There’ re two prompts for the Līgo Haibun Challenge this week:
“If your heart is a volcano, how shall you expect flowers to bloom?” by Khalil Gibran
“Not only the thirsty seek the water, the water as well seeks the thirsty” by Rumi.
Since seeking seems to be a bit of my thing, the choice happened naturally…
Seeking and finding. Losing and seeking again. The never-ending circle, going around, turning me into a squirrel on a wheel. Every time it was different, yet still the same. Not important if I knew what I was looking for or I had no clue whatsoever, I ended up finding.
Or at least a new place to start from. I went around the world seeking happiness – counting grains of sand on empty beaches, challenging the mountains while letting them challenge me, feeling the pulse of hasty cities becoming my own. Running barefoot through a meadow on an early summer morning, wondering where to next. Where to rush to seek.
Or maybe it was fear of the moment that was supposed to be next. The one of taking a breath.
It turned out all I needed was time.
To stop. To see and to listen. Time to make me realise it was supposed to come from within, all of it. Happiness. Love. Joy and sadness. There was so much inside me, a clutter so busy and loud I had forgotten how to differ what was significant. A new path had appeared. Step by step I learned to un-become being blunt towards myself. Not to stop seeking, on the contrary – to find that string in me, the pure and raw one to be able to play the sounds that found me. As simple as that and at the same time as complicated. To be open and harbor the moments of confluence. Of me becoming a world within the world. The seeker.
at the mountain top
grains of sand between my toes
world travelled with me