NYEPI - The Day of Silence

Yesterday, March 25th, was Nyepi, The Day of Silence, celebrated in Bali. A day where you engage in silence, in pure self-contemplation, fasting, no phone, no internet, no entertainment. I read about a friend doing this the day before night. And was inspired to follow the same. No intentions, no plan. Just pure inspiration. So yesterday, I took a day off from here and from some other things. Silence. Speaking only when absolutely necessary, and only to my family. Being with myself wholly. Self contemplation. Phone switched off for the entire day from 12midnight the previous day, until almost 12 midnight yesterday. No internet. No laptop. No TV. No reading. No music. A water fast. No food from the previous night, until late last night. How was it? Absolutely effortless. And liberating. No withdrawal symptoms AT ALL for disengaging from FB or my phone or the internet. Was not tempted even once to go to any of those. And there was no tug or resistance inside that made me feel like I was exercising my willpower. I simply flowed with my simple everyday life, with absolute ease. This surprised me, as I did think I was addicted to these things. It was a revelation. And a celebration of me and the journey I have made and all that I invested in to get here. Here is what my day looked like.... I woke up and chose to connect with my body, where I was at, feeling into every part and how each was positioned. Woke up only when I felt absolutely ready. Went up to the terrace to sit and greet the morning sun, soaking it in, feeling its warmth and touch in every pore of my skin. Stayed in the stillness and silence of the morning, soaking in the vastness of the sky, the sounds of birds, the ocean in the distance, the fresh breeze, pausing with a butterfly dancing and then resting on a leaf in the distance, noticing things that I didn't notice before around me. Drank only water every time I felt a thirst pang or a hunger pang, or when I felt a tinge of dizziness. Wholesome, energy filled KANGEN water. Felt high on energy all day. Napped for about half an hour at the most. Lived on about 4-5 litres of water the whole day. And absolutely didn't feel tired at all the entire day. In fact, I achieved much much more in terms of work yesterday than I have in all these months. Spent time with my family - cuddled with my son, talked to him, shared what I was upto, tallked about the current state of affairs with the virus and its impact with Srinath, cuddled with some of the cats, talked with my mother about my fast. Did my chores around the house - cooking, feeding the cats and dogs, sweeping, washing up, dusting

• Cleaned up my work desk and set up, created my altar anew.
• Created a mandala, felt no desire to share it with the world, meditated twice in the morning and evening, sat with myself doing absolutely nothing, napped for a bit, lay down and felt into my body.
• Soaked in smells, textures and sounds even more intensely and felt them very close. Watched how sensing them triggered temptation and desire in me to eat, click pictures, record things to share.
• Watched every temptation and desire rise, and how I so wanted to act on each, or most; what they evoked in me; how a part of me wanted to just give up my fast and eat or atleast taste the food, how my eyes wandered to the snacks around, imagining the taste in my mouth, so desiring each and satiating my hunger, and how I was able to simply stay with it all and not succumb to temptation even once. It was a huge revelation.
• Then, in an explosion of creativity and flow, I sat down and created mindmaps on everything that I had been planning loosely in my head over many months. I just churned out one after another effortlessly with so much clarity! The silence and fasting sure helped immensely! And I have been in that kind of flow ever since. This simple act of coming home to myself, my home, and this cocoon of silence, balanced out everything for me, after all the intense stuckness I have been experiencing for so long now. Today, I feel like a dragonfly out of its old home...the water...and stepping out into the vast mysterious depths of an endless sky, with newly formed wings, still learning how to use them in every moment, in every breath of what feels like a new lease of life. ~ Silence. The primordial womb. Of creation. Of protection. And destruction. Where every ending transforms into a fresh new beginning. The smell, taste and feel of home forever here and always arriving.

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.

CLARITY IS POWER

Some years ago, after an ordinary conversation with a friend, where we were talking about filters through which we see the world, I decided to do away with wearing glasses.

Yeah, just like that.

And I have never worn nor felt the need to wear glasses ever since.

The headache that was plaguing me disappeared. And I was able to drive the car at night without any problems.

I cannot see far into the distance. I cannot read the number plates of cars far away. But I can see enough. Enough to be safe and drive safe.

It was just a simple soul centered act on an impulse.

There is no logic to it.

Yet it worked.

For me.

And that's how I love to live my life mostly.

Not by being impulsive.

But by being inner sourced.

To go wherever my inner guidance takes me.

And yes, sometimes there are divine detours too.

It is all part of the game of Life.

Part of the package.

I had the clarity I needed to make the decision.

There were no lingering voices.

And that experience told me this.

That I always have enough clarity.

Enough to take the next step.

I may not know where I am headed or rather, how this step is going to lead to where I want to go.

But I know enough to pause, look around, listen and move.

Much like a spider listening to every quiver of its web.

Today I know this kind of clarity as power.

And as being in sync with Life.

Trusting in every step I take.

Yes, there are no mistakes.

There are only beautiful wanderings of a heart seeking home.

In every breath.

#clarityispower #innersourced #intuition #innerguidance #surrender #trust #mandalas

6Swati Joshi, Guy D Craft and 4 others

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Stuck.

frozen.
inside my soles.
I can't take
a single step,
even as my eyes
roam the horizon.
and the earth shakes
violently
beneath my feet.

muscles twitch
to feel an inch
of stillness,
in a world
with no margins,
no lines to follow,
no imaginings
to form patterns
with even wispy
beginnings
and ends.
only spirals.
endless.
folding into themselves.

cocooned
by Life
who knows
how to work
on me,
tired eyes
find their way home,
muscles twitch
and come alive
in the craziness,
dancing in skins
centuries old,
loosening their grip
on faithless bones,

and a tiny seed
opens itself out to the world
from its imposed tightness,
sinking invisible roots
into the sticky emptiness
and beyond,
waiting,
noticing,
becoming,
the effortless flow
of life within Life.

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.

Forest Trails

today,
I don't know why,
but I think of her -
there is a longing
to rest
among the dark pleats
of her silence
and remember home...

the forest has a way
of doing that to me -
trees look like family,
greeting me with a warmth
that I cannot feel here
in my clammy skin,
drawing me into
their haunting depths
like an old repeating dream,
or a particular piece
of a familiar song
drifting along the quiet breeze,
whispering a million stories
of heartbreak and joy,
of all the living and the dying
that they've felt, heard and seen;

the forest has a way
of filling me from afar -
for when I walk the trails
that lead me gently
to her sacred bosom,
I remember what it is like
to be home.

Freedom

wings flutter,
talons retract,
eyes focus, and
passion storms
through every cell,
as I yearn for flight,
but cannot leave
the home
where I grew wings,
for what I have
does not belong
to me,
it made me,
free.

The Village that Raised Me

banished
from the warmth
of my ancient home,
I wandered,
an empty vagrant cloud
upon a taintless sky,
looking to be a rainmaker
where there was no rain;
and then I gathered
the mighty rivers,
the hidden springs,
the swelling seas,
and the dewdrops
on fallen leaves,
to build a raft
from the void
to arrive at the village
inside of me;
the village that raised me,
now welcomed me.

Dreaming of Home

I am sick of this world
where lines are drawn
before hearts can open
to breathe and listen
to the song
of our trespassed humanity;
I am sick of this world
where you have to tell me
where I can go,
where I belong,
where I can take my place
in the family of things
large and small;
I am sick of this world
where fervent knocks
are slammed shut
with indifference
and misplaced indignation
to hold one life,
one voice
more valuable
than all others drowned;
I am sick of this world
where after eons of searching
and countless rites of passage,
I am still not home,
but lie face down
on a faceless shore,
amid broken shells
and unlived dreams,
too scared to even dream
of my true home.

In the Dark of the Night

in the dark of the night,
some people get away -
pinched skins
and powdered masks,
resting in the ashes
of long-burnt out sins;

in the dark of the night,
some people are spent
in the raging fire of what is,
stripped of their
insipid flamboyance,
without a fire escape;

in the dark of the night,
some people find
the signposts lost
in the glare of city lights,
guiding and marking
their long way home.

in the dark of the night,
is where I find
what I need to leave behind.

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.

A Turtle with Wings

and a turtle in her safe shell,
grew wings one summer's day,
to surf the ocean
and the vast sky,
and take in the whole world
in one deep, radiant breath;
she made a choice
to walk away that day,
from a place
she couldn't call her own,
to feel her wings,
to drop her shell,
and soar into the place
that's always home.

Homeless

and I dream
of that blessed moment
when I can lie down
on this virgin earth,
to feel the wind
sing its many songs
through my every pore,
to feel the sun
kiss my every cell
awake from their deathly sleep,
to feel the stars
sprinkle their glitter
on eyes that cannot see,
to feel the moist earth nibble
at my taut skin
stretched beyond limits,
no fences, no roof,
no windows, no door,
the home for the homeless
is a heart with no walls.

Home

and I build my nest
time and again,
in the open arms
of an ancient tree,
not because I need a home,
but because I know
that it's the canopy of blue
which holds my nest,
and that is the home
that belongs to me.

Last Night

last night
when I left home
you were not at the door
where you always stood
hunched,
but tall in your heart,
seeing me off
with a smile in your being;

last night
when I left home
you were not at the door;
but amma was there -
hunched
but tall in her heart,
seeing me off
with a smile in her being;

last night
when I left home
you were not at the door
where you always stood;
but you were there
in the frail form
that stood alone now,
framed in the light
of what I know now
is your home.

Staying Close

sometimes I wonder
what is home?
is it the dark earth
that holds my roots,
and helped me once
to push my way out
for that lingering gaze
upon a blazing sun,
or the restful darkness
of a quiet, starry night?
what is home?
is it to wallow and curl up
in the blissful womb?
or is it to break open
the hardened shell
to birth myself?
or is it to grow tirelessly
out of my skin
over and over again?
what is home?
is it to know
that I can unearth myself
only when I am far away
or even when I am close?
or is it to know
that no matter where I go,
what I do,
or who I become,
I am always close,
I am always walking home,
I am always home.

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.

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.

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.