the world feels close today

the sun is closer today
setting fire to every pore
on this ragged skin I wear.
the world shrunk into one bubble
wrapped in ancient notes of silence,
what was once home.

a tiny bird resting on the
topmost branch of a bare tree,
filling herself with song and sun
today, I see her wings flap
a timelapse video
in a timeless pause,
she feels closer today
as I touch her softly
with my eyes,
even as she darts into the still blue
without a ripple.

a white tree stands out
in the crowd,
her stark purity
drawing my heart close,
I can smell her
from the distance today
and feel her flowers
celebrating life with their
utter softness.

and then, my eyes wander
upon the form of a tiny butterfly,
her orange matching the sun
as if it decided to come down
here and play with her for a while,
my being filled with music
the joy of simply being alive!

stoic pods hanging from the
roots of trees seeking sky,
with nothing
and everything
to do,
steeped into a patient waiting
for new life.

I look around

the world does feel closer today

like a home I never had
yet always wanted to feel,
where everything rests
in peace
the resting place of a billion hearts
looking for a forever home
that always is
that always can be,
if I remember
to feel
to pause.

A Living Frontier

at the cusp
of something
I can feel
in my bones,
is it a living frontier
of a becoming
and a dying?
or a simple feeling
of what is, and
what could be?

I wake up quivering,
and let the vastness
and depths
of the firmament
pierce my eyes,
its feelers sinking
into my tender pores,
groping with tentacles
into the void
within, and
touching everything
with a gentle presence,

ah! how it makes me
come alive
to everything
within and without -
one feeding
and digesting
the other,
all the time,
exchanging
secret recipes

what it takes
to make
a stone,
a snowflake,
a seashell,
a leaf,
a bird,
a critter,
a flower,
the darkness,
a smile,
a loss,

and,
a human teardrop
poised
on the edge
of a flood
just waiting to happen.

simple joys

when you speak,
I wish I could feel
the wind dancing
through every pore
of your glowing skin,

when you laugh,
I wish I could curl up
in the corners of your smile,
and watch the world light up
as I jiggle myself to sleep,

when you move,
I wish I could follow
the lines and curves
of your fluid body
in their timeless postures,

when you grow silent,
I wish I could drop
into the mysterious folds
of your heart
to hear its unbroken song,

when you rest,
I wish I could catch
the fragrance of your breath,
lying still and alive
in the space within,

I wish I could be with you
in the simple joys
of meeting, of merging -
mind to mind,
heart to heart,
skin to skin.

Endless Wonder

and while the world
watched shadows
play out
in empty fields,
eyes flitting,
unaware,
between
the stolid black
and unreal lights
on misshapen forms,
you and me,
we sat still,
under the vastness
of the night sky
rolled out
for all to see,
our eyes lost
in the endless wonder
of distant stars
dotting
the virgin canopy.

Heading Home

I wonder what it was
that drew me to you,
and away from you....
was it the sudden expanse
of stark wilderness,
of wind-sheared mountains
against bald brown,green and blue;
or was it the sheer uncertainty
and hard compassion
of fast-changing tides of wind and water;
or was it the simple innocence
of a black and white life,
where every dimple and blob
breathed fire and ice;
or was it the ever-growing mystery
of virgin depths and shrouded heights,
of limpid morns and surreal nights;
what was it I wonder,
that took me in,
that made me stand unfazed
against the slanting rain
and powdered ice,
or the blood-curdling winds
and the veiled wintry sun,
without a cover or name -
a faceless face in a paltry crowd,
where everything
felt warm and safe,
where suddenly an island
transformed into a continent,
that grew wings and feet and arms
from closing waters,
rising and falling
with the wisps of clouds,
singing the soulful song
of wild geese
heading home -
a place where I can return,
so I can leave and live,
another life, in another world,
just another place
to rest awhile,
where fire meets ice,
where days meet nights,
where black meets white,
where will meets longing,
where fear meets love, and
where life meets death,
so I can be born
all over again,
and again.

Can You See Me?

can you see me,
not in the cards
I deal out
for all to see -
what's taken,
what's rejoiced,
what's abused,
or what's rejected,
but in the cards
I haven't played,
what I've singled out
and held close to me?

can you see me
as I am?
where the glory
and the gory
are friends,
not warmongers?

can you see me
as I am?
where your heart
meets mine,
for in that seeing
is a knowing
of all that is me,
not what you think
is me.

The Book of Your Life

there is a joy
when I pick up
the book of your life
and open it
to read a page
in silent reverie,
where words
become stories,
where spaces
become pauses,
where memories
become new arrivals,
crying out to be held
against the softness
of my palms,
where lines
become the web
of our one entangled,
sacred existence.

The Love of my Life

"Life is cruel", I said
the other day,
in a moment of apathy,
like a little child
cursing her mother
for a love
that she could not feel;
and then,
as if to respond
to that moment of weakness,
she held me today
like a true mother,
whispering sweet nothings,
through the words of a friend
I haven't spoken to for long -
a song from a heart
that seems to know mine;
words that rose
out of the blue nothingness,
where my eyes and heart
melted and flowed
into each other,
held in a timeless embrace
by the one I most love.
Life.

Tears of Grace

drink my tears
with your liquid eyes,
as I drink mine,
for they are yours
as much as they are mine;
let them fall
onto our parched
wrinkled skins,
waiting to be christened
with infinite love;
let's not wash them away,
let's not wish them away,
for they have come to us
from the heavens,
they are ours to keep
in the silent folds of our heart,
in the soft lashes of our eyes
that kiss them awake
with every blink,
in the cloth that soaks them
and patiently gathers
their fragrant longing
to meet ourselves
with a smile,
returning everything with love,
touching each others' hearts,
as we follow our destinies
untouched, untarnished,
to be the messy, glorious humans
that we each are.

God of Small Things

I belong
where the lone cloud
streaks through
a cleansed sky,
where everything
is held
welcomed
loved
and seen off,
in the quiet
of an ordinary day;

I belong
to this little slice
of heaven -
a wild forest,
a teeming desert,
an exploding ocean,
that I've grown to love
all the more,
through every turn
and tilt
of the shaft
of this home,

I belong
to this moment
of timeless silence,
a haunting mystery
luring me
into
the comforting darkness
of the unknown,
where anything
is possible
when seen
with eyes
that can simply love
without reason;

I belong
to this haven
that I've built
with the sweat
and the aching muscles
of my joyous heart,
where I invite
all my friends
to come and sit
around the warmth
of the fire
I've learned to stoke
and keep alive
with love -

the fire
that makes me sit
or walk around
the fringes
of belonging
to places,
times,
and people
I can never call my own,
but who walk with me
through the flames
of desire
of wanting to belong
somewhere,

a place
where I can be filled
with the breath
of my aloneness
and honour
the God of small things,
where I belong
to myself and my life,
in a world
that crams for otherness
and a home
away from home,
in big things.

Sky Whispers

and the Sky said to me:
"Go where you must;
do what you want to do;
wander, get lost,
disappear, then appear,
get battered and bruised,
change your ways
or your form,
like the wayward clouds
who never seem to rest
on their heels
or their hearts,
and yet they do;
and then,
come back to me
if you please -
empty-handed
or full
of yourself or me,
and know
that I will be there
waiting for you -
always, always there."

How would you hold a flower?

how would you hold a flower?
would you hold her
with the heaviness of awe
lining your liquid eyes,
still searching to pour or fill
what can never be held?
or would you hold her
with the impersonal flourish
of a by-stander
unwilling to die
into her sensuous folds?
or would you hold her
with the strange perfume
of a mystery
that cannot be solved
but only lived
through the gentlest touch
of your crushed heart?
how would you hold a flower?
how would you hold her
with your heart?

Connection

and while I walked
along the water's edge,
I watched the ocean
let go of
wave after wave,
as each crashed
to its end
along an unrequited shore;
and I wondered
how she did that
tirelessly,
and as I sat down
and picked up
a fistful of sand,
only to let it fly
through my fingers
and into the wind,
I saw the world
of love -
of sand and waves,
clouds and sky
and a lone soul like me
upon an empty beach,
touching each other
through each other, 
connected, entangled,
in an intricate dance
of worlds within worlds.

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!

Rite of Passage

you ask me
to carry you
to the pyre,
to burn
bury
or leave you
unspurned,
to be devoured
by the elements
that design
both life
and death.

but how do I
perform
the last rites
of a seed,
which
in its falling
to its deathbed,
explodes into life?

when a hush
between seasons
is breached by
a noiseless seed-burst,
holding within
its failed shell,
forests and deserts of yore,
cracked dust still warm
upon a moistened shore,
springs and winters
yet unborn,
and all of life's
stardust confetti?

and so when you ask,
I stand frozen
upon my trembling feet,
eyes welling up
in disbelief,
for I know
all I can do
is hold this
unfathomable space,
where you and I
are but motifs
on a shimmering shroud,
walking together
in every step
of this rite of passage.

Choices

Thoughts.

Feelings.

Actions.

Choices

are roots

that make me grow

as I grapple my way

through a hidden maze

of endless possibilities.

What I choose 

is connected to

and rooted in

what I don't choose.

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.

The Many Faces of Love

What we see and experience as different emotions or states of being- like fear, anger, guilt, sadness, hurt, joy, peace etc. are like the different petals of a flower....each beautiful, unique and an integral part of the whole flower....each petal is connected to the other at the centre, and that is what makes the flower complete....and yet each is a unique expression of love....

Love is not separate from these feelings...it is there - flowing, hidden, quiet, with all of these......and when we see each emotion or state like that, then what is inside, as the flower unfolds in this lifetime, is the source - Pure Love.

So when there is a conflict, love is still flowing. But the flow is different...like two sets of ripples moving out in two different directions ....the flow is different where they meet/merge...and yet there is flow.

Love is connection. When we feel love, we feel connected. When we seek love, we seek connection. Sometimes we seek it outside, and sometimes we seek it within. But the intent is the same - to feel connected with our own true self, our essence. When we feel connected in this way, we feel valued for who we are.

Anger, guilt, sadness etc. are all a deep yearning to express our true essence, which is love. It is a yearning to seek connection (without and within), as we do not know a better way of doing that. They are all states of disconnection, when love is not flowing in its pure, natural, free-flowing state. All are expressions that seek to change the status quo. When each has been expressed fully, they make room for love to return to its free-flowing state. All the other states/emotions can always be replaced and reversed by love, which is the source.

Distance

in the space
between
these words
and my heart,

in the distance
between
my song
and your ears,

in the ether
between
you
and me,

a connection
is born, where
Life and Love flow,
now and beyond.

Notes to Myself - 3

Lakshman Rekha

What does living on the edge mean to me?
It means living at the edge of my comfort zone...my lakshman rekha.
My comfort zone is the little bubble that I create for myself.....the little space that feels safe....where I can retreat to when I feel the slightest unease or discomfort with something or someone.
But this is not a permanently defined space.....it is ever-expanding and ever-changing....
As I draw my own lakshman rekha, I define my comfort zone for myself, now.
My lakshman rekha is defined by my beliefs, my openness of heart and my own life experiences.
Each time the beliefs I hold on to dissolve and fade, and my heart becomes more open to giving and receiving, and I connect the dots in my ever-evolving life, I draw myself a new lakshman rekha.
Only to wipe this one away....and draw another one.....and another....

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Love seeks its own level

Love seeks its own level. Just like water.

It does not depend on the shape or size of the container that holds it.

It will fill up anything that holds the space for it.

Love flows when there is an open connection at both ends.

When there is instability in either of the containers, but the connections are open, readjustments and changes will occur naturally so that equilibrium is maintained.

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

Respecting the essence

When I understand and respect my own essence, I set myself free.

When I understand and respect the essence of another, I set that person free.

Connection is about understanding and respecting the essence of our own self and the other.

When you connect with someone, you love him/her in a way that makes him/her feel free.