Fish Out of Water

between
sky
and
water
is a place
I like to be

fringes
are spaces
between
impending struggle
and tarried freedom,

a tight-rope dance,
where a fish
learns to be
not a fish
out of water,
but a bird with gills
who can surf and dive
into sky and sea.

Space

and it wasn't until
a gust of salt wind
struck the stiffened jaws
of my pinched face,
that I even knew
I was stuck

in a small, tight room
I had made my home;
unopened windows
now open,
billowing lungs
inspired to purge
and stretch
into the divine aroma
of a long breeze,

converging eddies
in deep pools,
wind and water
leave veins of salt
and empty riverbeds
exploding
with a passion
to breathe,
to feed life,
to live, and
to live well.

Love

and I chase
and I grab
what cannot be held
in the narrow folds
of my palms,
but which slips
through the crevices
between
my restless fingers,
making space
for a largeness
and depth
that I can only
hope to feel
with my
beggarly fingertips.

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.

Planted

There are cracks in walls of stone,
There are pores in stiffened clay,
There are sunbeams streaming
through the darkest depths,
There is starlight kissing
the night queen awake;
Often,
you learn to breathe
when you are stifled,
You learn to bloom
where you're planted.
Space.
Freedom.
Growth.
Love.
It's all inside you.
It's all you.

Sky and Water

 Sky and Water

and when I looked into
the space between,
the silence,
the emptiness,
the infiniteness,
where nothing seems
or has ever seemed
out of place,
I think of two friends –
Sky and Water
who are together, yet apart,
changeless, and yet changed
as they follow their course
and mirror their stories
in the space between

and beyond.

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'.

DISTANCE

DISTANCE

Sometimes feels like that insipid horizon that never arrives; a road that is endless, lifeless, weary and often deserted, or a shimmering mirage that keeps us thirsting for that indescribable elixir that will quench our thirst for life.

Sometimes, it is walking on the edge of a ridge, a closeness that is filled with both a sweet anticipation, an unnerving thrill and a terrifying fear of wanting to take that next step into the dark.....the one step that can make us fall or fly, rooted in the knowing that we will be okay either way. 

It is that nameless, invisible longing that drives us to flow on no matter what... with the occasional pauses for a well-earned rest and the passionate bursts of a powerful life-force that we feel within, a never-ending dance of stillness and movement. 

It is an estimation, a judgement of what can be, based on what is, that comes from knowing deeply that there is that invisible hand and voice within holding us, pushing us, even when we are on the verge of giving up.

It is the 'space-less' space between the present and the future, that are both constantly changing and forever meeting....the river that journeys on through changing landscapes, not knowing how or where it is going to flow, but knowing that both its death and life lies in its merging with the vast ocean. 

It is the journey that we all make from an unfathomable beginning to a nameless, formless end - like the leaf that falls to the earth below, like the dew that vanishes with the rising sun, like the sand that is sifted and washed as it rests by the shores after a grueling journey downhill. 

Distance is the emptiness that is both full and empty at once; full of something both haunting and powerful, and yet empty of everything that is meaningless, a readiness to be filled up afresh over and over again. 

It is the pull of ocean tides that gives us a sense of timelessness; it is what drives the cosmos in an endless mysterious dance that we cannot even begin to understand; it is what moves us to build and breaks walls between people and nations; and gives us the room we need to nurture ourselves and grow with each other. 

It is what dreams are made of; the meeting ground beyond what is, for that magical rendezvous with ourselves and each other; the ground that allows the destruction of what is not needed, so that what is needed can flow in and through. 

It is the container that holds both the in-breath and out-breath that sustains all of life. It is a call to live life and meet death wholeheartedly, in every moment.

Growing in the Dark

I know
a little flower
who's taken years
to bloom,
she's ready now
to unfold
her creased petals;
weighed down
by darkness,
she still found
the space
to grow,
without light
and love.

Space

a free spirit
trapped by
boundaries
walls
fences
rims
containers.

sometimes
bottomless
boundless
expanding
contracting
adjusting
folding
into myself.

sometimes
squeezed out
like the last dollop
of toothpaste
from an empty tube,
or a cockroach
scuttling away
into dark corners,
always on the move;

sometimes
lost in wild forests
hidden inside
a filigree leaf,
or swelling oceans
raging inside
dainty dewdrops,
in the unfolding
of a moment;

sometimes
caught in the hands
of the clock
turning
in the same way
day after day,
or choked under
a gentle shower
seeking to soothe
a steamy soul;

sometimes
I look for space
like that tiny
blade of grass
tunneling
its way out
towards the sun,
from under
a dull concrete slab;

sometimes
I long for that space -
a space
where I can
breathe free
through walls
and containers -
simply free
to be me.
always.

Listen

Loss and Love

the fire
has burnt
itself out,
woodsmoke
chokes
the spaces
between
dying embers,
their glow
muted,
like tears of rain
on damp clay.

the fire
once aroused
by the space
between
presence
and absence,
breath
and death,
lies buried
like a coffin
wrapped
in glory,
lowered
too soon.

for what is loss
to a heart
set off
by the sun
and flaming stars,
beating to
the pause
and turn
of wheels
on windswept ash,
blazing new paths?

this dying fire
is not enough now
to warm a heart
that trembles,
learning anew
to dip herself
in unbecoming
icy waters,
for she's been
too warm,
too long.

and with the
smouldering remains
of what once seemed
like the tremulous glow
of dancing twilight,
darkness
wraps me up quick,
the only warm blanket
on a cold black night,
when fire meets ice.

but the fire
will be lit again
tomorrow,
the spent wood ash
will be cleared
and used
in the garden,
the logs will be
rearranged
and laid lightly,
and a heart
that's grown cold
will be warmed
again,
to sing
by the fire
of a new sun.

In Hiding

In hiding,
I grow
and stay alive.

like a white rose
melts into the kosher snow,
like a drop of rain
slips into the ocean floor,
like an unborn baby
is held in his mother's womb,
like a dead leaf crumbles
to rest in its earthy tomb,
like the playful wind
slides between rustling trees,
like sweet nectar's held in
tight buds who open to bees,
like the majestic sky
lifts her veil to the night,
like the sky lark waits
to sing her song to the light;

I hide,
so that
in that hiding,
I can rest
into myself -
to grow,
to emerge,
with my gift
to this world.


In hiding,
I find my space
to grow,
and the
self-watered power
to love
and stay alive.

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.

Everything is Waiting for Me

I watch the world go by
from the tiny crack in the wall -
the only space I have
to peep out,
to see the world
and the Light.

a tiny sliver
of green, just born -
trapped in the now,
this is where I belong;
stark grey walls
keep me company,

while I hold on
to myself -
who I am, and
who I can be,
if only I was born
somewhere in the wild,

I would grow
into a peepal tree -
dance with the sun,
soak in the rain,
talk to the wind,
even one last time,

before I crumble
to rest in the stillness
of a dew-drenched green.
Everything is waiting for me.

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....

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

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.

My Shell

I love my little world
my shell -
my go-to place
when I want some quiet,
to reflect, renew,
rejuvenate,
and realign
with the magical flow
of the divine.
It is not a place
where I want to hide,
from the glare and din
of a sultry day outside,
but a space to feel
and love myself,
for who I am,
and who I want to be.
 

The Spinning Top

the spinning top
has to stop.
the colours,
the patterns,
blur, and
become one;
spinning,
for a moment,
caught in the web
of space and time,
until it comes to rest
in itself;
the spinning top
has to stop
and face its truth,
some day, some time.

Just a little more love....

pouring grain
into a jar,
there's always room
for a little more;
a little shake or tap
here and there,
settles the grains
into a tight pack
of wholesome goodness;
much like life's ways
of disheveling what is,
to make room for
just a little more love.

Cutting Cabbage

I used to struggle
for a long time,
with cutting cabbage.

The knife,
the position,
the rhythm,
the space
between cuts,
was just not right.

Until
I figured
the best way -
to go with the flow;
learning
to hold myself
and the other,
and the space between,
until I finally got it right!

Life is like cutting cabbage.

Beliefs

If only
beliefs
were fragile,
transient
sand castles -
built with love,
not hate,
on the sunny beaches
of time and space;
to be washed away
slowly and gently
by timeless waves,
that speak to us
of what is
real and alive....