Sometimes

Sometimes I need my eyes
to sink into the blue yonder,
to find my roots,
in the dizzy humdrum
of an uninspiring urban drone.

Sometimes I need my breath
to hold my drowning heart,
with a quiet presence, a lullaby,
to quell the hangover
of a human razzmatazz.

Sometimes I need the warmth
of those strong and loving arms,
to swaddle me like a helpless baby,
as I struggle to make my home
in a cold, distant world.

Sometimes I need my ears
to hear the new moon smile,
and listen to the child inside,
who dreams of catching a rainbow
with a teardrop in her eye.

Silence

I long to hear
the sound of your voice
drip into every cell,
bringing me to life.

I long to hear
the sound of silence,
rub in the pain
of what is.

I learn to flow
between the two shores
of longing and being.

If you stop by some day,
and listen to my whispers,
you will know
how to get to the other side.

Stillness and Movement

wooden wheels,
tinkling bells,
ambling bullock carts,
and silhouettes,
roll out under
an orange sky,
pedestrian thoughts
hypnotized;
a lilting song
from a distant flute,
wanders in
to a restless heart,
now stirred
and stilled.

Simply Human

I am an infinitesimal piece
of an endless jigsaw -
I don't want to compete
with anyone else,
I don't want to spend
an entire lifetime,
trying to find out
how I fit into the whole;
to complete a picture
that can never be completed;
I want to live on the edge,
and stretch myself to my limits,
to fill my own tiny broken self
with all the pain and joy
that it takes -
to be
simply human.

Do you have the time to watch a flower?

Do you have the time
to watch a flower?
to sit with her pain and joy?
to watch, to listen,
as each petal unfolds
her secret story
into eternity?

Do you have the time
to wait, for all that it takes?
to hear her out,
until the only dewdrop
she holds in her bosom,
rolls down to water
her thirsty roots?

Do you have the time
to feel her unspoken love?
to rest your eyes, your heart,
on her quiet breath,
that whispers your name
to the fickle wind, and
the pain of an unrequited love?

Do you have the time
to watch her wilt?
silken petals, all shriveled;
a different story
of a life well-lived, and
unsaid words consecrated -
all in the name of love?

Living on the Edge

I chance to look
out of my window -
the sky and the sea,
a few bricks and a glass sheet,
keep me on the edge
of humanity.

A pigeon struts daintily
out on the precipice -
stopping to gaze into the waters below,
wings keep her
poised on the edge
of every flight.

I wonder what it takes
to live on the edge?
humanity or insanity?
security or insecurity?

Pain and Love

A dear friend shared a true story sometime ago, as part of a deep sharing online... I love the story and the poignancy it exudes...

" Four years back in Delhi I was standing in my balcony on the 8th floor, and watching a crowd gathered below as a young woman who I had seen as a child, refused to enter her maternal home. Everyone was trying to coerce her into home. Each time her father came close to her she ran away. Then exhausted all stood aside. She sat on the street tired and fallen apart. I went down to her. Quietly I sat next to her and asked her, "Is there anything I can do for you." She had diluted pupils, was breathing heavy, I could see her heart pounding out of her chest, her lips were dry and chapped. She said, "Just sit here with me, I have no idea what is going on, just that I don't want to go back home." So I sat there for a long a time on the street with her. She was married in Mumbai for over a year and something really terrible had happened, that completely shattered her trust in the adults around her who were supposed to protect and love her. She kept wiping her lips and saying, "My lips are are dirty, I need to clean them and I don't know how. I know what all has been happening with me since I was a child. They think I don't understand." I tried to hold her hand, she flinched. After some time I went back home. I called my mentor and told her about this. She told me, "Just tell that family to not take her to a shrink and let her go through this, and also see why this has come up to your consciousness. There is a message for you, a very important message." In the night they managed to get her home. I could see her room from my room. They had locked her up..and she kept crying out with a stick in her hand..I went to see her two days later. She was resting in the balcony with winter sun on her. No body ever told me what had happened. I inquired later whenever I saw her mother. She acted 'normal'..Today after four years, when I was in Delhi, I met her mother again, she told, "she is back with us and divorced and carrying on with life."

Another friend asked this question in response to this story -
"Is there a friend-face of the darkness or dark side of love? Which may be hard for us to see?"

Both the story and the question touched me deeply. I could relate with the story, as I have been in a similar state (but for different reasons), many many years ago. That is another story which I am writing about slowly, taking small baby steps...I will share that later when I am ready.

But for now, what this stirred up in me besides memories of some turbulent times, was the question that was asked by this friend.

I would like to share my thoughts and feelings here, trying to put in words, some deep emotions and stirrings that I often feel, when I sit with my pain. Pain has often brought out love....more love...somehow I have always felt most comfortable and in touch with myself when I am deeply hurt or in pain. Sitting with pain has often made me see the "friend-face" of it ...without pain, I feel one would not know love. When I sit with pain, I feel like Life is taking off some skin-tight clothes off me, to reveal love with all its fragility, vulnerability and strength. The root is love....and so I feel that when there is an experience that brings out a lot of pain, and I sit with it to see all its faces, I make a choice that is rooted in love.....it is not a choice that I make then in haste, at the heat of the moment, to get out of or away from something and find relief....the relief for me has been that when I got battered, bruised, and broken (most often by my own mind playing the role of a villain of sorts) I finally saw love at the root of it all. My action then was born out of love.

What is Pain then? Is it another face of Love? How many faces does Love have then?

I have often pondered over these questions in the midst of agonizing pain and felt love spilling over at some point. It makes me feel that Love is a many headed being - all connected to one source or root, and all expressing the same essence in myriad ways. Much like a temple that has many doorways, all leading to the inner sanctum, these are our many doorways to access and see Love in its purest form. What other reason can there be for all of us to take so many different forms when we are each an embodiment of the formless, intangible thing called Love? I haven't found any.

Pain is life-giving and life- changing in many ways. It has been for me. What we often see and experience is the destruction and devastation that pain leaves behind. And then, we move on. Most often. But if we wait a little longer, for the lava and embers to cool down, if we sit with the pain a little longer, we will see that the scathing lava has created the most incredible landscape that we stand on and look at with wonder. Soon, there will be trees and plants, animals and birds that make the barren landscape come alive. That is the power of pain. If only we can wait....wait, for as long as it takes...

Pain and Love are the warp and weft of the rich tapestry of life. Without the intricately woven and choreographed warp and weft, Life would be one long, lifeless, endless bundle of thread, prone to break or get tangled. We have to come to know deeply that we are held with love even when we are in the midst of unbearable pain. Sitting with pain without a plan or a course in mind, makes one get to that knowing. It happens when you let yourself be engulfed completely by the pain, without fearing that you might drown.

"Surrendering is not a giving up but a giving over to what is true in the present moment. And the moment I accept  what is, something begins to shift within me." - Oriah Mountain Dreamer from The Call

  

When you are in pain, you have a choice to stay with it or move away from it. I have seen with my pain, that when I tried to move away from it, it often came back and harder at me each time! I have also felt often, more intuitively than anything else, that whatever be the choice we make NOW, which becomes the path we tread, we will or often reach the same place that we were meant to, once again, until our choice is born out of love and compassion. It is a deep feeling. I can think of or give no examples. So, we will in a sense "carry on with life" until we are given another chance to make a choice out of love. 

I wonder what would have happened in the story, if that woman had made a different choice...

Where would life have taken her and how? 

What is your story of pain and love?

Through the Eye of the Needle

I feel my mind and body
slip in softly and gently,
through the eye of the needle,
threaded with a keenness
to flow and just be;
mindfulness
comes with ease,
when the being is light.

Red Moon Rising

A crimson Moon
rose in all her glory
from the cerulean black wilderness.

Did she stoop down
to kiss the Sun
as he went down on his knees?

Or did she smear
the sacred vermilion
to mark their union?

An empty heart is filled
at the cusp of light and dark.

A River Without a Name

I feel the deep rumblings
and gentle splashes
somewhere deep inside,
a river is born
without a name,
it's got nothing left to hide;
a seeking, a longing,
a cleansing, a flowing -
colours of a changing course,
a trickle from a fountain
is enough to quench
the thirst of a weary traveller,
who travels not to seek, but to love.

Conflict and Connection

every once in a while,
the earth and the moon
get in each other's way -
an interplay of light and dark;
every once in a while,
in the midst of a conflict,
light and darkness eclipsed,
a new connection is birthed.

Dancing on the Edge

s-t-r-e-t-c-h-e-d
between
the need to love
and be loved
is humanity-
dancing on the edge.

In the Forest

I sneak in
before the sun is up
to catch a glimpse
of your naked form,
as you shake off
the shroud of mist
on an unusually cold morn;
My lusting eyes
skim the green and brown
to steal but a moment
with your elusive charm;
To see or to not see -
that is the question;
eyes open and squirm,
as nature reveals herself
in moments of vulnerability -
a newborn langur
nuzzles its mother,
his beady eyes
dripping innocence;
a caring father
strokes his newborn and wife,
a private family moment unzipped
by flashy jeeps and keyhole eyes,
intruders are not welcome;
a stunning peacock in its prime,
bares open his chest, and
displays his flowing plume
in an extravagant dance to woo his lady,
who struts away nonchalantly;
a close-knit family of chital
prick up their ears and
dart into the bamboo thicket,
away from prying eyes and loud forms,
locking doors and closing windows,
hanging up a clear "Do Not Disturb" sign;
A part of me wishes
to melt and become one
with the misty green wilderness, and
hold them with silent love from afar;
Another part of me wants
to run away from there
and leave them alone
to their undisturbed ways;
I sit with the tugs in my heart...
Can I tear myself to pieces
so I can leave myself strewn about
in places and people that touch my heart,
until I feel and understand
what it is to truly come home?

Stillness in the Wild

A wild forest slowly stirs -
birdsong and animal calls
stretch into the blanket of mist,
unwrapping the brown-green hearth;
you can hear a ripe leaf
float down to rest
on the moist, undisturbed floor
holding up all with love;
you can hear the old Mahua tree
breathe into the cold, wet air;
twisted, broken branches
stand poised to fall with grace,
in their own time;
yellow-brown leaves, past their prime,
lay strewn across the muddy floor,
whispering secrets to unhurried travellers,
holding countless, untold tales of yore;
a warm, soul-stirring stillness rules
in the quiet, dew-drenched wilderness;
a silent respect for all that is,
born from coming home to the wild.

Wild Thoughts

Waking up to birdsong and
sharp, persistent pecks
on an illusory window pane;
A nip in the air wakes up
the sleepy hair on my hide,
as I open the door
to soak in the beauty of the wild;
Earthy smells of old leaves
laid to rest on a moist floor,
3G that works
even in the back of beyond;
Missing hot rasam and rice
and home-cooked veggies;
Thinking about what we call home,
and how far away we were from it;
Feeling humbled by the magnitude
of our world and all that lives in it,
in forgotten nooks;
Soaking in the paradoxes
that rule our lives
is not easy;
Wild thoughts
consume me -
just like wild fire,
until I rest in the moment
and watch them dancing. ....