Amazing Grace

A song that never fails to move me to tears and uplift my spirits.
In Hayley Westentra's sweet voice .......



click here to listen

Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound,
That saved a wretch like me....
I once was lost but now am found,
Was blind, but now, I see.

T'was Grace that taught...
my heart to fear.
And Grace, my fears relieved.
How precious did that Grace appear...
the hour I first believed.

Through many dangers, toils and snares...
we have already come.
T'was Grace that brought us safe thus far...
and Grace will lead us home.

When we've been here ten thousand years...
bright shining as the sun.
We've no less days to sing God's praise...
then when we've first begun.

Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound,
That saved a wretch like me....
I once was lost but now am found,
Was blind, but now, I see.

Tia'a Poem

Among all the people who called / wrote and wished me on my birthday, I also got a call from my brother who told me that his 8 year-old daughter has started writing poetry and that she had wriiten one that blew his mind. He sent it to me and, well, it blew me away too :)))

So, without much further ado, here's the 'lil button's poem -

Sometimes I think of things that don't have a chime
things that aren't real or dont have a rhyme.
Thoughts of things that are all imagination
things that are full of me and my full creation.
From time to time I make it rhyme
Whenever I hear a chime, I burst into tears
cause all the pasts I've been through will give me all those fears.
Now I am older, I understand I need to overcome those fears
and stop my big bursting tears,
My poem to follow for all my years.

Maps and other travel thoughts

Have you ever been in a situation where you are travelling somewhere and you realise you are lost? You go around and around going past the same streets again and again trying desperately to get your bearings, lost and confused, until you remember the map that you forgot to consult. Then you look at it, find your location, the areas around and everything falls into place. You can see your destination, all available routes and the best route to take to get there. An aerial view when you are down there on the ground lost, almost always brings clarity.

For the past few weeks, I have been scampering around like a rat lost in a maze desperately seeking routes to go forward. Signposts to tell me what to do, where to go. After I was well and truly lost among the maze of emotions, experiences and choices, down on the ground, the only way to go was up and so I decided to get an aerial view. In my case it is the soul's point of view, why I am here, what I am doing towards achieving that purpose. When I detach myself from the drama, intensity and immediacy of life, I am able to see my purpose, my way forward, the reasons for the experiences of my life more clearly. Looking at the larger picture clarifies my life and I am better able to choose the best possible route to get to my destination.

I have also realised that when you are a traveller you enjoy the ride, you don't get attached to the scenery. So too with life, why get attached to people, places, pleasant experiences?

And, in spite of our travelling companions, we always travel alone, my experiences and the lessons I have to learn are my own, my path can only be walked upon by me.

~~~

Thoughts on a partly sunny day

This morning I sit in the lounge with a hot cup of tea and gaze at the scene outside the French windows. It's been raining for the last two days, so the trees are looking invigoratingly greener and the birds are all chirping among the leaves. It is a mixed sort of day, as though the day cannot decide which way to go. The sky is full of clouds so the sunlight is hazy, but once in a while the clouds part and the light creeps up the balcony floor and in towards the carpet. The intensity of the sunlit pattern changes as the light goes from hazy to strong and back to vague again as the clouds move back and forth in the sky.

I cannot help thinking how similar our lives are. I think our soul is like the sun, bright and luminous, always there, always shining. And the clouds, they are our thoughts and resulting emotions, our experiences. White fluffy clouds for positive, happy thoughts. Grey, menacing clouds for dark, tumultuous emotions. And at any given moment of time, these clouds whether white or dark are always clouding the wisdom of our soul, blocking out its light. And we mistakenly think that life consists of clouds, as our gaze moves from white clouds to gray and back and forth, most of the time unaware of our sun-soul.

But if we were to be in a state of mindful awareness we could reach the state of 'sthithaprajna'. The Stithaprajna dwells always in the Spirit without giving way to grief, lust, fear and delusion. His vision beholds the Spirit everywhere. For that we have to rise above the clouds, high up there we can see the clouds for what they are, where they arise from and how transient they are. In that state we can see the luminance of the sun at all times.

Then there will be no cloudy days, only sunlit ones :) Then we can behold the Divine always.

~~~

Thoughts on a cloudy day

Come with me on a journey, let's do a small exercise together. If you are not near an open window, after you read this move to a window. If it's night wherever you are, no problem, just make small adjustments in your thinking :) now that's easy, isn't it?

Ok, now look out towards the sky. Hopefully, you will be able to see a patch of sky, blue, or grey or black or white with clouds. If there are clouds, watch them for a while, observe how they shift and move, sometimes imperceptibly, but move they do, they change shape, get fatter and denser or dissipate into wisps of mist. It is very calming and soothing. Watch them for a while. Notice their impermanence, their shifting, moving quality. Our troubles are like that, blocking out the sun, clouding our vision, sometimes getting fatter and more dense and engulfing us completely while we flap around like a drowning person, trying to find the light. But all we need to do is make a slight shift in our perspective and tell ourselves, 'this too will pass', this is 'annicca' like the Buddhists call it. This is impermanent. This will shift and move and pass away. If we remain calm and detached, troubles are like clouds, they swirl around us but eventually they move on.

If the clouds have passed, notice the sky, its colour. Blue. Scientists tell us that the colour is the result of the scattering of sunlight. I have noticed that the sunlight that you experience in places that are closer to the equator have a more yellow quality and the sunlight in places further away from the Equator is more blue-tinged. But how can that be? Pure light is white, so what explains the colour? Let's look at the concept of colour. Our eyes see everything around us as having some colour, or white or black. The names of the colours are labels that humans have given to colours to communicate better, for I do not think that honeybees say to themselves, "oh look! A RED flower!" Again science tells us that colours result when the light that strikes a surface reflects on to our eyes after the rest of the spectrum has been absorbed by the object. So when light falls on a plant, the plant absorbs all the rays of light except the green part which get picked up by our eyes. So colour just like shape, texture, solidity are just the perception of our senses.

Look at the blue sky more closely. It almost looks solid. Like an inverted blue bowl. Nothing else is visible unless the moon has risen during the day or you might see passing birds or planes. But we know that there is only air up there, it is not solid. Beyond the blueness, unseen by us, there are planets, stars, galaxies, supernovas. See them all in your mind's eye, stretched out to infinity, expand your consciousness outward to meet them, outwards in all directions. Feel the vastness within you, flowing out from you, feel the disappearance of boundaries. Your body is the experience of the senses, like colours, like solidity, feel it become light and unburdensome. There is nothing to fear at all, everything is light and love in the Universe, feel the lightness and the love. Unhindered by the senses, feel the oneness with all creation. This is our natural state.

And yes, things are not what they appear to be. It's all a matter of perception and you can alter your reality by changing your perspective.

~~~

The opaque mirror

Today in the office, I take a break from work, close my eyes and sink into my myself. An image of a mirror with a beautiful wrought iron border surfaces. I look at it fascinated, admire the oval shape, the sheen of the glass, the fine working of the metal. And yet, in spite of all my looking I cannot see myself in the mirror. And then the realisation dawns that I am that mirror.

Over the years, a layer of experiences, thoughts, impressions, opinions have collected over the gleaming surface to such an extent that the mirror no longer reflects anything. All I am seeing all the time is the grime that has accumulated on top. Only if I peel away the layers one by one, throw away the scum of dead thought and clean it all up with the laser beam of mindful awareness will I be able to get to the gleaming mirror that is me. My true self. The pure light of consciousness. The unblemished manifestation of divinity. Pure love. It is all there, always there, waiting to be discovered, to be reclaimed, to be brought to light again.

That is the highest purpose of my life.

Chrysalis

The other day I was walking in my front yard, where the grass had grown tall and was interspersed with tiny yellow wildflowers. I noticed a tiny little butterfly alight on one of these flowers. It sat there, light and airy, probing around for nectar when the wind began to blow. Hard. So hard that the flower stalks bent down and the flowers almost touched the ground. I expected the butterfly to get blown off, such a light-looking creature it was. But to my great astonishment, the butterfly stayed on the flower, clinging tightly, even as the flower swayed madly in the wind, tossed here and there. Even as the wind beat on my face and flapped my clothes. I wondered about the strength of the butterfly then, such strong legs it must have to hold fast to that dainty flower in the force of what might have been a strong breeze to me, but which was evidently quite forceful for the grass and the flowers.

I wondered then where this strength came from. Until I remembered the chrysalis. Inside the chrysalis the young butterfly goes through a period of growth. But when the time comes for it to emerge, it has to struggle to break open the walls of the chrysalis. What has been a protective cocoon so far is now restrictive. So it struggles, its efforts pushing the fluid into the wing veins so that they can open up. Its legs and mouth probably straining against the chrysalis walls, tearing them open. Until the butterfly emerges, light and strong.

It seems to me that my struggles have also been like that. Maybe this struggle and pain was necessary for me to break open the walls of my chrysalis and to emerge as a butterfly. Maybe it will give my wings lightness and my legs strength. Maybe it will also give my heart the wisdom to learn to let go of the past, just as the butterfly discards and forgets the chrysalis as it flies away into freedom.


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                       O

A violet vision in a dying day

As I go on my walk I see many flowering bushes, pink roses, spotted tiger lilies, delicately pretty pohutukawas, but today I see a vision that takes my breath away. A bush full of violet flowers, large velvet-petaled and stamens that bend into forks at right angles. The flowers hover like a violet cloud over the bush and even the ground underneath is made beautiful by the fallen violet petals among the autumn leaves.

The autumnal leaves look lovely everywhere, yellow-orange and crinkled, sprinkling the green grass in a violent contrast, on footpaths and huddling on the edges of gutters where the water gleams pink from the clouds above. I walk to the river where the heavy rain has transformed it into a rushing current. The blue waters speckled pink rush merrily along, rippled and foaming, carrying logs and leaves. But for the sound of the river everything else is still as the day dies.

The sun has set in the distant sea but its rays still linger in the sky in a reluctant farewell. The pink in the sky turns deeper into peach and then into a vivid rose as the interspersed clouds turn a deep shade of grey. The trees silhouetted on the horizon turn a dark shade of green. I wonder if we can be like a sunlit day, spread light and warmth while alive and be so gloriously alive in our dying moments that even they sparkle with joy and beauty.

As I walk alongside the stream the song of the flow mingles with the muted music of the birds in the trees. Dusk approaches rapidly and lights come on on the hills among the tiled roofs and the treetops. This is my favourite part of the day. It is as if the day is parting but with the promise that it will be back soon. Somehow there is always hope in the departing light.

As I near the house, night has fallen and the trees appear mysterious among the shadows. If the clouds clear away, soon the stars will be out and hopefully a laughing crescent moon. Everything is so perfect in nature, so effortless, so simple and so beautiful. If only we could learn to live like that.

The silence of night

I was standing outside on the balcony yesterday, in the dark of the night and it occurred to me that the night has a different kind of silence. It is the silence of the stars and the horizon lit up with pale moonlight and the quiet stillness of trees ruffled by the faintest of breezes, and into this silence falls the faint sound of an insect buzzing, and the soft occasional tinkle of the wind chime like a gentle pluck on a sitar string and this dark silence accentuated by the coolness of the night laden with the promise of rain. How can I help but lose myself ?

Before I go to bed I go and stand in the balcony once more. This time the breeze wasn't blowing, so the trees were still and the wind chime was quiet. So the silence was deeper. But there was another beautiful sound. A lone owl was calling in the hills. 'Koo-koo' it called lustily. I read somewhere that the owl calls for a mate, therefore the sound was at once melancholy and hopeful. Hope must spring eternal in the owl's breast for sometimes I do hear an answering owl call. When two owls call in unison, the sound is so beautiful I stop still and listen. 'Koo-koo' one calls and 'koo-koo' another answers in a slightly different pitch. I wonder then that owls must pack a lot of meaning into those two syllables, they must be saying all that they have to say in varying pitches and tones. Who knows, maybe they even make themselves understood. And look at us humans, so many syllables in so many languages and so little understanding of each other, so little understanding even of ourselves. The moon is high in the sky now and so the starlight is a bit dimmed. I stand in the moonlight and bask in it and feel blessed.

Later on in the dead of night, I wake up. The silence is deepest now, even though the darkness is not. There is a tiny sliver of moonlight that escapes through a parting in the curtain and gives the room a tiny glow. And in the deep silence only a humming is heard, which could be the journey of blood in my ears. I feel tempted to remain awake and listen to the silence, but sleep overtakes me.

Zzzzzzz...............

The cycle of life

One moment an insect is sitting on a branch and the next instant a bird eats it up. The insect’s life force is dramatically and instantly transformed into the bird’s. An earthworm crawls on the footpath and is trodden by a foot. This time the transformation is slower and subtler, as it turns into dust and seeps into the earth to be transformed into grass, trees, and fruits. In nature, every instant is one of transformation, of creation-destruction-creation. Only the form changes, but the essence remains the same. Watching this we accept it calmly and tranquilly as the cycle of life.

Yet when it is the turn of someone loved and close to us to die, we put up the greatest resistance to this fundamental truth, we react dramatically with grief, we withdraw into denial, so strongly do we hold on to the illusion of life. The same also happens with relationships to people, places, and jobs. Even if we know that it is time to move on, that the purpose of a relationship is over, even if it brings more pain than comfort, so attached are we to the familiar, so unwilling are we of getting out of our comfort zone, so afraid are we of facing the unknown that we cling on. Letting go is the hardest thing to do and yet it is the one thing that can truly liberate us, free us to be ourselves, help us find out true selves.

Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn't do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover. - Mark Twain

It's Good Friday everyday

Today is Good Friday and instead of going to church I am sitting at home blogging. If someone asks me now why I am not in church mourning the death of Christ, I would say that Christ died once 2000 years ago and that was enough, I don't have any plans to finish him off every year, year after year. Besides, I feel him alive within me, so what is there to mourn? Shouldn't I be jubilant and celebrate?

Come to think of it, I haven't even understood why his death is being remembered. It is said that Christ died to save us from damnation. Really? What damnation? At whose hands? Surely not at the hands of an all-loving, benevolent Divine Being who has nothing but love for us. Would any parent send their child to eternal damnation? If we as humans can be accomodating of our children's misdeeds, would not God be too?

It is also said that Christ took all our sins on Himself. But how? How is it possible that we sin and he gets punished? Does that mean then we can merrily go on sinning since he has already paid the price in a one-time horrifying instalment? Somehow this sin-transference theory does not hold much water with me.

Then it is said that he died and was resurrected on the third day. Cool. I don't have any problems with that. But if that's the case, he is still alive, right? Having conquered death. Then why are we putting him up on the Cross in elaborate ceremonies and mummifying him in black robes and burying him in vaults? Hmmm....

Jesus was a human being just like any one of us, but what took him out of the ordinary into the realm of the sublime was that he was able to realise his divine nature. For me the purpose of Jesus' life was to show to us that we too are capable of that. He walked on Earth to show us that we are all Christs-in-the-making. Every instant in which I am aware of my divine nature and connected to the divine being, I am being Christ. But all those moments where I lose that connection and wallow in darkness, I am being merely human, that is my sin. And so in my life Jesus dies and is born again every day. Every day is a Good Friday and Christ is resurrected and Easter comes as soon as I realise that I have forgotten my soul and it has gone into mourning. The only evil is to be in that state of darkness, disconnected from the divine source and the only good is getting back into Christ-consciousness. We do not honour Christ by remembering Him on Good Friday or Easter or during Sunday services, we honour Him by being Him.

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dancing stars and lunchtime ramblings

Last night on TV on 'Dancing with the Stars' I watched Cory the boxer dancing the fox-trot with Nerida the dancer after being coached by her for a week. After the dance one of the judges made a comment that made me think. She said 'Cory, you need to bring out your feminine side especially in a dance like the foxtrot. There can never be any doubt in our mind that you are a man, so don't hold on to that image so firmly, give expression to your feminine side as well, your soft, elegant side'. Hmmmm… that made me think. How true! How we all struggle so valiantly to put on a brave masculine front, including us women. 'Be brave, be a man', growing, little boys are told as tears well up in their eyes, as if giving vent to their feelings is some crime. And look at us modern women, staunchly and stoically we march, mistakenly thinking that by doing so we are being as strong as men and will somehow be considered equal. Why is giving expression to one's feminine side considered weak? How can softness, gentleness, compassion, giving, expressing one's feelings be a flaw?

While I was going to get lunch today, I happened to run into John, an old friend. When he saw me his face lit up, and I suspect mine lit up too. Some spark was lit, a smile came to my face and if he wasn't rushing to a meeting I would probably have got a hug. And walking down the road under the drab, dreary autumn sky feeling lit up from within, I cannot help thinking how we touch people's lives. Even in the smallest most inconsequential meetings, lives are touched and we are transformed in an instant, if only by a fraction, but transformed we most definitely are.

As I continue walking, I see glimpses of beauty in the commonplace -

Slanting hazel eyes, soft with love.

Naughty, laughing youngsters with not a care in the world, the world at their feet.

Trees happily waving their green-turning-to-yellow branches at the autumn sky.

The sun surprising us with a split-second visit.

Liquid elegance in a Swarovski shop window, crystal tamed into the most astonishingly beautiful shapes.

Elegant curlicues on the facades of old buildings.

And under it all the heart of the city, softly beating, beneath the apparent chaos, in understated harmony.

The black, sequinned veil

One night I was sitting in my backyard looking up at the night sky which had obligingly decked herself up very liberally with stars. The Milky Way cut a hazy swathe through these bright glittering jewels and it seemed as though the night was a black, sequined veil spread across the sky.

But as I kept looking up at this fabulous fabric, a shift started taking place in my mind. The tapestry on the sky started to get hazy and dissolve and each star stood out in solitary splendour as I realised that even though stars appear next to each other, they might be millions of light years away in actual space, and so the sky which seemed two-dimensional until then now seemed to stretch out to infinity, and all of a sudden in a flash of insight and a rush of joy, I realised that I was looking up at the universe.

The whole universe was out there, swirling galaxies and twirling supernovas, stars dying and collapsing and new ones being born, hurtling meteors and slow-moving planets. Suddenly the placid, calm night sky became a crackling cauldron of movement, creation and destruction. And then all thoughts dissolved in my mind and I was left gaping in a state of awe and wonder. After that the sky was no longer the limit because there is no sky and no limit, just the limitless Universe.

Who am I?

The other day it occurred to me that whatever the circumstances of my life, poor / rich, healthy / sick, full social life / solitary, happy / sad, the only and greatest treasure in my life is myself. All these other circumstances are external, they pass away or change but I, I remain. Then I began to wonder what that 'I' is. Who am I? I realised that this self-conception changes from day to day or even from hour to hour. Then who is the real I?

Then a flash of insight told me that I am pure potential. What I see of myself is the manifested form. That which I choose to express of my potentiality. In unmanifested form I can be anything and everything, but what I have become is the result of my choices from moment to moment. At any given moment I chose to be sad, joyous, envious, forgiving, fearful and that is what I become. Some of our choices become habit. In the past, unknowingly some kind of situation must have triggered fear in our minds and slowly over time we become habituated to choosing fear in similar situations. What is also unknown to us is that we have a choice every time. Out of our pure potential we have the ability to chose courage, we have the strength to confront our fears.

I have also realised that if I remain aware of my potentiality it gives me power, because now I know that I have choices and I have the power to choose, instead of succumbing powerlessly and choicelessly. Now when I am beginning to feel fear, I can choose courage instead, instead of pain I can choose joy, instead of hate I can choose love. All of them exist in me as what I potentially am , but what I become is the result of my choices.

The light of insight does dispel darkness :)

~~~

Musings on a rain drenched walk

It is late evening and I am taking a walk when it starts to rain suddenly. First in a light smitter-smatter and then in a heavy drizzle. I have no raincoat or umbrella so I let myself get drenched. The raindrops caress my face in gentle strokes and slither down my nose and chin in large drops. And when I look up, in the bowl of the valley among the backdrop of the hills, there it is, a rainbow, a perfect arc, stretching from base of hill to base of another hill. Stark in the vividness of its colour and radiant in its beauty. As I walk, it fades slowly and disappears altogether. Then just as suddenly the rain stops, as if its only purpose had been to paint a rainbow in the sky.

Then it strikes me how effortlessly Nature does things. Without seeming to put in any effort it conjures up a rainbow from thin air. No stress, no striving, no deadlines, no bottomlines, just effortless ease. Just the intention and then the manifestation.

After the rain, the asphalt road has turned a shiny shade of black and the foliage, ah! they have turned a cleaner, crisper shade of green. Moisture hangs in the air like a secret and as I pass by trees, they give off a woody fragrance that mingles with the smell of the damp earth as shadows gather among the leaves and the sun bids a smiling farewell.

My dear Chirrikkuduka :D

Dearest Rajam,

Do you realise it is exactly twenty years since we first met in the corridors of NITIE. I don't know what you gained from that course but I not only did I gain a diploma and a fresh start to a new career but I also met you and you have remained one of my most cherished friends throughout these years. It must have been our individual pain at that time that brought us together and our determination to overcome it that took us to all sorts of unusual places. Do you remember the fair we went to in Matunga and how we tried our hands at almost all the games there. We were like two teenage girls, giggling all the time and eating pink candy floss. I hadn't done that since I was a kid. I don't giggle so much these days my dear, but I'm sure you still do.

I have come a long way since then, geographically at least :))) I'm not sure about my mental and spiritual development but I like to think that suffering and joy have both contributed to my growth. However, I must admit there are still some days on which I feel like a lonely, insecure teenager.

I remember we used to talk for hours, you did all the talking and I did the listening and even though you still complain about my lack of words, I think we should do what we are best at doing. So I will continue to listen, my dear, because it gives me immense pleasure to hear you talk and even more to hear you laugh. I don't know at what point of time you took up residence in my heart but you have lived there ever since. Even though when you went away to Belgium I had thought that our friendship was over.

You probably think that I have reached some high state of spiritual development, but, my dear, my days are as normal as yours. I stumble often and fall just like everyone does. But it is true there are times when I can reach the stillness within and then the dross falls away and only pure light of consciousness remains. Once you have experienced that joy then the pleasures of the world are not worth desiring even, but the senses are so clever they insidiously draw you back and so like everyone else I wallow in the world.

My dear Rajam, as you go about your life please know that my love is with you from moment to moment. And if in a moment of quiet, my thought brings a smile on your face, just think that I have been richly rewarded :) And, my dear, also know that your love for me has been like a golden shimmering thread that runs through the tapestry of my life.

With deepest affection,

:D

A River Soliloquy

I sit by the riverbank watching the river flow. It has a tempo of its own, it flows to the rhythm of nature, the beat of the earth and slowly I relax to match its tempo. My breathing slows down, my body loses its rigidly-held tensions and it feels as though the weight of my burdens fall off and flow away with the waters.

There are fallen logs rotting in the water on the edge, green with moss and coming apart slowly. Looking at them I realize how things come full circle, the cycle of life and death as things return unresistingly to the source. How different is man, how we cling to this transitory life, this false permanence.

Sometimes ducks come out to feed, foraging in the shallow waters. Also black swans, gliding like black clouds over the blue surface, their gait unhurried, their necks graceful. A duck with ducklings joins in sometimes, the babies, balls of fluff frantically following their mother around. Love wells up inside me, and breaking the barriers of my heart it flows towards the little family, embracing them in protection. But occasionally, the duckling number dwindles and I guess the mother learns to let go without attachment.

The river is mostly flowing, the current creating a dancing, rippling surface and a quiet music, but after a heavy rain, the river is muddy and full-bodied and rushing towards the sea. But even in the speed there is calmness beneath. And on some days, the waters are totally unmoving, or seems to be. Then the surface is like a glass lake. The trees on the banks peer at their own reflection even as I do, white clouds glide on the still surface and birds flap their wings and swoop without creating even a ripple. Things are not as they seem, the river seems to say. Be aware of the illusion of things.

a workplace litany

beneath the hum of the air-conditioning
i hear a lone cicada singing.
a strange out-of-place voice
among the honey-comb-office noise.
then just as quickly it fades
as bustle and clamour pervades.

then, in a moment of quiet,
arching, it rises to a height,
a simple, soul-stirring symphony,
a lilting, light-hearted litany.
the most precious things of all,
they speak silently to the soul.

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Truth ?

A dear friend and I were having this discussion about Truth, and he kept saying, ‘I want to find out the truth, go deep into things and find it’. And I was wondering, what truth? where is he going to find it? Is truth so limited that it can be grasped by the mind?

When I am in deep meditation, I dissolve into nothingness. There is nothing left, not even the presence of spirit. Even the word ‘nothingness’ is inadequate to describe that state. That is the closest I have got to Truth.

In my opinion, everything else are beliefs, concepts, ideas, that we hold individually or together consensually. They are signposts, illuminations, guidelines, maps to help us navigate through the mine-filled labyrinth of life. But sometimes we espouse them so passionately, make them so inextricably our own that we are sometimes willing to even kill or die for our truths. We condemn and hate and live in fear on account of these truths. We allow these to blind us so completely that we seldom realize or are even aware of the luminous light that is our natural state.

But I guess my friend was looking for answers to questions, for light on issues that needed illumination. I hope he finds them.

An old Tamil song plays....

A haunting Malayalam number from the movie 'Manichitratazhu'


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