Opening Widsom’s Door

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“The quieter you become the more you are able to hear.”

Many believed Rumi to be quite simple; in reality, her silence spoke of a wisdom that few understood.  She came into this world a stranger, and she left as a stranger.  It was rumored that she remained in silence for more than five years before eventually ending her fast on the spoken word.  When she finally broke her silence her first words were less than profound.

“I’m quite thirsty,” she said.  “May I have some water?”

The request was quickly granted, and it was months before she spoke again.  Wherever she went, she carried within her the stillness of eternal night.  She was born to a single mother at a time when such things were never discussed.  The story goes that her father was killed in battle leaving her with only one guardian.  Few believed this; none publicly questioned the veracity of the tale—this was something polite people didn’t do.

Everyone knew that she had a specialness about her.  Some claimed to have witnessed her demonstrating unusual powers; no one knew the genesis of these gifts, but few doubted them.  Rumi had an ability to read minds; she saw auras; she could predict the future; stories circulated about her levitating and teleporting to other places; when she grew older, she was known to spend no more than three days in any one place; she was like the wind—powerful yet transient and impossible to fully grasp.  All these things had been talked about in hushed whispers—some witnessed.  These stories followed Rumi wherever she went.  She never denied the tales; she certainly never affirmed them; to do so would be impolite.

Although people admired Rumi for being almost savant-like—they felt she was granted special powers in exchange for full mental aptitude—almost everyone took pity on her for the plight she was dealt.  Very few would have ever chosen to change places with her.  She was far too wise to pay attention to such things.

“That girl is not quite all there,” was a constant refrain whenever Rumi was around.

Rumi knew nothing of these whisperings; even if she had it wouldn’t have altered her course in the least. Rumi had something very few people possessed—she lived unaffected by the ebbs and flows of the Universe.  Her sense of peace was constant.  She was admired for this if not completely misunderstood.

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