Spring overall. But inside us there’s another unity.
Behind each eye here, one glowing weather.
Every forest branch moves differently in the breeze, but as they sway
they connect at the roots.
In the northern hemisphere, the spring equinox is near. The migratory birds have begun to return to the local waterways and the tree buds are transforming into flowers and leaves. As the days grow longer, the sun seems to glow a bit brighter and be burning away the remains of winter.
In the midst of the shifts, I find myself anticipating each sign of spring. I’m caught in the flavor of this time of year when the gray gives way to new life. My thoughts turn like seasonal changes with one seamlessly morphing into the other. The equinox offers me an invitation to pause and notice the ever-transforming cycles of life.
In Rumi’s poem, the first punctuation mark – a period – invites the reader to pause. That pause bridges the moving extravaganza of colors, shapes and sounds with the calm unity of all. Within the space between sentences there is freedom to be pleasantly suspended between hindsight and anticipation. I allow myself to linger there until my mind calls me to the next line.
There, Rumi again draws attention back to the endless center of all. That center externalizes itself into another point and creates a relationship between the two. The center stays steady, allowing the words and movements to brush over its surface. I am reminded that we too have a calm essence, which is said to reside and glow deeply within us.
When I was a child, I loved to sing the phrase, “this little light of mine, let it shine, let it shine.” At the time, I had no awareness of how easily life and all its experiences can cover over that little light. Nor did I realize the effort and courage it would take to truly let that inner radiance shine into the world. Yet, Rumi and other poets artfully reveal the way to live within the pauses. There I can realize the truth of my being.
As springtime unfolds, I will linger between yesterday and tomorrow, night and day, and the space between the words. On the surface, the swaying of thoughts and activities will still happen, but I’ll leave room for the sun to shine between the branches in my mind. I hope you will join me.
- Prepare –
- Sit comfortably on the floor or in a chair. Relax your palms in your lap. Close your eyes, or have a soft gaze. Allow your breath to be calm and natural. Release any unneeded tension in your neck, shoulder, and face.
- Practice –
- Take a few moments to imagine each of the following:
- Imagine seeing into the distance behind you.
- Imagine seeing into the distance beneath you.
- Imagine seeing into the distance behind you and beneath you.
- Imagine that you are expanding that and letting it wrap around your sides and above your head.
- Pause there.
- Allow yourself to be cradled in your own awareness of that behind, beneath, above, and to your sides. Quietly breathe.
- Transition Back Into Your Day –
- Bring your palms over your heart.
- Breathe calmly and peacefully for as long as is comfortable, and feasible, for.
- Gently allow hands to rest on thighs. Return to your day.
This poems is from Mala Of The Heart: 108 Sacred Poems, edited by Ravi Nathwani and Kate Vogt and published by New World Library. This poem, which appears on page 75, was translated by Coleman Barks and reprinted with his permission. HEART is written and posted by Kate Vogt each new and full moon. © KateVogt2018