Hello Gentlemen,
In memory of our friend Harold Earl Myers I am posting the Rumi poem below. Harold has attended the Spring Gathering for past few years. He died last week.
His gentle soul will be missed.

For safekeeping, gold is hidden in a desolate place, where
no one ever goes, not

in a familiar, eary-to-get-to spot. The proverb goes, Joy
lives concealed in grief.

The mind puzzles with this, but that strong beast, the soul, a
lively animal, will break

such a tether. Love burns away difficulties, as daylight does
night phantoms. Look for

the answer inside your question. Cornered in the edgeless
region of love, you'll

see the opening that leads neither east nor west, nor any
direction. You're a mountain

searching for its echo! Whenever you hurt, you say, Lord
God! The answer lives in that

which bends you low and makes you cry out. Pain and the threat
of death, for instance, do this.

They make you clear. When you're gone, you lose purpose. You
wonder what to do, where

to go. This is because you're uneven in your opening:
sometimes closed and unreachable,

sometimes with your shirt torn with longing. Your discursive
intellect dominates for a

time; then the universal, beyond-time intelligence comes. Sell
your questioning talents, my

son; buy bewildering surrender. Live simply and helpfully
in that. Don't worry about

the University of Bukhara with its prestigious curriculum.

(post by Ethan)