Thesis. Day 1.
So, here it is. I’m ready. I think. I better be. It feels like I have a row of carrots all lined up, dangling in front of me, trying to get me to finish my thesis. And the irony and perfect symmetry and timing of my situation has not escaped my notice. Here I am, finally putting into print my big letter of heartache to the world that I’ve been trying to compose for almost 37 years. Me, whose loneliness often seemed so complete that I just eventually came to assume that it was who I was, it was a natural part of my destiny–I’ve evened ached for the option to just join a monastery or something like it so that I could get inevitability over with. And now I’ve just met someone that I so far feel so evenly matched and complimented by, emotionally, spiritually, and intellectually, that I have to wonder if I’m standing here holding an empty bag of amusing ideas.
Jeeez, I really hesitate to put that last sentence out there. Shit. I don’t want to tempt fate to prove me hopelessly, embarrassingly delusion. But, then again, I am nothing if–and this thesis will be a waste of words if–I am not willing to make myself vulnerable and make my humanity accessible. Starting right now. So, let me take off the hat I walked in with, the one that is tall and square and hides in it a full toolbox of authoritative, condescending explicatives. Let me hang it on the hook by the door. Instead, if I don anything on my bare head for the next 4 weeks, let it be a scarf that I can use in moments of soft, undefended humility and reverance.
Let me have hopes, however fanstastic. Let me undress myself of structure, objectivity, and sound predictions, and instead roll naked through poetry. And, here’s the hardest one of all … let me expect your patience, generous leeway, and forgiveness.
Forgive the Dream All your images of winter I see against your sky. I understand the wounds That have not healed in you. they exist Because God and love Have yet to become real enough to allow you to forgive The dream. You still listen to an old alley song That brings your body pain; Now chain your ears To His pacing drum and flute. Fix your eyes upon The magnificent arch of His brow That supports And allows this universe to expand. Your hands, feet, and heart are wise And want to know the warmth Of a Perfect One's circle. A true saint Is an earth in eternal spring. Inside the veins of a petal on a blooming redbud tree... ...are hidden worlds Where Hafiz sometimes Resides. I will spread A Persian carpet there Woven with light. We can drink wine From a gourd I hollowed And dried on the roof of my house. I will bring bread I have kneaded That contains my own Divine genes And cheese from a calf I raised. My love for your Master is such You can just lean back And I will feed you This truth: Your wounds of love can only heal When you can forgive This dream. .............................. Hafiz (tr. by Daniel Ladinsky)