Not Christian or Jew or Muslim, not Hindu, Buddhist, sufi, or zen. Not any religion or cultural system. I am not from the East or the West, not out of the ocean or up from the ground, not natural or ethereal, not composed of elements at all. I do not exist, am not an entity in this world or the next, did not descend from Adam or Eve or any origin story. My place is placeless, a trace of the traceless. Neither body or soul. I belong to the beloved, have seen the two worlds as one and that one call to and know, first, last, outer, inner, only that breath breathing human being.

A pen went scribbling along. When it tried to write love, it broke.

Now be silent. Let the One who creates the words speak. He made the door. He made the lock. He also made the key.

In Silence there is eloquence. Stop weaving and see how the pattern improves.

My soul gave me good counsel, teaching me to love. Love was for me a delicate thread stretched between two adjacent pegs, but now it has been transformed into a halo, its first is its last, and its last is its first. It encompases every being, slowly expanding to embrace all that ever will be.

Say Bismillah, In the name of God, as the shaykh does with a knife when he offers an animal. Bismillah your old self to find your real name. - Jalaluddin al

Everything that is made beautiful and fair and lovely is made for the eye of one who sees.