by Rachel Creager Ireland
Moh mohia janai dur hai.
Kaho Nanak sada hadur hai.
And there are also times of unexpected joy.
It’s always there, here, as in the leaves
that fall spontaneously in stillness
and sunlight, turning over and over.
They are their own shadows.
Joy in the breath and the sound of the breath
and the movement of the body.
Joy in bending down and reaching up.
Joy leaking through the cracks
in the mindless repetition of ancient patterns
you love without understanding.
In every season, exquisite joy
that moves in you, dances you, if
you let it. Do. Dance though the mind
has other plans. You can still count
sun salutations, and dance in between,
though the body be heavy with humanity.
There won’t be dancing later, in that place
you secretly long for.