Any sprig of an herb

Learned theologians do not teach love.

Love is nothing but gladness and kindness.

Ideas of right and wrong
operate in us until we die.
Love does not have those limits.

When you see a scowling face,
it is not a lover's.

A beginner in this way
knows nothing of any beginning.

Do not try to be the shepherd.
Become the flock.

Someone says, This is just a metaphor.
But that is not so.

It is as clear and direct
as a blind man stubbing his foot
against a stone jar.

The doorkeeper should be more careful,
says the blind man.

That pitcher is not in the doorway,
replies the doorkeeper.

The truth is, you do not know
where you are. A master of love
is the only sign we need.

There is no better sign
than someone stumbling around
among the waterpots looking for signs.

Every particle of love,
any sprig of an herb,
speaks of water.

Follow the tributaries.
Everything we say has water within it.

No need to explain this to a thirsty man.
He knows what to do.
- Rumi

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Whistle while you work

Drawing by Ron Leishman When last did you whistle while working? When last did you hear someone else whistle while working? Somehow it bothers me that whistling has become an almost absent element in our work. The sound of a person whistling a tune while busy somewhere in the house or out in the workshop conveys something of an underlying happiness, satisfaction and contentment. An enjoyment of the work itself. The tune need not be flawless. Applying more air than sound won’t lead to disqualification, as long as the intention is there. Whistling can even be replaced by singing in all that I’ve said up to now. The same principles apply. The absence of any of these two activities bothers me because it says something about us doing the work and the type of work that we do. Can it be that our type of labour in this 21 st century is not conducive to either whistling or singing? What type of work is that then – draining, stressful, pressured? Or are our conclusions ...

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