By Jalaluddin Rumi
Translated by Coleman Barks
Every war and every conflict
between human beings has happened
because of some disagreement about names.
It is such an unnecessary foolishness,
because just beyond the arguing
there is a long table of companionship
set and waiting for us to sit down.
What is praised is one, so the praise is one too,
many jugs being poured into a huge basin.
All religions, all this singing, one song.
The differences are just illusion and vanity.
Sunlight looks a little different
on this wall than it does on that wall
and a lot different on this other one,
but it is still the same light.
We have borrowed these clothes,
these time-and-space personalities,
from a light, and when we praise,
we are pouring them back in.
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I had a quiet Thursday doing work and enjoying yet another day of ridiculously clear not-too-warm weather. Nothing terribly exciting happened (apart from the failure of the North Korean rocket, about which Paul said helpfully that he guessed Kim Il-Sung just couldn't get it up). Adam stayed late for tech again and we both took walks at the same time, though he had a dog and I did not.
Evening TV included the History Channel specials on the Titanic's sister ships and potentially fatal design flaws, then Awake which was particularly awful this week -- not awful as in badly done, just really hard to watch because the cases were so horrible (this is why I do not watch forensic shows). Here are some more photos from Medieval Times last week, including a close-up of the bottom of the plate which I guess Marco Polo personally brought back:
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