Meet Me In That Field

by P. M. StarrJul 14, 2022Brown, Colors, Diamine, Green, Inspiration, Private Reserve, Pure Pleasure, Quotations & Excerpts, Wisdom

NOTE: a couple of hours after I posted this, I found out this Rumi “translation” is BULLSHIT, so I’m working on an embarrassed-yet-hopefully-informative post about that now.

On the fifth of July, Wordle 381 reminded me of my favorite freeing piece of ecstatic love poetry from Rumi, the thirteenth century philosopher. The solution to this word puzzle was FIELD.

Out beyond ideas of wrong-doing & right-doing THERE IS A FIELD. I'll meet you there. -Rumi

Private Reserve: SHERWOOD GREEN (via Parker Vector-M)
Diamine: TRIPLE CHOCOLATE (via Platinum Preppy-M)
PAPER: Levenger: Circa Micro

It’s been in my head every day since then, so today I took the opportunity to do that fun pleasure-writing thing of using my hand and eyes to copy (and savor and study) the words.

I have so much gratitude for

Wordle making combinations of five letters a fun study and little mystery to solve every day
fountain-pen fans online making practices of copying — often repetitively — favorite words, book excerpts, shapes, lyrics, etc. feel less like a weird waste of time I should feel self-conscious of or guilty about, and more like the beautiful meditation it is, giving me full permission and encouragement to ENJOY spending as many moments as I want to recording what I like on paper in my own hand using wet colorful ink
beautiful transcendent timeless invitations like this one from Rumi to GET PAST categorizing things and people and shit that we do as good or bad, right or wrong, and jump to the next-level place where we are one with everything, the edges between us blurry and full of profound acceptance and unfighting filled-up restfulness and love

When the soul lies down in that grass, the world is TOO FULL to talk about. Ideas, language, even the phrase "each other" doesn't make sense.

Words from Rumi that predate Walt Whitman and Leaves of Grass by centuries

The words haven’t just been stuck in my head, they’ve been a solace this month when I’ve been struggling: screaming at the world and the people and machines in it who feel SO LOUD and unloving, full of what passes for civilized manners and fake politesse but no genuine human consideration or kindness. That’s how I feel anyway, and it is UGLY.

I’ve been making an ass out of myself, but practices like this bring me respite, and words like Rumi’s put me and my behavior and other people’s behavior into size,. Like a magic fingersnap, a lens shifts, and everything is transported PAST all of the bullshit ruminations, guilt, judging and arguments in the head to a place that is just a broad sky and gigantic even warm barely-audible vibration of sunshine.

Watching fountain pen enthusiasts practice their handwriting and copy down quotations and passages from books has opened up a new door to prayer for me. I want to do more of this praying, and meet you out in that field. Where wise words can drip and dry and swivel and turn into just beautiful shapes and colors and swirls and fragmented memory-flavors of being absolutely forgiven and loved by God. Whatever that is, or was, or may be today.

Meet Me In That Field

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