you blame?

Text: Hashim the Sidqi, on Rumi

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The above was my very first blog entry back from January of 2003... Today is my grandmother's funeral. She's been widowed for more than 75 years. After my grandfather's death from cancer, grandmother took care of her three girls [also her grand AND great-grand children] all these years. I remember every time I visited her since she's been bedridden, under her tiny breaths she would ask me whether I had eaten lunch yet, if I wore enough warm clothing, or to make sure for me to drive home early before dark. She was always so caring and thoughtful to others, yet stubborn 'til the very end. I hope somehow she and my late grandpa can finally reunite. The thought only comforts me, but no one knows but the moon and the stars...

People say that life is but a mere reflection of death. Can't have one without the other. At what cost to simply exist? People also say that death is a 'celebration' of life itself. So rejoice! The dead don't want to hear no crying. Don't cry for me for I'm only near yet one can't see.

No crying. I understand—I do. But why am I still doing so...

Comments (1)

death brings out things beyond words. Yet yours capture some of life's mysteries.

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This page contains a single entry from the blog posted on December 6, 2009 9:12 AM.

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