There are echoes of my favorite e.e. cummings poem in today's Satya. I can't help it. I so often use that poem as a filter in my brain, sifting the events of my days through the sieve of those words--the root of the root, the bud of the bud. E.E. Cummings just saw it all--the highlights, the troughs, and sort of shook out everything in between. His poems transcend the language of daily use and speak right to the soul. He was a soul whisperer.
So, when I don't know what to do, I do one of two things. Well, one of three. I pull out my tarot cards, call my mom, or read e.e. cummings. Because you don't read e.e. cummings. You filter him. You channel him. And, like a in a dream, you usually steer yourself right, although you have no bloody idea what any of it meant. Just that it was exactly what you needed to hear.
here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart
i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)