Michael Meade's Mosaic Voices podcast is really medicine for this soul.
Listening to it this morning, this episode in particular - what to say, how to say it - it resonated so much I barely have words for it. The failures that bring us truth, the losses that bring us to love...whittling away, whittling away so all that remains in spirit.. There was William Stafford to begin with and Rumi in the middle and Hafiz to end with and the insights of Meade who weaves together his belief, his being, his truth about this necessity of being who you are, especially the poet you are, especially the dancer you are. In so many ways, these words in this podcast mirror...reflect....give words to the silences I live and create from. Listening to this today, I feel I went on that same journey of awakening, struggle and catharsis that forms the journey of The Good Manners of Colonized Subjects. in its own particular way, all that was spoken connected to the heart of all I am doing in my own particular way... "Cast all your votes for dancing," as Rumi says; yes, that! and Listen, here, below and more podcasts at the Mosaic Voices "Living Myth" website. For My Young Friends Who Are Afraid William Stafford There is a country to cross you will find in the corner of your eye, in the quick slip of your foot--air far down, a snap that might have caught. And maybe for you, for me, a high, passing voice that finds its way by being afraid. That country is there, for us, carried as it is crossed. What you fear will not go away: it will take you into yourself and bless you and keep you. That's the world, and we all live there.
ONLY BREATH
Not Christian or Jew or Muslim, not Hindu, Buddhist, sufi, or zen. Not any religion or cultural system. I am not from the East or the West, not out of the ocean or up from the ground, not natural or ethereal, not composed of elements at all. I do not exist, am not an entity in this world or the next, did not descend from Adam or Eve or any origin story. My place is placeless, a trace of the traceless. Neither body or soul. I belong to the beloved, have seen the two worlds as one and that one call to and know, first, last, outer, inner, only that breath breathing human being. Coleman Barks, Tr., The Essential Rumi (San Fransico: Harper Collins, 1995) ~my darling Hafiz~ I know the voice of depression Still calls to you. I know those habits that can ruin your life Still send their invitations. But you are with the Friend now And look so much stronger. You can stay that way And even Bloom! Keep squeezing drops of the Sun From your prayers and work and music And from you companions’ beautiful laughter. Keep squeezing drops of the Sun From the sacred hands and glance of you Beloved And, my dear, From the most insignificant movements of your own holy body. Learn to recognize the counterfeit coins The may buy you a moment of pleasure, But then drag you for days Like a broken man Behind a farting camel. You are with the Friend now. Learn what actions of yours bring freedom And love. Whenever you say God’s name, dear pilgrim, My ears wish my head was missing, So they could finally kiss each other And applaud all your nourishing wisdom. O keep squeezing drops of Sun From your prayers and work and music And from your companions’ beautiful laughter And from the most insignificant movements Of your own holy body. Now, sweet one, Be wise. Cast all your votes for Dancing!
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