Category Archives: Blog

What I really want to do

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Hafiz said it first:

All
These words
Are just a front.
What I would really like to do is
Chain you to my body,
Then sing for days
And days and
Days
About
The Divine
One.

But the words are so tiny, and the Divine is so big.  So many believe too big to touch or feel or hear or smooch.  Smooching with the Divine is better than honey butter on fresh made bread.  Caressing the closeness of Her soft Presence is only available to those who believe in the unbelievable.  Aren’t we the lucky ones?!

Mystic Morning

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This is how a mystic spends his day (Hafiz):

Slipping
On my shoes,
Boiling water,
Toasting bread,
Buttering the sky:
That should be enough contact
With Her in one day
To make anyone
Crazy.

Love makes every simple movement a cherished and celebrated event.  Waking with your lover, the unmade bed is rumpled like a queen’s velvet cape resting at her feet.  Opening up the door for the day’s fresh sun reminds me of galaxies I could have chosen.  But right here, right now, there is no place but Your Love breathing me.  The day dawns and my wedding feast awaits.

Humming Hafiz

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More to give you from another time and another place to here and now.

I wish I could speak like music.
I wish I could put the saying splendor
Of the fields into words
So that you could hold Truth
Against your body
And dance.

I am trying the best I can
With this crude brush, the tongue,
To cover you with light.

Imagine fields from the 12th century that he sees: golden waves of soft hills in ancient sunset.  Just listen to the tingling jingling music from the dancing feet of young veiled women swaying circles among spirals with handsome men inebriated with the heat of the desert night, swirling in ecstasy with Her Love breathing so close to my ticklish throat.

Time travel

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I like time travel.  Actually, I am not here now.  I am in another state, warmer weather, and not (as I am now) clicking on the keys.  Of course, I am never really here when you read this.  If there is indeed readers to this tiny human heart ramble rumble.  While traveling, I will be listening to the timeless crystallized love of Hafiz for the One he loved.  The same One I love.

Here is one for today:

Write all that worries you on a piece of parchment;
Offer it to the One.
Even from the distance of a millennium

I can lean the flame in my heart
Into your life

And turn
All that frightens you
Into holy
Incense
Ash.

May I be the sacred dust that gathers at Your feet.  May I be the tiniest flame on the smallest candle in Your heart.  May I burn with love unceasing that lights my day.

She lifts her skirts

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Again, thanks to Hafiz:

Sometimes I say to a poem,

“I just don’t have the strength
To wring out another drop
of the Sun.”

And the poem will often
Respond

By climbing up onto a barrom table:

Then lifts her skirt, and winks,

Causing the whole sky to fall.

May the sky fall on me every moment.  May Her skirts swirl around me and Her laughter fill every bit of the morning air.  Let me stay up all night and stare up at Her flashing rustling Love.

I have no words

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Today I cannot but allow Hafiz to speak once more through me the Divine once more speaks through us both.

Everything is clapping today.

Light, sound, motion,
All movement.

A rabbit I pass pulls a cymbal
from a hidden pocket
then winks.

This causes a few planets and I
to go nuts
and start grabbing each other.

Someone sees this,
calls a shrink,
tries to get me committed
for being too happy.

Listen:
this world is the lunatic’s sphere,
Don’t always agree it is real.
even with my feet upon it
and the postman knowing my door,

my address is somewhere else.

Bandits

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We have a racoon that has come in through the cat door and stolen the kitty food.  It is not a messy robber, but we have shut the door.  Now we are safe from masked invaders in the night.

I wish I could steal hearts as easily, but doors slam shut.  Actually, I am not meant to steal hearts, only to sit in wonder at their dance.  We all dance to different music in our heads.  Kind words and sometimes bumpy harsh lyrics, telling us horrible stories about ourselves.  I’m free to listen to any song.

Free to have my heart be daily stolen by the One who set me free..

Words that Work

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I’m a writer because I write.  I like to watch the little marks show up on the screen.  I am fascinated with ideas that show up as scribbles on paper.  That anyone can look at this tiny markings and translate them into concepts, arguments, philosophy or babble.

And I am a speaker, of sorts.  I like to talk and tell stories.  My dad told lots of stories and my mom was captivating in her less garrulous manner, packing a punch with few phrases.

So yesterday a woman came up to me and asked–did you work downtown 16 years ago?  Did you regularly go to this meeting there?  Yes, I said.

She started jumping up and down and squealed–it WAS you!  I knew it!  I smiled, but was puzzled.  What did I do now so long ago?

You changed my life!
What?!
You changed my life with your words.  You opened my eyes, gave me a splash of ice cold water on my tired numb world and saved my life with what you said.

She squealed again and tears came to our eyes.

I wasn’t completed sure it was me, but it sounded like me.  I was pretty sure of my feeble knowledge back then, but not afraid to show it off.

Changing someone’s life with my words.

They weren’t my words, of course.  They are Her words.

You see My Love, I am sharing Your words with the world.  Thank you for speaking through me.

Changeless change

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The only constant is change.  Seasons seem the same, but are eternally different.  Moves happen, death separates, and the tiny folds in my cheeks grow deeper.  I say goodbye to people that I choose to leave behind; and some don’t even give me a farewell and disappear.

With all this variation in human life, you’d think we’d get used to it.  But there is this hilarious illusion that things have to remain the same.  “It’s the way we’ve always done it.”  “It’s tradition.”  And of course, obsessive habit demands that it stay the same in the face of complete and utter destruction.

Perhaps I am just like many humans–hard to learn to bend at the knees, cry when I need to and move on.

Today I know I am in a little boat with a big God–we keep bumping into each other and laughing and laughing and laughing.  What fun this life is holding hands with Her!

Hafiz today

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First the fish needs to say:
Something just ain’t right about this camel ride,
And I’m feeling so damn thirsty.
_________________________

Why am I out of the water?  What IS water?  Who is this camel I’m riding on?  What kind of life is this?  Whose idea was this anyway?  I’m dying of thirst for something. 

Wait a minute–I’m swimming in what I crave.  The Divine sustenance is the air I breath, the ground that holds me, the skin around me and the bones that hole me up.  I rest on this ride today and question nothing.