in god we

trust is the votm for may. yay! i can hardly wait. no wait, i can wait. i just learned how to in april :).

april

a month,
it was,
of patience,
of sitting
and learning
to wait
sans waiting,
of believing
in life and
its present,
of loving
each moment
that walked
into me,
that i
walked into,
of embracing
the wonder
of life.

poem of the day

april 30, and poetry month comes to an end. i hope you share with me, if only to small degree, the joy of having discovered just a few of the great poets of this world. it's been an eye-opening month for me in several respects, as my spirit traveled far and wide, in space and time, within the lines (and in between) of the poetry we read together.

as i thought about the last day of the month and of a fitting finale, once again, the answer came, not much later, as i meditated (clearly i was not devoid of thought). it is the poem that introduced me to hafiz (as i think of c with immense gratitude) - the same hafiz who connected poetry to my soul (our souls) in obvious, inescapable ways.

goodbye, april. goodbye, poetry month. but hafiz, won't you please stay awhile?

One day the sun admitted,

I am just a shadow.
I wish I could show you
The Infinite Incandescence
That has cast my brilliant image!

I wish I could show you,
When you are lonely or in darkness,

The Astonishing Light
Of your own Being!

- Hafiz

@red rock

it's been a while since i appreciated the simple things in life on the blog; i take pleasure in doing so now. we went to cp for lunch today, after ages and ages, and i loved it - the sunshine, the company, the food, the conversation, no conversation, all was perfect. i even extracted somehow the luxury of a short afternoon nap after all that food, and it felt blissfully indulgent. thoughts of the approaching indian heat filled my heart with joy, and even the potentially stress-filled days that may precede it were not enough to pull me down. there was serenity in the air, and an openness to embrace whatever life has chosen to bring my way. is the book doing its magic on me?

i'm at the very red red rock cafe right now, and the latte i ordered (an experiment, i should add) is so amazing, i rejoice in being mindful of every sip. and i cannot help but be moved by the way the inside of the cup shows traces of the drink i slowly consume. even the red of the cup and saucer is the perfect red. hallelujah plays in the background, definitely one of my recent listening favorites. i look out of the window at the cars passing by and all is bathed in warm, refreshing sunlight. ah, spring! i run out of charge for my laptop, and need to switch tables with someone else so i can be at a power outlet. he kindly obliges. my power cord is so short that i need to ask another person to shift his table down and he kindly obliges too. i cannot but be amazed by the kindness folks around me so readily seem to shower. there is so much sheer goodness in this little space of a world around me. all i need is to keep the inner radio tuned thus...

and now i must get to one of my many final papers. working in this warm embrace will be joyous indeed. thank you, red rock! i'll leave you now with one of my all-time favorite songs - the simple things, by rebecca lynn howard. and a few lines from it as bonus:

The thunder and the rain
The way you say my name
After all the clouds go by
The simple things remain
The sun, the moon, the stars
The beating of two hearts
How I love the simple things
The simple things just are

poem of the day

i discovered this poem earlier today, and waited patiently until midnight to make it poem of the day. now i lay me down to sleep, as my bed, pillow, and comforter draw near :).

Only When I am Quiet and Do Not Speak

Only when I am quiet for a long time
and do not speak
do the objects of my life draw near.

Shy, the scissors and spoons, the blue mug.
Hesitant even the towels,
for all their intimate knowledge and scent of
fresh bleach.

How steady their regard as they ponder,
dreaming and waking,
the entrancement of my daily wanderings and tasks.
Drunk on the honey of feelings, the honey of purpose,
they seem to be thinking,
a quiet judgment that glistens between the
glass doorknobs.

Yet theirs is not the false reserve
of a scarcely concealed ill-will,
nor that other, active shying: of pelted rocks

No, not that. For I hear the sigh of happiness
each object gives off
if I glimpse for even an instant the actual
instant –

As if they believed it possible
I might join
their circle of simple, passionate thusness,
their hidden rituals of luck and solitude,
the joyous gap in them where appears in us
the pronoun I.

- Jane Hirschfield

doing the best we can?

a long, long time ago, c asked me a question and posted it on her blog here. for days, i almost commented on her post but not quite. i thought about it on and off often enough, but it largely remained as much of a question as it was to begin with. at one point, i decided that we did try to do the best we could. and indeed, that was the best i could do :).

today, i am glad that i'd let the question brew peacefully within all this while. the answer (well, the best i can do for the present) lies in the core of these enlightening words by byron katie. admittedly, these are things i have thought about for months. but admittedly, i needed more to get to my answer. these were it:

Sin, too, is a concept. Think of the worst thing you ever did. Go into it as deeply as you can, from the perspective of the person you were at the time. With the limited understanding you had then, weren't you doing the best you could? How could you have done it any differently, believing what you believed? If you really enter this exercise, you'll see that nothing else is possible. The possibility that anything else could have happened is just a thought you have now about a then, an imagined past that you are comparing with the real past, which is also imagined. We're all doing the best we can. And if you feel that you've hurt someone, make amends, and thank the experience for showing you how not to live. No one would ever hurt another human being if he or she weren't confused. Confusion is the only suffering on this planet.

on brewed awakenings

a few weeks ago, i heard someone's reflection on how she believed that the best decisions she had experienced were those made within, and how she'd never had reason to regret them. this echoed something i'd read earlier in eat pray love. as i thought more, these insights directed my inquiry towards what went on within, and i asked myself how it was that my own decisions were made. even the seemingly inconsequential decisions that were about, say, washing dishes or doing laundry. byron katie's reading definitely helped as well.

we've all experienced moments in our lives when our bodies have become so in tune with our gut that they seem just to act on their own. i'm sure many of us can identify with the strangeness of waking up for an early morning flight and hearing the alarm go off just a minute later. starting from that familiar notion, i tried to understand other ways in which my gut communicated its way out without my mind doing any of its crazy thinking.

my experiment began with a kind of 'programming'. this was about 3 weeks ago when my week had piled up with deadlines and stress was always just around the corner. i started to feed my questions (/concerns) to my gut and instructed it to process them. i helped it also to understand my schedules, the time i could afford, the resources i had access to. there was no pressure, just belief. and complete and honest communication.

i found that the answers just came. some answers took longer than others, but given the limited resources i had (time, knowledge, people, etc.), my gut always found a way to communicate its answers to me in very satisfactory ways. i remember having a paper to write that was due at midnight. at 8pm, i did not know what i was writing about and i rambled - without direction, without motivation. i then decided i would let my gut do the work. while i busied myself with mindless tasks on the surface, i let the gut have its silence and do its work within. between 10 and 11, i found that voice. and then i wrote as though nothing else mattered, addressed all the requirements of my assignment, and submitted before 12. these 'brewed awakenings' have taken place several times since.

what i mean to argue is that there is an inner voice each one of us has, that each one of us can count on for all the right answers. this voice needs love and care, though. when it knows that we consider it important, it speaks with greater volume and confidence. but that love and care must be cultivated first.

to believe in this process, however, means to exercise infinite patience with the gut so as to align our actions with it. an enlightening read i found online this morning talks about decision-making based on patience. although i encourage you to read the whole thing, here's an excerpt i especially liked:

The principle here is clear, but in the midst of our own confusion, we ask: “How do we know when to move?” The answer is, “If we don't know, if it's not clear, we're not ready.” If not moving means an opportunity slips by or a path closes, we've made our choice by not doing. If we're not ready, we're just not ready, and the decision has made itself.

and here's one that wowed me, really driving home the true meaning of this amazing virtue of the month:

To better understand patience, let's look at the Chinese character, which is "nin." Like many characters, it is made out of two separate ones. The upper means, "sword blade." The lower, "heart." The meaning is: to bear something painful in the heart. The sword blade is poised, ready to slice. Backed into this corner, we cannot move. Therefore, "patience," or "endurance." When we don't know which way to turn, or where to go, any movement at all can not only further muddy the water but can also bring disaster: the sword blade severs the heart and all is lost. Thus, the value of patience.

poem of the day

a seemingly short but immense dose of inspiration that came to me this morning:

Do you have the patience to wait
till your mud settles and the water is clear?

Can you remain unmoving
till the right action arises by itself?

The Master doesn't seek fulfillment,
but not seeking, not expecting,
is present, and can welcome all things.

- Lao Tzu (Tao Te Ching)

To be in the desert alone

... is to understand the absoluteness of solitude, the positive nature of emptiness. During the day, no sound - just mile after mile of sameness. Imagination has no context for the vastness of the desert when you're in it alone. And at night, in the moonless world, amid the smells and the silence, you lie down and have no idea what you're lying on. Is it a snake? A cactus? So you lie and wait, look up at the stars, and receive the ground, the coolness of the sand, giving up the idea that mind could grasp the lumps under your leg or your shoulder. And then the thought of time. Is it midnight? Is it five days later, five years later? And what am I who wonders what I am? And the smile that comes from knowing that you can't know and don't really care, that the answer to that would shrivel in the delight of this moment. Nothing of life imagined can compete with the beauty of nothingness, the vastness of it, the unfathomable darkness.

This amazing desert earth has been my greatest teacher. She doesn't budge from what she is. I sit on her and there is no movement, no discussion, no complaint. The earth just gives, without condition, unnoticed, and that's the proof of love. She doesn't ever withhold. She doesn't compromise. The way she speaks is through the wind and the rain, the sand, the rocks, the sounds of her creatures. She just sings her song without meaning, and she continues to give without any expectation of return. She'll support you all your life, and if you throw a tin can onto her or dump poison into her blood-stream or drop a bomb on her, there is still total, unconditional love. She keeps giving and giving. She's me awake. She's you.

this is an excerpt from the book i am reading these days - a thousand names for joy by byron katie. a tremendous source of inspiration. now that i have this strong morning dose, i shall set myself out for my morning walk to school. have a lovely day, all!

on anger

i did have quite a temper growing up, and somewhere along the way accepted this as an immutable character trait - a congenital defect of a kind. as i look back, i recall a number of instances where i'd lose my temper, then follow it with a 'this is who i am, i cannot help it' explanation. i did not mean ill; i really did believe there was nothing i could do about it. i wonder now if the ego played its part in giving it a warm, cushy abode to live in comfortably.

and then many months ago, i fell in love with the writings of tnh. as i read book after book, i found myself more driven, more inspired. to change, to become the kind of person i wanted to become but had not believed i could. one day, when i was at half-price books looking for more tnh books, i found anger. i bought it. i remember feeling uber-embarrassed as the cashier charged me for it, not being able to let go of the thought that she must disapprove of my need to purchase this book. i was well-ensconced in the tight confines of fear.

i read the book within the next day or so, and loved it. but was unable to talk about it for a few days. when i bravely 'confessed' my purchase to a close friend, i was greatly surprised to hear that she too was interested in reading the book because she (thought she) had an anger problem. i still remember the sense of relief when i told myself that i wasn't the only one on earth with this problem (imagine the suffering that weight must have caused!).

then yesterday, i saw this post. i found myself stunned again to discover that a person i consider to be one of the most loving, most patient, and most giving people i know ever had an anger problem. i nostalgically identified with several parts of the post - the problem, the recognition of it, the desire to transform it, and the experience of looking back upon it. it has been a journey to remember, for me as well.

this experience of transforming the anger, or rather, the several small experiences of transforming it, gradually and increasingly, have been instructive to no small degree. this tremendous journey helped me learn that the strongest of weeds can be uprooted within, the greatest of urges are mutable, and mere belief and resolve are sufficient for the cause. it helped me learn, also, that the world we see and respond to is a projection from within, and when we bring about a change within, the world changes along with. it has been a liberating find indeed that it takes a mere tuning of our inner radio to experience unconditional peace and happiness.

poem for the day

i offer, today, a highly imperfect poem that i'd written many mondays ago. it was a spontaneous response to an email from a friend, and it made me laugh as i remembered it today :). i hope it amuses, if ever so slightly:

"Any ideas, suggestions, clues on what to do with Monday blues?"

I say...
Chuck your Monday blues!
Crush them with your shoes!
And let the shoes diffuse
These Monday morning blues!

OR

Toss them in the air!
Strip their insides bare!
Show you do not care!
Monday blues, beware!

OR

Twist them out of shape!
Squish them like a grape!
Let them stand agape!
Monday blues, you ape!

OR

Show them all your might!
Shake them left and right!
They'll know not day from night!
Those blues will flee from sight!

thank you, monday!

monday is my day to get back to my desired quietude. not to say i don't suffer monday morning blues, but these blues are really my push towards that place of peace i seem momentarily to lose in these so-called blues. it is easy to go out into the world of happenings and lose one's equanimity to the forces we meet. where i'm at, it is very easy indeed :). but it gives me that much more direction to improve, to become stronger, to understand what i am responsible to/for in different spaces. and while it is often great for the head to have unshakeable clarity on what needs to be done, it does occasionally get frustrating when the heart is lagging behind. and that is why we have the month of patience :).

reflecting, once again, on the zen thought for april:

So whatever you do, just do it, without expecting anyone's help. Don't spoil your effort by seeking for shelter. Protect yourself and grow upright to the sky; that is all.

yesterday, in conversing with a friend, i said that even as one tries to do for others one should really do for oneself. he said that was wrong, that one should try to do with others' interest in mind alone, not one's own. my impulse to disagree made me delve deeper to understand what i really meant (and if, even, we talked about different things). my current state of understanding is that when there is purity in the heart, the things we do are always automatically done keeping *everyone's* interests at heart. at that core, there is no 'me', only 'we'. it is key to do without expectation, however, without desire for a particular outcome.

my conclusion, on reflecting upon this weekend, is that i cannot please all of the people all of the time, no matter what. it is incumbent upon me, however, to keep my thoughts, my intent clean and pure, and then offer thus inspired actions to the god that i believe in. and this is what the last line in the quote above seems to say to me as well. that is all.

poem of the day

and here is today's, as i uncover for myself the genius of whitman. it resonates within - speaking to a thought that visits me almost every day as i walk to school, crossing paths with a myriad strangers on my way:

Passing stranger! you do not know how longingly I look upon you,
You must be he I was seeking, or she I was seeking, (it comes to me, as of a dream,)
I have somewhere surely lived a life of joy with you,
All is recall’d as we flit by each other, fluid, affectionate, chaste, matured,
You grew up with me, were a boy with me, or a girl with me,
I ate with you, and slept with you—your body has become not yours only, nor left my body mine only,
You give me the pleasure of your eyes, face, flesh, as we pass—you take of my beard, breast, hands, in return,
I am not to speak to you—I am to think of you when I sit alone, or wake at night alone,
I am to wait—I do not doubt I am to meet you again,
I am to see to it that I do not lose you.

poem of the day

although i didn't have a chance to, yesterday, the poem had already been selected. it is a short composition by yours truly, and it goes like this:

long
live
love

:)

that thing called patience

Patience (pā-shəns) is the state of endurance under difficult circumstances, which can mean persevering in the face of delay or provocation without becoming annoyed or upset; or exhibiting forbearance when under strain, especially when faced with longer-term difficulties. It is also used to refer to the character trait of being steadfast. Antonyms include hasty and impetuous. (Wikipedia)

the virtue of this month is patience, and i'm thinking of making it virtue of this life instead. what do you think? i may be guided by selfish desires i admit, for its rewards are certainly the sweetest.

poem of the day

a dedication, today, for two of our friends. i could think of no wish more sincere, more heart-felt than for them to live these words of gibran.

Then Almitra spoke again and said...
"And what of Marriage, master?"
And he answered saying:

You were born together,
and together you shall be forevermore.

You shall be together when the white wings
of death scatter your days.

Aye, you shall be together even in the
silent memory of God.

But let there be spaces in your togetherness,
And let the winds of the heavens dance between you.

Love one another, but make not a bond of love.
Let it rather be a moving sea between
the shores of your souls.

Fill each other's cup but drink not from one cup.
Give one another of your bread but eat not from the same loaf.

Sing and dance together and be joyous,
but let each of you be alone,

Even as the strings of a lute are alone
though they quiver with the same music.

Give your hearts, but not into each other's keeping.
For only the hand of Life can contain your hearts.

And stand together, yet not too near together.
For the pillars of the temple stand apart,

And the oak tree and the cypress
grow not in each other's shadow.

dignity

at the end of the day, that's what it's about. and it's a rather easy call to make - to be loving when subject to hatred, forgiving when subject to injury, and always, always holding one's own. dignity, i think then, is the best wolf to protect from hunger at all times :).

on feeding the right wolf

i heard a moving story yesterday, that i attempt to paraphrase and share with you now. (to those who know this, i try to fill in the gaps so i can preserve the import, while changing the less important details that i don't quite recall.)

a grandfather explains to his grandson that within us, there is a constant struggle going on - as long as we are alive - between the good wolves and the bad wolves. the good wolves are the wolves of love, generosity, honesty, etc. and the bad wolves are the wolves of anger, greed, jealousy, etc. the boy asks his grandfather which pack of wolves eventually wins. the grandfather replies, "the one you feed."

i truly felt the impact of this story when i heard it. as i see it, personal growth is all about this - gradually refining ourselves - our thoughts, speech, and action - so as to overcome the hurdles as we proceed upwards. no matter how slow this progress is, and indeed it may be life-long, we must accept that as our responsibility through life, just as we accept brushing our teeth or eating our meals to be another.

it's also interesting to note, i find, that i've heard this story before, from my ex-advisor (though then it was about the good dog and bad dog within). this was a long, long time ago and things were different then. i heard the story, and it sat there. it was in memory, but it hadn't sunk to deeper levels. is it not fascinating how words do their transitioning from words to knowledge? and how they take their time?

anyway, for now i pray that we all learn to focus on feeding the right pack of wolves.

on judging, again

i've been judging of smokers for as long as i can remember. back in october, i remember standing outside brewed awakening, when i saw a young student puffing away at his cigarette. i wondered - are there two ways about this? isn't smoking outright wrong? isn't it an unarguable manifestation of inner weakness? how do i find it within to respect him in spite of this? clearly, i am being judgmental. and clearly that is wrong. but how do i keep from being judgmental thus? from believing that i am somehow superior to him because i have not succumbed to the pressure of smoking that he has?

it was a dilemma i couldn't find a way out of, and i asked n for advice. he helped me awaken to the fact that as long as i was unaware of what circumstances had led him into that smoking state, i couldn't really consider myself on higher ground. for what if i had been put through the same circumstances? how was i to tell if i would have been stronger than him or not?

my mind has gone back to this conversation more than a hundred times since (i don't exaggerate). and more than a hundred times, i have instructed myself to not be judgmental because i just did not know enough. although my head was listening, my heart still needed to come around and absorb the voice of reason...

until today. this afternoon, as i left south hall and headed home, i looked around me, doing my favorite exercise of trying to step into the shoes of all those i saw. and suddenly, i saw this young student staring at the ground and smoking away. before an actively processed thought could pass through my mind, i was shocked by my gut. i found myself thinking, with naught but love and compassion, "i wonder what circumstances led him to this smoking state."

this is much bigger to me than just a change in perspective - it is a reinforcement of a somewhat shaky belief (thus far) that instinct can be trained. today, i believe it. for now i have seen it happen. a judgment i believed i was wedded to just crumbled before my eyes. a miracle, and not just an ordinary one at that. or so i believe.

poem of the day

and this is on request, for dear a, for today is the day that the world celebrates the bard's birthday. his complete works i have read before, but forgotten duly. it was a pleasure to rediscover this treasure today. thank you, a!

When, in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes,
I all alone beweep my outcast state
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries
And look upon myself and curse my fate,
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
Featured like him, like him with friends possess'd,
Desiring this man's art and that man's scope,
With what I most enjoy contented least;
Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,
Haply I think on thee, and then my state,
Like to the lark at break of day arising
From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate;
For thy sweet love remember'd such wealth brings
That then I scorn to change my state with kings.

an irish blessing

the things we discover, day after day... i found this blessing on the window of an irish restaurant (/pub?) as i walked to school today and took a picture. i send this out to all of you this morning:

I wish you not a path devoid of clouds. Nor a life on a bed
of roses, not that you might never need regret, nor that you
should never feel pain.
No, that is not my wish for you.

My wish for you is:
That you might be brave in times of
trial, when others lay crosses upon your shoulders.
When mountains must be climbed and chasms are to be
crossed.
When hope scarce can shine through.
That every gift God gave you might grow along with you.
And let you give the gift of joy to all who care for you.

That you may always have a friend who is worth that name.
Whom you can trust, and who helps you in times of
sadness. Who will deify the storms of daily life at your side.

One more wish I have for you: That in every hour of joy
and pain you may feel God close to you.

This is my wish for you, and for all those who care for you.
This is my hope for you, now and forever.

thinking of goodbyes

a friend wrote this to me once, long long ago:

And whether we shall meet again I know not.
Therefore our everlasting farewell take.
Forever and forever farewell, Cassius.
If we do meet again, why, we shall smile.
If not, why then this parting was well made.
- Julius Caesar (Act 5, Scene 1)

moving lines, these. in a moment followed the resolve to always meet again with a smile. no matter who, no matter how long, and no matter why.

service with a smile

olema was a lesson in service. in many more ways than one. the planning of the retreat, the preparation and serving of many meals, karma yoga, and the infinitely many ways in which people gave of themselves, in general. while the activities we participated in did not differ greatly from those in our everyday lives, because they were infused with love and generosity, they felt remarkably different and far more fulfilling.

it is something to think about, really. that there is no greater joy than the joy of giving. that i'd rather love than not love, anyday. with this one short life that i have, why not live it in the way that will bring the greatest happiness? already it has been well ascertained that the greatest happiness lies in the happiness of those around me in conjunction with my own inner peace. the only way to that seems to be through love and service. why live any other kind of life then?

there is nothing more important

in times of stress... well no, i shouldn't say stress, because it doesn't end up going there. in times that i've been inundated with work, of late, i've found that one thing has helped tremendously towards maintaining an equanimous disposition, and that is this: to be clear, most indubitably clear, in my mind that there is nothing more important than its peace. that no matter what happens in the external world, that inner peace will remain intact. and no matter what comes and goes (for indeed, all comes and goes), my peace will not waver. that it will remain undisturbed like the calm, placid sea.

this exercise has worked for me beyond imagination, and so i share it with you. perhaps you too find yourselves battling stress on occasion. and on those occasions, i urge you to tell yourself with clarity, that you are willing to give up all but your peace of mind (yes, you must begin with that clarity). the rewards will surprise you, no doubt, as they surprised me.

epiphanies big and small

there are big epiphanies and small epiphanies. each blog post, in some sense, contributes at least a tiny little epiphany. sometimes, these are bigger than tiny. and sometimes these are big. in the last six months or so, my two biggest epiphanies have been - slowing it down and stepping out. neither, in and of itself, is a very deep or difficult exercise, but both, when practised more and more, bring ceaseless fulfillment. if there has been any positive change in my life of late (and there has, considerable), both inward and outward, i attribute 80% of it to these two concentrated exercises.

i may say more at a later point, but there is work to be done, and for now - i'd just like to take refuge in knowing you understand :).

happy wednesday!

poem of the day

and as we talk about serendipitous discoveries, here's another that brought forth the poem of today:

i've been meaning to read tagore's gitanjali (cover to cover) for a while now. last evening, when i finally got it off my bookshelf and turned the pages, i found an old, folded print-out of a poem. it seemed vaguely familiar (these days most things are only as much as that *sigh*), and i tried hard to jog my memory further. this is as far as i got:

many years ago, a few of us had attempted to start a poetry reading club. it never really took off, though we exchanged numerous emails :). we did hold one meeting where we each brought in a poem we wished to share. i don't remember much from this meeting, not even the poem that i brought in. i do however recall that a hadn't brought in a poem. being a fan of tagore, he went to my poetry collection and picked out gitanjali to share a few verses from it. the folded print-out i found yesterday had been left there by him. it was his copy of a poem that one of us had shared that day. if only i could remember who... but this is as far as my memory goes. not entirely unfortunate though, for i feel blessed to be able to discover this beautiful poem a second time. a failing memory has its pros, undoubtedly :).

The Makers
- Howard Nemerov

Who can remember back to the first poets,
The greatest ones, greater even than Orpheus?
No one has remembered that far back
Or now considers, among the artifacts,
And bones and cantilevered inference
The past is made of, those first and greatest poets,
So lofty and disdainful of renown
They left us not a name to know them by.

They were the ones that in whatever tongue
Worded the world, that were the first to say
Star, water, stone, that said the visible
And made it bring invisibles to view
In wind and time and change, and in the mind
Itself that minded the hitherto idiot world
And spoke the speechless world and sang the towers
Of the city into the astonished sky.

They were the first great listeners, attuned
To interval, relationship, and scale,
The first to say above, beneath, beyond,
Conjurors with love, death, sleep, with bread and wine,
Who having uttered vanished from the world
Leaving no memory but the marvelous
Magical elements, the breathing shapes
And stops of breath we build our Babels of.

what a moving tribute it is, is it not? to the makers of yesterday whose contributions we so oft fail to recognize. where would we be without them? selfless and nameless giving has far-reaching impact indeed.

rediscovering radio

i love my phone!

today, as i drove, i inaugurated my car radio. indeed, it has been a long, long while since i surrendered my listening to the radio gods. today, i chose to give in. and as i tuned in to stations, one by one, i found within a deep sense of empowerment (really!). soon enough, i was captivated by the music. and very soon, i wanted to make a mental note of every song that i liked, so i could preserve this knowledge for posterity (maybe). as i struggled to come up with a means of making this mental note (considered paper, iphone notes, voice recording, etc. - not very mental, i suppose), i suddenly realized it was the perfect use scenario for shazam - my iphone application that recognizes tunes. oh, for serendipitous discoveries. i could've jumped for joy :).

post-discovery, i share with you the songs i thence enjoyed on 97.3 fm (if shazam is to be believed):

• lucky - jason mraz feat. colbie caillat
• closer to love - mat kearney
• hey there delilah - plain white t's
• my life would suck without you - kelly clarkson
• shadow of the day - linkin park
• say - john mayer

to be or to have?

a dear friend wrote me a thought-provoking and insightful mail the other day. while i still meditate on it, i thought some of you may like to read. i offer her (untouched) words to you here:

"I have started reading a new book about quantum thinking. There was a very interesting part about the distinctions between the ego and the real self. One of them was the distinction between 'to be' and 'to have'. It says the ego believes that the only way for it to be peaceful and happy is to have: to have power, to have knowledge, to have a girl/boyfriend, to have money etc. Without these it is not worthy. Whereas for the self it is most important to be: to be a loving person, to be sensitive, to be good, to be nice, to be trustworthy, to be knowledge itself... these are lasting qualities, when they are acquired once, they won't go away. Even if the conditions change, 'to be' will always stay... I was really influenced by this statement... I guess it should be our aim to focus on 'to be'..."

how god changes your brain

an article from the washington post that was sent to me this morning. a few excerpts that i liked:

"... Newberg asserts that traditional spiritual practices such as prayer and breath control can alter the neural connections of the brain, leading to 'long-lasting states of unity, peacefulness and love.' He assures the mystically challenged that these neural networks begin to develop quickly -- a matter of weeks in meditation, not decades on a Tibetan mountaintop. And though meditation does not require a belief in God, strong religious belief amplifies its effect on the brain and enhances 'social awareness and empathy while subduing destructive feelings and emotions'."

"Contemplating a loving God strengthens portions of our brain -- particularly the frontal lobes and the anterior cingulate -- where empathy and reason reside. Contemplating a wrathful God empowers the limbic system, which is 'filled with aggression and fear.' It is a sobering concept: The God we choose to love changes us into his image, whether he exists or not."

"Newberg employs a vivid image: two packs of neurological wolves, he says, are found in every brain. One pack is old and powerful, oriented toward survival and anger. The other is composed of pups -- the newer parts of the brain, more creative and compassionate -- 'but they are also neurologically vulnerable and slow when compared to the activity in the emotional parts of the brain.' So all human beings are left with a question: Which pack do we feed?"

poem of the day

Self Portrait
- David Whyte

It doesn't interest me if there is one God
or many gods.
I want to know if you belong or feel
abandoned.
If you know despair or can see it in others.
I want to know
if you are prepared to live in the world
with its harsh need
to change you. If you can look back
with firm eyes
saying this is where I stand. I want to know
if you know
how to melt into that fierce heat of living
falling toward
the center of your longing. I want to know
if you are willing
to live, day by day, with the consequence of love
and the bitter
unwanted passion of your sure defeat.

I have heard, in that fierce embrace, even
the gods speak of God.

poem of the day

i considered retroactively adding potd's for the days i was off the blog. then decided against. one can't keep going back in time to do the things one didn't do then. there was a reason, after all. so here we go again, with the poem of today. a long time ago, you may remember reading sweet darkness. i rediscovered david whyte in olema, and offer another gem unto you. i pray it will inspire just as well.

i don't know if you have felt this; i sure have: in times when i've been alone and far away from human love, the inanimate has brought much solace. indeed, i have a relationship with my kitchen sink, the rugs in my house, the latch on the gate outside, and door knobs everywhere. even my apartment. 'cos you know, they've always been there for me no matter what. and i am grateful. i thought i was a little crazy... but then it helped to know that david whyte is a little crazy too!

Everything is Waiting for You

Your great mistake is to act the drama
as if you were alone. As if life
were a progressive and cunning crime
with no witness to the tiny hidden
transgressions. To feel abandoned is to deny
the intimacy of your surroundings. Surely,
even you, at times, have felt the grand array;
the swelling presence, and the chorus, crowding
out your solo voice. You must note
the way the soap dish enables you,
or the window latch grants you freedom.
Alertness is the hidden discipline of familiarity.
The stairs are your mentor of things
to come, the doors have always been there
to frighten you and invite you,
and the tiny speaker in the phone
is your dream-ladder to divinity.

Put down the weight of your aloneness and ease into
the conversation. The kettle is singing
even as it pours you a drink, the cooking pots
have left their arrogant aloofness and
seen the good in you at last. All the birds
and creatures of the world are unutterably
themselves. Everything is waiting for you.

oh! for olema

i am back after a relatively long hiatus (standards have changed themselves so; three days feels like a long time!). this weekend i was at the olema vedanta retreat. a reflection will follow, but when it is time for the thoughts to articulate themselves.

i'll start with the facts: we left for olema friday afternoon, in batches of 4 and 5. reached olema at 7.30. had a group dinner and retreated to our respective retreat houses for the night. woke up at 4.15am, started yoga at 5.30, meditated an hour, hiked, had a wholesome breakfast, discussed karma yoga (swami vivekananda's teachings), ate lunch, helped out with the gardening (karma yoga in practice), hiked up again, reflected on the day, ate dinner, watched the dhamma brothers, slept, woke up early again, did yoga again, meditated/hiked/ate breakfast, cleaned up, and set out.

but it was so much more than that (even though it was quite a packed schedule)... nature embraced us in its uninhibited generosity, we found, as we walked in the shade of the old and beautiful trees, rejoiced in the sights of the varied and awe-inspiring fauna, and delighted in the beautiful onset of spring. it was also a weekend spent in slowly realizing how intimately we are connected to each other in this oneness that subsumes our individual existences. i pray and strive to come closer to accepting and surrendering to that overarching oneness.

this is all i shall say, for now. reflections will follow as time progresses - there is so much to unpack, still. stay with me, gentle reader.

and have a lovely week!

clouds in each paper

tnh, after ages. i first read the excerpt below many months ago, and it changed my life. yes, dramatic, but the constant recurrence of these words within, the constant reminders of 'interbeing' that life has since brought my way, made me realize how i had created rigid, inflexible boundaries for myself that i had to let go of, somehow. the magic of these words is that they apply everywhere. literally so.

If you are a poet, you will see clearly that there is a cloud floating in this sheet of paper. Without a cloud, there will be no rain; without rain, the trees cannot grow: and without trees, we cannot make paper. The cloud is essential for the paper to exist. If the cloud is not here, the sheet of paper cannot be here either. So we can say that the cloud and the paper inter-are.

"Interbeing" is a word that is not in the dictionary yet, but if we combine the prefix "inter" with the verb "to be", we have a new verb, inter-be. Without a cloud, we cannot have paper, so we can say that the cloud and the sheet of paper inter-are.

If we look into this sheet of paper even more deeply, we can see the sunshine in it. If the sunshine is not there, the forest cannot grow. In fact nothing can grow. Even we cannot grow without sunshine. And so, we know that the sunshine is also in this sheet of paper. The paper and the sunshine inter-are. And if we continue to look we can see the logger who cut the tree and brought it to the mill to be transformed into paper. And we see the wheat. We know that the logger cannot exist without his daily bread, and therefore the wheat that became his bread is also in this sheet of paper. And the logger's father and mother are in it too. When we look in this way we see that without all of these things, this sheet of paper cannot exist.

poem of the day

and if i can never write like him, it will be okay. as long as, if just once, i can see with an eye like his. 

Ode to the Lemon

From blossoms

released

by the moonlight,

from an

aroma of exasperated

love,

steeped in fragrance,

yellowness

drifted from the lemon tree,

and from its planetarium

lemons descended to the earth.

Tender yield!

The coasts,

the markets glowed

with light, with

unrefined gold;

we opened

two halves

of a miracle,

congealed acid

trickled

from the hemispheres

of a star,

the most intense liqueur

of nature,

unique, vivid,

concentrated,

born of the cool, fresh

lemon,

of its fragrant house,

its acid, secret symmetry.

Knives

sliced a small

cathedral

in the lemon,

the concealed apse, opened,

revealed acid stained glass,

drops

oozed topaz,

altars,

cool architecture.

So, when you hold

the hemisphere

of a cut lemon

above your plate,

you spill

a universe of gold,

a

yellow goblet

of miracles,

a fragrant nipple

of the earth's breast,

a ray of light that was made fruit,

the minute fire of a planet.

-- Pablo Neruda.

on boredom

in recent times, i've tried to keep careful watch on my expressions of boredom. i'd been meaning to write about this for a while, but of course, someone's already done it - as usual :). below are some excerpts by m.j. ryan to think about, and perhaps to try and implement in our lives. eventually it comes down to practising mindfulness in every moment. if we don't embrace the present but ever desire to go back or forth, can we ever fully realize the magic of the moment?

Boredom, they say, is created by an inability to delay gratification and a low tolerance for frustration...

Any time we proclaim something boring, what we really are saying is that we don't have patience for it. Rather than looking at ourselves for the source of the problem -- and therefore the solution -- we look at whatever is provoking the feeling and label that the problem.

Go on a fast for a week in which you refuse to consider any experience boring. When your mind begins to use that label -- in traffic, say, or on hold -- challenge yourself to find something of interest in what is going on, either in yourself or the world around you. How does that change your experience?

If you tune in to how the warm soapy water feels as you wash the pots and pans, how does that change the experience for you? Or weeding the garden, how does it feel to bend and stretch in the sunlight? What *is* the name of that gray bird with the crested head that suddenly appeared? This level of experiencing life isn’t one that we tune in to, but it is one that can bear many riches of wonder at the very fact of being alive in this amazing world.

your thought and mine

a typical conversation within?

Your thought is a tree rooted deep in the soil of tradition and whose branches grow in the power of continuity. My thought is a cloud moving in the space. It turns into drops which, as they fall, form a brook that sings its way into the sea. Then it rises as vapour into the sky.

Your thought is a fortress that neither gale nor the lightning can shake. My thought is a tender leaf that sways in every direction and finds pleasure in its swaying.

Your thought is an ancient dogma that cannot change you nor can you change it. My thought is new, and it tests me and I test it morn and eve.

You have your thought and I have mine.

Your thought is social science, a religious and political dictionary. Mine is simple axiom.

Your thought speaks of the beautiful woman, the ugly, the virtuous, the prostitute, the intelligent, and the stupid. Mine sees in every woman a mother, a sister, or a daughter of every man.

Your thought concerns the skilled, the artist, the intellectual, the philosopher, the priest. Mine speaks of the loving and the affectionate, the sincere, the honest, the forthright, the kindly, and the martyr.

In your thought there are the rich, the poor, and the beggared. My thought holds that there are no riches but life; that we are all beggars, and no benefactor exists save life herself.

Your thought sees power in armies, cannons, battleships, submarines, aeroplanes, and poison gas. But mine asserts that power lies in reason, resolution, and truth. No matter how long the tyrant endures, he will be the loser at the end.

Your thought differentiates between pragmatist and idealist, between the part and the whole, between the mystic and materialist. Mine realizes that life is one and its weights, measures and tables do not coincide with your weights, measures and tables. He whom you suppose an idealist may be a practical man.

Your thought advocates fame and show. Mine counsels me and implores me to cast aside notoriety and treat it like a grain of sand cast upon the shore of eternity.

Your thought is interested in ruins and museums, mummies and petrified objects. But mine hovers in the ever-renewed haze and clouds.

Your thought begets dreams of palaces with furniture of sandalwood studded with jewels, and beds made of twisted silk threads. My thought speaks softly in my ears, “Be clean in body and spirit even if you have nowhere to lay your head.”

Your thought makes you aspire to titles and offices. Mine exhorts me to humble service.

You have your thought and I have mine.

--Kahlil Gibran (excerpts)

real is beautiful

you know when the moon seems larger than life? when it seems closer to the earth than usual? when it feels like you could reach out and pluck it out of the sky? i did not know why that was the case until recently. when a dear friend told me it was merely an illusion, i felt cheated out of a blissful notion of the moon's beauty. when i expressed the disappointment, i received a response that planted a seed deep within: that there was beauty to behold despite the knowledge of this truth. that one did not need to fool oneself into fooling oneself. there. that was the beauty of it.

:) years later, when i recalled those words today, i felt a spring in my step (it was on my walk home). i don't know why i'd felt cheated really, because i agree whole-heartedly. the beauty of life is not in imagining things to be one way or another. it is simply in perceiving it as is. it takes so little to be blown away.

remember einstein's words? i clearly (and happily) belong to the camp that considers every little (and big) thing a miracle.

stories do help

as i walked back home this evening, i saw a glass canister of parmesan cheese lying on the sidewalk. it had broken in two pieces. my first instinct was to dodge and walk on by, and then i remembered the story we'd read in school, years ago - raaste ka pathhar (the rock in the way). it's a story about a king who wishes to test his subjects, and he places a rock in the middle of the road. it is long before a noble soul actually makes the effort to move the rock out of the way. and as one would hope, the king rewards him generously. 

this story, like others we read, had planted a seed within that i was able to water today. today was my turn. life had placed an obstacle for me that i could remove - not only for myself, but for others too. and i did - i picked up the pieces and dumped them into the trash. and then thanked life for giving me this chance.

poem of the day

A Psalm Of Life

      [What the heart of the young man

                    said to the psalmist]

Tell me not, in mournful numbers, 

Life is but an empty dream! 

For the soul is dead that slumbers, 

And things are not what they seem.

Life is real! Life is earnest! 

And the grave is not its goal; 

Dust thou art, to dust returnest, 

Was not spoken of the soul.

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow, 

Is our destined end or way; 

But to act, that each tomorrow 

Find us farther than today.

Art is long, and Time is fleeting, 

And our hearts, though stout and brave, 

Still, like muffled drums, are beating 

Funeral marches to the grave.

In the world's broad field battle, 

In the bivouac of life, 

Be not like dumb, driven cattle! 

Be a hero in the strife!

Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant! 

Let the dead Past bury its dead! 

Act — act in the living Present! 

Heart within, and God o'erhead.

Lives of great men all reminds us 

We can make our lives sublime, 

And, departing, leave behind us 

Footprints on the sands of time;

Footprints, that perhaps another, 

Sailing o'er life's solemn main, 

A furlorn and shipwrecked brother, 

Seeing, shall take heart again.

Let us, then, be up and doing, 

With a heart for any fate; 

Still achieving, still pursuing, 

Learn to labour and to wait.

-- H. W. Longfellow

might just as well have been the heart of the young woman....

all hieroglyphics

being a photographer, the visual medium speaks to me ceaselessly and with inexhaustible joy. understandable that these lines below really called out to me, to that hopeless photographer within.

"Everything in this world has a hidden meaning, I thought. Men, animals, trees, stars, they are all hieroglyphics; woe to anyone who begins to decipher and guess what they mean. ... When you see them you do not understand them. You think that they are really men, animals, trees, stars. It is only years later, too late, that you understand." 

- Nikos Kazantzakis (Zorba the Greek)

me we!

let's start with the genius of john donne:

No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main; if a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as well as if a manor of thy friends or thine own were; any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind; and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls, it tolls for thee.

lately, i've been thinking more and more about this coexistence of ours. every thought we process, every action we execute, that we think is our own is actually not. we are tied with unbreakable bonds to the rest of society, the rest of this world. everything we do affects everyone else. like the butterfly that effects a tsunami... just as everything everyone else does affects us, in a small or big way.

this, we can understand at an intellectual level; we often read it in books. but what are its implications for daily living? yesterday, i was in a class where we had to take turns presenting our projects. i did not want to go first, but as circumstances unfolded, the voice in me was very clear that it made most sense for me to set up my laptop and present first. i let go of the inhibitions, the self-conscious feeling, and volunteered to go first. it is these seemingly inane moments of abruptly shutting off the fear that bring with them deep insight.

i realized then that while we do have decision-making power, and can choose to do a myriad things with it, there's almost always a 'best for all' option in a given situation. prisoner's dilemma. and then, it makes little sense to think in the narrow scope of our selves and our fears. a decision made in a classroom is best made with a fundamental desire for righteous action (reason) and keeping each stakeholder in mind (love). both are primely important.

the subtle fact of the matter is that every situation we find ourselves in - every moment of each day - presents a set of stakeholders. even as i sit and type these words, alone at home on my laptop, i do not do so in isolation. so at every point, i must be responsible. responsible to reason and to love. for ultimately, that is what this coexistence - my presence on earth - demands of me in every moment.

moment of peace

today's dose of inspiration comes from the ever-giving bff:

Moment of Peace

When you are in acceptance, you are in profound peace.

Accepting something doesn't mean you are agreeing with it or condoning it. In acceptance, you are freeing yourself of negative thoughts and feelings and making yourself available to the powerful presence of peace. You can see more clearly. This is the place you want to be in when you have decisions to make. This is the place from which you can make an impact on the world for the better.

- John-Roger

Founder, Institute for Individual and World Peace®

einstein says...

einstein's words below bring with them considerable depth. in recent times, i've been working hard to understand this oneness that we share. it is important to understand, i feel, because this understanding then forms the foundation of giving, loving, sharing, believing, selflessness, and peace. to this end, i was struck by the insight that life, as we live it today, is a gift. that we go through our lives in the comfort we so take for granted is sad, because these comforts come to us from the intense labor investments of humankind in the past. 

how then may i forget to be grateful? not with a fridge, a microwave, a heater, hot water, cooking range, tv, light bulbs, laptop, books, camera (certainly not that) in my house!

There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle.

But without deeper reflection one knows from daily life that one exists for other people; first of all for those upon whose smiles and well-being our own happiness is wholly dependent, and then for the many, unknown to us, to whose destinies we are bound by the ties of sympathy.

A hundred times every day I remind myself that my inner and outer life are based on the labors of other men, living and dead, and that I must exert myself in order to give in the same measure as I have received and am still receiving.

A human being is part of a whole, called by us the "Universe," a part limited in time and space. He experiences himself, his thoughts and feelings, as something separated from the rest -a kind of optical delusion of his consciousness. This delusion is a kind of prison for us, restricting us to our personal desires and to affection for a few persons nearest us.

Our task must be to free ourselves from this prison by widening our circles of compassion to embrace all living creatures and the whole of nature in its beauty.

Only a life lived for others is worth living.

thank you, julie andrews!

remember pearls before breakfast? if your spirits could do with a little bit of a lift, see julie andrews's exquisite voice do magic at a train station in antwerp here.

re: taxes

one finds out one doesn't need no forms. hyuk :).

no more sighs. taxes have been filed. once again, i find myself intrigued at the process from start to finish - the arrival of forms in the mail (or not, as the case may be), the exploration of various 'how to file an extension' options on the website, the decision that an extension would really not feel very good to that goody and persistent inner self, the wading through multiple layers of university bureaucracy all in one morning - swift phonecalls and unprecedented visits to university staff across multiple offices, the gradual ascertainment of raw materials required, the subsequent surrender of one's soul to turbotax (and other tax gods that may be watching), and then that precious moment of being done.

ah, heaven!

taxes

now how, pray, is one to file taxes when one doesn't have all of one's forms to start with? how?

tuning the instrument within

sometimes when we talk, i don't believe we really listen. most arguments, i find increasingly, occur because people tend to think they're disagreeing when they're really talking about different things. a manifestation of the ego alone, probably; that which wishes us to rise above all others, pushing down their views even when they're the same as ours :).

sometimes when we disagree (and i think i repeat myself here), i don't think we fundamentally disagree. we're just not making enough of an effort to understand. and it is no great effort that is required, because all it takes is to listen with an open ear, an open heart.

if you have any experience with music, you'll know that musical instruments need to be tuned ever so frequently. if they're not periodically tuned, they lose touch with the instruments around them and, after a while, cease to create beautiful music. i feel that each of us has just such an instrument within, that (with periodic tuning) can be brought to create nothing but beautiful music, in harmony with the instruments around us. and although this practice is often hard for beginners, one develops an ear for it. soon it becomes effortless.

(am also reminded of the middle way example attributed to the buddha, of the veena strings - to tune them so they are not too loose yet not too tight.)

poem of the day

i have to admit, it took a long, long time for me to understand this poem. long indeed, because i first saw it when i was in third grade. when s sent it to me yesterday, i still could not make sense of it. this morning, something coaxed me to give it another shot, and suddenly i understood. these moments of understanding are so precious (once the 'duh' moment has passed). it is as though a closed door has been opened to air out the room, after eons.

i hope you breathe a song into the air today :).

The Arrow and The Song

I shot an arrow into the air,
It fell to earth, I knew not where;
For, so swiftly it flew, the sight
Could not follow it in its flight.

I breathed a song into the air,
It fell to earth, I knew not where;
For who has sight so keen and strong,
That it can follow the flight of song?

Long, long afterward, in an oak
I found the arrow, still unbroke;
And the song, from beginning to end,
I found again in the heart of a friend.

- H. W. Longfellow

what good is love?

this morning's read, by osho. a beautiful expression of how love leads to greater unity among mankind.

The truth is that there is no person at all in the world; there is only presence. You are not -- not as an ego, separate from the whole. You are part of the whole. The whole penetrates you, the whole breathes in you, pulsates in you, the whole is your life. Love gives you the first experience of being in tune with something that is not your ego. Love gives you the first lesson that you can fall into harmony with someone who has never been part of your ego. If you can be in harmony with a woman, if you can be in harmony with a friend, with a man, if you can be in harmony with your child or with your mother, why can\'t you be in harmony with all human beings? And if to be in harmony with a single person gives such joy, what will be the outcome if you are in harmony with all human beings? And if you can be in harmony with all human beings, why can\'t you be in harmony with animals and birds and trees? Then one step leads to another.

indeed, i would love nothing more :).

food for thought

as i fasted today, i feasted on this thought: will the frequency with which i write begin to wane, and when? i feel that i am headed to a place where the karma of writing will soon (and somehow) be resolved. there will be no more (new) thoughts to articulate and contribute, indeed no more to resolve. words will come from outside, and find their way through. nothing, i pray, will be generated from within.

sameness

just a few minutes ago, i was telling a how my greatest urge to blog always arises when i have a paper or an assignment due in 3 hours and i haven't yet started. like today. now that i'm done with my assignment, i have no great desire to sit here and type away. although i am - more because i saw d's post and wondered at how clearly it reflected the state of my being this evening!

there. no more inspiration to write for the present moment. wait until tomorrow, when i'd better be doing my taxes or working on other deadlines (this is quite the week for them). i bet i'll be going through this very same train of thought, and you'll be finding a few more posts come your way :).

r.a.o.k.

a random act of kindness, i have just realized, is actually a random act of kindness towards myself. this is a rather enlightening realization.

no kidding.

poem of the day

even though i've been thinking about it so much these days, i shy away from talking about death to most people. i fear that it may offend the other, or sound insensitive. it probably will. but there is something beautiful about embracing death, and i do not claim to be brave enough to do it. yet, i am filled with wonder to see people who do, or at least appear to. for that in itself is remarkable where i come from.

perhaps the most beautiful aspect about contemplating death is that it really comes down to contemplating life. i leave you with these ever-inspiring words:

When Death Comes

When death comes
like the hungry bear in autumn;
when death comes and takes all the bright coins from his purse

to buy me, and snaps the purse shut;
when death comes
like the measle-pox

when death comes
like an iceberg between the shoulder blades,

I want to step through the door full of curiosity, wondering:
what is it going to be like, that cottage of darkness?

And therefore I look upon everything
as a brotherhood and a sisterhood,
and I look upon time as no more than an idea,
and I consider eternity as another possibility,

and I think of each life as a flower, as common
as a field daisy, and as singular,

and each name a comfortable music in the mouth,
tending, as all music does, toward silence,

and each body a lion of courage, and something
precious to the earth.

When it's over, I want to say all my life
I was a bride married to amazement.
I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.

When it's over, I don't want to wonder
if I have made of my life something particular, and real.

I don't want to find myself sighing and frightened,
or full of argument.

I don't want to end up simply having visited this world.

--Mary Oliver

more rilke

beautiful words from a beautiful writer. more soul-touching inspiration for the day:

And we don't know what it was. We could easily be made to believe that nothing happened, and yet we have changed, as a house that a guest has entered changes. We can't say who has come, perhaps we will never know, but many signs indicate that the future enters us in this way in order to be transformed in us, long before it happens. And that is why it is so important to be solitary and attentive when one is sad: because the seemingly uneventful and motionless moment when our future steps into us is so much closer to life than that other loud and accidental point of time when it happens to us as if from outside. The quieter we are, the more patient and open we are in our sadnesses, the more deeply and serenely the new presence can enter us, and the more we can make it our own, the more it becomes our fate. [...]

People have already had to rethink so many concepts of motion; and they will also gradually come to realize that what we call fate does not come into us from the outside, but emerges from us. The future stands still, but we move in infinite space.

And if only we arrange our life in accordance with the principle which tells us that we must always trust in the difficult, then what now appears to us as the most alien will become our most intimate and trusted experience. How could we forget those ancient myths that stand at the beginning of all races, the myths about dragons that at the last moment are transformed into princesses? Perhaps all the dragons in our lives are princesses who are only waiting to see us act, just once, with beauty and courage. Perhaps everything that frightens us is, in its deepest essence, something helpless that wants our love.

why the equation?

to what end do i attempt to extend the equation to all these practices? it is not merely an intellectual exercise, to be honest, but allows me to more speedily approach my ideals in different situations that present varying challenges. life is, in one sense, about cultivating a prompt response system: i am hit by external stimuli all the time; how i act upon each determines the ground on which i stand.

practising mindfulness in all moments may undoubtedly ensure a suitable response. but sometimes, in a given situation, it is easier to tell myself to practise detachment or acceptance. in a moment of fear/stress, when it is not entirely clear what it means to just 'be mindful', i can aim to resolve the fear instead and know that my ideals are being met. and when i am worried about a harsh word spoken against me, i can choose to step out of my ego and detachedly inspect the harshness. ultimately, all practices lead to each one, but i am still learning. and these equations are my training wheels.

how mindful are you?

(this sounds like a facebook quiz title, doesn't it?)

when we were kids, we'd play the memory game with a deck of cards. to do well on this game, you needed to recall when you'd seen which card, in the duration of the game. there was also the spot the differences. looking back, i appreciate these games more for testing one's observation, tending to cultivate a discipline of looking deeply. today, as i looked out the kitchen window and saw the beautifully sunlit view, i wondered: how much of this could i reproduce if someone asked me to draw it out (modulo my drawing skills)? not much at all.

things change when i attempt to exercise mindfulness, though. then, i can remember what it was like to brush my teeth in the morning, how many dishes lie in the sink, what the expiry date of the milk in the fridge is, etc. it helps me reconstruct my experiences of the day in surprising detail. and therefore, it becomes rather easy to tell how mindful i've been, when i reflect on this at the end of the day.

just a thought.

a fifth

mindfulness, detachment, acceptance, selflessness, and now fearlessness. the proof is very similar to earlier proofs, and is omitted from here.

to be a great ship

i find myself in an uber-busy monday yet again - more the reason to start the day off with a large spoonful of inspiration. i liked the following excerpts, in particular:

One of the most calming and powerful actions you can do to intervene in a stormy world is to stand up and show your soul. Soul on deck shines like gold in dark times. The light of the soul throws sparks, can send up flares, builds signal fires, causes proper matters to catch fire. To display the lantern of soul in shadowy times like these -- to be fierce and to show mercy toward others; both are acts of immense bravery and greatest necessity. Struggling souls catch light from other souls who are fully lit and willing to show it. If you would help to calm the tumult, this is one of the strongest things you can do.

In that spirit, I hope you will write this on your wall: When a great ship is in harbor and moored, it is safe, there can be no doubt. But that is not what great ships are built for.

poem of the day

What Happens?

What happens when your soul
Begins to awaken
Your eyes
And your heart
And the cells of your body
To the great Journey of Love?

First there is wonderful laughter
And probably precious tears

And a hundred sweet promises
And those heroic vows
No one can ever keep.

But still God is delighted and amused
You once tried to be a saint.

What happens when your soul
Begins to awake in this world

To our deep need to love
And serve the Friend?

O the Beloved
Will send you
One of His wonderful, wild companions ~
Like Hafiz.

i chanced upon this poem last night as i randomly picked a poem to end the day with. its last lines brought considerable joy with the realization that i had, indeed, been sent the wonderful, wild company of hafiz. i am so very grateful.

unlearn the unlove

as i contemplated over silence, the analogy that struck me was that of a clear and open canvas that allowed sounds, like colors, to find their place upon it. to get to silence, one has to wash away the colors first. just as to get to the truth, one has to strip away the layers of falsehood we have - knowingly or unknowingly - assimilated through our life. and as to get to the core of love, we must unlearn the ways of unlove:

Often I say, learn the art of love. What I really mean is: learn the art of removing all that hinders love. It is a negative process. It is like digging a well -- you go on removing layers of earth, stones, rocks and then suddenly there is water. The water was always there as an undercurrent. When you remove all barriers, the water is available. So with love. Love is the undercurrent of your being. It is flowing, but there are many rocks, much earth to be removed. That's what I mean when I say: learn the art of love. It is really not learning love but un-learning the ways of un-love.

--Swami Chaitanaya Keerti

poem of the day

rilke is back, with a gem i found last evening that has grown on me since:

Lament

How everything is far away
and long deceased.
I think now, that the star
whose brightness reached me
has been dead for a thousand years.
I think now, that in the boat
which slipped past
I heard something fearful being said.
Inside the house a clock
just struck ...
Inside what house? ...
I would like to step out of my heart's door
and be under the great sky.
I would like to pray.
And surely one of all those stars
must still exist.
I think now, that I know
which one alone
has lasted, -
which one like a white city
stands at its light's end in the sky ...

inside outside

as i was saying to a the other day, i've come to believe that each of the activities we pursue externally (in a deep, penetrating kind of way) has a direct internal analog. that is, reading outside is like reading inside. learning to read between the lines of a poem, for instance, is also an exercise in reading between the lines inwardly. outward articulation is articulating within. photographing is observing the inner self. singing is leading the notes within to accuracy. and really, truly listening to the voice of another is just a way to cultivate greater sensitivity to the inner voice.

the external world then becomes a marvelous aid in enabling us to look in and understand the goings-on there. and learning to pull out the beauty of this world is only another means of emphasizing the beauty within and purifying the self.

over the rainbow

at bytes today, my ears awoke to a rendition of somewhere over the rainbow so beautiful that the strings tugged at my heart. i went up to the counter and asked who the performer was, and am thus able to recommend to you iz kamakawiwo ole - an exquisite hawaiian artist.

the lyrics are poetic, beautiful, and resonate. i thus designate this song the 'poem' of the day:

When all the world is a hopeless jumble
And the raindrops tumble all around
Heaven opens a magic lane
When all the clouds darken up the skyway
There's a rainbow highway to be found
Leading from your window pane
To a place behind the sun
Just a step beyond the rain

Somewhere over the rainbow
Way up high
There's a land that I heard of
Once in a lullaby

Somewhere over the rainbow
Skies are blue
And the dreams that you dare to dream
Really do come true

Some day I'll wish upon a star
And wake up where the clouds are far behind me
Where troubles melt like lemon drops
Away above the chimney tops
That's where you'll find me

Somewhere over the rainbow
Bluebirds fly
Birds fly over the rainbow
Why then, oh why can't I?

Some day I'll wish upon a star
And wake up where the clouds are far behind me
Where troubles melt like lemon drops
Away above the chimney tops
That's where you'll find me

Somewhere over the rainbow
Bluebirds fly
Birds fly over the rainbow
Why then, oh why can't I?

If happy little bluebirds fly
Beyond the rainbow
Why, oh why can't I?

- E. H. Harburg