Looking for a Pair of Eyes

I am looking
for a pair of eyes
that will look straight
into my throbbing
bleeding heart,

I yearn for those eyes
to see and feel
the simmering ache within
for the warm earth
and frozen humanity.

and yes, I cry,
I cry a lot,
when the waves inside
rise and fall, often
without any warning;

the world calls it drama,
an illusion, plain sensitivity,
but hey, I want to tell you
I want to ask you
what the world would do

without a heart that's full
of colours, of every shade,
a vibrant canvas now made
into an insipid monochrome
of black, white and grey?

sometimes I wonder
if my heart's going to burst
and splash its brilliant colours,
and sometimes I also wonder
how much it can hold,

and then just as I feel
my cup is going to shatter,
the taut lump of clay softens
and is reshaped anew
to hold just a little more,

and in that moment
I know I have to be
the eyes I've been looking for,
pouring themselves
into the world, and
into every broken heart.








 

दिल की बात

लव्ज्ञ कितने
पर होठो तक
आती नही,
दिल के
उस झरोके मे
लटकती है,
जाते भी नही,
सिर्फ एक एह्सास है
गुलाब की खुशबू की तरह,
जो हवा से बिखरा हुआ
पहुचता है,
और रुक जाता है
उस गहरे सन्नाटे पर,
जहॉ तुम और मै नही होते,
सिर्फ एक एहसास होता है,
दिल का ये राज्ञ
पहचानने का,
दिल की बात
दिल से सुनने का

Black Silence

black silence
fills
every breath
dying
unto itself,
stretched
over one
precious moment;

to live one life -
this one,
when every door,
every window,
is tightly shut,
when every leaf
on the lone tree outside
speaks silence,

you learn to live
for yourself,
for no other;
for it is in
that blackness
and deathly silence
that you know
how to truly live -

to live and die
with every breath
stretched thin,
dying
unto itself,
into that
black silence
refilled.

Take Two

It takes two ends
of a thread
to make a knot.
It takes one end
to unravel it.

It takes two blades
of one scissor
to make a snip.
It takes one pair of
loving hands
to hug.

It takes two to make two.
It takes two to make one.
It takes one to make one.
So be.
You!

Palm Tree

stand tall
head up
arms open always
like that palm tree
that stays out
in the wilderness;

there is no need
to sway
to stoop
or dance
to another's tune,
even if the world
sees that as strength;

there is a need
for you
to be simply 'you',
so full
of your arrogant
confident self, yet
open to Life
and her mysterious ways,

with no urgency
to scramble
for the distant sun
who dances with your
pointy fronds too,
urging you onward,
to bear your own fruit.
The world is waiting for you.

Fellow Traveller

Where did you come from
O little fly?
To rest on this window
that races with the wind?
Where is your home?
Where are your friends?
Do you have a family?
You who wash your face
with your folded hands,
You who brush your wings,
readying them for flight,
Is that your prayer? I wonder;
Who made you so fearless,
so carefree, so present?
I wonder,
as my heart flutters,
then stills,
upon your restful wings;
And I give thanks
to this moment
as we journey together,
and I ask myself -
What would it be like
to make a home
in each moment
and passing space,
of emptiness
within emptiness?
What would I do
differently
if I lived like you,
with my one, precious,
maverick life?

* We were driving along the highway, and after a brief stop to have a picnic lunch, this little fly joined us  on our journey. I watched him for a long time, as he sat beside me and washed his face, and brushed his wings, until our next stop, when he flew away as the door was opened. He was the inspiration for this poem and my fellow traveler, who taught me a thing or two about living Life.

Return to Sender

Desires
sealed
in an envelope
with no window
to peek in
or out,

now returned
and opened
in one sleek strike
by Life;

for one who wants
more
or no more,

for one who hasn't
loved himself,
nor been loved
by anyone else,

there is only one message
inside.

Live.

A Moment

poised,
      upon each
branching moment,
      is a dream,
a thought,
      a word,
a breath,
      and silence,
waiting
      to be born
and die....

The Gift of Seeing

do you see me as I am,
or do you see me
how you want me to be?
a gift that is already open,
or one that will set us both free?

Touch-me-not

touch me.

so I can cringe
and fold
into myself.

so I can remember
the pain
of not being touched.

touch me.

so I can touch
myself.

so I can open again.

The Bowl

and I waited
like a beggar -
for someone
to fill up
my empty bowl,
until Life
passed by, and
struck it gently
with love,
turning it into
a singing bowl,
empty and full,
of silence
and song.

The Fire

there is a fire.
in your belly.
you burn.
burn all of yourself.
slowly. gently.
there is no hurry.
it is your burning
that fans the flames
of the whole world,
which looks for light,
where there is
only darkness.

After the Rain

and I cried
     while it rained
          so my tears
              were washed away
                   without a trace
                        for the world
                            most loves
                                to smile
                                    at the rainbow
                                        after the rain.

The Chest of Drawers

for a long time
I thought my life was
a chest of drawers
sitting in the darkest corner
of the darkest of rooms,
one I was too scared
to walk into -
empty, musty,
tied with cobwebs,
laced with the dust
of yester years;
until one day,
when I walked up
that long flight of stairs,
to take a peek
into those dark drawers
and found they were full
of unopened gifts
waiting just for me.

The Prayer Wheel

One cold afternoon
as I walked
a mountain dream,
I stopped by
a little prayer wheel
and watched it turn
with the unfaltering flow
of a happy, gurgling stream;

and I wondered and asked -
what are prayers really?
where are they born?
where do they go?
who listens to them?
who watches them flow?

and then the stream
she laughed quietly and said,
"have you felt round pebbles
stuck in the wet grass,
and the crisp fresh snow
on high mountain tops;
have you heard
the red thrush whistle
as he darts through the blue,
and caught the magic and smiles
as rain turns to hail, then snow;
what do you think?
do we pray? do you know?"

I stopped awhile
as the prayer wheel rolled,
and I think I heard the song
of the wild earth, as she turned;
and the stream she flowed on,
as she smiled and waved

my eyes they became hands,
and my steps, wings.

On Being Me

Oh, how much I want -
but only sometimes,
to be a seamless part
of this blinding world,

go easy, and
flow on fearlessly,
and find my little space
to rest and grow,

but there is no place
that is shaped like me
and so I struggle
I brood and hide

then slowly slip through
the gold-trimmed clouds,
or tread softly upon
the shifting water's edge

so I don't wake up
the cozy river reeds
or startle the egrets
from their restful pose.

and I listen, I wait,
until I hear the moon
call me softly
from the other world

where shapes and colours
thaw and disappear
into one dark emptiness
where I find that thing called 'me'.

My Work

I go to work
just like you do;
but not to glass-walled cabins
behind closed doors,
or rooms full of people
meeting eyes
and shaking hands
in a distilled moment,
over things
to be struck off a list;

I go to work
to where the skies open and close
day after day,
to where the breath is born and dies
with every dream dreamed
and shattered,
to where my being fills
and empties itself
of everything that flows into
yet another gorgeous day;

I go to work
just like you do;
but not when
the clock turns and strikes;
I go to work
when my heart calls me
to come and sit beside her
and listen,
to her silence
and her song.

The Knife

I felt something
slide through me -
the thinnest of blades
wielded with finesse;
if only you knew
that a blade of grass
could cut through
my heart,
would you still do that?
but you don't -
and so
I writhe,
I bleed,
I die a little,
and I grow;
now an oak
that I didn't know
I was meant to be,
when I was
just another
mute seed
lying still
in the fallow dirt
of my home.

Home

a bird grows wings
to crease the skies
of many worlds,
only to return
every time,
to some wayside tree
with well-set branches
and staccato leaves -
a remembrance,
a resemblance
to what was
once
home.

On Words

some words
have a mysterious
exquisite softness
that lands on hearts
like a feather
wandering
and kissing
the far-away ground;
while some words
are like stone,
heavy
with jagged edges,
denting
the distant ground
which suddenly
seems nearer
with the glaring fall.

Intimacy and Love

I read somewhere -
'what you seek is seeking you';
and I wonder now
how that is true;
is that why the swan sings
before it finally rests
its well-worn wings?
is that why the leaves fall
into the ever-open arms
of their beloved earth?
is that why the ocean's waters
are lost in an endless dance
with passing clouds?
is that why the crickets call
to break the dark silence
of a night's long fall?
is this seeking
the timeless presence
and burning absence
of intimacy
and love?
 

and I told myself
don't speak of love,
for in that faint parting of lips
and empty gaze outside,
you will lose
a precious moment
with your beloved.

and I set my own house on fire,
a house, not built
with bricks
or stone or wood,
but a house built with fire;
and so now it burns
more brightly than ever,
like a sleepless candle,
on a full moon night,
so I can dance around it
like a dervish moth
drunk on its own love.

and because
I could not stab you,
for you are as sacred
as the earth,
holding
my roots
my leaves
my seeds
and my flowers,
I stabbed myself
and let my heart bleed
its love
gushing out
to water myself
and the warm earth
that's home
to what's dead
and alive.

Hunger and hope..

17th May 2011

On the anniversary of the Tibetan uprising day this year (March 10th), I took home a small flag and presented it to a 6 year old die-hard Star Wars fan; he was palpably moved by its colors, kept exclaiming that it looked so beautiful. He was clear that he would protect it and will be the first thing that he would bring out of the house if there's a fire. I then told him that it is the Tibetan national flag and the eyes grew wider with an even more obvious thrill and satisfaction over his spontaneous intent. He (in his strong and tangible wisdom for the world) asked me to take $10 from his piggy. He urged me to pass it on to the young Tibetan (that is, whenever I get my act together and finally go to one of their Wednesday vigils in Harvard Square); to him, the $10 would help bring it up to $300 and then Tibet can be set totally free! I tried to present a positive smile while my mind was screaming ‘Yeah right’ and we moved on from there! We still refer to the flag every now and then; it sits on the kitchen shelf with other ‘umaachis’ (Gods!). He recently expressed irritation at my thoughtlessness to have tacked it on the wall, in the kitchen, of all places (first possible location for a fire, right?). Now he would need a chair to climb up and yank it off the wall and run!

Here in May, Boston still refuses to leave its cold (dis)comforts and persists at around an average of 13 degrees Celcius; while Jantar Mantar (Delhi) famous for Maharaja Jai Singh II's brilliant observatory, stays infamous for its shade-less sweltering heat in yet another scorching summer. It is also haloed ground for getting the government’s amnesia-like attention on different serious needs and causes; was most recently in international press for Anna Hazare’s crusade for cleansing out nation-wide corruption. In the past 3 weeks, I have been silently reading snippets on what has been going on there. Three young Tibetans have been on a hunger strike to beg the flawed attention of the world, on the hapless plight of monks (I hear there are about 2500 of them) in Kirti monastery in Tibet, left with no support and drastic food shortages. Neither in my wildest imagination nor in my shameful ignorance for world politics, will I ever understand a military lockdown of a monastery - a Buddhist monastery of all the places. Come on now, give me a bloody break!

Reading Tenzin Tsundue’s posts on the status of his friends on hunger strike, I am so taken by their determination despite not getting much of the limelight that the cause deserves. In the past week, I was mad at my pessimistic thoughts: ‘oh these poor men, what’s going to happen, they are probably going to die and no one will notice’. But yesterday and today, I wake up with a different feeling that this does warrant attention. Yes it does, to the fact that we cannot afford to pick and choose causes only if there is an international economic impact or a concern for strange ‘bilateral- tie’ relations. Random events in history cross my thoughts in no consistent or chronological pattern. It was a few years ago when certain brand of toys coming from China were recalled from the markets here, due to possible lead contaminants in their plastics. My cluelessness on international trade and the politics of global consumerism did get a break when the local thrift stores were refusing to accept our used toys as donations. It was less than a century ago when Gandhiji (back now in existence for strange personal sexual preference reasons; of all the things, seriously, do I care?) caused a national stir on shunning English clothing; it did have a lasting impact as it spurred the masses to act for their nation’s liberation..

But look at this tiny piece of land called Lhasa and the provinces in Tibet: beautiful lands, culture, mountains and valleys where nomads and yaks roam in a state of perpetual Zen. What can they possibly give the world.. oil, jobs, fabric, coffee, weapons? Giving compassion is just not enough in political parlance. So, 'what can they really give', is perhaps what the developed nations ask in non-existent whispers. This perhaps is silent exploitation of a different, indescribable sort; the one where we (the so called 'developed' and 'industrialized') simply look away. But really, is it fair that a cause as karmic as the cultural liberation of Lhasa is beyond the negotiating powers of the U.N. or the stronghold of the U.S.’ international policies? The interdependency politics in the world today needs to be seriously re-examined before we lose our faceless battle with our conscience. And that for sure will be a hard one to recover from, for the rest of one’s life.

When I hear of people wanting to immolate themselves or die on a hunger strike, I am struck by how they feel that their lives are not worth living anymore as nothing is being done for the greater good. I simply cannot imagine how a community will not support me if I were to fight for some right for my child. And to reflect this within the larger scheme of things: is it fair for 3 young men to take this on themselves as no one else in power would? Their land and culture has been systematically denigrated and we expect them to be grateful to us for giving them refuge in our soil. Yes, in return, they show us nothing but compassion which is so central to the core of their spiritually guided lives. How much longer are they going to be refugees who need to renew their registration cards to live in Daramsala and elsewhere in other camps across the country? How many more Losars to be spent looking dreamily across the mountains in hope that’s unevenly mixed with futility?

The world has gone through so much in the past year and that does bring in hope. The ripples of change will have to make small waves across the continents and soon there has to be a massive tide. But we need to figure out how to ensure the steady flow of these ripples and chart their course into the ocean. May riding this tide together (here and now) serve to lead the arduous way, so we can live to see a 6 year old’s recently cherished possession flying high in the mountains and valleys of the three traditional states/provinces. Ram Prasad Bismil’s ‘Sarfaroshi ki tamannaa... ’ serves as a perfect 'inner-mind' score as I struggle to stay conscious and hopeful. The little flag continues to stare at us in the kitchen every night at dinnertime, and for the 23rd day of their hunger.

~ Sowmya Sunderarajan

Sowmya is a rehab counselor 
during daylight 
and a life searcher 
through nightlight,
with solace from words.

A Losar Dream

5th March 2011

It was the most vivid and haunting dreams in all of my better lived and even better understood life; a dream worth sleeping over and waking up for. It stays on to haunt me even at day, at work, in the train amidst the multitude of iPhones, North Face jackets and snow bleached Ugg Boots, and through a child's banter, humming somewhere in my vague sub-conscious state. Images from this dream continue to talk to me, they shake and wake my armchair conscience, and attempt to awaken an excessively over- slept attitude to life and living! These images: the mountaintops in winter, torn prayer flags letting the winds flutter them higher, a rustle in the marketplace, shawl sellers bundling up their ware, young Suraj running up and down the street, and this time, he is wildly gesticulating about something else; No, he does not want us to buy him any food/rations for his family, no, not today! Near the temple entrance, a small flag gently gets unfurled and soon many more follow; a procession gets larger and larger: local Gaddi folks, cab drivers, helpers in guest houses, 'progressive' book/music store folks (also, the streetside hawker of copied Tibetan music and movie CDs!!), women in the elegance of their Chuba, holding toddlers with red noses by their waist, wrapping up all their unsold trinkets and impatiently folding the faded red tarp...

Lamas, young and old, come together in their smaller cliques; octogenarians still want to complete their thousand prostrations in front of the shrine, the old man gently twists more wick for the butter lamps inside the dark greasy room, and the prayer wheels keep whirling. A gong resonates and tears through every molecule of life around; everyone turns back to look towards Tsuglakhang, to the mountains and far beyond- they've always been told that that's where home is, on the other side, far beyond. Apprentices at Norbulingka pause from the intricacy of their Thangka and wood work, while children at the TCV school look to the blue skies. A youth unfurls another flag as the crowds wait in pregnant anticipation of what is to be said. His holiness and the Karmapa emerge as they touch every one, big, small and the infirm along the way. His smile radiates a thousand times more than before and once again reminds everyone of humility and selfless compassion. He joins his hands in prayer as he breaks into a smile; with his childlike laugh, he points to the mountains and beyond as he speaks rapidly in Tibetan. I catch a few words here and there... Nang, Pah-yul.. there is a long moment of silence and then the cathartic surge. The octogenarians prostrate right there, the young start whistling and dancing, and now there is no more shame in the tears flooding the beautiful faces. More flags unfurl, uneasy laughter spreads, the Gaddi folks smile and clap, in bowed respect for what feels like an eternity in a struggle; and for what now feels like the storm, after years and years of unsettling and unresolvable calm.

If this dream were to become true right now, Dharamsala will perhaps never remain the same; the momos will probably be steamed by local Gaddi women, and the butter lamps may continue to glow in the temple complex. Hmm, don't all of these images sound so cliched and overly romantisized?? Every Tibetan brother and sister reading this would so want to smile with their flawless compassion and feel sorry for me and my colorful dream. But then, as long as the heart stays alive with undying determination and yearns for home, there is hope that this dream will and has to become real some day, right? And, so long as we submit ourselves to believe that one nation cannot ever be held accountable for what it has done for decades, can we still go to sleep and wake up and continue to mindlessly wait for this dream to turn into reality? Sure, we all need to move on, do things at our own pace, make our peace and let our circumstances define our actions and inactions. To me, this Losar is not just another new year, but with hope that this dream presents hope; where everyone can wake up to listen, process and believe that standing up for yourself is simply no longer enough, you really need to stand up for someone else as well. And this is for you, Tenzin Tsundue la, Wasfia Nazreen, Ritu Sarin, Tenzin Sonam, Jigme Norbu (Disclaimer: name-dropping here, oh, so wish that I knew them personally!!) and thousands of other Tibetans and those living and dying daily for the cause: I wish for you that you don't ever stop believing in the spirit of Losar amongst everything else that you so selflessly do in your lifetime!

~ Sowmya Sunderarajan

Sowmya is a rehab counselor 
during daylight 
and a life searcher 
through nightlight,
with solace from words.

Darkness

Darkness is not merely a hiding place.....a safe space you can slip into to incubate or live like a cast away from the harsh world outside. It is much more than that. It makes you feel safe because it takes you into the terrifying and soul-stirring depths of insecurity, uncertainty and discomfort....a space where few have the courage and will to tread, a home that we have abandoned and forgotten, while being lured into greener pastures filled with light and joy.

It is not a battlefield where wars are fought and demons slain and conquered. Nor is it a graveyard for the outcasts shunned by the world, who do not have another safe space to be their wild and free selves. It is not a second-hand home. It is home, the home of all homes.

It is a space where all preconceived concepts and beliefs written in stone meet and watch their own death, for they make no more sense....much like the futility of naming colours, or describing the mountains, the tall trees, the sea or the endless sky to a blind man who has never seen or experienced those. It is a space where inadequacy is transformed into great power and resolve, where silence is the language that hearts speak and understand.

And yet, it is a space rich and full of infinite possibilities like the fresh, dark earth....where everything is pure celebration, a welcoming, an opportunity for magical alchemy.... where the mind can wander and roam free, with no compulsion to limit itself to well-drawn out, imposed boundaries and boring templates....a space where you have to 'feel' your way through with your whole being, where things are never what they seem or what you think they 'ought to' look or feel like, where anything and everything is possible, because you are truly free from your own limiting idea of yourself.

Emptiness

that feeling
of sweet disbelief
while you're enjoying
ice cream from a cone -
heaven in every lick,
until your tongue
suddenly drops
into that hollow -
of the shell
left behind
when all the goodness
and joy is gone;
emptiness
is that magical space
you never quite know
or even thought existed,
until all else
inconsequential,
falls and melts away
into your
unquenchable womb;
the void that cradles
the death and birth
of all of life.

Steps and Wings

when all you see
around you
are stone walls
and defined steps
that promise
to lead you
into the darkness
that thins your breath,
may you know
that darkness is where
light is born,
where stone steps
become roses
with the kiss
of your
love-filled breath,
for you are
a butterfly
with gossamer wings
who stops not
for well-worn trails,
but rides the fragrance
of the haloed wind.

Saying Yes to Life!

Something makes me want to write this post....maybe it is for myself, and maybe it will also open up something for someone else. But I know I want to write this one. To share myself vulnerably yet again. Yeah, it's been a long time....and it's perhaps about time now to get writing again. So bear with me if you think this is too trite or silly, because this means a lot to me.

Well, it's only recently that I started saying or rather became aware of saying 'yes' to life....being more spontaneous in opening up myself to Life and what it had to offer me. Today, I can say with a little more confidence and a spring in my step, that I understand the value and joy in simply opening up to Life more and more. And by opening up to Life I don't mean going after my desires, or seeking only joy or fulfillment in a moment that is not there now...what it means to me is to simply welcome anything that comes up in my Life, without wishing it away.

About three weeks ago, I was at rock bottom low a couple of times.....yes, I felt completely worthless, unloved, used and down in the dumps. The trigger was something from outside that brought back some old painful memories.There was a lot of pain and grief that I realised I had never given vent to before, and had perhaps moved on from prematurely. Perhaps that was why it was coming up again. This time however, I allowed myself to feel it completely, without wishing it away. I opened myself up to what was flowing into my life at that point. I let the pain soak in and sting me as it needed to. I let the extreme hatred that I felt for myself and others fill up my every pore. I cried, I hurt, I bled inside, without wanting to suppress any of that. I felt waves of anger rise inside - anger for being treated like an outcast and a nobody by Life. I remembered how I had always identified with one of the songs we learned at school (Nobody's Child) which was how I felt for a long time about myself. And that feeling came back more strongly than ever. It was a deeply painful, challenging, yet most fulfilling journey within. For it was when I almost drowned that I realised how much I actually wanted to survive. I realised how I was waiting for others to see my worth and love me, and waiting for Life to say 'Yes' to me, instead of seeing my own worth and saying 'yes' to Life.

That was a huge turning point for me. There was a huge shift within....a swell of self-love, like I had never experienced before. It was like a breath of fresh air after being dunked in murky water up to the point of drowning. I could finally lift my head up with my chest puffed out and breathe free, look to the sky and into the blazing sun with my eyes open and say 'yes, I want to live and live the way I want to.' I felt like a bird who had just discovered that it had wings.... wings that would help me fly to worlds I had never experienced or dreamed of exploring before.

It was funny and strange how when I said 'yes' to Life, Life seemed to start saying 'yes' to me. Suddenly I saw the same people who I thought didn't value me, show their care and an understanding of my skills and contributions. Suddenly the way I saw these issues changed almost overnight; and I felt ready to be 'used' by Life to be of service to the larger community, for that was what I wanted to do anyways. Feeling 'used' didn't matter to me so much any more, because I started seeing it in a completely new way:

When you realise that you are but an instrument of the Universe, to be 'used' for the sole purpose of adding something to the larger whole, all your ideas of being 'used', 'misused' or rotting in 'disuse' are composted into something beautiful......your whole life becomes a sacred offering of devotion to the Universe.

And then came this casual chatty statement from my friend - "Come off ya!", when we were chatting on Facebook one day, about her going to volunteer at a Tibetan Village Children's School in Dharamsala. She was making a trip all the way from the U.S. for two weeks, just to volunteer there for the refugee children's winter break, as they had no 'home' to go away to. I have often felt that one of my greatest failings is that I take people and their words too seriously, and suffered because of that, because I often discovered later that most people do not really mean what they say. This time too as I usually do :), I took her seriously and started thinking more about her asking me to come. The only difference this time was that I was already in the groove of saying 'yes' to Life, and so there were no excuses and reasons I was coming up with to weigh against that desire to go. And it paid to take her words seriously, for a change!

I started doing some serious research about going - at first I planned to go alone, but my two loves seemed too keen to come too, and so we made plans to go together. And everything seemed to flow smoothly from then on. I could feel myself flowing effortlessly with life, and life opening up spaces where I thought there would be walls that stifled the flow.

My friend's words - "We live only once ya! Just come!..." tripped me wide awake. Yes, that was what Life was trying to tell me! I suddenly heard that loud and clear, and the way I saw everything turned on its head. And I could see how all the things that I thought were stumbling blocks, were actually stepping stones showing me the way. Life was talking to me and I was listening to her. You will see that perhaps, as you read on...

My son shared with me on his own, how he was okay for me to go alone too as he knew how much I needed that time with myself and my friends. He also said that if we went together, he would still give me that space to do what I wanted to, when I wanted to. His saying this and understanding this after all these years of my patient waiting and many a sacrifice of sorts, meant so much to me. He is my world and was showing me yet again what a beautiful world I have.

My husband as usual with his completely different take on money, made me see yet again for the nth time, that money is energy and that it has to flow. While I was worried as to how we would find and spend so much money on travel now (money that we didn't really have ready and stashed away in the bank), he made me see how we had so far always got whatever we needed without any struggle, and that we should have faith that Life would take care of us. And so we went, using some that we had and some that we used on credit, trusting that Life would show us the way and help us find a way to repay that.  We spent a lot of money on this trip, just for us to go. But we also let it flow on effortlessly in the things we bought as gifts for others, in the generous tips we gave to people, using it to contribute to the local culture and economy in our own small ways. That is how we see money as energy that needs to flow without getting stuck. And I must say that I am enjoying living like this more and more.

There is a sense of freedom of living free (in a manner of speaking) from the clutches of money , that is liberating in the moment. While I know that to the rest of the world this could seem like total irresponsibility, arrogance even and madness, as a person who is involved and a part of this whole experience with money in this way, I can only say how responsible, humble and free I feel to look at money in this way now. To the world it could seem like we are actually getting further enmeshed into the debt culture, digging our own graves in the quagmire from which there is no escape. But then what is freedom really? True freedom is in the moment isn't it? And about freeing the mind to re-imagine and rethink what we believe is our reality now? And everything feels different when you know deep down and feel it in your bones that Life is speaking to you and showing you the way. What happens to you and around you then becomes a part of the conversation that you are having with Life.

Yes, we live as much in the moment as we can. And that is also a way of saying 'yes' to Life, because you are then completely present with it as it is unfolding now to you and for you. To say 'yes' to Life is to have implicit trust in it and the way it works....and like a dear friend shared, when there is so much trust, there is no real need for courage. Courage just happens without any effort. Trust is the light and courage is the shadow of that light that we see. And my truest mirror is Life. I know when I am on the right track; for she gives me a nod - clear and loud, just like she did this time, and just like she has done in the past, countless times. Sometimes I wonder if I really need anyone else to show me the way or tell me how or where I am going wrong. To speak with Life is to look beyond the people who carry the messages that she sends ...it is to look straight into the white of her eye knowing how much she loves you and how she is giving you just what you need now.

So this trip was in many ways a huge learning for me on how to say 'Yes' to Life. It was a dream trip, because it is the first one in the 44 years that I have been on this planet, where I have gone to spend time with friends, without any other work or agenda, other than simply being. It was the first time also that a friend thought of calling me like this, and the first time I felt an urge to say 'yes' spontaneously. It was a dream trip because every person on that trip had dreams and most of them came true - from seeing the Taj Mahal, which we thought would not happen because Obama was visiting Agra around the same time (and then he cancelled at the last moment and we got to go!), to seeing snow and catching hail, to walk as it snowed, long walks with friends into serendipity, some simple all-girls' fun, watching the sunrise and sunset over the grand Himalayas, feeling the chills of stark winter, treks on mountain trails and much more.....What louder message could Life give to me than that, to tell me that I was on the right track?

And you know what? Up until then, I didn't think I deserved any of this. I felt like an outcast and that life was serving me left-overs. Until I began to see that what I saw as left-overs was all the food that I really needed. I didn't need a feast. But of course as a broken human, I was always asking for more, like poor little Oliver Twist. But what a change it was when I began to ignore that 'poor'-ness that I was feeling so strongly....ah yes, it has been a long flight of stairs up to the darkest room in the house to open the darkest of drawers in the chest that I always thought were empty...and then I discovered that there was no emptiness....the drawers were full of gifts waiting to be opened by me. And yes, the journey up that long flight of stairs has been a slow, painful and heart-breaking one for me.....and I have many more drawers to open.....

Although I have loved and still enjoy and need my solitude, for a large part of my life I have also yearned for friendship and intimacy where there is no effort needed on the part of anyone to really tend it or make it grow. That yearning has been deep. From when I was little, I remember how I never knew how to be a part of gangs naturally. I was never one who could just follow the crowd for the simple reason of feeling included. I valued myself too much for that and still do. Maybe I have a huge ego, or maybe you can also see it as self-respect. I am still figuring that out. And so I have had the opportunity to enjoy very very few friendships where I could simply be myself, without having to put on any airs or masks. I am grateful to those few spaces.

I also saw how Life had denied me some simple pleasures that I have seen and watched many others around me enjoy quite effortlessly... from when I was young, and then a teenager. The joy of a phone call just to check how I am doing, an impromptu visit home, the thrill of a sleepover or a trip somewhere together, or just hanging out somewhere together. I have had a very measly share of that. That was how I saw it. Perhaps that was my own making because of the kind of person I was. I don't know.  No one called just because they felt like calling me. And I didn't because of my extreme shyness and awkwardness. I always waited for others to initiate. I was not sure what to say or do and did not know how to too. I found it difficult to open up and speak, which made it all the more hard for me, and maybe them. And so I fell silent, hoping that someone would listen to that and bail me out. Some people did, but most never knew and never did. And I carried this pain with me all along, not knowing what to do with it or how to handle it. Finding a friend in my husband and in another, was a huge turning point. It cracked open the shell I used to hide in, slowly and surely and gently. But I still find it challenging to open up and speak, initiate and flow using words.I don't know if I will ever overcome that fully or even need to. But I know more now than before that I love that part of me - that silence, that shyness, that awkwardness. For I know that that is where my true voice is born.

Yes I have only now maybe started saying 'yes' to Life, more than I used to. This is a new-found joy and confidence that I am basking in. Yet some of that pain is still there inside - of not mattering to people and of not being loved for who I am.  It rears its head every now and then, as if to remind me of something. Perhaps to show me how much more I need to love myself, or how much more I have to feel comfortable in my own skin, or simply a reminder of something that I still don't know and have to figure out. The spark... the fire that drives me to enjoy the simple serendipity that is Life.