I came across these words of wisdom from my favorite poet, Rumi, today.
We’ve had a rough week with one or both Joy Boys suffering from diarrhea. Whiny. Unhappy. Not fun for anyone.
So I put on the music and had a dance party with them. We all felt better.
Dance when you’re broken open.
Dance when you’ve torn the bandage off.
Dance in the middle of fighting.
Dance in your blood [or POOP!] Dance when you’re perfectly free.
Struck, the dancer hears a tambourine inside her,
like a wave that crests into foam at the very top,
Maybe you don’t hear that tambourine,
or the tree leaves clapping time.
Close the ears on your head,
that listen mostly to lies and cynical jokes.
There are other things to see, and hear.
A brilliant city inside your soul!