Plant your own garden

Author unknown

After a while you learn the subtle difference,

Between holding a hand and

Chaining a soul.

You learn that love

Doesn't mean leaning and

Company doesn't mean security.

You begin to learn

That kisses aren't contracts and

Presents aren't promises.

You begin to accept your defeats

With your head up and your eyes open,

With the grace of an adult,

Not the grief of a child.

You learn to build

All your roads on today

Because tomorrow's ground

Is too uncertain for plans.

After a while you learn

That even sunshine burns

If you get too much.

So you plant your own garden and

Decorate your own soul

Instead of waiting

For someone to bring you flowers.

You learn that you really can endure.

That you really are strong.

You really do have worth.

I bow to Thee, oh Lord

Like a blossoming flower
my spirit opens at your touch Oh Lord,
Soft-footed we walk
through all your creation
forests, valleys, oceans.
Your breath gentle in the wind
Your voice crashing in the waterfall
Your touch the brush of the butterfly wing
The folds of a tree your comforting arms.
Every sunrise your smile
and every sunset your promise.
A child's hand in my hand your trust.

I bow to Thee, oh Lord
Your spirit one with mine.

Fine poetic wine

Reading great poetry is so much like enjoying fine wine, you read each word slowly, turn the liquid around in your mouth, savour the pauses, the aroma, fine-tune into the nuances, let it gently down the throat, let it seep into you. And then after a while you read it again like having a second glass, and then you catch hidden nuances that you missed before, as it slowly reveals its secrets to you. It somehow tastes different on your tongue, beats a softer beat on your heart. And for a long time you sit in the afterglow, feeling warm inside, enthralled by the beauty, oblivious to everything else.

Bookends

The blinking cursor does beckon,
But the keyboard, does it reckon ?
Reams of words unspoken,
Pathways of thoughts untrodden.

And so in silence I wait, for silence
To break its numbing silence.
And then comes a feeling,
Tender, soft-footed and fleeting...

But my heart, the mendicant lonely
With bowl in hand, broken and lowly,
Waits for a crumb from you, a glance
This silence with which to lance.

And still the cursor waits apace,
‘Tween heart and keys there is many a space,
And thus remain my words unsaid,
My tears of joy wholly unshed...

Hope and renewal

Autumn drops a leaf on me,
russet brown and brittle.
It feels like an old dream.

“I shed old leaves, old things”, she says,
“and in nakedness Nature
bares her heart to the winter sun.”

But I, mesmerized by its vivid colours
hold on to this dead, decaying leaf.

Then Spring springs a leaf on me,
russet brown and tender.
It feels like a newborn baby.

“I bring new life, new growth”, she says,
“and in riotous colours Nature
offers it beauty to the summer sun.”

And thus I find the wisdom to let go…
…of old pain, old memories, old hopes.

Tiger Lily and I

Returning home from pottery it is 9PM and I sit in the car for a while in the dark. The sky is dotted with stars and the full moon has not yet risen. Soon, Tiger Lily, our neighbour’s cat jumps on the hood not knowing that I am still in the car (so much for cat vision). Even though her tummy is full with cat food, she still prowls like a cat on a hunt, ears erect, alert to the slightest sound and movement. I have this desire to go out and stroke her fur but I know that on my slightest movement she will disappear. So we sit in silent company waiting for the moon to rise.

I watch her movements as she relaxes and stretches and I send out mental strokes. I am aware of the seconds ticking by and I realize that Tiger Lily is oblivious of the passing moments. So are the trees, the grass, the clouds, the stars…. Each and every one of them (except man) exists outside time, they are just being themselves every moment, all the time. There is no conflict, no tension, no past regrets, no future anticipation, no “what if”, no “if only”. There is only living in the present moment. Just the silent knowledge that God is always there underlying everything. Somehow the thought is strengthening and brings peace.

The amazing Constable

I went to see the John Constable exhibition on tour here at Te Papa on Saturday. What I saw was simply breathtaking. I could have spent the whole day there looking at the paintings again and again. Constable was the son of a prosperous miller and spent a long period of his life around the place he grew up in and painted the scenes of his everyday life with such clarity and such beauty. He evidently loved the place and the love comes through in his paintings. His paintings have a three-dimensional quality and standing in front of them makes you feel like you are actually there watching the scene through the painter's eyes. You are transported back to the place and time almost two centuries ago looking at pastoral scenes or ships in the harbour or London in the distance, thinking 'this is how it was, this is how the painter saw it'. And any moment you expect the leaves to move or the water to start flowing, such is the dynamism in the paintings. Truly a memorable experience.

Us luminous beings

I believe that we are like the sun, glorious, luminious beings, lit from within with the light of love. But we go through life with our doors closed, our faces lit up with artificial, flourescent smiles and 100-watt laughter. And then someone comes along whose soul connects to our soul and we throw open our doors and windows and our light shines forth and we reveal our true, loving self. And we revel in their presence and can be totally ourselves and we say we are transformed by love. But is it really a transformation, isn't it just an uncovering? The uncovering of our true self.

The same thing happens when we are in the presence of beauty, a beautiful sunrise, the cadences of birdsong, lilting music, great works of art, the innocence of children, the beauty within us responds to the beauty without and we realise our beautiful selves.

So then, why do we let fear close our doors, force ourselves to wear masks, shutting out our light, blind to the light in others? It would be so wonderful if we lived believing that we are creatures of light, capable of great loving, aware of our infiniteness, in touch with our divinity. We would truly be divine.

My heart is a shrine

My heart is a shrine, it seems,
loves come and go like pilgrims.

Some come seeking solace,
some to unlock the joy in their hearts.

And yet others come with footsteps heavy with sorrow,
and I wait for them to undam their pain.

Until release comes in torrent upon stormy torrent,
all pain washed clean by blessed tears.

And yet what can I give,
but the God that is within me?

This lamp of love you have lit with your hands, Oh Lord,
and sheltered it from innumerable storms.

My song of praise is my only offering,
and my heart lifted up in gratitude.

Wealth

A long time ago I came across a Sanskit verse which goes "Artham anartham bhavaya" which loosely translated means "Regard wealth as filth". "What a wise saying" I thought and proceeded to do just that. So all these years I have had a mild dislike towards wealth aided by the observation that wealth can buy comforts and luxuries but cannot bring happiness. I have never been rich in my life, richness of course being a relative term, but when I look back I realise that all my needs have always been met, my desires for the simple things in life have been fulfilled.

I have come to realise that it is more important to have a sense of abundance, of being rich in spirit, in generosity, in the spirit of giving whether of your possessions or of yourself. When I put a smile on someone's face, I feel rich. Like Martin Luther King Jr said 'Wealth is the least of God's blessings'. So everyday I thank God for the wealth of blessings that he has showered over me, all the love, the grace, the kindnesses, the joy, the abundance. Wealth somehow takes care of itself without my having to bother much about it. There is just the faith that God will provide.

But I no longer regard wealth as filth. I have realised that wealth has its uses, like helping someone short of cash with money required for surgery, like putting a poor child through school, like buying a book which can enrich you with knowledge, like buying a plane ticket to see a dying parent whose sole remaining wish is to see you. I guess the intent of the Sanskrit verse was to point out that one should remain detached from wealth, to not develop greed, to not allow it to stick to our senses as one would not allow filth to stick.

Take me in Your arms

Take me in your arms, Oh Lord.

Take me with You in the wind that brings the scent of faraway lands, of approaching rain,
the formless wind with footprints on surfaces of lakes.

Take me with You in the rain that pours down on the parched earth, evoking perfume scented song and causing the seeds to burst forth into life.

Take me with You in the sea that watery, salty cauldron with its constant ebb and flow and pulled by the moon and yet knows the secrets of all mankind.

Take me with You in the sap that rises up in trees and bursts into leaf and bud and branches in which birds come and nest and raise their young.

Take me with You in the songs of the fields, in the dust of farmers' hands, in the celebration of harvests and the warm glow of harvested grain.

Take me with You in the sunshine that glows on the faces of children at play adding sparkle to their eyes and music to their laughter.

Take me with You in the joys and sorrows of the human heart, in love that rends the heart and pain that kills softly, unknowingly.

Take me with You in the silences that dwell in the depth of forests and the eyelids of sleeping babies secure in their mothers' arms.

Take me in Your arms, Oh Lord, fill me with Your love, let me lose myself and merge with You in never ending ecstasy.

I see you, Oh Lord

I see You, Oh Lord, in the quiet whispers of gently falling autumn leaves.

I see You when my upward glance is arrested by the sight of rosy clouds nestling among evening hils.

I see You in the rise and fall of seagull wings, the orange beak and feet bright against the snowy white.

I see You in the rising pathos of the melancholy violin in Mozart's music, weeping with heartache.

I see You in the colours of the paua, blues, greens and aqua, as if the sea was not content to lie in the ocean but wanted to come live with us.

I see You in the hush of the darkened theatre, lights going out, my heart in thrall with others' lives, mesmerised by the magic of illusion.

I see You in the eyes of loved ones, their smiles bright with affection, compassion and so much caring, it breaks my heart.

I see You in the fire of my heartbeat, the sparkle of my eyes, the cadences of my laughter, in tears brought on by ghazals.

I see You, Oh Lord, in the deep silences of my soul.

Soul consciousness

The other day while reading someone else's blog I came across a reference to the Aasthavakra Geeta. I googled it and found the most extraordinarily enlightening dialogue between Sage Aasthavakra and King Janaka. I read only a few lines but musing over them led to the realisation that I should relinquish my need for acknowledgement, encouragement, appreciation and even love. For the soul is above these ego needs, it exists in perfect equilibrium and bliss and already knows everything. It is the ego that feels disappointed, disheartened, unloved. The soul is love and knows only love, how can it be unloved? However, it requires great vigilance to be aware of oneself as the soul, for the mind is forever trying to engage in activity that keeps us identified with the ego, to pull us back to the world of the senses. Let go of the ego, become aware of the mind, of the games it is trying to play and the emotions, the slave of the mind. Awareness leads to consciousness of the Self which then leads to the Divine - perfect peace and perfect love.

You do not consist of any of the elements -- earth, water, fire, air, or even ether. To be liberated, know yourself as consisting of consciousness, the witness of these. 1.3

Perspective

The importance of perspective was once again brought home to me today in a dramatic manner. But let me go back a little. Some time back I read a story in the Readers' Digest in which the author narrates an incident that happened to him. He was travelling by train in the city and when the train stopped at a station a man and his three young kids got in. The father sat next to the author and the kids in different seats. After the train started again the kids started moving around and generally making a nuisance of themselves, people started frowning and casting disapproving looks at the father. The author too sat there and wondered why the father was not making any attempts to subdue his children and was thinking all manner of unkind thoughts about the family. Finally he turned to him and gently pointed out that his children needed a bit of control. Upon which the young man replied 'We are just coming from the hospital where their mother died of cancer and they don't know what to do with themselves, actually even I don't know what to do with myself'. Instant transformation in perspective.

I have a colleague called Mark who sits a few meters away from me and sometime last week he came for a discussion with my neighbouring workmates. Every one else spoke softly but Mark has a loud voice and since the discussion was long I started getting disturbed by the loudness of his voice. I even considered going up to him and asking him to keep his voice low. Fortunately, I didn't. Today I had the ask Mark something and when he was passing my my table, I called out to him and asked him if he got the emails that I had sent. He couldn't catch what I was saying and I thought he couldn't understand my accent. So I repeated my question in the same tone but a bit slowly, he still couldn't catch it and came closer and said that I will have to speak up a bit since I had a soft voice. So I repeated my question this time in a louder voice. He came even closer and turned his ear towards me and for the first time I noticed that he was wearing a hearing aid. Light bulb moment. Aahh ! So that he why he was speaking loudly the other day, almost all people with hearing problems tend to raise their voice. I must say my attitude towards Mark changed dramatically.

Soul song

When you knock on the door of my heart, Oh Lord,
how can I help but open?

My spirit sheds body and mind,
takes flight like a golden eagle.

Through tunnels of light,
blazing with the light of a million suns.

Joy unbound, sparkling,
bursts forth in explosions of laughter.

Love blossoms like a rare flower,
my spirit drunk with the heady perfume.

And then there is only peace,
and the ineffable sweetness of Your presence.

The Desert Moon

I stand under the desert moon;
among the shifting sands of emotions,
the constantly changing landscape.

Why do the stars burn so brightly?
why does the laughing moon fail
to light up my barren, desolate heartscape.

All those footprints on my heart,
those familiar, well-trodden bridges,
washed away by the deluge of unshed tears.

Love is a mirage, a chimera,
an oasis never to be found,
thus whisper the desert winds.

The thorn

I unplucked my desires
like one would petals off flowers,
forming a satiny heap
around my feet.
And then a rogue wind
lifted them up and
carried them to faraway lands.
Ans so it came about
that strangers spoke
the language of my dreams.
But still one remained -
a thorn in my heart.
And yet I hope
that a flower will bloom
in its place
someday.

Our dear Mother

Look at the Earth, inner core boiling furiously and as you go outwards the layers cooling to which a geologist would most certainly give names, until you reach the crust. That which we lovingly call Mother Earth. You touch it and it is moist and warm, almost as if it is a living, breathing being. And grass growing out of it and trees, and earthworm homes, and valleys formed and mountains and sand dunes. And inspiring of so much awe and almost worthy of worship. It is no wonder that people bend down and kiss the Earth, our dear Mother.

Train tales

Today was the first day at my new job and after a long time I was taking the train again. The ride into Wellington is indeed marvellous. This being the only city I have visited where the hills lie on one side of the tracks (and road) and the sea on the other. This juxtapostion of the green and the blue really blew my mind when I saw it for the first time. And there is this stretch of rail where the tracks run so close to the sea that when you look out of the window it appears as if you are in a boat because the land is hardly visible and all you can see is the sea.

So coming back to today, sitting in the train hearing the clackity-clack of the wheels again sends shivers up my spine and the air laden with moisture and the grass so lush everywhere and all manner of verdant growth takes me back to the train rides in the monsoons through the lush landscape of Kerala. I could almost envisage smoke curling up through coconut fronds. And passing green-carpeted soccer fields, and rain-washed driveways and the Hutt river, placid no more, but tanned and full-bodied like a Malayalee damsel. Rushing past wind-swept stations until the train stops at mine.

Yes, train rides are food for the heart for romantics like me ;-)

Unlimited potential

5th August 2006

Today as I was meditating I found suddenly that the feeling of 'I' had disappeared along with all self-identity and I realised that there is no me, just the Divine realising Itself, being Itself. And strangely enough it was a very humbling experience. Because the ego had disappeared, as also the mind and the emotions, just an awareness remained. And the feeling of slight pain in my shoulder and the body touching the ground. There was no joy nor pain, no want, no desire, no bliss or sorrow, just nothingness.

Afterwards when I came out of meditation I had the feeling that nothing mattered anymore, all the mundane concerns of daily life had disappeared. Just the feeling that everything had been taken care of. And the Divine which is not the narrow false self has the power to create anything It wanted to. And then it occured to me that if the entity which is called 'me' is the Divine expressing Itself then how can 'I' entertain the idea of being limited by anything. Because the Divine is limitless and has the endless potential to create anything and be anything.