There are seasons when I enter an ascetic’ mode. The feeling of a full stomach disgusts me, the sound of it growling with hunger feels like a music. I wish to talk to none & see none & engage with none. Just spend all my time In contemplation, meditating, empty.
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"There's hidden sweetness in the stomach's emptiness. We are lutes, no more, no less. If the soundbox is stuffed full of anything, no music. If the brain and belly are burning clean with fasting, every moment a new song comes out of the fire." ― Rumi
Oh yes, this was from a Coleman Barks translation. Would love to hear if it's out of line with the original Rumi piece, and if so, how the original goes.
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