Coming Home to You, Mother

You gave me my first home

as you carried me with you,

for nine long months

safe, inside your sacred womb.

You gave me my second home

as you cradled and nourished me

with your breath 

and your warm bosom.

You gave me my third home

as you made space for me

to take my first unsure steps

into an unknown world.

You gave me my fourth home

when you held and rocked me

to feel  safe enough to sleep

when I had lost my way to myself.

You gave me my fifth home

when you showed me the way

to love something beyond myself

so that I could get back to loving myself.

You gave me my sixth home

when you gifted me both -

roots to hold onto, and wings

to fly to a nest of my own making.

You gave me my seventh home

when I had my baby

and you held him in your arms,

the way you had held me.

You gave me my eighth home

when you stayed with me,

held my hand, and wiped my tears,

to give me strength, when I was ill.

You gave me my ninth home

when I gave my baby

the space to grow and be himself -

what life gave to me, when I was in you.

You gave me my eternal home – myself,

so I could open it out to the world,

while I find my way back,

to come home to myself

and to you, my dear Mother.

Bliss

Bliss is
a quiet butterfly
stopping to kiss
a restful flower
speaking to the wind
in silence.

Bliss is
the tinkling laughter
of a child at play,
dipping into
each moment
afresh, alive.

Bliss is
a lone bird, circling
the sacred blue,
giving it wings to fly
into the light and darkness
of forgotten tomorrows.

Bliss is
a gentle river reed,
rooted in its giving
to the flowing waters,
that ebb and flow
with the ocean tide.

Bliss is
being lost in the
intricate lines and patterns
of a zen tangle,
where each part
becomes the whole.

Falling into Yourself

you don't need
a parachute
to free fall
into yourself;
cut off the strings
that bind you,
slow you down,
and keep you away
from plunging into
the black nothingness,
with a throbbing heart
ripped wide open,
now ready
to be swallowed
by the fear -
of not having
a safe, firm ground
to land and rest on,
or the possibility
of a hopeful end.

Monkey Bars and the Mind

My thoughts are like the rungs of the monkey bars.
I can hold on to each thought as much as I want to, and for as long as I want to.
If I hold on to or stay with just one thought, I will only hang and stay in the same place. I will not get anywhere.
But that is beautiful too. For I can just hang and feel joy in the staying and hanging in one place and enjoy the view and the stillness.
The other thing that I can do is to hold on to each thought just enough, so as to let go of one rung and move on to the next. There is beauty and grace in this movement too. For every thought helps me move on. And while I am moving, if I watch closely, I will be able to enjoy the stillness in the gap - the gap between each rung....just after I let go of one and hold on to the next rung.

Walls and Windows

you first start
to build walls;
you shut out
yourself
from yourself;
trembling
inside;
cemented
between
fear
and love -
a mind
at war
with itself,
a heart
wanting
to break
open;

and then,
you come to do
the strangest thing -
you leave space
for a window;
to look in, and
look out.

when you don't
build walls
you don't need
windows;
you can stand
with your head held high,
and a heart that's broken
wide open,
to let in the heavens
that are waiting
to embrace you,
to inspire you,
to be alive,
and to dance
into the darkest night,
and the most glorious morning.

A story of unmet needs

I identify an unmet need.
I dwell in the pain and grief of it being unmet.
I look for ways in which it can be fulfilled, because I feel I deserve better from life, or because I cannot deal with the pain and grief anymore, or simply because it is a human need.....and so I dream, I fantasize, I yearn....
I think and feel that because I have faced and dwelt in my pain and grief, I know it all and so I can heal another with similar unfulfilled needs.
I finally find a way of fulfilling my needs and the others' creatively. I work on that with commitment and devotion. I think I have healed by healing the other.

But have I really healed my wounds? Have I really healed the other? Is that truly possible? Am I not beginning to hold on to and depend on something again, by finding a way of fulfilling this unmet need? And then, I end up having another need that goes unmet....and get stuck in the same story.

Am I not missing the whole point of life here? Am I not setting myself up for disaster? Why not dwell in the pain and the grief long enough, just letting life do its work on me and the other, for as long as it takes? Is there something that I need to see, where life is pointing me to or taking me towards, which I am just not seeing or getting?...and maybe, just maybe, this 'not seeing', this falling, this rising, this dreaming and this hurting is all that life is about...maybe I just have to live it and that would be the real story!

Notes to Myself - 9

Everything takes time. It's own time. A seed holds much potential - a flower, a fruit, or even a tree. But it does not become a flower, a fruit or a tree when you prise it open. We need to let it be for as long as it takes and let Life do the needful. Truth is like the seed. You cannot unearth it or discover it or force it to emerge. It opens up and emerges in its own time, in its own way. All we can do is wait for the emerging or flowering, and enjoy the waiting, without waiting!

******************


Your intention creates your reality.


******************

I rarely watch the news on TV anymore, or read the newspaper....most news seems so lopsided and utterly one-sided....and so I feel there is no point...tonight was one of those rare occasions and the debate was on the rape of the 6 year old in Bangalore followed by another case elsewhere...and this was the question that was bubbling up inside me...yes, she and many other kids or women must be scarred or traumatized for life because of what happened.....yes, some people remain scarred for life, while some people move on....but what about the medical examination that they must undergo afterwards to confirm rape? Would that have been very pleasant to undergo? One report said that a girl was lying naked for over two hours for her examination to get over.....how must that have felt for her? Does anyone care to ask her that? Wouldn't that be violation too?

I remember how violated I felt when I went for my delivery to the hospital, and the nurses kept intruding to check if I was in labour and how much the dilatation was every now and then, with utter disrespect to my body and my feelings of discomfort and pain....wouldn't that amount to rape too? Why do we have such narrow definitions and narrow lenses through which we see the world and its many problems? Why don't we hear more stories and news items of men and young boys being raped? Is it that we don't want to see and talk about those?

*******************


One of the hardest lessons for me to learn was to stay with the feeling of being unloved and even hated, and that even if I choose to love everyone who crosses my path, not all of them will love me...some will even hate me....and that is quite okay....learning to let go of the need to feel by loved by everyone has been the most challenging and yet the most liberating learning for me...and the letting go happens not in one go, but one person at a time...

******************


When I give space to my child to be his true self, I give him the space to learn the most important lesson in life - to trust himself.....his body, mind and spirit. When he learns to trust himself, he learns to trust life. When he learns to live in this way, trusting himself and life, he doesn't need any protection from anything or anyone. Trust is his armor and his weapon. For he is in constant touch with himself and life. He knows when to act and how, and when to be silent. He is the true warrior.

******************


To live in the moment is to raise a toast to life with an empty glass....you don't look to fill up the empty glass, you just raise it anyway, with a smile and a quiet celebration, and let life fill it up for you.

******************


Do unto others what you would like them to do unto you.
P.S. But to avoid heartache, don't expect them to.

*****************

The Last Flicker

A candle sits
in a dark corner.
Is time running out for her,
as she lights up her world
perhaps one last time?
for the night is long,
and the darkness heavy,
and she has to burn
herself out,
all night long;

Do you see
how she pours her light,
from the dark stories
that singed her life?
Do you see
how she gives herself
from the burning wick within
that holds her life?

Yes, the time has come.
The darkest stories
must be told -
the last flicker of light,
before her flame goes out,
tonight.

Reflection

Still waters reflect
through their silence;
even if transformed
for a moment
by things that fall in -
offerings received
with sacredness
and a devout cadence.

you can see yourself,
you can hear yourself,
you can feel yourself,
if only you can rest
and drink in
the stillness and silence
of a wordless
interaction.

The Way Home

I don't know
the way home.

But I know
that home is
where my heart is.

And so I go
where my heart takes me....
through the dirt,
and the stormy seas,
through the hills
and valleys so green,
through wild forests
and manicured gardens,
through dark tunnels
and sun-splashed mornings.

My heart -
she leads me,
she watches
my every step,
she holds me
as I stumble and tread,

She weaves
with utmost care,
the fabric of my life -
keeping me warm,
holding the light,
to show me the way.

I don't know
the way home.

But I know that
wherever I go,
and whatever I do,
I take
my home
along, with me.

Inspiration

Inspiration -
she kisses me,
moves,
and
lifts me.

a kite
set free
upon
the breath
of the wind

dancing
with abandon,
soaring
towards
unknown shores...

Inspiration is
a fullness,
a love
for all of life.
Unstoppable.

The Spiral

Stuck.
In the same
endless
cycle -
an illusion
of heading
somewhere,
feeding
myself, and
the past;
fear
holds me
in orbit,
until
I excape
from it
every time,
into
nothing
and
everything.

Melancholy

Melancholy -
She cuts through me.
Often.
Slowly and gently.

Like a warm knife
sliding through soft butter;
like a bookmark
slipped through
the leaves of a book;
she arrives, and she stays.

She is the butterfly
lying still and listless
on a cold stone floor,
her wings fluttering
with tiffany ease
in the gentle breeze.

She is the tart lozenge
to be sucked on slowly,
soothing and feeding
the pain of being human,
that wants to be held
and loved for what it is.

She is the note
touched by the 
bow of a violin,
stirring a lonesome heart
into a swell,
that rises and falls
to the same place,
again, and yet again.

She is the heavy blanket
of a silver-grey sky,
wrapping me in a warmth
that comes from a knowing
that shafts of sunlight
will streak through, after the storm.

She is a ribbon of stardust
tied around
a fleeting moment,
holding intangible joy
in the nebulous, forgotten haloes
of stark street lamps at night,
that inhabit the fringes
of a path not taken.

She is the frail green tendril
that curls herself
around a tall, warm tree,
giving and receiving strength,
growing together in love,
as we look fearlessly into the sun.

She is the dark lake
of a life I did not choose,
but I watch her ripples
nibble at speckles of moonlight,
occluded by her sweet sadness
that chokes my parched throat.

She is the poignant fullness
of a billowing raincloud
who has lost her way
in the infinite emptiness
of a surreal sky
that's waiting to break open.

Melancholy -
she sits with me,
a silent lover at sunset,
holding hands
and looking into
that elusive sunrise.

Melancholy.
I remember
her heady fragrance,
as she embraces me.
For she is me.

A Pantomime of Love

If only there was
a world
without words
and war -
a pantomime
of love,

where breath
fills fully
every movement
every touch
rising from
the void
within;

where
love and grace
transform
silence
every step
of the way;

where
yin and yang
rest
in the silent well,
yielding to
the enemy inside,

unwinding
the riddle
of life; and
living Tai Chi
every step
of the way.

Resilience

I watch
the river reeds
flow with the
giving river.

I watch
the thawing ice
roll along with the
charging ocean.

I watch
the little bird
build her frail home
in the oft dancing trees.

I watch
the dainty spider
spin her web
on the restless breeze.

I watch
and I learn,
that resilience
slips in quietly
through the backdoor,
when I am busy
giving myself
to Life.

Resilience comes
not when I hold on,
but when I
give in to Life;
for it's in the giving in
that I can discover
and create myself,
over and over again.

Passion

Passion is
a gurgling spring
on the brink,
ready to burst forth
and give of herself
to the whole of life.

Passion is a life-force -
the genesis of purpose,
the well spring of desire,
the undying flame
of hope and revival,
to thrive
in the sacred
web of life.

Passion is
to set yourself
and the world
on fire;
to breathe fire,
walk with fire,
through fire, and
into abundance.

Passion is love
on the edge
of being
made visible.

I Look To You

I look to someone
to love me as I am,
I look to someone
to show me they care,
and in that moment
when my heart
throbs and is painted
a deep deep blue,

I forget I already know
what I have to do;
to look to you -
the wind,
the ocean,
the shore,
you're always with me,
wherever I go;

and so I look to you -
to feel your blithe fingers
ruffle my unkempt hair,
to see those blue eyes
that hold my share
of the pain and joy
of solitude,
to hear you whisper
those three words
I so long to hear
but from another -
'I love you';

you're the wind
beneath my wings,
you're the ocean
who holds all,
you're the shore
for all seasons,
so why look
elsewhere at all?

Wildflower

I don't want to be
a flashy sunflower
in a field of gold, 
a flowing orchid
or a sunset rose,
I want to be
a quiet wildflower
by a mountain trail,
who waits for eternity
for a heart with grace.

Like a Bubble

a bubble afloat
on the breath
of the wind,
sees the world
through her
gossamer skin,
sheer walls
of freedom,
reality
soaked in,
looking out,
looking within.

Notes to Myself - 8

When I see myself in a community - family, friends and others, I am beginning to realise more and more that there are so many different energies and mirrors around me, only so that I understand and know more and more, as to which are the energies/mirrors that energize me and which are the ones that sap me and my spirit. There is a letting go that needs to happen even here. To know that yes, there may be many mirrors, but there are only some you need to look into, and not every single one. To know that some can distort your sense of self so much that you forget your own self (not as in a sweet self-forgetting). To know that some mirrors are for others to look into, not for you. There is a time in your lifetime when you begin to understand this more and more clearly. And when you begin to understand this, you suddenly feel a sense of ease and freedom in walking through the mirror maze in your life. It is not my job or need to clean or look into all the mirrors in my path. It could be somebody else's. So leave it for them to figure out. And more importantly, don't get lost!:)

************ 

We need to celebrate our humanness more. I feel that is where the gifts lie.

************* 

When you know how you want to die, you begin to truly live.

*********** 

Compassion is the bridge one has to walk on, to move from a place of fear to a place of love.

Being Present

Being present is like being with a pot of milk on boil.
Your mind knows deeply what will happen if you don't keep watching it.....
That it will boil over, and you will have an even greater mess to clean up :)
And yet, it is the nature of the mind to wander as you are waiting and watching. It cannot rest. Until you rest. Because it is caught in a time warp.
But if you watch the pot with your heart, your whole being becoming the pot of milk on boil, you are present in the moment.....every moment.....from the time it is put on the stove, up to the time it rises up to boil over. And you don't have to do a thing.
You will know what to do and when to turn off the stove.....in that moment when it is needed.
And you can rest in the knowing that you will have no mess to clean up :)

A Flowering

A tightly closed bud
getting ready
to bloom -
to burst open
to her own fragrance,
but not too soon.

In the pain
and struggle
of a birth
and a death,
she is born.
A flower.

Quietly,
unannounced,
hidden from
prying eyes,
she arrives
with her
joyous
presence.

Notes to Myself - 7

Children often know more than what they can express, and more than what we can see.

*************** 

Often, presence is more powerful and spectacular than the arrival.

 ************** 

We have a lot to learn about life from Nature. Nature has such a beautiful system in place for survival, connection and transformation. Nothing ever dies. Nothing goes wasted. No loss is mourned. Everything serves its purpose fully. Everything has a value. Everything is a gift, exactly the way it is. Some are obvious, and some are not. Some may never be known by us.

Some creatures spawn so many eggs. Some fruits have so many tiny seeds. Not all of them become what they want to, or grow into what they could be. Some go back to the earth where they came from, without having opened their gifts. Their gifts will perhaps be opened at another time and place. Or maybe their gift to themselves and us, was to live out this lifetime, unfulfilled. A sacrifice of sorts so that their kin survive and seek fruition of their purpose.

Why then do we humans mourn our unfulfilled desires and gifts that we want to share so much with the world but cannot? Why do we want to change what is? Is this struggle our true purpose? Or is it to live and offer our own gifts, as much as life opens them out to us? Or is it to constantly feel a sense of dissatisfaction that drives us on our path to understanding ourselves?

Can we see ourselves as those tiny eggs or seeds? Can we rest into our own lives with a peace and ease that comes with trusting life and its ways? Can we feel and understand our purpose in being a seed that does not grow into a tree this time around? Can we drown in that feeling of helplessness and frustration without hoping to sink or rise?

If we do, then maybe, just maybe, we will find and celebrate our true gifts to this world in this lifetime!...and rest into life, just like everything else in nature.

************** 

Pessimism is often seen as a negative attitude towards life....to be shunned or wished away....people who are pessimistic are often seen as 'cogs in the wheel' - as unimportant or hindrances to the flow of things or processes ...

However, the same 'cog', could actually be the tooth of a gear, a part of a larger system at work, that 'engages' other teeth, and receives and transmits movement....it could be the catalyst to that much-needed pregnant pause, which holds something precious, waiting to be birthed...

The key I feel lies in how the person who is labelled pessimistic, views his/her own pessimism, and how the others he/she interacts with view that.

When I embrace my pessimism, I embrace who I am, and the truth that 'I' actually cannot transcend my own nature... and so I 'surrender' to the larger force of nature or life to 'prepare' me to take that leap......I then see the larger picture that you are not seeing...I see the silences that create music....I see the empty white spaces that have been filled with colour to make a pretty painting....

I actually see myself as a 'cog in the wheel of nature' and the importance of being that 'cog'.....and that alchemy births the seed of optimism.

Beauty and truth lie in the tension that holds the paradox.

************** 

Peace

an inflamed heart
yearns for peace,

looking to a broken sky,
smiling softly
as if with a deep knowing
of times to come;

ripples stretch out
flowing with the quiet
of not knowing
when and if
they will reach
the far off banks;

puffy clouds
drift along
joining hands
and parting ways,
celebrating both
the coming and going;

peace emerges
in the staying,
when I look out
to the inflamed sky,
without seeking
that elusive sunrise.

The Cross

We all have to bear the cross.
Our own cross.
We all have to climb the mountain.
Our own mountain.
We all have to get crucified.
Our own crucifixion.

The cross we carry
is not the burden
of our bygone past,
but our shadow
that walks with us,
and holds the key
to unlocking
the light within,
to our very own
resurrection.

There's no one to hear me cry...

There's no one
to hear me cry.

I cry
to the sea,
for she holds
my tears
with joy
in her waves,
as they
rise and fall
while she
rests in herself.

I cry
to the river,
for she takes
my tears
to distant lands,
in her flowing bosom;
stories of pain
shared with
steadfast banks
who are with her, always.

I cry
to the rain,
for she gathers
my tears
in her arms,
to nourish
the virgin earth,
and dust-laden trees
cleansed of their
forgotten sins.

I cry.
But there's no one
to hear me cry.
No one to witness
the struggle -
mine and theirs,
of simply being human;
no one who wants
to feel and hold
Joy in their hands
as she is being birthed.
Yes, there's no one
to hear me cry.
And so I cry, to myself.

Winter

Winter is here -
barren trees
with nothing
to give
but of their
emptiness.
Silence.
Stillness.
And their
stark presence.

They look to
the distant sun
that seems to have
forgotten
its cloak
of warmth and light.

Huddled close
in starched white sheets,
no respite
from the pain
that stings their marrow;
frozen into nothingness -
sombre sentinels,
tired of being alive.

The wait is long;
loneliness gnaws
her way in
to their spirit,
which knows
that spring
is just round
the corner,
if only they can
hang in there
and rest
in their waiting...

Freedom

whipped
by Life
time and again,
I have a choice
to stay
or walk away
to freedom -
which is not
in the staying
or leaving,
but in the mind
that refuses
to surrender
to the heart.

Self-Affirmations

Yes, I am a full time mom, wife and life learner. I cook, clean the house, take care of my son and husband and myself, and whoever else needs taking care of :) A lot of my time everyday, goes in doing these things, but I love doing it. I do it with love and devotion. Like every other thing that I do.

I don't believe in outsourcing anything. To me, my house is my home - a sacred space that I want to create and nurture.  I want to do my chores myself as long as I have the strength to do that. I love doing that as it gives me time to contemplate - quiet, "me" time and a silent space where I can get in touch with my thoughts, feelings and myself....a space where I can rest as long as I want to, soak in my mind and heart, clean out the cobwebs and simply flow and be. It is a space and a time that I often don't get outside, and so I yearn for that time and space where I can just be. The chores are meditative for me. A lot of my inspiration for writing comes from that space.

I don't have a 'career' or dream to do more as a career woman, more than what I am doing now. Yes, I do have little-big dreams that I have cherished for long. Dreams of living up in the mountains somewhere, in a house of cob....going on long walks with the people I love (the top of the list being me!), growing my own food, writing for as long as I want to, filling my house with music of all kinds, travelling the world, living in a caravan, creating inclusive play spaces for kids, running a Lego centre for kids where they can just come and spend as much time as they like building and creating with Lego, cooking for people, starting a "seva cafe" of sorts with our traditional food, cooking and leaving food out for people who are needy to take as much as they want, and many more! These are not dreams that I am 'working' on, but dreams that I hold close to my heart. I have pinned those dreams on the wispy clouds that I see everyday when I look out from my balcony and into the sky. I have given them to the Universe for safe-keeping. She will find a way of making them come true when she thinks I am ready. She knows. And I know deeply that she knows.

So yes, I don't have a career. But I have a life. A full life. A life worth living and dying for. A life filled with the pain and joy of being utterly human. What more can I want or ask for? Everything and every person that has come into my life up until now, has stayed with me in many ways. They have shaped my thoughts and opened my heart. They have made me see things with new eyes, including myself. They have brought me many gifts. Oh yes! There has been a lot of agony and struggle and heartache and loneliness. But there has also been joy and celebration and gratitude and fulfillment. I have learned to live with and enjoy all of it.

I don't go out so often, I don't meet many people in person, I don't have parties to go to, I don't have many friends to hang out with or phone calls to attend to. But hey, I still have a life and quite a full one! I meditate, I cry, I laugh, I get angry, I sleep when I feel like, I rest a lot, I read curled up near my son on the beanbag, I cook while listening to my favourite music, I cycle with my son, I lose myself pretty often in the sky and the ocean that sit outside my window, and I capture moments that my eyes prey upon on, with my camera. I write poetry and other things, I talk for hours with a dear friend when all the world is asleep, I share silence and darkness over late-night phone calls with a soul mate, I miss my husband when he is away and dream of what we would do when he is back home, I listen to my son talk all through the day, I listen to the birds chattering outside at dusk and the silent conversation that the moon has with the stars. I stay up to watch a comet shower, or wake up early to catch the sunrise, I rush outside to capture a transient rainbow, or just sit and wonder why. I curl up in bed with my son till he is ready to set off for the day, we watch ants crawl with food on their heads, and spend hours talking about Lego or Minecraft or something we are feeling or need to resolve together. Time stops still for us many a time. We rule time and not the other way around.

Ah yes! I do remember that I have a degree in Physics and am a trained special educator with years of experience. But those are parts of my life that have gone by, making me what I am today. They are a part of the ground on which I stand today. They have been the journey. They are the stations gone by. They are no more destinations. For I am not in need of earning money to feel important or independent. I know my value in this beautiful cosmos. I am independent in my own way. And yes, I like being dependent too. What's wrong with that? I don't have anything to prove to anyone, including myself. I know what I am and what I am here to do now. I want to live a life full of love, give love and be love. That is all that I  need to do....to live up to and become my name - PRIYA :) Nothing more. Nothing less. All is perfect as it is. Including me!

I have worked out this deal with life. I have told her that she has to hold on to my dreams, while I hold her hand and allow her to guide me and take me along this one helluva adventure, as I walk with her in complete faith, enjoying every moment in this journey that she unfolds to me! So then, when you think of asking me what I do with my life and wonder if I get the time and space to live "my life", do pause for a moment and look at yours too....for life is what we make it out to be...and I do have a very full, wondrous, joyous life with all its usual quirky ups and downs......it may not be like yours or what you are used to, but it is mine and I am loving every moment of it!

Peace

engulfed
in the drone
of an urban morn,
a mourning heart
sinks its roots
into the grounded sky -
a constant reminder
of what could be,
if only I have
the time
and space,
to connect
inside,
to listen,
and simply be
me.

Being

the tireless ocean
rests unto
the breathless sky,
green flags on brown
step daintily
with the dancing wind,
steadfast banks
quietly watch
the rushing river,
clouds of eiderdown
wander through
invisible paths;
a torn heart
slowly learns
the art
of resting
into
life.
Do nothing.
Being.
Here.
Is enough.

Notes to Myself - 6

Numbing oneself from something is not really a way of escaping (although it may seem like that from the outside), but is actually a way of getting completely 'into' something else and deeply. Something that moves you, gets you in touch with yourself and makes you feel alive. It feels great to be alive!

***************** 

A cup full of love, is too full to receive any more.
A cup that is empty of love, always yearns for more.
A cup that is half full, always has enough. It can give and receive love with equanimity.

***************** 

Joy

Joy
bursts
into nothingness -
a cactus flower
sits on a
pincushion,
blooming
inside out,
held by
thorns
piercing
a barren sky
that looks to
a parched earth.