The poem below is from Rumi, the mystic, poet, and founder of Mawlawi Sufism. I happened upon it while searching for something else (ah, poetic serendipity!) and it speaks to what I am going through.
That's the beauty of poetry. Something can be so personal yet resonate in a universal way so that a stranger can read it and feel the persistent tugging of truth.
Be with those who help your being.
Don’t sit with indifferent people,
whose breath comes cold out of their mouths.
Not these visible forms, your work is deeper.
A chunk of dirt thrown in the air breaks to pieces.
If you don’t try to fly, and so break yourself apart,
you will be broken open by death,
when it’s too late for all you could become.
Leaves get yellow.
The tree puts out fresh roots and makes them green.
Why are you so content with a love that turns you yellow?
~Rumi
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