Patterns in the Yard
Letting the Ink Seep
Sometimes the head gets too full.
Endless thoughts shaping words, ideas piling into heaping mounds of overflowing debris. It can be a never-ending ping pong game of lists and reminders, questions and answers, always doing…doing something.
The mind is important, powerful, necessary. But oh, the brilliance of pausing the constancy of my brain.
Sometimes it just takes a pen. Slowing down to let ink seep into textured paper, not knowing where I’m going. On the blank sheet, it matters not. This is for no one but myself. There is no purpose whatsoever, except that it feels good to gaze upon colors, filling lines that lead me to an unknown place where there never is a wrong. No time.
Tripping Over Joy
What is the difference
Between your experience of Existence
And that of a saint?
The saint knows
That the spiritual path
Is a sublime chess game with God
And that the Beloved
Has just made such a Fantastic Move
That the saint is now continually
Tripping over Joy
And bursting out in Laughter
And saying, “I Surrender!”
Whereas, my dear,
I am afraid you still think
You have a thousand serious moves.
~ renderings of Hafiz by Daniel Ladinsky
“I Heard God Laughing, Poems of Hope and Joy”
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