Home together on a rainy night, Jeb and I pull out old Saturday Night Live skits, fast forward through some adult humor and find a few goofy gems.  Kings of the just plain silly, Chris Farley and Will Ferrell have me laughing harder than I have in weeks.

Maybe it’s been longer than weeks, as Jeb says, “Your laugh! It’s so funny,” as if he’s never heard it before.

In the morning he crawls up into my bed, looks at my face in the light and says with candid concern, “You look like you’re dying.” Not quite the pillow talk a woman wants to wake to.

He then traces a finger along my aging cheek. “You’re getting so many spots. You really look like you’re dying.”

Continuing his assessment, he puts his hand to my chest. “Is your heart beating?” He lingers a good two seconds then confirms, “Your heart’s not beating. I don’t feel your heart.”

“It’s there, it’s beating,” I say.

“But you’re too young to die…right?”

I affirm. I am too young to die.

I know I’m alive.  Just yesterday I did all those human, earthly things:  sorted toads and spiders from the rain soaked recycling, vacuumed dust bunnies from the closet, picked up the mail, bought groceries.

But am I really living?

Does Jeb see more than just my crow’s feet? Does he sense a body breathing lacking life force?

At my desk the cover of Daniel Ladinsky‘s renderings of Hafiz poetry shimmers in gold and periwinkle blue: I Heard God Laughing. Poems of Hope and Joy.

Flipping through the pages it’s as though Ladinsky and Hafiz have conspired to give me a talking to.  A loving scolding that cracks open my heart.

I Know the Way You Can Get

I know the way you can get
When you have not had a drink of Love:

Your face hardens,
Your sweet muscles cramp.
Children become concerned
About a strange look that appears in your eyes
Which even begins to worry your own mirror
And nose.

Squirrels and birds sense your sadness
And call an important conference in a tall tree.
They decide which secret code to chant
To help your mind and soul.

Even angels fear that brand of madness
That arrays itself against the world
And throws sharp stones and spears into
The innocent
And into one’s self.

O I know the way you can get
If you have not been drinking Love:

You might rip apart
Every sentence your friends and teachers say,
Looking for hidden clauses.

You might weigh every word on a scale
Like a dead fish.

You might pull out a ruler to measure
From every angle in your darkness
The beautiful dimensions of a heart you once
Trusted.

I know the way you can get
If you have not had a drink from Love’s
Hands.

That is why all the Great Ones speak of
The vital need
To keep remembering God,
So you will come to know and see Him
As being Playful
And Wanting,
Just Wanting to help.

That is why Hafiz says:
Bring your cup near me,
For I am a Sweet Old Vagabond
With an Infinite Leaking Barrel
Of Light and Laughter and Truth
That the Beloved has tied to my back.

Dear one,
Indeed, please bring your heart near me.
For all I care about
Is quenching your thirst for freedom!

All a Sane man can ever care about
Is giving Love!

~ Hafiz (translation by Daniel Ladinsky)

This morning I’ll meet you at that veritable fountain of youth and raise a toast poured from that Vagabond’s leaking barrel.

Cheers to Light and Love and Laughter!