QUOTES & POEMS
I am waiting for my plane at John Wayne Airport (just 50 minutes drive from my son's home in Carlsbad; not much different than flying into San Diego). Didn't think there would be time to post, but I have a few minutes before my plane arrives, is cleaned, and we board -- so, here goes.
Moving around my computer and I came to a quote. That led me to review my document "quotes", in which I keep quotes (obviously) and short poems that speak to me. I came to this one and upon re-reading it, could find so much correlation to my life since beginning a dedicated yoga practice 13 years ago. Here it is:
Before the fixative or heat of kiln.
Enough - they just called the flight.
I hope you all have a great day! I'm on my way home.
Moving around my computer and I came to a quote. That led me to review my document "quotes", in which I keep quotes (obviously) and short poems that speak to me. I came to this one and upon re-reading it, could find so much correlation to my life since beginning a dedicated yoga practice 13 years ago. Here it is:
The Decision
There is a moment before a shape
hardens, a color sets.There is a moment before a shape
Before the fixative or heat of kiln.
The letter might still be taken
from the mailbox.
The hand held back by the elbow,
the word kept between the larynx pulse
and the amplifying drum-skin of the room's air.
The thorax of an ant is not as narrow.
The green coat on old copper weighs more.
Yet something slips through it--
looks around,
sets out in the new direction, for other lands.
Not into exile, not into hope. Simply changed.
As a sandy track-rut changes when called a Silk Road:
it cannot be after turned back from.
~Jane Hirshfield
If you read my post a week or so ago, where I relayed my history since beginning yoga, you will be able to understand why this poem spoke to me; and why I saved it.
Poems and quotes are great theme sources. From this poem, I can speak of my experience (my story); I can probably relate it to others; I will dig to find the philosophic connection -- the 'why does it matter' that Sundari always asks me about. This poem will offer me a segue to the story of Hanuman, remembering the powers that the Sages caused him to forget as a youngster. This story applies to so many people, myself included. Who knew I could ever balance on my hands, or stand on my head -- power remembered.
Enough - they just called the flight.
I hope you all have a great day! I'm on my way home.