All images created by Rebekah Marshall’s prompts using AI on Gencraft.com website.
I am reading Hafiz’s Little Book of Life, poetry by Hafiz-e Shirazi. He is challenging me to become more comfortable with ambiguity. I will share his poem and some of my thoughts on his poem (sometimes with the help of experts when the concepts are too hard for me), followed by a poem and some art inspired by his poem.
Hafiz’s Poem 42:
Doing good work There’s no room For hesitation
Some thoughts:
I like the simplicity of this poem. It reminds me of the AA saying to do the next right thing or do the next thing right. If there is work to be done, do it. Don’t procrastinate, let fear stand in the way, second-guess yourself, doubt. Do what needs to be done, whatever that may be. Create that piece of art, write that song, clean that closet, give that gift, send that letter, make that phone call, speak that kindness. There is no point delaying the goodness that can flow from the blessing you can be.
My Poem 42:
Cleaning the cat box should not require such extreme exertion of will, but I find myself psyching current me up with pep talks, giving little motivational speeches, calling my own name in my mind, reminding present me that future me will be grateful the chore is done.
Hafiz. Hafiz’s Little Book of Life. Translated by Erfan Mojib and Gary Gach, Hampton Roads Publishing, 2023.
All images created by Rebekah Marshall’s prompts using AI on Gencraft.com website.
I am reading Hafiz’s Little Book of Life, poetry by Hafiz-e Shirazi. He is challenging me to become more comfortable with ambiguity. I will share his poem and some of my thoughts on his poem (sometimes with the help of experts when the concepts are too hard for me), followed by a poem and some art inspired by his poem.
Hafiz’s Poem 41:
The sanctuary of the heart is no place For the company of antagonists
Where a demon departs An angel arrives
Some thoughts:
This one is lovely. The imagery is that of simply letting go of negativity to make space for the beauty and love that will naturally flow into the vacuum created. We don’t have to do anything special to fill ourselves with goodness. We simply must make room. Remove bitterness and compassion can enter. Release antagonistic thoughts and peace has a place. Let go of prideful arrogance and humility will naturally make a home inside us. Release fear and love can breathe easily. There is no demon to fight, no dragon to slay, no war to be waged. They are simply not invited in, like vampires whose welcome has been rescinded. We would not walk into a sacred temple and spit on the floor. Our hearts deserve as much respect.
What are we allowing to dwell in our inner sanctuaries? Is it time for some hangers-on to be evicted? Our heart is not supposed to house every wound, fear, resentment, and lie we have ever been told. When harm finally leaves, healing can walk in quietly and take up occupancy. Instead of having to vanquish foes, we must merely open a window and allow pain to exit so holiness can enter. Time to do some inner house cleaning.
My Poem 41:
Sweep out the house. Dirt belongs outside, not in our hearts. Throw back the curtains and open the windows.
The stale air must exit, so a fresh breeze, sweet with spring scents, can fill our space. Then healing can begin.
Hafiz. Hafiz’s Little Book of Life. Translated by Erfan Mojib and Gary Gach, Hampton Roads Publishing, 2023.
All images created by Rebekah Marshall’s prompts using AI on Gencraft.com website.
I am reading Hafiz’s Little Book of Life, poetry by Hafiz-e Shirazi. He is challenging me to become more comfortable with ambiguity. I will share his poem and some of my thoughts on his poem (sometimes with the help of experts when the concepts are too hard for me), followed by a poem and some art inspired by his poem.
Hafiz’s Poem 39:
Peace in both realms Depends on your interpretation Of these two utterances
“Be merciful with friends”
“Be tolerant of foes”
Some thoughts:
I’m not sure what two realms Hafiz is conceptualizing in this poem. There are so many options including: private life v. public life; religious life v. secular life; inner existence v. outer existence; human/earthly realm v. spiritual/divine realm; etc. I am going to keep it simple and consider the two realms “those who think like us” v. “those who do not think like us” as a simple way of saying “friend” or “foe.” That could apply to a number of different realms and is certainly relevant in current society where so much seems to balance on scales of dichotomy. Liberal v. Conservative; Rich v. Poor; Science v. Religion; Nature v. Progress; etc. We tend to be painted into black and white corners in nearly every conversation we enter.
I think Hafiz is suggesting that true peace depends on the way we perceive the gray areas that are not so easy to navigate. Can we be friends with someone who fails us? Those we love often hurt us the most because we care about their opinions and count on them. Can we be soft and loving to maintain relationships with those closest to us, even during the tough times? They are only human. And with our foes, can we allow for complexity and seek to understand without dehumanizing, othering, and judging too harshly? They are only human.
We will never have peace if we demand our way is the only way and there can be no other. Yes, we should have ideals, but then we must be merciful, tolerant, and gentle in our application of those principles as regards others. Can we hold compassion for those close to us and restraint toward those who oppose us? Will our differences and our interactions expand our hearts or harden them? The way we interpret these concepts holds the key to lasting peace.
My Poem 40:
Loving another means accepting that they are human, with all that entails, including: lateness, forgetfulness, distraction, fear, ailments, impatience, frustration, weakness, faults, arguments, disappointment, and the list could go on…
The other we love may be friend or foe. Both are in the same category of human, with all that entails, including: beating heart, breathing lungs, thoughts, opinions, feet to walk away, mouths that open, hands that ball up into fists and clasp in prayer, and the list could go on…
Hafiz. Hafiz’s Little Book of Life. Translated by Erfan Mojib and Gary Gach, Hampton Roads Publishing, 2023.
All images created by Rebekah Marshall’s prompts using AI on Gencraft.com website.
I am reading Hafiz’s Little Book of Life, poetry by Hafiz-e Shirazi. He is challenging me to become more comfortable with ambiguity. I will share his poem and some of my thoughts on his poem (sometimes with the help of experts when the concepts are too hard for me), followed by a poem and some art inspired by his poem.
Hafiz’s Poem 39:
Forgive the warring of the 72 nations Not having seen the truth They’ve gone down the road of fantasy
Some thoughts:
This poem took a little digging to learn about the number 72 in mystical Sufism and other Islamic cultural contexts. Apparently, it was a known phrase representing division or splits that people would have recognized as symbolic, rather than literal. The idea of 72 sects or religious groups became shorthand for fragmentation of what was once unified in hadith literature and early Islamic traditions. For Hafiz to mention 72 nations was to at once tap into phrasing his audience would recognize as representative of all the human groups of the world.
What is even more interesting to me is that he is not condemning all these nations for their shortsightedness but asking for their forgiveness. “They know not what they do.” They are caught in “the illusion” rather than recognizing the truth of peace and harmony. All the nations of the earth come from the same source. We all return to the same source after death. Why not live united in kindness, shared humanity, and communal peace during our short time in this reality? Such a question we could pose to the 197 nations in existence on our planet right now.
My Poem 39:
Can you truly not see the shimmering promise of a peaceful tomorrow?
The glow of city lights lies just over the horizon where nation shall not rise up against nation.
This morass of darkness and despair is not the truth you seek in your waiting but merely an illusory nonsensical hellscape.
Continue to put one foot in front of the other until you reach the promised land of unity and peace, where bees drip honey into mouths open only to speak kind words, and dams nurse calves languidly, without fear of being separated by war.
Flowers are grown along every path purely for making friendship wreaths and decorative garlands to be given away free of cost or consequence because nothing is required nor demanded of citizens in this place beyond breath and awareness and love.
Hafiz. Hafiz’s Little Book of Life. Translated by Erfan Mojib and Gary Gach, Hampton Roads Publishing, 2023.
All images created by Rebekah Marshall’s prompts using AI on Gencraft.com website.
I am reading Hafiz’s Little Book of Life, poetry by Hafiz-e Shirazi. He is challenging me to become more comfortable with ambiguity. I will share his poem and some of my thoughts on his poem (sometimes with the help of experts when the concepts are too hard for me), followed by a poem and some art inspired by his poem.
Hafiz’s Poem 38:
I’m not the color of hypocrisy Either I am a red lion Or a black serpent
Some thoughts:
I must admit that I am not at all certain of my interpretation of this one. It certainly seems to be along the similar vein of lukewarm water that is repugnant in the Bible verse of the New Testament. Be hot or cold, confident and decisive, real and certain, as opposed to waffling and on the fence. It reminds me a bit of the quote by Yann Martel in Life of Pi when the main character says, “It is not atheists who get stuck in my craw, but agnostics. Doubt is useful for a while…but we must move on. To choose doubt as a philosophy of life is akin to choosing immobility as a means of transportation.” I do not agree with that take, but understand the passion behind the utterance.
The sentiment I do agree with is that of being authentic rather than performative. Whatever the red lion and black serpent represent, they are the poet’s honest opinions. He is claiming that he will not speak untruth merely to save face or impress a certain crowd. Though the opinion may not be well received, might be complex, might be considered too intense, or venture into unsanctioned territory, he would rather speak his truth than be false or diluted.
I’m sorry, good teacher, but I am quite the fence sitter about some things. It is not always a comfortable position to be in, and one might argue, requires balance, a level head, and an open mind. We will have to agree to disagree for now, though that would also require fence-sitting, so you probably would not agree. lol
My Poem 38:
Rippling ember mane flows like sun-blood from roaring flame, molten courage lava hot, intense burning marrow dissolves any tangled knot.
Coiled hidden spine, a dark river eclipsed by shadowed night, deep as space unseen conceals sudden movement, striking stragglers of the in between.
Hafiz. Hafiz’s Little Book of Life. Translated by Erfan Mojib and Gary Gach, Hampton Roads Publishing, 2023.
Martel, Yann. Life of Pi. Harcourt, 2001.
The Bible. Authorized King James Version, Oxford UP, 1998.
All images created by Rebekah Marshall’s prompts using AI on Gencraft.com website.
I am reading Hafiz’s Little Book of Life, poetry by Hafiz-e Shirazi. He is challenging me to become more comfortable with ambiguity. I will share his poem and some of my thoughts on his poem (sometimes with the help of experts when the concepts are too hard for me), followed by a poem and some art inspired by his poem.
Hafiz’s Poem 37:
In our neighborhood we care Only for broken hearts
If you are peddling ego Take it to the other side of town
Some thoughts:
Around these parts, we expect you to be genuine (pronounced “gin-you-wine.”) Your word is your bond. A handshake is iron clad. Our currency is honest to goodness salt of the earth authenticity. I’m pretending Hafiz is from the South. The parts of the South that truly honor integrity and character as proof of moral fortitude. There’s no room for someone who’s gotten too big for their britches. Too many sheriffs and other metaphors that are getting lost in the weeds.
The point is that Hafiz wanted to live in a community that valued real dyed-in-the-wool neighbors, the Mr. Rogers kind. People whose hearts were open to love and kindness, who were not self-serving and selfish. Anyone coming into that type of community and trying to appeal to pride and better than logic would not fit in, would not be welcome, would not fare well. Go elsewhere with that toxic culture of competition and keeping up with the Joneses. Here in our neighborhood, we help one another, take care of each other, and have the humble brokenness to admit when we need to lean on someone’s shoulder.
My Poem 37:
Would you look what the cat drug in.
Of course you are always welcome to show up around these parts, so long as you leave your muddy boots at the door. Don’t go and make me mop again today.
I’ve got a casserole in the oven and a pitcher of iced tea brewin’.
How ‘bout you pull up a seat and tell me what you’ve been up to since I saw you last. Goodness knows it’s been ages since we’ve caught up. Don’t mind me; I’m usually doin’ chores ‘til I fall in bed, but I can listen while I work.
How’s your mama? Everybody doin’ ok after that last flood? We lost our chicken coop and two outer sheds, but our trailer’s still standin’, so we can’t complain.
Can I send you home with some eggs? We’ve got plenty to spare. To tell you the truth, I’m kind of sick of egg salad sandwiches these days. Up to my eyeballs in ‘em. Wish it was closer to Easter. I’d dye a bunch for the neighborhood kids.
You can’t stay for dinner? Well, I understand. But at least let me pack you up a few servings in a Tupperware. Don’t you argue with me.
Here you go. Be safe out there and come back now, you hear?
Hafiz. Hafiz’s Little Book of Life. Translated by Erfan Mojib and Gary Gach, Hampton Roads Publishing, 2023.
All images created by Rebekah Marshall’s prompts using AI on Gencraft.com website.
I am reading Hafiz’s Little Book of Life, poetry by Hafiz-e Shirazi. He is challenging me to become more comfortable with ambiguity. I will share his poem and some of my thoughts on his poem (sometimes with the help of experts when the concepts are too hard for me), followed by a poem and some art inspired by his poem.
Hafiz’s Poem 36:
Alas for the mockers of those Who drink life to the very dregs
Only to abandon their own beliefs At the open door of any tavern Where their faith will be restored
Some thoughts:
Hafiz supposedly has double meanings in many of his poems, according to various experts. In this one, he could be talking about real drinking/partying, or the spiritual equivalent of feeling everything deeply, including joy, sorrow, and love. The people willing to drink to the dregs are the ones there until closing time. The real Mcoys. The mockers are those who set themselves up in judgment of and ridicule those kinds of people. Whether judgment of the literal drunkards or judgment of the deeply emotional/openly vulnerable/ecstatically connected people. Both can look rather similar to the untrained eye.
Either way, the reversal is the heart of this poem. The very people who judge others for their predisposition to revelry, might be the ones who crave it most. They can’t let themselves go, but when given the chance or suddenly set free to experience something ecstatic, they are the wildest ones you’ve ever seen. So much tightly wound, principled, rigorous defense of faith can sometimes reveal a lot about a person. They are just waiting for that moment to be unleashed, to experience, to feel something. And only then will they get it. The only way to connect is to leap into the unknown and grab for the ring or trapeze or whatever metaphor works.
Now, as a recovering alcoholic, I can’t finish without adding a cautionary note. I am not suggesting real alcoholics go live it up and fall off the wagon. Those of us with the disease of alcoholism and who are in recovery have already had our substance-induced revelry experiences and should have now graduated to the more spiritual/emotional side of celebration. Learning to find the depth of love, sit in grief, experience the full spectrum of emotions life puts us through without altering our brain chemistry IS drinking to the dregs the way Hafiz means it. It is learning to live fully, without needing to escape. And nary a one of us should sit in judgment of anyone going through the same hell of the disease of alcoholism that we have been through.
My Poem 36:
When you get sober no one explains how much you’ll miss turning off your brain. It’s something you discover when the thoughts won’t stop, and you have to process the pain.
Hafiz. Hafiz’s Little Book of Life. Translated by Erfan Mojib and Gary Gach, Hampton Roads Publishing, 2023.
All images created by Rebekah Marshall’s prompts using AI on Gencraft.com website.
I am reading Hafiz’s Little Book of Life, poetry by Hafiz-e Shirazi. He is challenging me to become more comfortable with ambiguity. I will share his poem and some of my thoughts on his poem (sometimes with the help of experts when the concepts are too hard for me), followed by a poem and some art inspired by his poem.
Hafiz’s Poem 35:
Harvests of spirituality could burn Right on down to the ground In the flames of self-denial & the bonfires of hypocrisy
Some thoughts:
A lot of work comes before the output of a harvest. There is tilling, sowing, watering, weeding, pruning, feeding, and scaring pests away. To reach the point of harvest in spiritual terms means we’ve been doing something right. We’ve been putting in the effort necessary to produce noticeable fruits of the spirit. We are right at the finish line, ready to pluck the bounty from the stems and feast on our reward. Surely, we would never sabotage our own efforts and burn it all to the ground.
But it happens all the time. We become rigid in our ways and begin to try to change aspects of ourselves that we think must be purified even more. In our search for perfection, we become more and more radicalized in our thinking, unwilling to compromise or accept any other ideas. We think we have figured out the truth, the only way, the perfect path, and no one else could possibly be right. We lose humility and set ourselves in the place of judgement as though we know the Will of God. We light the flames of justice and destroy ourselves in the process, hypocrites that we have become in our staunchness.
Maybe we need to go back to the early days of tilling and pruning to be reminded that toiling in the dirt is part of being human. We are made of the stuff. We are not asked to deny our humanness, nor make idols of our belief systems. We are only meant to reap what we sow and give thanks every step of the process. The harvest is no more holy than the weeding. And not allowing ourselves to enjoy the fruits of our labors is a crime against the natural order of things. Hard work deserves to be rewarded and we are worth it.
My Poem 35:
Planting mystery seeds in soil turned twice, watered with tears, and weeded by blistered hands,
the bountiful produce gleams in the sunlight like golden prosperity waiting to be reaped and gathered.
If only, if only…pride goes before, and losing the self in the process hurts nearly as much as the regret.
How many acres of spiritual crops must burn to ashes before we admit we might not know everything?
Hafiz. Hafiz’s Little Book of Life. Translated by Erfan Mojib and Gary Gach, Hampton Roads Publishing, 2023.
This poem “The Flint” by Christina Rossetti felt connected somehow. Something in the humble nature of the flint, who retains its flintness without flinching, is inspiring.
Rossetti, Christina. Sing-Song: A Nursery Rhyme Book. George Routledge and Sons, 1872.
All images created by Rebekah Marshall’s prompts using AI on Gencraft.com website.
I am reading Hafiz’s Little Book of Life, poetry by Hafiz-e Shirazi. He is challenging me to become more comfortable with ambiguity. I will share his poem and some of my thoughts on his poem (sometimes with the help of experts when the concepts are too hard for me), followed by a poem and some art inspired by his poem.
Hafiz’s Poem 34:
Good were the times Being with the Friend All else – fruitlessness & ignorance
Some thoughts:
I am choosing to interpret the Friend as love/God/integrity/connectedness. Any time spent in that state is Good. Like Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden, it was very good. They were very good. All was good because they were experiencing that love and connectedness on tap. Everything else that is done with thoughtlessness, anger, a lack of compassion, or without care is probably meaningless. It is only in those times of being online with our higher selves, plugged in to that higher consciousness that comes with being one with the Friend, that our experiences are meaningful and fruitful.
Today, am I connected to the Friend and finding purpose in my thoughts and actions? Or am I disconnected and just going through the motions? Am I present or distracted? Are my choices sincere or performative? We can sense when our self is acting from a place of integrity vs. when we are simply reacting and flailing about uncentered.
My Poem 34:
Good times await the kind of friends who finish each other’s sentences and pick up threads of conversation from years past like it was yesterday.
Days spent apart are meaningless, unable to mark time because no witness can claim shared experience without the presence of the other.
To fill the void with woven energetic nuance recognized by spilt laughter and resonance, they need only make eye contact to collapse the distance.
Hafiz. Hafiz’s Little Book of Life. Translated by Erfan Mojib and Gary Gach, Hampton Roads Publishing, 2023.
All images created by Rebekah Marshall’s prompts using AI on Gencraft.com website.
I am reading Hafiz’s Little Book of Life, poetry by Hafiz-e Shirazi. He is challenging me to become more comfortable with ambiguity. I will share his poem and some of my thoughts on his poem (sometimes with the help of experts when the concepts are too hard for me), followed by a poem and some art inspired by his poem.
Hafiz’s Poem 33:
Adam gave up Paradise
For just one nice ripe apple
What if one world is only worth
One hard stale raisin
?
Some thoughts:
This poem feels a little cheeky. Irony keeps the interpretation in question. If Adam was willing to give up Paradise for an apple, was it worth it? What did he gain? Is Hafiz suggesting that the fall was an opportunity for growth? Most religious leaders of Abrahamic faiths would argue that such thinking is blasphemous, yet Hafiz goes on to ask about the possibility that such a trade could occur for even less of a temptation, a hard stale raisin. Maybe the eating of the fruit was not really of any consequence. Perhaps the development of knowing right and wrong, choosing free will, embarking on an individual hero’s journey was the inevitable event, given the curiosity of the creations who resembled the creator.
Hafiz doesn’t commit to any one view. He simply asks the question, suggesting that perhaps we do not fully understand the exchange that was made, beyond the basic information passed down through the ages. What is one world worth? Did Adam and Eve take their world for granted? Probably. Don’t we take our world for granted most of the time? But what if they also desired more? More than blind obedience. What are we willing to trade for peace? What are we willing to trade for safety? What are we willing to compromise on for those we love? Had Adam not eaten of the fruit, would he have lost Eve? There are so many questions left unanswered that only a fool would claim to know what they would do in the same circumstances.
My Poem 33:
By the light of a mid-month moon, my love gathered figs by the handful. Her plump, ripe lips, a sticky, sweet boon, as I kissed the taste of the tree’s jewel.
That rich ambrosia, nectar of gods, forbidden for reasons unknown. Angels eat the fruit, so I find it odd, that the restriction applies to us alone.
Why was I made and given this mate, if not to experience all and to learn? To know good and evil, not to hesitate, is the knowledge for which I yearn.
The taste of truth, bittersweet and bold, that’s what this is, what I’ve come to crave. The consequence is growing old, and learning pain only taught by the grave.
Hafiz. Hafiz’s Little Book of Life. Translated by Erfan Mojib and Gary Gach, Hampton Roads Publishing, 2023.
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