September 29, 1963 – August 30, 2025

A man once came to Rumi his face pale, his voice shaking and his heart heavy with the kind of fear no doctor could cure. He said, “I am afraid Mawlana, not of pain but of the end, of vanishing, of death.”
Rumi did not answer immediately. He looked out toward the horizon where the sun was setting and then he smiled. He said, “You see that sun? It looks like it’s falling, doesn’t it? But is it really ending or just rising elsewhere?”
The man stayed silent so Rumi continued. “When I die, don’t think I’m missing this world. Don’t cry for my body. Don’t weep for my silence. Because I’m not leaving. I am arriving.”
The man looked confused. So Rumi stood and said softly “The grave is not the mouth of a monster. It is the doorway of the beloved. You will see my body lowered but watch my soul rise like the sun, like the moon, like a seed bursting into bloom.”
Rumi leaned in gently “You cry because you only see the coffin, you see the grave. But behind the veil is a garden you cannot imagine.”
He paused, and then added with a whisper “Have you ever planted a seed and not seen it rise? Why then do you doubt the soul of man? Have you ever seen a bucket lowered into a well and returned empty? Then why fear when the soul returns fuller than ever?”
The man, now trembling not with fear but with something softer stood quietly and Rumi said, “When I go don’t say goodbye, say he went home. The soul does not vanish. It removes its costume and steps into the place where there is no time, no fear, no end. What looks like the sunset is actually a dawn. What we call death is just the soul remembering where it came from. So don’t fear the grave. It’s not the end. It is the beginning of forever.
An informal gathering of old friends is planned for Sunday Oct 5th at the White House Pizza in Carbondale. Drop in anytime between 2pm and 5pm.
Any donations can be made to the ALS Foundation.