Flower musings, pumpkin and lemon

It is Sunday morning and I am in the backyard. This part of our yard is secluded; it is cut off from neighbours’ eyes by fencing and from our house by thick clumps of trees, like my own piece of paradise. The cranberry bush is laden with fruit and I pluck them off and eat the sweet, juicy berries as a prequel to breakfast. The pumpkin vine in the vegetable patch gleams a tender green, the leaves with tiny translucent spikes, and a pumpkin in the early stages of infancy. There is also a single bloom, yellow and radiant, with a bell like base flaring into the delicate petal. I peep inside and to my wonder and surprise there is a bee inside, doing a kind of dance which I’m sure only the bees know the steps of. It is such a wondrous sight, nature in the process of symbiosis, giving and taking, wordlessly.


I walk past the clumps of trees, giving off a woody fragrance, exclusive to trees on early mornings or under damp, moist conditions and my heart rises in joy and gratitude like as if the trees had just sung a ghazal. Past the bird bath, the water turned rancid and brown, and the elegant ferns with fronds rising like fans fit for queens, till I reach the lemon tree. There are a few flowers and fewer fruit, nature is winding down for winter. Lemon flowers have this most delicately exquisite fragrance and when the tree is in full bloom, I just stand next to it and drink of the smell or when I am passing by, a whiff hits me and makes me pause and remember that the beauty in life lies in the tiny, imperceptible things that we so often unknowingly pass by.

Weekends, among other things …………

There is a practice here in the workplace that I found a bit odd in the beginning – asking about your weekend. I used to find it difficult to answer at first, but then I realized that it was just a means of starting a conversation. You are free to say anything you want, even invent something and often it leads to other discussions that can get quite interesting.

Then one day I said to a friend “why do you ask me what I did on the weekend, I might tell you all that I did but not what I experienced. I might not tell you that I stood on the balcony at night and watched the full moon rise over the trees and even the clouds that hung over the moon couldn’t dilute the magical quality of the light that filled the sky and lit up the hills, the trees, the grass, the house with a gentle, dreamy light. And in spite of the moonlight, the stars twinkled and the universe that stretched out into eternity, God’s benediction everywhere, His lovely smile everywhere.

Or that the petals of the rose that felt velvety to the touch, God’s love and his joy of creation in every fragrant whorl, as if God’s saying to me, ‘Let you every act be an act of love, my child. Let your every thought, every word create beauty, bring harmony, introduce joy’.”

Daybreak

Today morning I am catching the early morning train which is rather unusual but such a treat. The day is just breaking and patches of silvery sky are visible behind the clouds. The river gleams silver into the distance where it meets with the sea. The is a lone paddle boat in it, the rider gently paddling away like a ghost oarsman. As we come to the sea the scene is eerie, the hills are in shadows and water is a rippling sheet of silver, the light cast by the sunlight escaping from behind soft, cottony clouds has a mystical quality to it. There are a group of oarsmen rowing a canoe in perfect unison. Wellington gleams dully in the distance caught by stray patches of light, willing it to wake up.

Daybreak is a herald of new beginnings, like God has kept his promise and it is up to us to seize the opportunity. It brings hope and light into the darkness that has gone before and the light breaking out through the gaps in the clouds fills my heart with gladness and joy.

Surprising enough the train is full, Wellingtonians like to start early. But the sleep tugging at my eyelids reminds me that I am a nightbird still.

The Deep

I want to go,
to the middle of the sea,
and lie face down,
with my back to the sun,
looking into the depths.

At some point I will succumb
to those watery arms.
Body racked, with want of air,
until I start to inhale,
water filling up the lungs,
also the stomach,
bloating, exploding.

I don’t know when
my soul will leave the body.
Will it be sad?
Disappointed ? Glad ?
Will some animal dine on the shell?
Or will it be washed up
on some forgotten shore?

A thin line of reason
holds on to this life,
but the desire is long gone.

One heck of a lady

There are lots of things about Kiwis that are commendable but their die-hard spirit and independence often stand out.

My friend's 80 year old mother suffers from Leukemia (incurable) and her Dad (also 80) from Alzheimers, who sometimes has difficulty remembering who he is and who his wife is (who is the old lady with grey hair in the other room?). Both of them live by themselves and refuse to move into the children's homes. Her Mum drives herself and her husband around, does the shopping, housework, pays the bills etc. When her blood count drops, she requires transfusions and last month she had to be rushed to hospital with a clot in the leg.

So yesterday when my friend said to me that her Mum's going to Australia alone for two weeks, I was surprised. I asked "Why?"

"Oh ! She's got cousins. She has put Dad in a respite home so he'll be okay. She said she needed a break and wanted some time to herself".

All I could say was 'WOW !"

I know that different people will call it different things, but I call it 'nurturing yourself'.

Greed / Beyond Greed

-------- Excerpt from the book 'Osho Transformation' -------

GREED

Whenever people become very greedy, they become very hurried, and go on finding more ways to gain more speed. They are continuously on the run because they think that life is running out. These are people who say, “Time is money.” Time is money? Money is very limited, time is unlimited. Time is not money, time is eternity – it has always been there and will always be there. And you have always been here and you will always be here.

So drop greed, and don’t be bothered about the result. Sometimes it happens that because of your impatience, you miss many things.

BEYOND GREED

Man is full if he in tune with the universe. If he is not in tune with the universe then he is empty, utterly empty. And out of that emptiness comes greed. Greed is to fill it – with money, with furniture, with friends, with lovers, with anything – because one cannot live in emptiness. It is horrifying, it is a ghost life. If you are empty and there is nothing inside you, it is impossible to live.

To have this feeling that you have much inside you, there are only two ways: either you get in tune with the universe…… Then you are filled with the whole, with all the flowers and with all the stars. They are within you just as they are without you. That is real fulfillment. But if you don’t do that – and millions of people are not doing that – then the easier way is to fill it with any junk.

Greed simply means you are feeling a deep emptiness and you want to fill it with anything possible, it doesn’t matter what it is. And once you understand it, then you have nothing to do with greed. You have something to do with coming into communion with the whole, so the inner emptiness disappears. And with it, all greed disappears.

But there are mad people all over the world, and they are collecting things to fill their emptiness. Somebody is collecting money although he never uses it. People are eating; they are not feeling hungry and still they go on swallowing. They know that this is going to create suffering, they will be sick, but they cannot prevent themselves. This eating is also a filling-up process. So there can be many ways to fill emptiness, although it is never full - it remains empty, and you remain miserable because it is never enough. More is needed, and the more and the demand for more is unending.

You have to understand the emptiness that you are trying to fill, and ask the question, “Why am I empty? The whole existence is so full, why am I empty? Perhaps I have lost track – I am no longer moving in the same direction, I am no longer existential. That is the cause of my emptiness.”

So be existential.

Let go, and move closer to existence in silence and peace, in meditation.

And one day you will see you are so full – overfull, overflowing – of joy, of blissfulness, of benediction. You have so much of it that you can give it to the whole world and yet it will not be exhausted.

That day, for the first time you will not feel any greed – for money, for food, for things, for anything. You will live naturally, and whatever is needed you will find it.

Dilemma

The decision hovers over us like a knife,
waiting for a move, waiting to strike,
while I search the empty silence for clues.

A sign, a call, a whisper in the night,
a stray, murmuring beam of moonlight,
to show the way, to shed some light.

The heart trembling, hides its face,
the mind deadlocked, lost, confused,
the spirit sublime, looks on amused.

"Tarry", tinkles the wind-chime in the breeze,
"Don't go", say the wildly nodding trees,
"Stay awhile, stay awhile", the owl calls.

Riverside retreat

It is Sunday and Mathew is still in Auckland, but the day is warm and bright and tempts me to bask in the sunshine. So I get into the car and take off in the general direction of Kaitoke which I have seen on the map but never visited. On the way, the river gleams in the sunshine and picnikers are splashing about in the knee-deep water or simply lolling about on the grass by the river. I reach Kaitoke in about half an hour and look for a secluded spot not frequented by the river-splashers. There is a little gap in the trees by the river and I get the plastic sheet out of the car together with my lunch and books and settle down under the trees. There are clumps of yellow-orange flowers everywhere as if the sunlight fell on the grass and deciding to stay transformed itself into flowers. It is moist and cool in the shade and the river bounding over rocks and pebbles is beautifully melodious. Slowly the cares of everyday life fall away and reading Osho’s Transformation book transports me into the world of the spirit, where all is peaceful and tranquil. And I come away feeling rejuvenated and refreshed having spent the day in the company of nature whose pace is unhurried and whose source is the Spirit.

Unburdening on the beach

It is Saturday and Mathew is in Auckland so I decide to gift myself the day. I take off for Raumati to meet Joan. Raumati is around 60K from Wellington up the Kapiti coast and there is some breathtaking scenery along the way. As I round the corner of the hill, the sea stretches out before me, languid, in deep shades of aquamarine, the morning sun glinting off the breakers as they curl around the rocks. The traffic is sparse for a Saturday and I reach Joan's at around midday. Joan's standing at the end of her driveway with open arms and a million watt smile. Just seeing her happy to see me is treat by itself. What follows thereafter is a day spent in the company of the sea, wind and sunshine and a special person sharing heartaches and insights and wisdom and understanding. We drive up to Paraparaumu which is a further 10K up the coast and settle down to a long, leisurely lunch sitting outside a café, soaking in the sun, and unburdening ourselves. Life, memories, lessons, challenges, guidance, awakening, the road taken and the road-yet-to-be-taken, all feature in our conversation and sometimes tears threaten to break out from behind the sunglasses.

After lunch we stroll along the beach made more beautiful with driftwood. Then we head back to Joan's place again and after a cup of tea, change into our swimsuits and head for the beach. As I step into the water it feels chilly but as I walk further and further into the waves, the water gets warmer and warmer as my body gets accustomed to the water. The sun shining directly overhead scatters a swathe of dancing, twinkling diamonds on the water and it feels as if the sun is saying to me 'Take all that life has to offer, be alive, be free". And so I get into the flow of the waves. It is a bit windy so the sea is a bit rough, and wave after wave comes crashing over me. And as I lie there I feel the ebb and flow of the tide and the pull of the moon and the expanse of the universe above me and feel so connected with everything. There are only 6 people on the beach and three of us are in the water. Joan's sitting and chatting on the shore with a couple of guys with paddle boats.

Swim over, we go back to Joan's house and I take a shower. By the time I come out some of Joan's friends have arrived with their children and we just sit out on the deck and chill out. It is so good to be in the sun and warmth with the wind tossing the manes of the trees and causing the wind-chimes to tinkle pleasantly. Around six I head back home, my heart glowing with memories of fun and warmth and friendship, of feeling one with the ocean, of browsing through a crystal shop buying crystals, a wind-chime and a Osho Tranformation book.

Thank you God ,for Raumati and its beach, for a laid-back day in the sun and for beautiful friends like Joan.

Trust

I did not die

Do not stand

at my grave and weep.

I am not there.

I do not sleep.

I am a thousand winds that blow.

I am the diamond glints of snow.

I am the sunlight on ripened grain.

I am the gentle autumn rain.

When you awaken

in the morning hush.

I am the swift uplifting rush

of quiet birds in circled flight.

I am the soft stars

that shine at night.

Do not stand at my grave and cry

I am not there;

I did not die.

-Anonymous

I believe

I believe that the realm of possibility is infinite and boundless,
therefore I dream……

I believe that faith has infinite organising power,
therefore I trust that my dreams will come true………

I believe that the Universe provides with whatever you ask
if the motivation behind the asking is Love,
therefore my dreams become manifest.

God speaking

Just had a flash of insight which I thought I must share............

All minds are great. God speaks through all of us, it's just that he is trying to say different things. So the next time you are tempted to label something as stupid, inane, outrageous or even evil, just tell yourself that it is God speaking.

This wisdom was brought home to me one weekend when I was watching a late-night movie, a horror movie, a genre I have never enjoyed. . I don’t know what force pinned me to the sofa through all those senseless murders. But after all the killing and blood and gore, the movie spoke to me. I found a message that was somehow very pertinent to me at that stage of my life.

So now I pay special attention to what people say even though sometimes it sounds flippant or prejudiced. And I watch all kinds of movies, even though I still haven't managed to muster the courage to watch a Govinda movie. Must go and find out what God's saying to me through Govinda.

Desolation

A scream raged within me,
but couldn’t find a voice,
it stormed through my heart,
and held it in a gripping vice.

My heart now is a wasteland city,
a shrine devoid of its deity,
a song shorn of melody,
a festival of all its gaiety.

Among the shambles, the shattered ruins,
I search for a foothold, a light,
this spirit with which to spark,
before the scream brings in the night.

Soul song

Silence,
soft and blessed,
plucks at my heart-strings
with love-tipped fingers,
a rain-scented song arises
like a koel’s call
in the deep silence of the forest.

In this blessed silence,
I hear your footfalls
on the dew-strewn pathways of my heart,
longing gives way to love,
joy breaks free
in the gentle rain of tears.

In this blessed silence
we meet and become one,
there is no You nor I
nor the universe,
just the lightness of nothingness.

The Lord's call

I

Cast aside the dark cloak of the night,
and open your eyes to the blinding light.
Wake up, my child, to the luminous dawn,
come, together let's straddle the sun.
Through the laughing, singing skies let's sail,
infinite, limitless, with glorious trail.

II

Know that you are in Me, and I in you,
in every pain that wounds your heart,
and makes you bleed into the long, dark night.
Tender-hearted, may that pain make you.

In your friend's betrayal, your child's sparkling laughter,
in every joy that makes your spirit sing,
like lark ascending on light-tipped wing.
May gratefulness fill your heart, thereafter.

Saturday stories

Gull politics

It is Saturday and hubby and I are engaged in shopping. We take a break at lunchtime and are sitting on a bench on Petone beach eating hot chips. Soon we are joined by a lone seagull, orange beak, orange feet and orange lined eyes. Hubby throws bits of chips at him and the gull merrily gorges on junk food. We wonder about the fact that he does not even utter a quack to signal to his gull mates that there is food available. But soon another seagull joins us and then the fun begins.

Gull-1 undergoes a transformation. He starts squawking hoarsely and runs after Gull-2, pointed beak open, trying to run him off the place. Now Gull-2 is a smart fellow, he strategically retreats behind the bench where he is content with the bits that hubby throws backwards occasionally. But Gull-1’s squawks have attracted others of his kind and soon we have  a happy crowd of about 10-12 gulls, some of these, we notice, have black feet, beak and kohl-lined eyes. Owing to the fact that these black-eyed beauties are hovering on the fringes, and are smaller in size than the more flamboyant orange eyed-lined fellas, we conclude that the former must be the females.

Gull-1 is now really busy because more gulls are arriving by the minute and he is spending so much time squawking after them and chasing them that he has ceased to notice that bits of food are still being given. In the midst of his squawking and frantic chasing, the newcomers manage to snatch up the food which he has ignored probably with the mistaken belief that he can run all the others off the beach and be the only partaker of the food. Gull-2 at the back has also established his territory and is valiantly defending his turf.

I cannot help think that this is precisely how humans behave too. We are so busy fighting over land and territory that the basic needs of our people get forgotten. There are some countries that probably spend more of their GDP in defence expenditure than in providing food and basic amenities to its people. Even though we know that there are enough resources to feed the whole world, some of us are intent on cornering most of it in a concerted attempt to have more of more totally disregarding the fact that in the process others are getting less of less. When the US went to war in Iraq, they increased their defence budget and guess where the money came from. Some of it came from social welfare, elderly care and basic medical care. They actually cut back spending on these areas.

Sad to think that we are not so highly evolved after all.

~~~

Daane daane par likha hai khane wale ka naam


It is evening and in order to fulfill a greatly felt need for caffeine we stop at a coffee place. We placidly sipping our lattes when Mathew notices that the person at the counter has just thrown a muffin from the tray into the rubbish bin. “Maybe it was damaged, and they didn’t want to sell it”. A short while later we observe that another batch of muffins is being discarded. And then we watch aghast as tray after tray of unsold muffins vanish into the rubbish bin. It is then that we realize that it is closing time and they are throwing away all the unsold food. Our Indian mentality kicks in and we think, what a waste, surely this could have been given to the poor. But where are the poor? The charitable organizations are state-funded and probably wouldn’t need left-over food. What about poor families, new migrants, refugees? We try to work out the logistics involved in taking the food from eateries and carting it to these people. For the amount of labour and time involved we find that for the business owner it is not viable. The amount of food that restaurants, cafés, takeaways discard everyday must be colossal and yet all around the world people go to sleep hungry, die of starvation everyday. 

Kahi daanon par kissi khana wale ka naam nahi hote,
Kissi khane walon ke kismat mein chand daane nahi hote.

~~~

Lambton landscape

Walking down Lambton Quay one bright, warm, sunny afternoon, my senses are flooded with impressions.

People streaming down the sidewalk, dappled sunshine, warm in the sunlight, cool in the shade.

The aroma of coffee, freshly baked cookies, deep-fried fish and chips, curry, canapes, fresh bread, Indian food tinged with banana leaf (olfactory hallucination? Deep-seated desire?)

Baby blue eyes, black sparkling eyes, slanting eyes, sad eyes, sunglassed eyes.

Mothers pushing strollers with babies, mothers pushing strollers with babies in the fathers’ arms, lunchtime family interlude.

'Abra-kebab-ra' selling kebabs, 'Suzette' selling French crepes, 'Chow Mein' selling chow-mein, 'Tastebuds' tempting the tastebuds.

Drooping mouth, kissing-goodbye mouths, cherry-red mouth, sensuously laughing full mouth.

People with pamphlets – ‘Save the children’, ‘Save the forests’, ‘Save the world’.

Flowery skirts, mini skirts, layered skirts, tightly-clinging skirts over swaying legs.

Shop windows beckoning, Christmas trees twinkling, traffic lights turning amber-red-green, steel-glass structures next to elegantly rising churches.

Sautering walk, hurried walk, lazy hip-swinging sexy walk.

Crying children, happily-skipping children, tantrum-throwing children, toddlers gazing fascinated out of mothers’ arms.

Office-goers picnicing on patches of grass, construction workers on scaffolding hammering, lovers walking hand-in-hand.

People waiting at bustops. Waiting for love, waiting for heartbreak. Waiting at the crossing, ‘Don’t walk’, ‘Go’, just like life.

Stockinged feet, tired feet, sandaled feet, spring-in-the-step feet.

Silvery notes of laughter, broken bits of conversation, music pouring from the CD shop, tenor voices raised in carols, meloncholy rising from a one-stringed violin.

A medley of images, smells, sounds impinge on my senses and I come back feeling like I have just visited a painting.

Silence in Haiku

The sound
of hearts breaking
are echoed in silence.

Footfalls of silence
follow
broken dreams.

And yet,
silence also holds
the hint of hope.

Like shards of moonlight,
through black clouds
on the darkest night.

Saviour

Until yesterday I was a girl,
running with the other girls,
braids flying, skirts billowing,
to the river to fetch water,
helping Ma make rotis.

Then the crops failed,
we had nothing left to eat,
Baba looked sad and dejected.
A man came from the city to save us,
gave Baba lots of rupees.

Now I am a woman living in the city.
Men do strange things to my body,
it causes me a lot of pain.
It hurts them too I think,
for they moan and groan.

I wish Ma would come
and massage my limbs,
hold me to her bosom.
I wish I could go into the fields
and shriek into the night.

When I left home Ma was sad
but greatly relieved too.
She said I had saved the family,
saved Baba from certain death.
But who will come and save me?
Inspired, nay provoked by an article I read about a young girl sold into prostitution by her farmer father perhaps to escape starvation. Can't point any fingers here. Sabhi haalaat se majboor hai. Maybe the money brought them some respite, maybe they even prospered, but the girl has a dim chance of escaping her fate. She was sold at 14, became a mother at 16, one more mouth to feed, further entrenchment. Makes one wonder of what use is progress if the poor cannot be empowered.