Don’t even ask how rapidly the hummingbird lives his life.
You can’t imagine. A thousand flowers a day,
a little sleep, then the same again,
then he vanishes.
I adore him.
Yet I adore also the drowse of mountains.
And in the human world, what is time?
In my mind there is Rumi, dancing.
There is Li Po drinking from the winter stream.
There is Hafiz strolling through Shariz, his feet
loving the dust.
Of the whole universe
While throwing wild parties
In a tree house— on a limb
In your heart.” —Hafiz
The god of dirt
came up to me many times and said
so many wise and delectable things, I lay
on the grass listening
to his dog voice,
frog voice; now,
he said, and now,
and never once mentioned forever.” —Mary Oliver
tonight I took class from a teacher who recently graduated from the deep yoga school of healing arts, the program I am entering in april. she was brilliant! her heart shone straight into mine. in final meditation, long after our sweet long chants & bows, we held anjali mudra to our foreheads in mutual gratitude.
I could feel bhava & laura in the particulars of her language but most of all I could feel her authentic personal practice, her own rhythms & rituals.
you can see into the future sometimes, you know? a higher part of you that sees through time into times that burn into forever with the light of some cosmic everything. it’s pretty sweet.
lavender, rose and thyme optional.