Scherben bringen Glück

In German they have a saying 'Scherben bringen Glück ( broken crockery brings good luck).
I'm really hoping this is true because I seem to be smashing my way through a lot of crockery right now.
At least I know that this phase in my life will have to be finite since I don't even own a lot of crockery.
Unless I start smashing the bathroom porcelain of course which cannot be dismissed as entirely implausible. After a hard day at work I do tend to plonk myself down quite heavily.

One thing I know is that I tend to smash when I am distracted or unhappy. I don't know if I am actually unhappy right now especially since I have so much to be grateful for but I suppose I am. You can' t enjoy sunshine if you never have rain.

I am still reading Rumi and today I am going to borrow his words once again. I figure if I keep on borrowing I will run out of credit and then I will have to write again.

Gamble everything for Love
if you're a true human being.
If not, leave
this gathering.
Half-heartedness doesn't reach into majesty.

I find this very powerful. It means so many things to me. Love whole-heartedly, Teach whole-heartedly, write whole-heartedly, smash whole-heartedly...don't do anything by halves ( except perhaps drink flagons of cheap wine.)

two months later

Smell the spices while you can!

I have been instructed by someone very important to me that I must start to write again. It's like I dropped my pen down an empty well last spring and all the summer rain has finally brought it back up to the surface. It's up to me now to take it in my hand once again.
It's hard to start though. A bit like yoga when you are out of practice. Suddenly the words seem very far away a bit like your toes when they are stretched out in front.
But just like my toes, I know they still exist. I just have to be quiet enough to hear them once again.
I'm not really going to write a big blurb about my last two months though. I had my sister for four weeks and my parents ( a big surprise!) for three. We had a lovely time but I feel this is something that can remain just between us. Instead I am going to cheat a little and borrow the poem of another to start my week.

Drumsound rises in the air,

its throb, my heart.
A voice inside the beat says
"I know you are tired,
but come. This is the way."

Rumi