Wednesday, March 30, 2011

March Madness - A Meditation

"Spring has returned. The Earth is like a child that knows poems. "
                           - Ranier Maria Rilke

March moving slower than a flight of geese against a north wind to an end of a season conjures a final avalanche of memories and great expectations. This is the time when the sun is supposed to proclaim reconciliation. This is the time of the restrained sacred celebration of once barren trees. This is the time crocuses pop pointing heavenwards through the once frozen landscape.

Birds of last summer return choraling praise and gratitude sweetly interrupting the early morning silence. Wakened bear thirsts for the promise of fresh nourishment after months of darkness. Humans believe their springing clocks forward will buy them extra time of holy light and warmth. Sixty-four hardwood warriors battle down to a final four.

Garden tools sharpened. The soil is tilled. Seeds are planted. Faith is restored. That which is sown will be reaped. Flowered bonnets adorn storefront windows calling out to prospective owners seeking something new in their lives. Hoards of coeds invade southern climate beaches renewing ancient Greek traditions of Dionysian celebrations of the vernal equinox. Fear of the Ides comes and goes without drama. St. Patrick’s teachable shamrocks line windows of taverns pouring pints of stout. The Smell of linseed oiled gloves and the appearance of cleaned spikes signal that diamond parks are ready to be invaded.

Rose Sunday, “Rejoice oh Jerusalem!” The vessel prepped for launching. Flicks of blue bottom paint from youthful spirits find their way to their smile gifted faces and a newly winter cleansed car.

“Don't worry. It’s just a car , right dad?’

The voice of innocence, seed of truth penetrating the aging pilgrim with purpose, bringing gifts to the altar. The snow that seemed as if it would never leave slowly succumbs to the Easter that is just a horizon away.



 - Mary Oliver


This morning
two birds
fell down the side of the maple tree

like a tuft of fire
a wheel of fire
a love knot

out of control as they plunged through the air
pressed against each other
and I thought

how I meant to live a quite life
how I meant to live a life of mildness and meditation
tapping the careful words against each other

and I thought—
as though I were suddenly spinning like a bar of silver
as though I had shaken my arms and
lo! they were wings—

of the Buddha
when he rose from the green garden
when he rose in his powerful ivory body

when it turned to the long dusty road without end
when he covered his hairs with ribbons and the petals of flowers
when he opened his hands to the world

- amdg

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