Last night I dreamed of journeys. Riding some kind of rubber raft on a sea cluttered like a marsh under high mountains capped with snow, a landscape I did not recognize; later, trying to find the right bus in the dark to go back to the hotel whose name I did not know, on some street in an unfamiliar town I knew I couldn’t remember. Feverish flu dreams? The result of staying in for days, sick and unable to go anywhere? Or some spiritual need to find my way to some place I’m not yet aware of?
Of quotes on journeying I find today, this advice of Rumi’s resonates most—
Don’t knock on any random door like a beggar. Reach your long hand out to another door, beyond where you go on the street, the street where everyone says, "How are you?" and no one says “How aren’t you?” (Rumi)
image: Yehuda Edri