Sunday in Spring

This afternoon we went on a family hike during which we heard spring peepers, proving that spring has, in fact, arrived in New England (or at least in our corner of New England).

Spring peepers audio:

All during the hike, I thought about transcendence and how not only is there so much experience that’s below the level of thought, there’s so much experience that defies efforts to corral it into thoughts, words, or pictures. I long to put into words the feeling of watching my children run through the woods, of listening to the peeping of little frogs, and of knowing that spring is finally here. I long to capture these experiences, and although I know I’ll fail, I welcome that longing.

Knowing I’ll fail, I still try.

 

Love Dogs

by Jelaluddin Rumi

 

One night a man was crying,

Allah! Allah!

His lips grew sweet with the praising,

until a cynic said, “So I have heard you calling out,

but have you ever gotten any response?”

 

The man had no answer to that.

He quit praying and fell into a confused sleep.

 

He dreamed he saw Khidr, the guide of souls,

in a thick green foliage.

“Why did you stop praising?”

“Because I’ve never heard anything back.”

“This longing you express is the return message.”

 

The grief you cry from

draws you toward union.

 

Your pure sadness

that wants help

is the secret cup.

 

Listen to the moan of a dog for its master.

That whining is the connection.

 

There are love dogs

no one knows the names of.

Give your life to be one of them.

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