An imaginary conversation with Rumi

An imaginary conversation. With all due respect. And love. And longing.

It just came suddenly, out of nowhere. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if I can have a conversation with you? Oh I can just imagine. It would be more than a dream comes true. So much more.

I imagine I would approach you and sit in front of you. You, being the courteous, humble person that you are, would offer and serve me tea. Slightly sweet, hot mint tea, just the way I like it. Just the way I need it.

Then you would look at me with such kindness and sweet smile. Oh I would get so excited of this opportunity. I don’t think I would remember my manner. I would just turn into this excited, happy child. I would just be, me. Falling into this state of bliss. Happiness. Love.

So many things in my mind that I would like to tell you. So many questions. I would recount my life story to you. All the whys in my life–why am I like this and not that, why do people do this and that, why is this happening to me, why is my life like this and that, etc etc. And all the hows in my life too–how can I get over these feelings or states, how can I obtain this and that, how do I get closer to Him, and so on and so forth.

Oh and the whats–what should I do to.., what can I offer, what’s my place in the universe, etc. Not to mention the whens. Yes, the classic whens. And if there is enough time, the who(s).

Hah, I am being too optimistic. I think I might have overestimated myself. Bet I would not be that strong. For simply to approach you, I would have broken into tears. I mean, it’s you, the Pole of Love. I would have broken into tears just on the sight of you, never mind sitting before you.

Even if I could get as far as sitting before you, I would be drenched in tears, sobbing feverishly, without being able to articulate a single word. I don’t even know whether I can look straight into your eyes. My mind would be buzzing. Perhaps I would see my life passes before me eyes, with all the experiences and the thoughts, feelings and emotions that come with them–like a whirlwind, strong, without being able to see a single focus.

I would realize, all those questions that I have been rehearsing in my head before this, are simply irrelevant. They feel superficial. Yet they aren’t of no value, for they point to something else, something deeper. Something that I can’t begin to even touch. Yet I know it is there, the real question I want to ask you. The only question that matters. I just don’t know what.

You would be sitting there, quietly, listening intently to my quietness. You would hear them–all the the stories, the questions, the doubts, the confusion, the happiness, the yearning, the longing, the love. You would also hear, the question. THE question.

Somehow some time, sooner or later, my sobbing would subside. The air would become clearer. I would become calmer, physically and emotionally tired of my own crying.

There would be silence. Peace. Salaam.

We would stay in this silence for a bit more time. You would still be sitting there, quietly. You were simply being there with me. I grew even quieter.

Then for a split second, I would understand. I would feel this complete acceptance and being completely loved. I have been heard. And I have heard; I have heard the answer. At that split second, I understand.

Finally, I would have enough courage to look at you. My gaze would meet yours. Not for long though. Because I would definitely be drowned in tears yet again. Of Happiness. Of Love.

Thank you.

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