Tuesday, February 18, 2020
A Flower––poem by Dorothy
A Flower
(for Rumy)
What shall I do?
I am become this flower,
this scent, this other
of who I am.
Sweetness flows from head
to foot,
a gentle stream of forgetting,
of becoming only this,
this fragrant reality,
this is of what is,
what I am,
what I am going to become,
this irrefutable evidence
of All.
Dorothy Walters
February 18, 2020
(Today I was still in an altered state from the excitement of the magical afternoon on Sunday. Then, this flower caught my attention and as I held it near to enjoy its sensuous odor, I felt gentle but very real flows of shakti. So this was my morning practice, as I moved my hands near but not touching my various chakras. An hour later I stopped to smell it once more, and the odor was gone from it and also the remaining blooms in the vase from which it had come. This transitory experience was like a brief visitation from the goddess, who is indeed Kundalini.)
(for Rumy)
What shall I do?
I am become this flower,
this scent, this other
of who I am.
Sweetness flows from head
to foot,
a gentle stream of forgetting,
of becoming only this,
this fragrant reality,
this is of what is,
what I am,
what I am going to become,
this irrefutable evidence
of All.
Dorothy Walters
February 18, 2020
(Today I was still in an altered state from the excitement of the magical afternoon on Sunday. Then, this flower caught my attention and as I held it near to enjoy its sensuous odor, I felt gentle but very real flows of shakti. So this was my morning practice, as I moved my hands near but not touching my various chakras. An hour later I stopped to smell it once more, and the odor was gone from it and also the remaining blooms in the vase from which it had come. This transitory experience was like a brief visitation from the goddess, who is indeed Kundalini.)
