O you who've gone on pilgrimage - where are you, where, oh where? Here, here is the Beloved! Oh come now, come, oh come! Your friend, he is your neighbor, he is next to your wall - You, erring in the desert - what air of love is this? If you'd see the Beloved's form without any form - You are the house, the master, You are the Kaaba, you! . . . Where is a bunch of roses, if you would be this garden? Where, one soul's pearly essence when you're the Sea of God? That's true - and yet your troubles may turn to treasures rich - How sad that you yourself veil the treasure that is yours!
Mevlana Rumi (1207 - 1273)
Source: I Am Wind, You Are Fire, Translation by Annemarie Schimmel
Today, like every other day, we wake up empty and frightened. Don't open the door to the study and begin reading. Take down a musical instrument. Let the beauty we love be what we do. There are hundreds of ways to kneel and kiss the ground.