"...this world is a treacherous place
and will surely slay and drown the lazy...
the only life raft here is love...
don't die again
with that holy ruby mine inside
still unclaimed
when you could be swinging
a golden pick with
each
step."
*portion of DON'T DIE AGAIN from THE GIFT, POEMS BY HAFIZ The Great Sufi Master
namaste, m*tha f*ckas.
i bow to you. the light within me honors the light within you.
i welcome you in!
this open space is to defy the deconstruction of communication...
to create permanence and integrity in my linguistic construction...these are my words...
and most are not in their sunday clothes.
i recgonize the irony, the poetic complex interpretation of namaste, m*tha f*cka...
and i am lovin' it!
urban zen in the fitting rooms, where western men fall short of western genius.
sifting for culture through merchandice
and i wonder if i could do a sun salutation in these jeans?
this urban gateway to the icons of eastern culltures
where throw pillows spark meditative OMMM
and floating lamps in my 2nd floor studio that rival the set of Karate Kid: Part whatever
the one when he's in mr. miyagis' home-home-town and his girl is the chicky
who digs him enough to do the sacred tea cup sharing tradition.
i bow to you, m*tha f*cka.
with humility. with respect.
with the knowledge that the light within us can sometimes be
just a bad haircut on the day we decide to die.
namaste.
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Last week, I had the pleasure of experiencing a yoga class focused on nothing but Love. And Hugs. All songs devoted to love and hugs. Kinda freakin' cool. Made me think of you...
ReplyDeleteAnd then, near the end, she offered us this...
The Summer Day
Mary Oliver
Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean-
the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down-
who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don't know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?
...Oh, I love that!
"Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?"
Hmm, Gina? Whatchu goin' a do?
Liza...ahhh, Liza...what am I goin' do? I am going to try and be thankful for whatever comes my way...and, like the grasshopper, eat lots of sugar! and keep on movin'! namaste, my yoga guru!
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