She read about the reed flute, crying because it was torn from the reed-bed. She realized her own restlessness was simply a longing for her true home—the peace within her soul.
Elif opened the book at random. Her eyes fell upon a passage about a candle that does not lose its light by lighting another. She thought of her own life—the competition at her job, the fear of being "less" if others had "more." As she read further, the words of Mevlana (Rumi) began to act like a soothing balm: Mevlana Denizinden Damlalar KitabД±nД±
By the time Elif left Konya, she hadn't found a "solution" to her problems, but she had found something better: a way to swim. She realized that while she was just a "drop" in the vast sea of existence, as Rumi wrote, she was also She read about the reed flute, crying because
, and all else is poor translation. The wound is the place where the Light enters you. Her eyes fell upon a passage about a