The reveal

daffodil
Look, it has eyeliner.

“…Some people say about human beings, Dust to dust.
But how can that be true of one
who changes road dust to doorway?…”
*

Every now and then, I read a poem at the end of the yoga classes I teach, just as people start to get settled in savasana/final relaxation. I often seek poems that follow a theme that seems appropriate for the day. Such themes can relate to weather, season, local events or just some idea that seemed poignant to me. Invariably I don’t find a poem via this method, perhaps as most of the poetry I have at home just doesn’t match up (I own too much lusty Neruda or angry Snyder and Giovanni, I suppose).

If I’m still resolute on finding some painted words to share, I open up one of my two books of Rumi poetry and more often than not, I find something that I just adore. Above is an except from a poem that seemed perfect for springtime – when perceived dormancy outside disappears and suddenly there is a circus in the yard and neighborhood. It’s not a change from what was not here, to what is now here – but just a revealing of something hidden from view. So many things are more complex and beautiful than they look in just ¬†one glance.

Wouldn’t it be fascinating to be able to see what’s going on in narcissus bulbs, when the bloom isn’t happening? To see a tree getting ready to sent out leaves? To see things really start moving & cooking in the composter? Everything would need to turn semi-transparent, or half of everything would need to get power-washed away. It would be an exciting view, but perhaps not so restful as a long, wrapped-up and dark winter.

There are six days until we can safely plant the tomato seedlings outside. And, our very first poppy is cooking up quite a bud.

*From Rumi. “Harvest.” Rumi: Bridge to the Soul: Journeys into the Music and Silence of the Heart. Trans. Coleman Barks. New York: HarperCollins, 2007. Print.