Wednesday, 2 March 2011

Your exact errors make a music


Listening to the San Francisco Zen Center podcast I heard Ryushin Paul Haller read this poem today by William Stafford. It has inspired me to get away from Masters Thesis writing and go for a good long run.

Your exact errors make a music

that nobody hears.
Your straying feet find the great dance,
walking alone.
And you live on a world where stumbling
always leads home.

Year after year fits over your face—
when there was youth, your talent
was youth;

later, you find your way by touch
where moss redeems the stone;
and you discover where music begins
before it makes any sound,

far in the mountains where canyons go
still as the always-falling, ever-new flakes of snow.

—William Stafford, from You Must Revise Your Life