WHY BUILD YOUR HOUSE ON A BRIDGE??

Bridge: Noun

1.	a structure spanning and providing passage over a river, chasm, road, or the like.

2.	a connecting, transitional, or intermediate route or phase between two adjacent elements, activities, conditions, or the like: Working at the hospital was a bridge between medical school and private practice.

This is a question that many mystics pose to seekers....why build your house on a bridge.  The world that we live in is a bridge between life and death. Once you've entered it, the only certainty is that you must exit.  Therefore why expend so much time decorating it?  You are simply a traveler passing through.  Depending on your destiny the toll on the bridge may seem easy or hard to pay.  The road may seem rough and bumpy, or smooth and solid. The bridge may sway in the wind and move you harshly from side to side, or you and the wind may be in harmony and flow in the same direction. The bridge can be narrow and eerie, or wide and delightful. The bridge may be covered in areas so no rain can penetrate or it can be so open that the rain will saturate you. It can be so high as to make you feel like a part of the sky, or make you shake because you're afraid of what's beneath you. 

 In any event it is a bridge.......not a good place to build a house. 

This life is transient. It is a strange world and we are strangers in it, constantly looking to define it and define ourselves.  When we are fully conscious and cognizant of who we are and where we are we will realize the truth of our existence...we are spiritual beings.  

 All day I think about it, then at night I say it.

Where did I come from, and what am I supposed to be doing?
I have no idea.
My soul is from elsewhere, I'm sure of that,
and I intend to end up there.

This drunkenness began in some other tavern.
When I get back around to that place,
I'll be completely sober. Meanwhile,
I'm like a bird from another continent, sitting in this aviary.
The day is coming when I fly off,
but who is it now in my ear who hears my voice?
Who says words with my mouth?

Who looks out with my eyes? What is the soul?
I cannot stop asking.
If I could taste one sip of an answer,
I could break out of this prison for drunks.
I didn't come here of my own accord, and I can't leave that way.
Whoever brought me here, will have to take me home.          RUMI

Where is our true home and how do we get to it?  Only by going within ourselves.

By clearing all of the clutter (thoughts) and listening.

"Be still, and know that I am God"