June 26, 2026

Die before you die and discover that there is no death.

Rumi wrote within a Sufi tradition that took mortality seriously as a daily practice, not a distant event. He had watched his closest friend, Shams of Tabriz, disappear — possibly killed — and then spent years processing that grief through poetry. This line is not comfort; it is instruction. It asks you to practice the small deaths now — letting go of a reputation, a role, a version of yourself — so that when the final one comes, it finds you already familiar with the territory.