Send them love

“Lost love is still love. It takes a different form, that’s all. You can’t see their smile or bring them food or tousle their hair or move them around a dance floor. But when those senses weaken another heightens. Memory. Memory becomes your partner. You nurture it. You hold it. You dance with it.”

~ Mitch Albom

It breaks my heart to have parted ways with so many dear people…people that used to be such a tremendous source of belonging in my life. I don’t know what the future brings, whether these paths might converge again, but I cherish them, I miss them sorely, and I send them love.

Freedom from…conformity (The Life Laboratory)

If only we all took pride in thinking for ourselves.

And did not weave our entire lives in order to conform with what has been thought for us.

What if we could envision that this whole world is one big laboratory, the ‘Life’ laboratory, where each of us is born, and we conduct our own experiments, have our own little accidents, and come to our very own findings before we leave the laboratory, just as empty and wonderful as it was?

Continue reading “Freedom from…conformity (The Life Laboratory)”

Freedom From…Perfection

Picked white flowers fallen on the rain-soaked road on a breezy post-shower evening.

Walked all alone with myself, breathed in the sweet smell of wet mud, and sighed.

As the skies got darker, and so did all the colours of nature around me, I saw the miracle and the life that exists in that changing.

Life exists in changing.

I was alone, and I felt safe in my arms and in my mind.

I looked around, and for a moment, I felt like an invisible particle of the universe, something that existed only to observe and rejoice in the observation.

Then when I closed my eyes and looked nowhere, I felt that what was inside me was the centre of the universe.

I held those flowers together in my muddy hands. I felt the graininess of the moist soil on my fingers. The graininess, that which I came from.

I saw with magnifying eyes, traces of earth, black and brown, sprinkled and smeared across those pretty little whitelings.

What beauty in imperfection! I thought.

I caressed their petals, as the thought caressed my soul.

The Song of the Sufi

A huge, wide center-stage. The faint smell of jasmine and incense wafting in the silent air.
Men dressed in white, wearing white laced-caps, seated in a wide semi-circle.
Each one of them has their eyes closed, and the men in the centre
are seated with instruments before them; a tabla, a harmonium,
and then a couple of singers who hold their heads high and gaze within themselves with closed eyes;
breathing deep, before the first song of prayer and celebration is sung out from the depth of their hearts. Continue reading “The Song of the Sufi”

What I learnt about Love from Maya Angelou

Giving unconditionally.

Knowing that we are all the children of God, beyond age, race or creed.

Protecting, but liberating from protection.

Nurturing, but also a offering a free mould from the nurturing.

Not judging nor classifying as deserving or undeserving.

Not expecting it to be returned.

Forgiving, and accepting completely of having forgiven.

Love is: I love you if you are in the next room, I love you if you are in China, I love you if you are on a different hemisphere. And I’d love you even if you weren’t around anymore.

Love is: I love you for the soul that you are, that cannot be touched, only experienced. I’d love you even if you were a janitor.

Love is: I love you and what you have done to me doesn’t change that. I have forgiven you, and you shouldn’t feel indebted, you should feel loved.

Love is: I raised you, and I did it with more love than sense of duty. I’d like to fiercely protect you and treat you as my responsibility till I die, and I’d like to see you happy and hear you say I did good things for you always. But when you must go, and you ought to, because it is a beautiful world for you to explore, and your explorations will be unique and different from mine. I want you to be happy, and find your own happiness. And you can always come home. I love you. Go.

Love is: I love the human form you gave me, and everything else you gave me ever since. You steered through tough times and made sacrifices, many of which I wasn’t even aware of it. And you taught me that all I want I must work to get. There are still a lot of things to find, a lot of truths to seek. I will find them, but never impose them on you, or try to change you. Because I love you and how you liberated me. And you shall never be forgotten. And your life shall truly be your message. And your child shall be a blessing to the world.

Love is: I love my spirit, and I embrace the mind and body it came with. I love how close I am to the universe, and I can make choices in life every day. I love every bit of my life, and every moment, and every face, and every colour and landscape I see. Because I am empty of everything. But love.

Die today

People who know they’re going to die soon, are people with some of the craziest, busiest, happiest lives.

They have every reason to be that: they could, after all, die unhappy of a wasted minute.

They’re so busy doing things they wanted to, saying things they wanted to, making trips and learning music and searching for long lost friends, that they don’t realize how much they’ve lived in their few counted days.

What’s sad is people who are still in the dark about their deadline. People who live with the belief that they have a long life to plan for, to secure, to fear for.

And in the process, forget to make trips, to learn music, and keep in touch with long lost friends. And forget, that they might never be lucky enough to know their deadline in advance.

And when it comes, we would die unhappy of unthinkably too many wasted minutes.

In 50 or less: post 5: sleep

The lover grieves a broken dream.

The parent counts his worries.

The young girl tries to solve her wonderments.

Their eyes want to draw in.

The mind won’t stop ticking.

And the night passes, unappreciated.

And the morning sun shines with little effect over our sleep and wake.

In 50 words: Post 4: Love

We all live but for love. And love is our greatest survivor.

We live because there is love breathing beneath every strife, every sin, every act of kindness and every thin ray of hope.

Love is never truly proposed or denied. It can only be given, subtly, selflessly, silently and unconditionally.

This and that, and that

It is good to want less, I’ve heard. Is it also good to want less from yourself?

 

To want to be one thing less, to struggle toward one dream less, to desire to excel in one thing less?

The inner well of self-belief once discovered, is surprisingly deep and unrealistically wide. We make ourselves want to be extraordinary, we make ourselves believe we have purposes to fulfil. In this world of reckless contest, even more so. We want to learn more, be more, do more. We want to get rid of what we have because we believe we want something else.

We burden ourselves with expectations, then push ourselves, often half-heartedly, the other half filled with pressure and uncertainty.

We push ourselves, yet can never be satisfied by the extent of our push, and we push more. And we exhaust before we achieve.

We feel powerless, and think lesser and lesser of ourselves and our life. We start wishing more. And stop appreciating whatever little or much we have.

At the end of the day, no matter what we have done, or how close we have gotten to our goals, we are still dissatisfied. Unhappy with the extent of our achievement. Because it is nothing when compared to what we fancy ourselves achieving.

Why do this to ourselves? Why think lesser and lesser of our life? Why not cut loose a couple of aspirations, why not ease out the pressure we carry day in and day out?

Why not be just a great something, rather than struggle to be a good everything?

Why not hold on to one thing with both arms, rather than spreading ten fingers ten ways, trying to hold ten things?

Why can’t we get rid of the whip of comparison and expectation?

Why can’t we just do one thing at a time, focus on one thing at a time?

Why do we have to think about a car, a home and a bank balance, when we can just choose one of them to start with?

Most of us spend one-third of our day at work. Some of us even two-thirds. Why can’t we just plain focus on the job, and not on some clout of aspirations that you want to fulfil with the money that it will bring you in the next x years? If not, why can’t we just leave the job, and take the plunge into doing the thing we know would be right and best for us?

Why always this and that? Why not just this or just that? At least for now?

I shall, I shan’t
I will, I won’t
I care, I don’t,
I can, I can’t…

I make my world, I set my mind,
I brace my soul from the hurting kind…
I stretch to heights, I walk into my fall,
But no one does it for me, I do it all…

I love, I loathe,
I tolerate, oppose,
I distance, I hold close,
I shy off, come forth…

I draw my lines, I erase, redraw,
I know my strength, I know my flaw,
If I don’t know for sure, then I don’t know at all,
But no one thinks for me, I do it all…

I fear, I dream,
I befriend, I shun,
I face, I run,
I am what I seem…

I close my fist, I open my heart,
If I am different, I stand apart,
I walk alone, until I’m too tired to fall,
But no one walks for me, I walk through it all…

You lend your ears, your eyes, your hours,
You mend my tears, you wash my scars,
You see my light, you hear me call,
And now you want to do it all…

But I have learnt, and I have burnt,
The need of a hand, or a heart concerned,
And I have taught myself to stand, to crawl,
And pledged myself to endure it all,

No one fights it for me, I fight it all…
And that’s how I sleep sound, and that’s how I walk tall….