Hanging with Hafiz
The milk has been churned, the cows are at rest, and Shiva, as Lord of the Dance, dances the universe into existence. Stars alight in the night sky. The moon is hung nearby. The sun plays tag with darkness. Your eyes may hurt from watching as you wander about. Be careful. Do not trip over the cows. You are the traveler seeking hearth and home. Your heart trembles at the thought of crossing the threshold. It craves the comfort of darkness, the womb from which it sprang. You are hunched as you walk the dusty roads. Stand up straight. Stick out your neck. Stop hiding behind pleasure and pain, happiness and sorrow. Run into the fields. Shake off the dust. Roll in the brilliance of the wildflowers. Let the scent of love burst from your heart. Laugh among the meadows that surround you. Those beasts you fear are only cows silently chewing their cud. The music you hear is from your own heart. Do not be shy. Do not shrink back. Celebrate! Dance with Shiva to the delight of all. Without dust in your eyes, you see the path. At the end stands a doorway awaiting your entrance. Enter when ready.
