I imagine our past laid out before us like a great oriental carpet, rolling out from its center toward infinity. On it sit the edifices of our memory — houses and huts — habitations fixed in time and sequence. Moreover, I imagine that when we become quiet, wait mindfully, still our continuous chatter — pray or mediate — that we give the outspun carpet of our memory a shake, reorganize the monuments of our past, in the words of Omar Khayyam, “shatter (them) to bits, remold (them) nearer to the heart’s desire.” Who would not wish that for their friends and for themselves?
Posted on: Mon, 12 May 2014 19:23:00 +0000
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