Letting Hafiz tell it:

I wonder if I’m isolating or taking time for myself.
I wonder if I’m crazy.
I wonder if I’ll ever want to make new friends again–or keep the old.
I wonder if I’ll ever want to talk on the phone for hours like I used to.
I wonder if I’m bad because I’m not grateful every moment for all I have.

I wonder if I’ll outlive my kids.
I wonder if I’ll be in a car accident.
I wonder if there’ll be an earthquake or tsunami here.
I wonder how I’ll die.

I wonder if the Divine thinks of me at all.
I wonder what it would be like to fly with my body through the air like an eagle.
I wonder if anyone ever reads this besides spammers.

What I’ll not wonder about today is that when I lean on the Divine, I do feel wonderful.  I am reminded that just because I wonder, and wander, I am not lost.  I am safe in Her arms.

That’s me–filled with myself, stuffed up, congested with selfish low-class problems.  If I only could, as Emerson said, “get my bloated self” out of the way.  Actually, I’m not sure he said that, but it’s a phrase that works for me.

I get so dull, so inert, that I believe life has no meaning.  Even a slight glance a the trees outside my window brings me laughter at that illusion.  Green, growth, movement, air–that’s life.  And all my contortions seeking more than that are bound to be doomed.  Making mountains out of a grain of sand.

Country-destroying earthquakes and the power of the gatherings of drops of water can change my attitude as to my little hangnail concerns.  The earth is shaking it up and our lives may change at any second.

I open my heart today to brilliance, light and kindness. 

And grab your towel.  At least that’s the suggestion in Hitchiker’s Guide to the Universe.  It seems like a good idea, you can always use a towel.

But when work gets frantic, when the boss seems to pressure instead of inspire, when the workers run around with furrowed brows–or all are understandably sick–a towel is just not enough.  How not to panic?  How to breathe in deep and long and sweet and easy?

This is when I am blessed with a view out my window to the trees.  They were waving and dancing yesterday in a strong wind off the coast.  Tossing their still-bare limbs to a rousing tune, shaking their fur-lined hair and letting the uncertain parts loose.

That’s my lesson for today–shake it off, do a little dance, let go and feel the grace-full gift of the breath of the Divine surround and fill me.

It’s like there is a wall that I keep bumping into.  I’m not sure where I want to go, but I keep bumping up against inertia, pouting, and resistance.  And once I bump, I get restless and irritated.  Fun cycle that is starting to bore me–and that’s a good sign.

What I plan to do is to just trace my fingers along the cool bricks, dance my hands along the windows, take a look at the details and just let it be there without a fight.

I am still walking with the Divine.  She can see over all walls and just giggles at my snotty reaction to being contained and blind.  “It’s like a surprise!” She says.  And I want her to warn me, feeling anxious about sudden curves in the path.

“You are an adventurer,” She reminds me, “Be true to where you are, and you then can embrace the new.”

So today I embrace the wall, sit against it, have a picnic and just let us be together.

Hafiz puts it this way:

The best I can do for a prayer sometimes is to set an intention to be grateful, aware and kind.  Starting the day with gratitude shifts my attitude for sure.  I love trees, glad I’m in a world with trees.  I love my car–love driving it no matter where.

I’m grateful that I’m aware of the Divine in everything, giggling at my stuffiness and crankiness while residing in this emerald earth.  Aware that I’m a putz sometimes, staring at my empty thimble in the midst of paradise.

Kind.  I want to be kind.  I don’t want to be a jerk or an asshole.  Done that, been there, it just leaves a rancid air trailing after me during the day.  And getting that smell out of the room just takes time.

So today I open up to be grateful, aware and kind.

I worked for a time in the Philosophy department of a university.  It was hilarious hearing all their arguments and long-winded big-worded tirades on existence.  But it is truly something that has puzzled me–or fascinated me since I was a child.

What makes me “me”?  How am I me and not you?  What is it about myself that is the same from now that is identified with me as a blonde curly haired sweet little thing of the age of 7?  And are you really out there or is this completely a dream?  That’s what the Buddhists say–this is the dream and the meditative life is the truth.

But I’m not meditating much these days.  Sure, I should, sure.  I know that womb-life of heaven is just a few long deep breaths away.  But what am I here in the crisp cold morning air of my human existence to be?  To do?

Do be do be do–says Frank Sinatra.  Perhaps it is just mine to sing, dance, and play with this exquisite world, the astounding creatures, the very blessed event of being on Earth.

I get the RIDS now and again: restless, irritable and discontent.  Part of me feels taken for granted, though I am in a stage where I rarely do anything for anyone but myself.  Selfish and lonely perhaps.  Tired of giving, and then, interestingly enough, feeling more empty.

I believe that for the circulation of good to show up in my life, I have to BE a circulation of good.  Sending little things to those few friends and family; I’m doing that.  But this little crust of crankiness around me is a barrier.

Perhaps if I honor this resistance to life, perhaps if I tell this pouty little girl that she’s right, she needs to hole up and lick some kind of wounds that are rising to the surface.  Or perhaps it is a rest time, to conserve before energy is needed.

In any case, I dive into the Divine.  I swim in Her grace, glory and comfort.  I lose myself in the womb of Her safety and peace.  I can surround that little restless part of me in the ocean of goodness that is the Truth.

from Hafiz to guide me today