What
We speak
Becomes the house we live in.
Who will want to sleep in your bed
If the roof leaks
Right above
It?
Look what happens when the tongue
Cannot say to kindness:
“I will be your slave.”
The moon
Covers her face with both hands
And can’t bear
To look.
–Hafiz
from The Gift,
translated by Daniel Ladinsky
That mystical mischievous ecstatic poet and lover of God, Hafiz, has become an extraordinarily accurate and timely spiritual advisor for me lately. Many of us have often used books like the I-Ching, thowing them open to a random page that we will take as the perfect personal message for us that day. I tried it with the phonebook once and came upon the name J. Fraumgarten, and failing to discern the hidden meaning, my use of that method went downhill from there. The I-Ching itself, without fail, always told me something like “the Superior Man crosses the Great Water,” and I would do my best to digest that, then go about my business, never quite locating the Great Water, thus failing to cross it.
Hafiz on the other hand, in the briefest and softest of language, has the uncanny ability to speak right to my heart and my thoughts. For example, the poem I posted above appeared this morning the very day after I had an unusual-for-me conversation with someone I had never met before, about “language generating being.” I also just completed an entry for another blog (see link below) in which I speak of the possible impact of one’s internal conversation on the experience of aging.
So Hafiz today is right on schedule:
What
We speak
Becomes the house we live in.
What if it’s true? What would it mean if I really grasped that the very way I use language, in my private mind as well as speech, is literally creating my experience of reality? It would make me want to go into silence for two years.
Which is why I’m calling this the Mostly Silent Blog:
I want to see what kind of house I can build here.
P.S. See my guest posting on Thursday at Serene Ambition, a blog about aging.
This will be the active link on Thursday: http://www.sereneambition.com/blog/jimselman/entry/embracing_what_is
Oh I love that poem…….
reminds me to clear the thoughts….the noise in my head.
I love your blog by the way.
and I love Hafiz!!
Namaste,
Michele
Excellent…thank you for sharing
Well, I don’t quite see how you managed to miss the hidden meaning in “J. Fraumgarten”. And you call yourself a mystic? As you well know, “Frau” means “woman”, in German, and “Raum” means “Room”. Put the two together, portmanteau style, and you have “Fraum” – i.e. room for a woman, or women’s space, or space for the divine feminine, etc. “Garten” needs no explication.
So, if you would “Just” (shortened to “J.” for expediency’s sake) “Fraumgarten” – make room for the external or internal feminine in the garden of your life, then, well, I don’t know what would happen. But apparently that’s what you should have done at the time of your aborted experiment with telephonic bibliomancy.
p.s. love you
Whew! How did I miss that???
And how did we miss those fabulous paintings! Not as much as we miss you…
Give thanks for mosquitoes
If the buzz doesn’t wake you
The bite will
And Lord knows
These are times that call for wakefulness