Insecurity is like a shadow monster in your room.

You know what I mean?  You're a child and you're going to bed when you start searching the room to make sure it's safe.  And your eyes fall upon a strange shadow on the wall.  You get to thinking, is it a shadow or it is alive?  Did it just move? Yes it did, I saw it move.  Now you look closer and you can make out the details, arms and head, tentacles, teeth, ears, every one of them is moving.  You want to scream out and call your mom or dad.  And sometimes you can scream and sometimes you're too afraid so you just bury your head under the covers and hide, hoping it will go away.  And it always does go away because daylight reveals its true nature.  

Now isn't that just a perfect analogy for insecurity and all those other things that cause us to fear so much so we become paralyzed.  And the daylight, what do you suppose that might be?  Recognizing truth perhaps, seeing the true nature of things.  Once we understand a thing it isn't paralyzing anymore I guess.  

I wonder if we could skip that paralyzing fear stage all together.  Of course it takes great courage to get up from your bed, in the dark, and take that first step towards the shadow monster, especially when you're not quite sure if it's real or not.  Great courage indeed.  

O Son of Man!

My eternity is My creation, I have created it for thee.  Make it the garment of thy temple.  My unity is My handiwork; I have wrought it for thee; clothe thyself therewith, that thou mayest be to all eternity the revelation of My everlasting being.

-The Hidden Words, 64.

Rumi's wisdom

Make everything in you an ear,
each atom of your being
and you will hear in every moment
what the source is whispering to you
without the need for my words 
or anyone else’s.

You are, we all are, the Beloved of the Beloved.  And in every moment, in every event of your life, the Beloved is whispering to you exactly what you need to hear and know. Who can ever explain this miracle? It simply is. Listen and you will discover it every passing moment. Listen, and your whole life will become a conversation in thought and act between you and Him, directly, wordlessly, now and always. 

Perfect Prose

The Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck

Joad had moved into the imperfect shade of the molting leaves before the man heard him coming, stopped his song, and turned his head.  It was a long head, bony; tight of skin, and set on a neck as stringy and muscular as a celery stalk.  His eyeballs were heavy and protruding; the lids stretched to cover them, and the lids were raw and red.  His cheeks were brown and shiny and hairless and his mouth full-- humorous and sensual.  The nose, beaked and hard, stretched the skin so tightly that the bridge showed white. There was no perspiration on the face, not even on the tall pale forehead.  It was an abnormally high forehead, lined with delicate blue veins at the temple.  Fully half of the face was above the eyes.  His stiff gray hair was mussed back from his brow as though he had combed it back with his fingers.  For clothes he wore overalls and a blue shirt.  A denim coat with brass buttons and a spotted brown hat creased like a pork pie lay on the ground beside him.  Canvas sneakers, gray with dust, lay near by where they had fallen when they were kicked off.   - pg15