... so said Rumi ( among many other things a lot more barmy, to my unknowing ears anyway, and occasionally more filthy), and that's pretty much how it has been. The book was in the delicious package of books and DVDs summoned up from Amazon by Tom which I received on Saturday morning, along with an equally delicious brown paper package tied up with strings (well, parcel tape really), from my lovely sister, which contained the very sumptuous crushed velvet bag which she made me, the handmade soap and various other goodies.
It's been was my birthday-feast day weekend, but, though I kept it fairly quietly this year, I don't seem to have been able to find much time to post about it. I went for several walks, read some Rumi and an English sunday newspaper from the previous weekend, ate and drank wonton soup, sticky ginger confit and seconds of sake at the Chinese, and got very busy on Sunday. I took quite a lot of photos and had some pretty cards, but the posting of these here will have to wait for a second installment, I'm only able to be here now because Mol got me up 10 minutes earlier than usual for work.
'The grief armies assemble
but I'm not going with them.'
I liked that too.
Back with more later,
12 comments:
Oh, belated happy birthday, dear Lucy! Sounds like it's been a perfect one.
Happy Birthday, you!
Read your first line and thought this must be the most unlikely overlap of our disparate lives. The Rumi was a scooter briefly imported into Britain in the sixties, famous for its very freely translated instruction manual. One of the symptoms in the troubleshooting section was rendered as "Formation of black pearls on the twinkling line." Two more syllables and it would have been a haiku.
Happy Birthday!!!
Happy birthday!
And Moll got you up early... another present.
Happy birthday, dear Lucy, and congratulations on your photographs in Qrrtsiluni, and not least on the commentary. The names of those saints ask to be recited for their music if not to compensate for their ersatz history. Perhaps they heal. Words of power, indeed.
I came across Rumi quite recently the poet, not the scooter.
Sweet Lucy! Happy, happy birthday! I shall raise two pints in your honour tonight ... the first a Winter Mild Ale brewed with rye and the second, a Dugges-Nogne O Sahti brewed with rye and wheat, sea wormwood from the Swedish archipelago, juniper twigs from the Norwegian forests, honey from the heather flowers in Telemark, and three selected yeast strains from Belgium, Germany, and Britain.
Happy Birthday Dear Lucy.
I see the memory of the Rumi scooter caused me to forget the rather larger reason for commenting on this post. Bon anniversaire
Thanks all for the birthday wishes.
I loved the Sufi poet scooter, another present!
Sending you belated birthday wishes, Lucy. I prefer to celebrate an entire birth-month anyway!
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