Ever since I read the poem The Seed Cracked Open, by Hafiz, the word mischief has beed imbedded in my thoughts.

Mischief—playful misbehavior (Goggle.com).

God, what love-mischief can ‘We’ do For the world Today? I wonder about love mischief: how can I help someone, bring my best self into this situation and pause when I want to react? As I ponder these, I am more conscious of doing just that as life comes up. Walk with my neighbor when she asks, call my mother-in-law, listen to an unhappy acquaintance were part of last weeks life.

What about art mischief? I can wonder the same: how can art can help someone? How can I bring my silly, curious self to the studio today and stay in “mischief” as I work in my own space? Can I indulge the possibility of misbehaving/not following the rules that I have set up for myself?

I will keep including ‘mischief‘ in my days. How about you?

The Seed Cracked Open

It used to be
That when I would wake in the morning
I could with confidence say,
“What am ‘I’ going to
Do?”

That was before the seed
Cracked open.

Now Hafiz is certain:

There are two of us housed
In this body,
Doing the shopping together in the market and
Tickling each other
While fixing the evening’s food.

Now when I awake
All the internal instruments play the same music:

“God, what love-mischief can ‘We’ do
For the world
Today?”

Hafiz, Translated by Daniel Ladinsky