"make a practice of polishing, polishing, polishing"
The early-morning reading from Rumi’s Mathnawi provokes more reflecting on reflection with his metaphors of the mirror we make.
… make a practice of polishing, polishing, polishing,/ That thy heart may become a mirror full of images…/In order that the forms of the Unseen may appear in it, and that the reflexion of houri and angel may dart into it . . . [Mathnawi, Book IV, lines 2469-, Nicholson's translation]
Polishing the mirror is such a similar motif to the porch-project. Stage three, the application of Transparent Waterproofing Wood Finish, was interrupted by rainfall and by a week-long trip; but when the wood planks of the deck had time to dry out thoroughly and polishing was done, their surface opened a view into the inner grain.
Whether mirrors being polished or veils being removed, a life-work offers transcendence. So many windows, or doorways, unmuddy-ing waters, smogfree-ing skies… all such cleansing pushes a person into the mystery of revelation. I love looking into the inner flower or the deeper woods because they draw me further, yet further into the unknown. A swirling fog does it too.
And Love itself. Falling into it, adolescently, paints a fantasy, like a fairytale coming true, a gift-giving glimpse of this world swirling into the other. And then, for me, becoming-a-father especially threw open a trapdoor with no bottom, prompting wonderment into a forever-expanding Reality. Now getting old and older, the light draws me on, more certain of the truth beyond, through the veils of this world.
Clear mirror, no rust. I am the burning core of Mount Sinai, not a mind full of hatred.
I taste a wine not pressed from grapes.
The one everyone calls to . . .
Coleman Barks' version, from Oct 27, "I Am Not," in A Year with Rumi