The Rules of Engaging Grief

I tried to meditate one morning but was unable to overcome the dryness I felt.  Instead I wrote this poem that reflected accurately my feelings.

“Prayer”

How to recover peace,
To be freed of mind chatter
Calling attention to all
That hangs without result
In dim curtained corridors?

In silence I converse
But with whom,
Is it prayer or mutterings
Of one lost in an endless
Stretch of sand?

Carried by the Spirit
I read and prayed
Before first light
But wonder now on
What wind and to where?

Do you speak before my thoughts,
How do I know you are there,
What am I to be when weary,
Even discouraged - is it too much
To ask - please hoist a sign - a flag?

A walk before dawn during a Northeaster inspired this poem.

“Night Shadows”

Rain hurtles northwest,
Across a black ocean,
In apprentice folly
Rough white-splash paints waves

Which outline the darkened beach,
Scattered debris raised from the deep;
And in this turmoil I seek
To travel night shadows

Out beyond the reckless surf
Where waves tower high,
Break sudden and uneven;
Wind howls swift to drown out

Thoughts of grief in counterpoint
Where peace reigns in this clamor,
As I ride a wave to the depth,
Rise high in breathless chill,

Then descend again eyes tight
In salt spray as white lights flicker
From shore sanctuaries clothed
In doubt and hesitation.

Fom time to time I will offer vignettes written duiring my sojourn in Kabul in 2005.  Today the selection is about luck.

Afghanistan is a land of superstition, mysticism, and luck. Let me give an example of luck. I drove to the headquarters of an Afghan official ad whenI arrived I removed the body armor that I was wearing before going into his building. Incidentally, during the Soviet occupation, the bulding served as the headquarters for the Soviet KGB in Afghanistan.

To do so I took off my glasses and pulled the armor over my head, placing my glasses on top of the armored SUV in advance.  I followed the same procedure on my return to the vehicle.  When I arrived at my fortified compound fifteen minutes later after negotiating speed bumps, sharp turns, traffic cutting from one lane to the other, I realized too late that I had left the glasses on the roof of the vehicle. I leaped from the vehicle, looked on the roof and discovered the glasses undisturbed where I had placed them. How is that for luck?

Later, when I recounted the incident to my Sufi friend, he offered the following quote from the Sufi Saidi:  A grain of merit is better than tons of everything else, but a grain of luck is better than tons of merit.

Don’t take this poem as encouragement to dive in the surf — it’s still too cold!

“Rush Waves”

Just returned from the beach    
Where my shepherd sprinted    
After sea birds that tempted     
Her to rush waves at dawn.    

How to measure now,     
Not threatened by past or    
Anxious about future,     
To be promise unfolding?    

The secret is to be still,     
Hear the silence surrounding    
Beneath sound cacophony,    
Take time to lose one’s mind,    

Un-grasp what is held tightly,    
Be mad in consciousness - wake,   
Discover how shepherd feels    
On a brisk morning in surf.