Episode Fifty Two, The Gift
I've long ago let go of the belief that everything is random in the universe and reality is a done deal. It just never held true for me over the course of my life. Likewise, I've come to understand that everyone is wired a certain way and there is a method to it. If one is fortunate, one can be blessed with the understanding of their wiring. They can read their passions, find support and realize their gift.
We are all gifted in some way and often it is not something everyone is going to appreciate. Our gift isn't for anyone else to approve or disapprove of. Our gift is ours to find and it unlocks our alignment with a deep personal sense of satisfaction in life. When found, we know the reason we came into our life and our importance in the world. It compounds in sharing and when we do, we channel love into the world. It sounds simple and when it is done well, it looks that way, too. It isn't.
Thank you for listening.
Music: Danny Schmidt arrived in my life via his songs in the aughts and my affiliation with WWR. He has always been an inspiration to me. It was not only his talent, it was also his heart. He always greeted me with such warmth and amiability when our paths crossed. I felt like I mattered to Danny. If anyone in this world could ride a high horse into town and make demands, it would be Danny Schmidt but, as talented as he is, he would never identify with such a thing. His gifts do not come in fancy wrappers. His song, Stained Glass, is epic. The theme he has tapped into has moved more hearts to tears than the tides have graced shores. It is truly an inspired piece by a gifted wordsmith and musician. I'm so happy Danny found his gift. He has worked hard to share it and made me richer in the process, as is the way with gifts given that resonate from within.
It was thirty days 'til Easter when the elm tree hit the church Thank God it fell on Friday 'cause at least no one was hurt But there was fear it might delay the second coming of the lord 'Cause the stained glass crucifixion was in stains upon the floor They spent a day of cleaning and a day to board the hole Where the stained glass once had cast a godly light upon the fold But come the Sunday service all the faces now were gray And they commenced to take donations as the faithful knelt to pray On Monday they discovered that the man who'd built the glass Was the only man in town who could and sadly he had passed But his father who was ninety said the tools were in the shed And he'd kindly try and resurrect the window from the dead The congregation argued, but the wise ones all rejoiced 'Cause in the one hand was solution, in the other was no choice So they gave the man their blessings and they gave his hand a shake And they gave him all the coins they had collected on their plate It was seven days 'til Easter, they’d seen neither hide nor hair So they came and knocked at suppertime in hopes the man was there But a banging from the basement was about all that they could hear And curses that might make the devil blush and wash his ears Come first thing Easter morning and to everyone's good grace The man was up on ladders with the window nailed in place It was covered in black velvet like a hood or like a veil He pulled the sheet and there it hung apocryphal and frail The seams had melted jagged, they were crooked like a spine The glass was rough like hands of man against the hands of time And there was bloodstains in the red and there were teardrops in the blue He said "It may not be the best but it's the best that I can do" The chapel fell to silence, it was more than just surprise As the monstrosity of color slid its tongue across their eyes And they shivered from exposure like babies born again 'Cause in every pane of glass was all the joy and pain of man There was every fearful smile, there was every joyful tear There was each and every choice that leads from every there to here There was every cozy stranger, there was every awkward friend There was every perfect night that's left initials in the sand There was every day that's filled so full the weeks would float away There was all those days spent wondering what to do with all those days There was every lie that's ever saved the truth from being shamed And every secret you could ever trust a friend to hide away There was the fortune of discovering a new face you might adore And the thrill of coming home to find her clothes upon the floor And the prideful immortality of children in the home That the storm can't grind the mountain down, it can only shift the stones There was everything your mouth says that your lips don't understand And every shape inside your head that you can't carve with your hands And every slice of glass revealed another slice of life Emblazoned imperfections in a perfect stream of light It all flooded through the window like rapids made of fire And then God rode through on sunshine and sat down 'cause he was tired He was tired.
As the thunder and the hardwood settled back into its place God removed his veil to show the scars across his face And some folks prayed in reverence and some folks prayed in fear As all the shades and chaos in the glass...became a mirror.
Danny Schmidt, Stained Glass, Parables & Primes
The original post in this series of poems by Hafiz can be found here.
The Gift: Poems by Hafiz and translated by Daniel Ladinsky can be purchased here.