Michelangelo's Davids
Why do we value anything— anything? Like say: a great meal, favorite clothes, a great conversation, or a wonderful spouse or lover? Or being able, in some ways, to take a mountain or the moon into your arms and your heart’s dance? And sure, a mountain, the moon, a flower, a tree, and a turtle all have a heart.
Loving something can have the power to free one from the past and future (for awhile), that most are often in conflict with or might worry about in ways. Love is an oasis; as can be an inspired song, poem, or a special friendship. I could say so much about this— our need of refuge— and will in some books I have been working on. One book, Unfurling Into The Sun, I wrote a good first draft, and rough Foreword to this morning. I have enclosed that below.
And some of the very last words in this Foreword, before the P.S., I think say so much about good poetry and why many can so value it. It helps explain to me— the phenomenon these days of Rumi & Hafiz, that personally I have been so involved with for a couple decades now.
Yeah, a good poem can kick your fanny into paradise, or at least a suburb of heaven; or bring you to a new vista you are glad to see. And who doesn't want to be there— boogying more with Buddha or something, and then maybe coming back to your old world changed for the better? And with your eyes more kind and aware? And your sounds more able to give? And you feeling more safe and empowered.
Our bodies are full of so many hearts and so many shrines— every molecule and atom really. We are such knockout miracles that God is ever on Her knees bowing to us— to Her own handy work. To us Davids She carved, like Michelangelo did his.
Michelangelo's — God’s — Davids. That is really us. And if one believes, as nearly half the world does, in the doctrine of reincarnation, (as even the Bible once very much endorsed) then each life is a carving, sculpting— on us — on the veil that separates us from our who We Really ARE. But even without anything religious, anything so called spiritual — our every sound and movement is an attempt for some peace, well being, more rock-n-rolling, etc.
We have wings that need to taste the sky. Freedom, freedom, freedom, is the impetus of being.
I’ll bet Hafiz could have saw and said: “With suns rising like that out of every form, what am I to do? But bump heads with God — placing our souls upon the feet of all things. Because all is really perfect, and so holy. Please let me bow to you — as sings the moon's light, if you could hear, in its perfect equanimity to anything before it, anything, and with never a moment of judgement. Never a moment of judgement, because of love, because of love & knowing! Knowing who is Really the Only Doer — God!”
Unfurling Into the Sun
A foreword about the destiny of each heart
by Daniel Ladinsky
Why am I writing this, a foreword to this book for Tatum Scott & myself? Because I love good poetry and respect its great value. The best of poetry, and the best of art, can be like a session with Carl Jung at his best: you just become better off— less burdened, and more able to see the wonder of existence and more of the really miracle of yourself and all things. The best of human relationships, the best of art & literature, safeguards & empowers us— helps our wing, our heart, our spirit, taste more of the the Sky, and know more freedom which every creature craves.
A favorite line of Rumi comes to mind, rendered-translated by Coleman Barks that goes something like this:
Out beyond all your ideas of right doing and wrong
doing, there is a field I will meet you there.
— Rumi
Yeah, where one can unfurl more into a greater Self, more into the Sun. And guess you could call the Sun — Buddha, God, Jesus, or a super-duper Yoda. So super-duper he is midair on a butterfly wing and high-fiving everything— because of love and understanding— and wanting to help.
Knowing is such a big part of fitting this puzzle of life more and more together. And with each of the so-many pieces of it finding some kind of union or marriage, or acceptance and/or compassion ... there is /are moments of satori, or kensho. Kensho is a nice Zen Buddhist term that can mean: seeing into one's true nature. Aka: experiencing the unfolding more into light, more into an ever-giving Sun.
More from Rumi on this subject— lines now paraphrased from a Rumi book of mine, titled: The Purity of Desire, 100 Poems of Rumi. “The Ascending Soul,” as it’s titled, is the first poem in that book, and has an interesting scholarly and personal history, I footnote. I got connected to the first few lines over 50 years ago and never forgot them. The first part of the longer poem there, now rendered, goes:
***
I died as a mineral and became a plant.
I died as a plant and knew what it was to
have fins & wings, and hoofs & paws.
But we move on — unfurling deeper into
the Sun. Look, look ...
I became a beautiful woman, I became
a beautiful man.
What should we ever fear my darlings —
for when were we ever less by dying.
— Rumi
Yes, we and every creature are part of a glorious evolution of consciousness. The Unfurling. The Becoming!
I had also thought, wanted to use a line from one of Tatum's very fine poems as a possible title for this book. A line I tweaked a tiny bit to then read:
Growing into the size of the Universe.
I think Rumi & Hafiz did, and sure, Jesus & Buddha. But enlightened ones often keep a whole bunch secret, can downplay their Sublime Extraordinary Awareness — unless you can start sitting with them after hours in the bar, where the spiritual chat can get so much more juicy — gritty too— and some kind of Elvis materializes and moves your hips into the dancing we need to help breathe.
Ahhhh, after hours in the bar with someone who really Knows. All the patty-cake can stop, and they then just start kicking your ass into heaven — back home, the way a good poem can.
Daniel Ladinsky
Taos, New Mexico USA
Summer 2025
P.S. Growing into the size of the Universe!
You find — Everything is in The Magic Hat!
And you can bow to! Even in thanks!