co-inherence

The chooser's happiness lies in his congruence with the chosen,

The peace of iron filings, obedient to the forces of the magnetic field -

Calm is the soul that is emptied of all self,

In the eternal moment of co-inherence.

A happiness within you - but not yours.

~ Dag Hammarskjold

from Markings

standing deer

As the house of a person

in age sometimes grows cluttered

with what is

too loved or too heavy to part with,

the heart may grow cluttered.

And still the house will be emptied,

and still the heart.

As the thoughts of a person

in age sometimes grow sparer,

like a great cleanness come into a room,

the soul may grow sparer;

one sparrow song carves it completely.

And still the room is full,

and still the heart.

Empty and filled,

like the curling half-light of morning,

in which everything is still possible and so why not.

Filled and empty,

like the curling half-light of evening,

in which everything now is finished and so why not.

Beloved, what can be, what was,

will be taken from us.

I have disappointed.

I am sorry. I knew no better.

A root seeks water.

Tenderness only breaks open the earth.

This morning, out the window,

the deer stood like a blessing, then vanished.

~ Jane Hirschfield 

from The Lives of the Heart

 

 

Metempsychosis

Some stories last many centuries,

others only a moment.
All alter over that lifetime like beach-glass,
grow distant and more beautiful with salt.

Yet even today, to look at a tree
and ask the story Who are you? is to be transformed.

There is a stage in us where each being, each thing, is a mirror.

Then the bees of self pour from the hive-door,
ravenous to enter the sweetness of flowering nettles and thistle.

Next comes the ringing a stone or violin or empty bucket
gives off --
the immeasurable's continuous singing,
before it goes back into story and feeling.

In Borneo, there are palm trees that walk on their high roots.
Slowly, with effort, they lift one leg then another.

I would like to join that stilted transmigration,
to feel my own skin vertical as theirs:
an ant-road, a highway for beetles.

I would like not minding, whatever travels my heart.
To follow it all the way into leaf-form, bark-furl, root-touch,
and then keep walking, unimaginably further.



~ Jane Hirshfieldfrom

from Given Sugar, Given Salt: Poems


photo of the Socratea exorrhiza or walking palm
which can move itself up to about a meter per year

 

 

 

song of the soul

In the depth of my Soul there is-

A wordless song-a song that lives

In the seed of my heart.

It refuses to melt with ink

On parchment; it engulfs my affection

In a transparent cloak and flows,

But not upon my lips.

How can I sing it? I fear it may

Mingle with earthly ether;

To whom shall I sing it? It dwells

In the house of my soul, in fear of harsh ears.

When I look into my inner eyes

I see the shadow of its shadow;

When I touch my fingertips

I feel its vibrations.

The deeds of my hands heed its

Presence as a lake must reflect

The glittering stars; my tears

Reveal it, as bright drops of dew

reveal the secret of a withering rose.

It is a song composed by contemplation,

And published by silence,

And shunned by clamor,

And folded by truth,

And repeated by dreams,

And understood by love,

And hidden by awakening

And sung by the soul.

It is the song of love;

What Cain or Esau could sing it?

It is more fragrant than jasmine;

What voice could enslave it?

It is heart-bound, as a virgin’s secret;

What string could quiver it?

Who dares unite the roar of the sea

And the singing of the nightingale?

Who dares compare the shrieking tempest

To the sigh of an infant?

Who dares speak aloud the words

Intended for the heart to speak?

What human dares sing in voice

The song of God?

~ Kahlil Gibran

the black figure below the boat

We hear phrases: "He made me do it."

"I never wanted that."  The boy's boat gets

Pushed out on the sea, and before long the tidal

Currents guide it from beneath.  He goes to sleep.

He meets a woman, and marries her even though

He doesn't want to.  He says, "It was the current."

But some tiny black figure swims below the boat,

Pushing it.  This man or god works all night.

Then what?  Months go by, years, twenty years.

A lot of water.  The boat hits gravel.

It's an island - the kind where giants live.

"Don't say you didn't want it.  Just get ready."

~ Robert Bly

from Morning Poems

absent as "you"

Whenever you are absent as "you,"

You are present as I.

So you may say "My absence as 'me' is My presence as I."

Of course I am always present as I,

but when I appear to be present as "you" (or as "me")

I seem to be absent,

i.e. My presence appears to be an absence.

Also you may say "My absence as 'that' (which can be known)

is My presence as THIS" 

(about which there cannot be anything to know).

If one were to think it,

apperceive it, 

understand it, even occasionally?...

~ Wei Wu Wei

from Posthumous Pieces

.