Yesterday we were outside before nine, barefoot.
Yesterday I opened up all of the windows and all day the breeze was warm and all day felt like every good thing I can ever remember.
Yesterday I read this poem. It is perfect . . .
Lord, the air smells good today,
straight from the mysteries
within the inner courts of God.
A grace like new clothes thrown
across the garden, free medicine for everybody.
The trees in their prayer, the birds in praise
the first blue violets kneeling.
Whatever came from Being is caught up in being, drunkenly
forgetting the way back."
- Jelaluddin Rumi, from "Lord, the Air Smells Good Today"
(from today's Verse and Voice, a daily email from Sojourners)
Yesterday the baby sat here in front of the screen for an hour or more, I kid you not,
and all day long she kept coming back here to her spot, to smell the air.
And all day long as I passed her sitting in the air that is straight from the mysteries,
I thought how she seems so familiar with this smell in the air, with these new clothes;
that she has come from Being, so recently, and forgotten her way back.