Showing posts with label seeing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label seeing. Show all posts

Saturday, November 14, 2015

Eyes of Molten Steel

how do I paint the world
that breathes inside me?
staid colours
cramped brushes
walled palettes
belonging
to another world,
all speak half truths,
when there are so many colours,
containers and strokes,
that have never been seen
by eyes trapped in pupils
straining to see
only the visible,
even in a changing
invisible world
lit up by eyes
of molten steel.


Tuesday, September 29, 2015

Fallen Grace

look into my eyes
so you can look
into my soul,
for when I've fallen
from my own
ruthless scrutiny,
my pupils cringe,
my eyelids go limp,
my lashes stroke
the falling tears,
and in that collapse
into a self-made prison,
your eyes
hold me
lift me
and carry me
into the heart
of fallen grace.


Friday, September 25, 2015

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.



Thursday, September 3, 2015

Life's Like That

life's like that -
things fall apart
and come together,
over and over,
like imperfect floaters
in the light of my eyes,
there now,
not there now,
and I learn to play with
or ignore them,
to make room
and look beyond
to what must be seen,
what is always there,
in the space between;
for life's like that.

Saturday, August 22, 2015

Inside, Outside

sometimes,
you walk away,
to step aside
and see things
with new eyes;
sometimes,
you stay on,
to step inside
the eyes
you wanted to
walk away from;
sometimes,
it's your own eyes
that show you
the gifts of both -
walking away
and staying on.

Saturday, May 23, 2015

Detachment

and the shore looked on quietly
at the drifting boat
once moored to her bosom,
while the boat nodded
to the fading shore
held by the dying waves,
and I wondered to myself -
who was attached
or detached
in all of this?


Friday, May 15, 2015

Your Eyes

your eyes
they’ve taken me
to all those places
I’ve longed to go
but never dared to go alone,

your eyes
they’ve looked
into my heart
and found and filled
the unseen cracks with gold,

your eyes
they’ve held me safe
and cradled my deepest songs
so I could look at myself
and know where I belong.

your eyes
they’ve been portals
to worlds within worlds,
and while I lost myself somewhere out there,
I found myself in the words and worlds.

Saturday, May 2, 2015

Eyes

and so I gave you
a billion eyes
so I could see
myself,
through you.

Sunday, April 26, 2015

Through the Eyes of a Fly

sometimes I wish
I could swap my eyes
with those of a fly,
so I don't have to move
or control my eyes
to see what I want to see;
how beautiful it must be
to have a thousand eyes
that see the world as one
through their
unfocussed stillness!

Thursday, April 23, 2015

In the Sun

"Be kind to yourself"
said someone,
and I shaded my eyes
to see the sun;
"You'll never learn that way;
keep looking at it",
said someone,
and I squinted and strained
to hold its harshness;
"Watch it as it rises and sets,
rages and glows",
said a little voice
rising from the hole
in my middle,
and that's how I began
to enjoy the sunsets,
and sunrises
and the sun at its zenith,
as I looked at myself
instead of the sun.

Saturday, April 11, 2015

Blind

and I realised
when I was with you
that my world
was not dark
and devoid of colours
that I could not see
with my own eyes,
but that I needed
your eyes
to see
your world
in mine,
and
my world
as mine.



Thursday, April 9, 2015

The Well

and when you come to me
with your thirsting eyes
and dip into the stillness
and unknown depths
that give me form,
my parched lips
feel their own wetness
when you leave
with your newly filled eyes.



Thursday, March 12, 2015

What's 'dal' got to do with violence?

This morning, I was taking out the dal from the kitchen shelf, and I found that there were tiny beetles crawling up the inside walls of the container. I had just bought this batch last week and was wondering how there were these insects in it already. "Must have been old stock," a little voice whispered inside my head."No, it is organic stuff...this is proof of that," whispered another voice, equally loud. "But how did they get in?" asked another child-like voice - the loudest of them all.

Yeah, it was just another ordinary happening on a mundane morning in the kitchen. But it is in these ordinary moments sometimes that the most extraordinary things are revealed. At least that is how I feel. And so, I watched my curious mind wander off to explore all avenues and untrodden paths in a search for an answer to that question; it just wouldn't rest for a long time. By that time, I had taken out the dal, cleaned it, washed it and put it to cook in the pressure cooker, before getting on to doing other things.

Soon, the tired mind came back to rest. As if to answer its question, a pretty loud, clear, firm voice, but soft in its texture, spoke from within: "That is how it is. There is life in everything, even in what you cannot see. You cannot run away from that truth."

The mind started stirring again now. It had more work to do. How could it rest? It had more things to explore now. It had to validate that for itself. It had to 'find out' whether it was really true. It needed a ground to stand on, or even to sleep or rest on. How could it rest otherwise? :)

Here is a snippet of the conversation that ensued inside of me....

"How can that be true? How is there life in everything?"
"Ah yes! The larvae of these beetles must have been there in the dal earlier....which my eyes could not see."
"But there are so many things that I cannot see while I am busy doing something else....like when I walk around on the street or in the grass, there must be so many micro-organisms, even ants and other insects that I could be trampling upon, without my knowledge."
"There are so many things I eat, which have microscopic life inside them that I cannot see with my eyes."
"Does that mean I have to stop eating? Does that mean I am being violent?"
 "Is that how violent I can be?"
"Remember what N told me about her son 'S' who would not have a bath for days on end just because he saw a line of ants in the bathroom and didn't want to pour water and drown them?"
"Come on! No one can be that watchful or mindful all the time! It is impossible!"
"But even R hated my killing mosquitoes, even when they were troubling him so much."
"Aren't these kids teaching us a thing or two about non-violence?"
"What is violence and what is non-violence? One exists only because of the other isn't it? It is because there is life, that there is violence, death and non-violence."
"No one can be completely non-violent. It is impossible. Because there is life everywhere, and in everything. Even in things that we cannot see."
"So what are we raving and ranting about then? Aren't we simply fooling ourselves? "
"Yes, violence is inherent in us. As long as there is life, there will be death. As long as there is life, there will be violence, and from that springs non-violence, and our desire to be non-violent."
"So when we want to be non-violent, does it mean that we haven't accepted the cycle of life and death?"
"I don't know. But I know that there is life everywhere. And just because we cannot see or feel life in something all the time, it doesn't make that false. We see only what we can see or what we want to see. But that does not mean that is all that there is. There is always more than what I can see now. Sometimes I lose sight of that. And that is why I resort to all these efforts of non-violence etc. It is the only way I know to bridge those gaps that I feel between what I see and what I cannot see.....so it is actually impossible to be non-violent. Because nonviolence stems from the space where you know deep down that you are already violent. And that is the space that you cannot see, but where you want to go to. So there are different shades of violence and non-violence for each of us, that we can see or not see. Some see each shade as starkly different, while some see them as merging into each other, and some others see it as the same. Everything rests in the seeing."

And I felt a gentle, unwavering warm light glow inside me. Something about this conversation inside changed something in me. I don't know what yet. But what I know is that there is more to what meets the eye, and to know that, is the fire that rages within and drives me onward. And I also know that I need these two bullocks - my mind and my heart - to work in unison to drive me and take me there.

But meanwhile, I have this 'dal' to cook and eat....so let me get back to being present with that......
and I danced
so I could close
my wandering eyes
and see the whorls
of the cosmos
exploding inside.



Friday, March 6, 2015

Looking

and as I looked out
of the rolled up window,
I saw people on the street
walking into their histories -
in their awkward, scurry,
in the dragging of their bodies,
in the hunch of their shoulders,
or in the heavy set of their jaws;
and I wondered how different
their stories would be,
if only they could
listen with their eyes,
touch with their ears,
smell with their hands
and see with their feet.



Friday, February 13, 2015

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?

Monday, January 19, 2015

Knots

and I sat one night
with a ball of knots
trying in vain,
tugging
at elusive
loose ends,
until
I gave up
and saw
that every knot
was made from
the same string
that held them
in place.


Monday, October 27, 2014

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?


Thursday, October 9, 2014

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.