Rumi:
“This is how it is when your animal energies,
the nafs, dominate your soul:
…you’ve seen a nomad’s dog
lying at the tent entrance, with his head
on the threshold and his eyes closed.
…Now, what if that dog’s owner
were not able to control it?
…Just as you can’t come close,
he can’t go out!”
We must be aware of our animal energies, our nafs, and we must learn to control them or they will control us.
Sometimes it feels like Rumi is playing with us, maybe to see if we’re paying attention. The poem I read today feels very playful. He says,
“We’re drinking wine, but not through lips.
We’re sleeping it off, but not in bed.”
“Thoughts take form with words,
but this daylight is beyond and before
thinking and imagining.”
Then he finishes the poem with these lines:
“The rest of the poem is too blurry
for them to read.”
Are we so caught up in the busy-ness of our lives that we cannot see the poetry of the world around us? The beautiful mystery that we call heaven is already here around us but we have complicated our vision and forgotten how to see? Today’s poem doesn’t feel like a reprimand or encouragement – it feels like Rumi is teasing a bit, saying to us, look, see how absurd we can sometimes be.
It’s impossible to not feel something watching the marches and protests that are continuing throughout the United States, Canada and around the world. Some of the feelings are difficult to name and sit with. As a white, middle class female I have lived a relatively privileged life. It’s difficult to face how insidious racism is in our society and accept how unconsciously I may have been contributing to it. George Floyd’s death has ripped open a scar that will never be the same. The bleeding may stop but the wound can either heal or the infection become worse. I am asking myself, how can I, right now, look deeply at any way I can add love and compassion to question long held beliefs so that I may contribute to healing.
When did we become our own worst enemy. Minnesota, land of 10,000 lakes - they're practically Canadian. A border and a name is not enough to claim we are any different. When did we buy into the lie our leaders would have us believe that they are looking out for our best interest. An egg placed in hot water becomes soft cooked after three minutes, hard boiled after twelve, after that shells may crack. Gunshot explosions when the pot boils dry have us diving for cover. Yolk sticks to the stipple like only something contained and under pressure, can. The world placed in a cell phone lens becomes agitated in eight seconds, the time it takes to form a first impression. After eight minutes and forty-six seconds it boils over, multiple "moments of truth" crack a two-hundred year old shell, a police car, a parking space, a man's face on the asphalt When did a plea for mercy become something to taunt, a knee on a neck, an eye turned away I have to remind myself to not look away, to feel the discomfort, to see the obstacles, see how we use our language, the toys we give our children, the messages in their spaces of learning, Barbie and Ken in their Malibu home, masculine control of naming and explaining. What can we learn from Black Americans, from people of color, how they inhabit their bodies how they live in the world. I have to remind myself to not look away. The message sticks like only something contained and under pressure, can.
“When you understand how to love one thing –
then you also understand how best to love everything.”
Novalis
I wanted to write something profound. Something uplifting and fun to help lift our focus… I’m sorry it just isn’t there tonight. So I offer you this poem written by Canadian poet, David O’Meara. However, what I do want to add is that we do have the perfect opportunity at hand to have those deep conversations that we may not otherwise share. Take care, everyone.
Nothing "Nothing," he said, "it's nothing." Then nothing was said. Silence; nothing. What she asked had come from nothing. Sweet nothing, really, was all he said. They cut their links like little wires, said nothing about it afterward, nothing. All over nothing. So never to talk of what they said until all that was ever said was nothing, and so nothing was ever said.
Today on my walk I came across this message and it reminded me of an Anne Frank quote, ” How wonderful it is that nobody need wait a single moment before starting to improve the world.”
Today I am sharing from Sharlyn HiDalgo's "The Healing Power of Trees." In her book March 21 - April 17 is Hawthorn Month Here is a sample of what she says: "Despite the jubilant celebration of spring's arrival, this month is a time to quiet oneself and go within. ...it refers to personal sovereignty in which we reclaim our personal power and pay attention to our own inner life. Fasting, ritual cleansing, and refraining from one's usual habits and patterns is encouraged. We may want to seek retreat and silence in order to reconnect with the divine and the unseen worlds." How timely!!
We're falling down the rabbit hole at warp speed a toilet paper trail behind us. The Cheshire Cat would be welcome as characters more ominous than any from Tenniel enter our daily lives. The Horsemen prance in the shadows - not since the Spanish flu have so many visions danced in their heads.
Image from the Print Collector/Heritage Images
ScribbleDartsfromtheHeart 