Pancakes & Maple Syrup Part Two: With Blueberries

Someone wanted to know if I would do a Part Two to the above blog title which is here, and add in some Blueberries. And that someone, to be honest was one of my clandestine advisors, of which I have several. But I will give a hint … well, might as well just confess outright: this one is an old raccoon that comes by and offers elite writer's workshops. And I have taken several and learned a lot— maybe more than I could earning a PhD at the finest schools.

Creativity really comes from an angel's wink; or a magic furry creature’s blessing; or as I have mentioned before, from: Buddha pinching your fanny. And if you are really rocking, maybe you hit the trinity prize there.

But you will have to use your imagination and picture those berries (blue jewels); as what is really featured here is a poem by Hafiz called, “The Vegetables,” and the unique story which reveals the sanctioning my teacher in India gave it (and he was probably a real saint!).

Sorry if this seems complicated, but that just seems the way life rolls sometimes. And I hope to soon make all clearer and actually offer some substance. But what might really be of more substance, than what can make one feel lighter and maybe smile? 

O, the great value of humor; and comic strips; and maybe imbibe a precious writer’s tip from Rembrandt the Raccoon. That is how he signs any legal documents, with a paw, if ever needed. And speaking of legal stuff: 

I once heard that a very successful litigation lawyer in Los Angeles, California, who even had a run at a congressional seat in her district, after spending ten years hanging out with a real Zen master, began to refuse any and all new clients, and would just respond to all inquiries with her favorite comic strips and koans. 

Ahhh, the great utility and beauty of Zen and gaining some enlightenment— aka: knowing the real lowdown or bottom line. What can deepen your laugh, is the needle on the compass to follow.

That is a good line that just popped in:

What can deepen your laugh, is the needle on the compass to follow. 

And I was just having a little conversation, a little Q & A with myself, about what is poetry? And one answer was: poetry is hearing a mountain’s whisper; poetry can come from taking a writer's workshop with an old squirrel, turtle, or raccoon; it’s stealing the moon's drunk songs. Poetry is a golden bird flying in an open window in your mind. Poetry is: plagiarizing what the sun can so softly say to its lovers in bed.

       Poetry is a golden bird flying in an open window in your mind,

            and then letting you perch on a limb with it, and too sing!

Here is that story behind the Hafiz poem, “The Vegetables” getting published in the book: The Subject Tonight Is Love, on page 5.

All of the following (except with that Arlo Guthrie song added in at the end and the annotation by me), was first posted to an international Meher Baba e-mail group I like to contribute to. 

This was the first playful, whimsical Hafiz poem-rendering (sure taking some liberties), I ever read to Eruch* my teacher, to see where he might put his big foot on me— and squash this little Danny-squash. I read it from a manuscript The Subject Tonight Is Love, that was about ready to go to publication when I returned to the states from India. 

(*Eruch: Eruch Byramshaw Jessawala. You could read my most public, in-print statement about him and how to me, he choreographed work with Hafiz and then ultimately Rumi also, in the Introduction to the book: The Purity of Desire, 100 Poems of Rumi. Beginning on page xix. I also wrote about him at length in previous blog posts too.)

I remember, right when I was about to read it to Eruch, sitting on the porch at Meherazad, a Westerner who was close to Eruch happened to come by, and stood there; Eruch motioned for me to still read it, and I did. When I finished, before Eruch could speak, this person, in a rather sarcastic tone of voice said: “That isn't Hafiz.”

And Eruch immediately, sincerely, and playfully responded: "What do you mean? You don't know anything. I love tomatoes, and I am a potato!"

(Eruch was slightly chubby.)

And that was the last time this person ever criticized my Hafiz work, to my face at least. But so much more important to me was that Eruch (who to me was a full-blown Zen master) encouraged my Hafiz poems-renderings like this, which then became many and varied, and had (and still are having) a great range in expression and reach a world-wide audience.

And I seem to always be able to find one of my published poems on the web these days— especially my Hafiz ones— which is helpful, because I don’t keep great files, even though my manager/agent does.

I wanted to post another song on this blog entry, as I do now and then, and I wondered for a few seconds IF there might be a song that mentioned vegetables— or at least a vegetable. And lo and behold, I remembered this song by Arlo Guthrie about a pickle and a motorcycle. And maybe that litigation lawyer in Ca. I mentioned above, sent this song out also, along with jokes & koans, to help people lighten up, and maybe just forgive someone rather than sue them. 

And how could you ever manage to be riding a motorcycle and eating a pickle and/or ice cream all at the same time and having some fun too... if you had some mental lawsuits clogging your brain & heart? 

Well, here is a pickle— starring in a song. You can listen to Leonard Cohen in another blog sing Suzanne, if you are feeling more romantic or contemplative, or both. And speaking of romance, here is Hans Zimmer soft-rocking in his own way in True Romance. A film worth seeing if you never have. That film is a classic, that any real cowboys or cowgirls might like, and saddle them up in another sky for awhile. And you got Elvis there — doing some cameos, playing Yoda. Elvis going Yoda! What more could a munchkin want? 

OOO, what to say? Maybe I have been floating around in Rumi's and Hafiz's wine barrels toooo long!

Well, I better get back to crafting some Buddha haiku from The Dhammapada. Been deep into that lately.