Love is that that never sleeps,
nor even rests, nor stays
for long with those that do.
Love is language
that cannot be said,
or heard.
Rumi
Translated by Coleman Barks
I sensed movement on the upper side of hill outside the kitchen window. There were so many possibilities, especially since it was early morning when the deer, squirrels and different types of birds wander through the bushes and grasses. Curious, I turned my gaze outside. The hillside was quiet, seemingly free of any stirring or ruffling.
A ray of morning light had just peeked over the edge of roof and landed on the hill. Among all the wild grasses and bushes, the light had settled on one of the few ferns. It was spotlighting one of the frond’s tightly furled tip. Somehow, I felt there was a secret communication between these two ancient forms of existence, with the fern being one of the earliest plants, with an ancestry of around 350 million years, and the sun existing for billions of years.
There was a part of me that longed to eavesdrop on their apparent conversation. They seemed to be a timeless pair, even though they are completely different in nature, with the sun steadily unchanging, and the fern ever-changing. Perhaps they were praising spirals, and how the fern embodied them and the sun held them. They might be puzzled by the attempts to stretch a spiral out into a line of dualities, e.g., birth to death, when if you let go of it, the spiral pops back into its cyclical patterns of expansion and deepening. They might have named some of the spiraling phenomena, such as tornadoes, galaxies, seashells, pinecones, double helix, water, sounds, and the breath.
The fern might have shared the slow and patient pace of unfurling her fronds. Even with the glow of the sun, her continual transformation has its own rhythm. It cannot be forced. She might mention that her ancient ancestors from millions of years ago were as large as trees and when they died, they settled into the substratum. Eventually they were transformed into coal and provided warmth and energy echoing the sun’s endless gift of light. The sun might have responded, “No matter how much light I give, the source is endless.”
Then, they might have talked about invisibility, generosity and humility. Both would have silently sat together, knowingly understanding the other. The fern and her kin often flourish in areas that are overlooked, such as in the shade of a forest. And, the sun seemingly disappears as the Earth dances around her. Both offer endless support to other beings without expectation. Lastly, they might have parted with the sun moving onward and the fern settling into the shade. In parting, each would have smiled at their co-wisdom of eternity and the Earth, each whispering to the other, “I love you.”
Practice
This simple, short practice can be done seated or standing. It is a playful exploration of the movement of sound. I suggest you read through the practice before beginning.
Preparation –
- Hug all your bones by tightly squeezing all your muscles from head to hand to toe. Hold the hugging for three to four seconds.
- Be sure and let go through the palms of the hands and forehead. Smile and breathe freely.
- Repeat two more times.
Practice –
- Open your mouth to create an extended “aah” sound.
- Imagine the pathway of the “aah” sound: begins below your navel; travels upward through the torso; across the back of the throat and palate, and then out of your mouth. (You may find it helpful to gently draw in and up on the abdominal muscles to strengthen the sound.)
- First, imagine that your “aah” is bounding up a ladder.
- Then, imagine that your “aah” is bounding up a spiral staircase.
- Play with the spiral of traveling counter-clockwise and clockwise, and broader at the base or narrower at the base.
Transition back into your day –
- Take a few minutes to sit quietly. Relax your hands and let them rest comfortably in your lap or on your thighs. Allow the eyes to be open with a soft gaze, or be gently closed.
- Invite the feeling of spaciousness in all your cells from the heart-center outward, from the tips of your fingers and toes and the crown of your head back into the center of your heart. Clarity, openness everywhere.
- And then, transition back into your day.
This verse appears in Mala of the Heart: 108 Sacred Poems, edited by Ravi Nathwani and Kate Vogt, page 44, published by New World Library. The practice is an excerpt from an earlier post “Spirals.” H E A R T H is posted each full and new moon. KateVogt©2026.
Upcoming Class
“Ecological Roots of the Heart” (online). For more information and to register, click on this link and scroll down on the left hand side to the “literature/humanities” category within the College of Marin Community Education program offerings.
