Mirror to the Blind

of what use
is a mirror
to the blind,
who sees
the world
with her heart,
not with eyes
that linger upon
form and colour,
beginnings
and endings
flaws
and glories;

of what use
is a mirror
to the one
who wants to
run her hands
over your warm skin
sculpted by Life,
who wants to
fill her insides
with the fragrance
of your breath,
who wants to
listen and dance
to the song
of your soul;

so let's
scrape away
the silver
veil of fear
that keeps
you and me
apart;
for
of what use
is a mirror
to the blind
who know only
to look into
their hearts?

Inspiration

in the silver trail
of cursive thoughts,
left behind by a snail
inching along,
in no hurry as yet
to catch up with life;
in the silent exchange
of unspoken words,
where 'being-ness'
is the prized piece
of sustenance
carried by oft-busy ants;
in the uncertain promise
of survival and celebration,
sealed by the marathon flight
of a mother who doesn't flinch
to leave her chick
in the frozen wilderness;
in the quiet fragrance
of a still wildflower
who draws unto her
vagrant hearts,
blind to their own
quintessence;
in these fractals
that drive life to its hilt,
Inspiration,
she explodes
from within.

Renewal

to listen
to the forest
is my homecoming -
building bridges
to a forgotten place
within
that breathes
silence.
solitude.
stillness.

I come to take
a part of you
back with me,
and instead
you give me back
my whole self,
in one piece.

the forest
is where
furtive thoughts
quieten
like a tired child
hushed to sleep
by a silent lullaby;
it is where
a broken heart
gathers
its scattered shards,
coming together
as one mural;

it is where
trees sculpt
ancient stories
and whisper them
to the distant sky,
brushed by silence
dripping slowly
over their changing canvas;
a renewal
of faith -
the artist's way.
 

Rear Window

there are many windows
in the house;
but which one
do you look to open
on days when you want
to fill your soul
with a breath of fresh air?

will you open
the one in front
with its pretty facade
and charming tableau
of a life half-lived,
looking out into
a manicured garden
with dainty flowers,
dancing butterflies,
and a well-worn path
leading up to a door
that always opens
with a gentle push
or the sound of a bell?

or will you open
the one in the rear
with its termite-eaten frame
adorned with
sticky dark cobwebs
and well-settled dust,
undisturbed by
the constant chatter
and clutter
of frivolity,
looking out
into the untamed woods,
where there is space
for everything
both light and dark,
small and big,
ugly and beautiful;
where butterflies and moths
wander free,
where grass and clovers,
creepers and wildflowers,
burst open their hearts
with unbridled joy,
where you walk the path
forged by your eyes
up to the altar
where fear meets love
in a bitter-sweet union?

which window
will you open
today?

Solitude

a lone stone bench
by a gushing stream,
clumps of thorny bamboo
by slowly arching trees,
solitude rests
in herself -
not waiting
to be filled
by an emptiness
or a fullness,
a becoming
or a dying,
an ebbing
or a rising,
Solitude -
she simply is.

Holes

Life
pecks at me
often,
drumming
on the skin
of my spirit,
sucking
my sap,
boring holes
that cannot
be filled,
or hidden
from the
glare of day,
reminders
of what needs to die
so I can begin
to truly live.

Bookends

     we stop               |                                                                                     |        soul mates
     we meet              |                                                                                     |        hold between them
     we love               |                                                                                     |        silence and song,
     we share             |                                                                                     |        together yet apart,
     a moment           |                                                                                     |        like bookends
     upon a crest        |                                                                                     |        on the shelf
     or nadir               |                                                                                     |        of eternity.
     ______________|                                                                                     |__________________
     ______________|                                                                                     |__________________

Parenting

There are as many ways to raise children as there are parents.
There are as many ways to raise parents as there are children.

I felt a lot of sadness when I read this article (look below) that was shared on FB, about raising a generation of helpless kids....sadness because I feel we are not looking at the whole picture, and are swinging to an extreme....I feel we are somewhere not looking deep enough at ourselves and our children.

There are always two sides to any story and I wonder if we are only seeing one side, and therefore getting paranoid and showing a knee-jerk reaction to what we see as huge problems in kids today....
I for one believe that our children raise us, and that it is only our preparation that is important.....we are the soil that needs to be prepared and aired and tilled until it is 'ready' for the seed to use as its nourishment to grow...the seed holds everything that it needs for this lifetime within itself....it does not need any preparation...it waits patiently until the soil is ready, and then there is just no stopping it. But instead of preparing the soil, which is ourselves, we are so hell bent on preparing the seed, and finding fault with it, thereby even destroying it in the process.

The seed is not helpless. It is we who are helpless, because we are simply not listening to what it is asking us to do, and trying to find quick-fix solutions rather than digging deep.

There are more and more children today with marked sensitivities and other needs, who simply seem to be telling us to wake up, open our eyes wide and look at what and where we need to change. They are showing us in so many ways to wake up to our fears and face them head on. They are screaming out loud and clear that our old ways of thinking and being no longer hold stead. But are we going to stop and listen?

The answer I guess lies in whether we want to see it as them raising us, or us raising them.

When a child wants you to sort out a conflict he is having with a friend, can we try and trust him and just be there for him? He wouldn't call you unless he needs you would he? Have we ever bothered to wait long enough to see when he is ready to handle this on his own?

If he refuses to climb monkey bars or cycle without training wheels, can we just give him the space to be until he is ready?

Can we tell them every day how special they are to us, and enjoy the simple act of loving each other, instead of getting all anxious about how they are going to use their specialness to their advantage later on?

Can we respect the tiny plants that they are now and give them the space and freedom to enjoy being plants, instead of looking at them as 25 year old trees in the making?

What are the feelings that bubble up inside you when you read this article? What are the fears that get stirred up? Perhaps it would help all of us to sit with that.....

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/Mickey-goodman/are-we-raising-a-generati_b_1249706.html 

Notes To Myself - 13

There is a point in life when you come to realise that you need windows more than mirrors. Both are made of the same material - glass (which by nature is transparent and fragile). Yet one has a thin layer of silver (like a wall) which makes the light bounce off it, while the other lets in all the light. You see only yourself in one, while you can see the world through the other. Today I want to break the mirror, open the windows and let in the world.

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

You see something as a problem when it does not fit into your template of how something should be.
'Problems' are rooted in beliefs that need airing and tilling.
They point you to the place where the 'problem' actually stems from

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

It is only when I feel comfortable to say NO to certain things or people, will I even begin to learn to take NO for an answer to my requests, with equanimity.
When I say NO to things that don't inspire me, I show respect for myself and life. When I can take NO for an answer to my requests, I show respect for the other and death.
Everything begins with me.

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

 You cannot 'hold' love or compassion for something or someone....for they are free-flowing, they cannot be controlled. If you feel that you are 'holding' compassion or love, then you can be sure that it is not really compassion or love.

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


When we think of creating something sustainable, we often seem to have a feeling that it should live on, endure, and not die.....not that that is wrong.....but the way I see it, that is what is perhaps making our car get stuck in the sand and not move.....because we are doing it out of the fear of death.....fear that something will no longer be there for us or another to enjoy....fear of what will happen to us if we do what we are doing to ourselves and the earth today....fear of what will happen to this thing of beauty that we have created....
But when I look at what I want to create, knowing that it will die some day when its time comes, and be okay with that dying, then the way I live today and in this moment, changes exponentially even.....then I don't have this feeling of wanting to hold on to my beliefs and what I have created or want to create.....I am happy to let it all go and trust life to regenerate itself and what I create, in whatever way it deems fit.....
There is always enough.....there is always abundance.....but do we see it?
Or do we see lack and scarcity and get driven by those fears?
We have much to learn just by watching nature....all the answers that we are seeking are there...
I like the way this article distinguishes between what is 'sustainable' and what is 'regenerative'

http://arianeburgess.com/regenerative-community/choosing-consciously/sustainable-or-regenerative/ 

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

 I am learning to be more conscious of this now:
A care that I feel which is actually cloaked so well in fear that unless I am really aware it slips out so easily in disguise, and a care that I feel which comes from a genuine, deep love, which needs no disguise or explanation.
Trying to say NO to someone with care, usually puts me in one of these two spaces and I am learning to watch myself and catch that fear which tries so hard to slither out 

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

 I cannot heal the 'hurt child' inside me, who often longs for love, care and attention, by showering love on my own child, my son or someone else close to me. When I think that I can 'heal' by giving to someone else what I did not get 'enough' of, I am actually only feeding the wound that sits so deep inside me. I do it from a space of scarcity or lack.The only way I can begin to heal that wound is to be aware of it and sit with the excruciating pain of loneliness, fear of rejection and abandonment. Anything else that I do only fuels my own ego, trying to make myself needed, wanted and loved. My role as a parent and a human being, is not to use my role to cover up my own fears, but rather to become more and more aware of why I do what I do, and face my own fears head on, instead of passing them on to someone else. Then the love I have and give to my child or anyone else, takes on a whole new flavour and grows in new, freer ways, because it starts to get rooted in self-love.

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

When the heart is ripped open, the mind rushes in to stitch it up with thoughts.

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

 Sometimes you 'think' you are listening to your own heart and following it, but still feel a slight discomfort in your body. That is the time to listen to your body.
What you 'think' is your inner voice or your heart speaking to you, could actually be the voices from outside telling you what to do.....they are so loud sometimes that you begin to 'think' that that is the voice of your heart.

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

 Detachment is what emerges when you start fearlessly loosening your grip over something or someone. All attachment is rooted in fear.

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

 Your needs - however few or simple they might be - are still the ways in which you seek to take control over yourself and life.

***********

In The Blind

I once crouched
in a corner
with my face
buried
in cupped hands,
terrified of
the tidal wave
of darkness
swirling around,
blind
and deaf
to the sight
and sound
of my own heart.

Today,
I am still
in the blind;
yet stand up
with my feet
planted on a
shifting ground;
I cannot see
where I am going,
but I can feel
and hear
my heart singing;
I can touch
darkness
and feel its warmth,
while I hold on
to that thin
thread of trust
in myself
and life,
which I know
will guide me
to where I need to go.

Contentment

Contentment is knowing that every experience of ours is like a different piece of Lego....the essence of life in different shapes, sizes, colours and combinations, that fit together perfectly to create our unique story, which we call Life.
Contentment is about knowing that we don't get to choose the blocks that we want.....but we get to choose how we look at and use the blocks that Life gives to us to create our own story, without discarding any.
Contentment is about seeing abundance in the choices we have, and to create something of meaning and value to us, knowing that there are infinite possibilities.

Metamorphosis

I am not
the tiny creature
that once crawled
the barren earth,
looking to
new leaves
for succor,
and a cocoon
to hide
from the glare
of a harsh world;

I am a butterfly -
angelic,
ephemeral,
perched
on the edge
of an imminent
tomorrow, with
love and freedom
tattooed on wings
that itch to
take on the sky;

the world is my home,
I don't need to hide.

Surrender

I want to know
if you feel despair
the way I feel -
to be laid down
on a bed of needles,
not knowing anymore
which one pricks
and where,
and yet to not look away
from the distant stars
that watch over you
through the dark cover
of a terrifying night;

not because
you are too scared
to open
your night-blind eyes,
but because
there is no other place
where your parched eyes
can wander to -

weary eyes
that don't know anymore
what to cry for and how,
for life has sucked out
their light
and your marrow;
because
there is no other place
where they can wander
to soak in hope
and fill up with joy,

they have nowhere to go
but to stare at and pierce
the growing darkness
that chokes you in its vise;
and in that swamp
of deep despair
and impending defeat,
with no place to go,
and nowhere to hide,
your eyes will find
at last,
those tiny pin-pricks
of flickering light -
distant yet near,
quivering yet bright.

for I have seen
and I have felt
and I have heard
a quiet rose of surrender
flower
only amidst
thorns
of despair.

Needs

needs
sit in me
like pins
and needles
stuck
in a
pincushion;
some prick -
to remind,
some numb -
left behind;
waiting
to be sorted,
pulled out, and
thrown away,
one by one;
sticking points
that hurt
only to heal,
to feel beauty
in the pain
of being human
is what I need.

Seeing

you cannot see the world
from where you stand,
for you've knotted yourself,
planted yourself
too firm, too deep,

and so you look out
into the emptiness
with reticent eyes,
spinning dreams, and
crocheting memories,

weaving patterns
that only fit
into your template
of how the world
should be,
snipping off loose
unseemly threads,
in disbelief. 

your patterns fill
but the emptiness
you fear,
the very space
which holds
warp and weft
in sweet conflict.

when you slip
into the intangible
formless emptiness,
you will see
the world
as it really is,
not the way
you want it to be.

The Vessel

If you come to me
with a little cup
to be filled,
you will
walk away
with only a cupful.

Come to me
with your
whole self,
empty
of everything
you believe
is you,
and you
will be filled
with the cosmos.

The Infinite Well

look in
to see
thoughts
and
emotions
trickle
down
into
the
caldera -
the source,
the end
of all
iridescent
orbs
seeking
completion
in an
infinite
well
of peace.

The Little Sailboat

the little sailboat
rides the swell
of a tipsy ocean
sprawled out
beneath
a sober neon sky.

its destiny
is written
not by the
parched white sails
of defiance
billowing and
cutting through
waves and wind,

but rather
in knowing that
when it is
absolutely still,
the breath
of the whole cosmos
fills its sails,
and guides it
towards
the distant horizon.

strength lies
in knowing
when to be still,
so you are moved.

From the Ashes

it is time
to rise
from the ashes
of things
that have
burned
themselves out,
things that
don't serve me
anymore,

it is time
to smear
the sacred ash
on my hermit form,
and move on
to find
the one line
written inside me,
my new hymn
my soul song.

Wanderlust

clouds
quilled upon
a lucid sky,
gather
and part
at will,

a wandering heart
flies out
into
the rolling emptiness,
pinning dreams
onto a fast-changing
canvas,

only a heart
that's empty
of itself
can hear
their song
of primordial silence,

the source
which blows
dream-laden clouds
towards
elusive
destinations.

Bloom

you smell
my sweet fragrance
today,
doors of thin skin
open to the wind,
turned inside out

I have no need
for capes
now,
only wings
to carry
a sweetness

born from
deep stirrings
in the ancient dust,
a quiet rush
of love
for life,
and a sun dance
upon
the altar
where
earth meets sky -

things
that remain
unseen
to forms
that seek
not the roots,
but only
the fragrance.

Revisiting old energies in a new way...

Two days ago, on my birthday, my husband got a call from the person who used to drive our car some years ago. It was a pleasant surprise as we have not been in touch at all ever since he quit about three years ago. He wanted to come and meet us with his family and kind of invited himself for our Golu :) There was no other intention other than that, and I was touched that he still remembered us, called and inquired after us.

He came with his family in the evening and we sat down with them to chat about old times and catch up on each others' lives. Their kids had grown so much and were fascinated with Raghav's creations.
"Are you still angry with us?", his wife asked me hesitatingly.
I smiled and said: " Why should I be angry?"
"No...is sir angry with us still?", she added.
"No....he was perhaps angry then. But with him the anger is only in the moment....he does not hold on to it after that....he forgets about it after the moment....so, he is not angry with you'll...we are not angry at all," I replied.
She looked relieved. As if a big burden was off her.

She then went on to share that they were very happy as a family now....that her husband had a good job, which was not very tiring and stressful, and he was doing well enough.....they were contented and in peace, in spite of their troubles. Yes, they looked happy. I could feel it. I could feel them flowing with their lives. I felt so happy.

"We think of you every night when we sit down to eat," she said.
"Why? I don't understand..." I added.
"The way you both are....sir and you....we have learned a lot from both of you...about how to be with each other....yes, we fight and argue and get really angry and sometimes don't even talk to each other for some time.....but we now know that we have to let each other be....we just go away and be by ourselves for a while until it all settles down....we know that we have only each other and that we like each other beyond all that....life is so much more peaceful than it was then," she softly said, fighting the tears that were welling up.
My heart skipped a beat too. I felt a lump in my throat.....grateful to life for having showed them the way.....and making us an instrument towards that.

I mentioned to him while we were talking that after he had quit, we had stopped doing puja for the vehicles on Ayudha Puja day. He immediately offered to come and do it for us this time. That spontaneous gesture touched me. And we agreed to wait for him this time. Today he came and happily did the puja for our cars with devotion and sincerity. For nothing but the affection and regard he has for us. That moved me to tears. I love these simple acts of love, for no other reason but love.

And then I remembered the old times - how her husband came to drive our car because Srinath (my husband) suddenly developed double vision one day, and just couldn't drive anymore. He came then to help us tide over those challenging times, when I was getting burnt out doing everything including driving, as my husband could not get out of the house and even walk on the road because of his severe double vision. Those were trying times for us. I had just come back from Bangalore after my mother's tryst with cancer, and a few weeks later I was down with chickenpox.  My husband had to travel every week to Madurai for his work and needed a driver desperately. He came as a saviour to us.

I remembered how he and his wife had a strange relationship with both of us. They had a lot of misunderstandings between themselves and with their extended family, and would reach out only to us. He would talk only to me and she would talk only to my husband! I recalled how I had shared with him on our many trips in the car, snippets from our life and how we dealt with our problems, with vulnerability and how he opened up too with his problems. He would ask for suggestions and I would share my thoughts. His wife would do the same with my husband on the phone :) It was funny....those conversations we had about life!

We treated him as a part of the family. He used to live very far away and would come at unearthly hours to drive for my husband. Often he would not have eaten anything. I would offer him food and ask him to sit down and eat with my husband. He hesitated in the beginning as I presumed he was not used to being treated that way, but soon felt at home. I would send stuff that I had cooked sometimes home with him for his wife and kid, and he would take it happily. He would bring his family home on special occasions and would not hesitate to do anything for us. I was being myself - open and kind, as I usually am with most people.

But soon the stress of driving back and forth every week got to him I guess and he started slipping up in his work. He would take off without informing us or call in sick very often. My husband would go off on his own and he would show up a day later for work. Both of us were angry with him and he would lie to us out of fear. We were getting tired of this.

Around the same time, I suddenly had a gut feeling that he was attracted towards me too....the way he spoke and looked at me....and I felt very uncomfortable and scared to go alone with him in the car. I also felt sad that he was misusing and perhaps misunderstanding my openness and kindness. I finally expressed how I was feeling to my husband and what I thought. Strangely, soon after I did that and we both decided that we should ask him to go, he himself came up to my husband one day in the office and told him that he wanted to quit. That made it easier for us. And that was the last we saw of him, until two days ago.

So then why did these old energies revisit me or all of us two days ago, after so many years? What was the message in it for me and for us? These are the questions I have been asking myself over the last two days. It is clear to me that this was not a chance incident. There was something in it for me. Maybe for all of us.

I feel now that we were all revisiting our old energies in a new way. Life was telling each of us how much we had grown and changed....what we had let go of....what we had forgiven ourselves for....what we had learned to face in ourselves through what had happened....and where each of us was in our journeys with ourselves now. It was clear that we had all found peace within....we were all at peace with ourselves and our lives....and the way it was unfolding now for each of us. We had moved on from fear, anger, distrust, discontentment and self-doubt into another space of peace and forgiveness which comes I think from being in the flow.

How much more beautiful can life get than this?... seamlessly merging four lives in one stitch in one instant! How much more interconnected can our lives be than this?

I am forever grateful to life for showing up at my door every moment, every day....for never giving up on me, even when I sometimes feel like giving up on it .....for showing me time and again how efficient it is in the way it works - achieving the maximum with minimum effort....yes, it is time to salute life and its never-say-die attitude! :)

How Do I Dance?

one 

song

one    heart

two       places

two         faces

two      feet

one life 

one dance;

how do 

 I dance?

in 

two places

at once?

but in

knowing

that one 

step         leads 

to            another,

and              to be 

here,      now

is  to 

dance.

Soul Whisperer

I hear you whisper
beneath my skin,
breath drawn
and freed,
within;
flying birds
follow the sun,
to return home
as the blinds
are drawn -
clarion calls
from the
soul whisperer
through the many
shades of dusk;
life's longing
to break free
from
this trapping
that we call
human.

Seed Burst

I feel
a gentle stirring,
a pushing
from within,
to break open
eroded walls
now ready
to give,
as the
hardened earth
readies itself
and crumbles
to a seed burst,
parting ways
to feed life
and death;
new fronds
new branches
new roots
explode
from an
unlit womb,
only to watch
sunbeams
return
to rustle
the quiet breath
of another tree
encased inside
a restful earth.

If you listen

If you listen
carefully
you can hear
the wind
whisper
to sleepy reeds
along a river front;
you can hear
it tease
wild-horse waves
or brush off
a fallen eyelash
upon your cheek;

If you listen
carefully
you can hear
the wind
resound
in the hollow
of your
weathered form -
a piece of driftwood
upon windblown shores,
where silence rests
in the dying throes
of emptiness
lost and found.