Image from wallpaperput.com

Today, I send into your meditation a Lion Heart.

“My dear,
Is it true that your mind is sometimes like a battering Ram
Running all through the city,
Shouting so madly inside and out
About the ten thousand things
That do not matter?”

Hafez, The Subject Tonight Is Love

I am imperfect.

The pursuit of perfection is possibly the greatest waste of the greatest gift given — a human life.

I am…

Mad…
Mad as the Mad Hatter himself
Full of discord, at times, and delusions at others
Blissful and brimming with laughter, certainly
Annoyingly irritated by small things in the next breath
Boastful and in dark moments jealous and envious
Tender, gentle, full with never sated curiosity
All of it passing veils I draw across my eyes, moment to moment
I do not see
I do not see me
I do not see me clearly a good deal of the time.

I lie feverishly to myself about all of my flaws. My mind is a dance to escape itself. Inwardly, I speak gibberish with a silver tongue.

Enough!

Image from hdqwalls.com

The fastest path out is to embrace the imperfection. To accept every last note of my tainted heart, as pitch perfect. A song so sweet, in its off notes, as to draw birds from aloft to sit beside me. I must internalize the asymmetry and in so doing find balance. The grand paradox.

Acceptance stops resistance, which quiets the madness of speaking endlessly to myself about what does not matter. I am good, I am bad, I have value, I have no value, I am a gift, I am a lump of coal in someone’s Christmas stocking. Gobbledygook.

I want to speak more deeply about what matters
Speak of things that hold meaning for me, even if they hold no meaning for others
Get out of my own way, that what divinely flows through – manifests
To touch that divinity that is me, I am it, in my own way
To trust my journey, even if it defies a thousand master’s paths
To part my lips and speak, even as the words get jumbled, the imagery fails, my darker parts slip in anyway, no matter my effort
To open myself, knowing full well, the shadow that lingers within me, will come forth and be seen, too
To know, most profoundly, she is but a paper tiger, and thus…
I step with courage into my Lion Heart

Image from finartamerica.com

“Yes, Hafez, that was me running madly in the streets speaking so much of what does not matter. Teach me, great poet. Teach me to see into the imperfection and know it’s perfection. Teach me to accept I am this — a whole, perfect as it is in this eternal now. Teach me to roar as if the Great Pride of All That Is roared forth across my tongue without assail.”

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