I often quote Hafiz, my favorite poet. I don’t know if I’ve told you about the time my heart was broken, and I ripped up an entire book of his poetry (on loan from said person) and dumped the remains on my art studio floor.
Since then, scraps of Hafiz’ poetry have appeared, like Chinese fortunes, at times when they are most needed. So truthful, comforting, and sometime hilarious.
His poems are even stronger when incomplete, the phrases say exactly what I need to hear. With this winter bird painting, the scrap of poetry that fell to his wing reminded me of our divine political juncture.
Why is one person more right than another? Everyone is entitled to their own truth. As it says on the walls of my son’s elementary school, “You can do whatever you want, as long as it does not harm others”.
No one knows the path of how another person has come to be. Like these mountains I live beneath, each rock has a history that makes up how every corner, concavity, softness or sharp spot was formed. What molten lava had to rage, what peaceful waters had to polish, what blue skies and scraping glaciers had to cover these rocks to form such intense beauty?
Each of us has our own story. And with each of our idiosyncrasies, we are doing the best that we know how.
Do we have to tolerate one another? Do we have to understand one another? Simply put, we sometimes can’t. What we can do is bear witness to the fact that their truth is as valid to them as our truth is to us. Do this alone if nothing else.
Whenever you spread your wings, like the flock of birds pecking up the last sunflower seeds in the fall, or the prayer flags flapping in the high mountain winds, spread beauty.
In the midst of distrust, allow your wings to expand. Be more beautiful than ever … Allow the other person to be on their own journey. And if nothing else, have faith.