It had never occurred to me before I studied this poem that I had ever made deals over my existence in this life. But I did step outside the parameters of expectation to steal my way, a different way; a way of my own design and I was caught and brought up before a judge and a jury. I was tried in ways that would require deep healing. I was found straddling the Universe and even more damning, I give away freely of myself to what pleases me and, by the standards of the day, this makes me suspect.
It is all the fault of prayer.
It has filled me with divine treasures
that I love to loosely spend.
No one really cares about what prayers deliver in the chambers of law and this is why this kind of offense is easy to defend. Healing lives beyond punitive judgement and doesn't exist there. Surviving is contrary to the expectation; let alone achieving any measure of valuable fulfillment. "No one's getting away with anything here, ladies and gentlemen. Just move along now..."
I don't think it matters where or when a person starts opening their heart, as Hafiz suggests in this poem. There is no starting and stopping, really. Love lives in everything and it is beyond time, space, and words. One can pick any place or any letter in the alphabet. It is simply a place holder to know where to begin a story and a point of ending one as required in this dimension as Hafiz demonstrates in this poem.
Thank you for listening.
Video: Given as I am for aggrandizement, and growing up in this blockbuster popular culture, how could I resist an imaginary life of velocity, danger, and intrigue? My spies? Not so slick. No martinis, speed, firepower, and sexy bits. My spies are made of the elements but they are no less exciting to me than what careens across the silver screen in 007 movies. I get all the information I need on the comings and goings of the world from them without having to inquire through the white sky bird. There are often surprises and because I am in cahoots as well as at odds with them, this is enough spirit, momentum and thrill for me. New understandings and mysteries of life are my jam. My spies, they love me, they deliver and, of course....nobody does it better, no body ever will.
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.