Had a visitation by the Green Man. This morning I read a Taoist meditation saying nature speaks through the birds and flowers. Read this poem below as well. Big medicine. By Lauren Raine,
The Green Man
Remember me, try to remember,
I am the laughing man with eyes like leaves.
When you think that winter will never end,
I will come.
You will feel my breath,
a vine caressing your foot.
I am the blue eye of the crocus,
opening in the snow,
a trickle of water, a calling bird,
a shaft of light among the trees.
Life Starts Clapping
God lays His glance
Creatures grab their instruments
And join the
Whenever love makes itself known
Jewel in the eye starts
— From The Gift by Hafiz
What is the difference
Between your experience of Existence
And that of a saint?
The saint knows
That the spiritual path
Is a sublime chess game with God
And that the Beloved
Has just made such a Fantastic Move
That the saint is now continually
Tripping over Joy
And bursting out in Laughter
And saying, “I Surrender!”
Whereas, my dear,
I am afraid you still think
You have a thousand serious moves.
― Hafiz, I Heard God Laughing: Poems of Hope and Joy
One of the most fun aspects of shifting one’s perspective and finding Joy is how much can come into your view right where you are standing when you look at things juuuuuuussssssttttttt right. I wish you clarity and a lot of fun playing.
Sharing a beautiful poem from Hafiz to brighten your day as it did mine.
Root in Each Act and Creature
The sun’s eyes are painting fields again.
Its lashes with expert strokes
Are sweeping across the land.
A great palette of light has embraced
Hafiz, if just a little clay and water
Mixed in His bowl
Can yield such exquisite scents, sights,
Music – and whirling forms –
What unspeakable wonders must await with
The commencement of unfolding
Of the infinite number of petals
That are the
What excitement will renew your body
When we all begin to see
That His heart resides in
God has a root in each act and creature
That He draws His mysterious
Divine life from.
His eyes are painting fields again.
The Beloved with His own hands is tending,
Raising like a precious child,