you may say I'm a dreamer

2012-01-15T20:35:00.000-08:00

Sound of trucks speeding down the highway.
City lights, blinking in
unison, as they stretch out into the horizon

The moon is here.
Vast and amber in her presence
it feels as though, if I
were to reach out I could
almost
touch her

body
as it sits upon the sky

2012-01-14T09:25:00.001-08:00

Tonight,
the moon watches in endless rapture
as the distance between your lips
and mine
is lost into softness.

2012-01-14T03:03:00.000-08:00

Some say that the world is Real.

Some say that the world is not Real.

Existence and non-existence

are two sides of a coin.

Reality lies in that tentative, wondrous moment

as you watch the dance of duality spinning

in the air.

Existing, non-existing

and neither.

All at once :)

2012-01-11T00:23:00.001-08:00

There is this mind that is so full, eternally. Crammed with the jagged edges of thought, that stick out. Now an anger, now restlessness. Then the wind that carries on it wisps of some past preoccupation. There is this life that moves through some constant fascination, ever-changing, impermanent,

entertainment.

And then there is the breath

the breath that draws the back into straightness,

that draws a straight line, that sees through thought
and image
and the self.

Until the world dissolve itself into this

rising,

falling motion of clarity.

Until there is only breath

and nothing else.

And until finally there is

nothing..

and also everything.

Simultaneously.

The Owl-2

2012-01-09T12:53:00.000-08:00

There is something altogether
magnificent...
in those eyes, in that fierce and penetrating gaze.
The Owl beats her snow white wings against the strength of the sea breeze.
In those eyes, as though
they are full with a knowing that is beyond
this place.

She does not know what it is to seek,
or to attain.
But as the wind flows through those wings, I see in her
a kind of swiftness. An
immediacy
as she sits perched
inconspicuously
upon her pole against the night.

The Owl

2012-01-09T06:09:00.000-08:00

As I feel the edges of myself dissolve. I am falling,

falling into a place where nothing is certain anymore and there is no need for it be.

The walls of thought are

shifting into each other, in such a way that silence

and words move together. Creating a music that is beyond both the word and silence.

What does the owl know as she hoots into this dark and desolate night?

2011-08-02T09:38:00.000-07:00

Clouds part
beam of sunlight
falls to earth.
The mind is quiet
piercing insight
reveals itself.

2011-07-24T20:36:00.000-07:00

In that place where the nightingales sing, it is past darkness and they fill the air, taking starlight and making it into music. It is as though a hundred different, shimmering, translucent wings filter the moonlight creating world upon world of silveriness.

And the trees hushed, they watch upon the winged ones as the go about their nighttime business. This is in that place where no set of opposites can create each other. In that place where translation and interpretation slip through the fingers like shimmering water with reflections of the words they hold. Until all that is left is the sound itself. The sounds raw and naked in the night. The starlight sung into words. Sung into sound. So that starlight and sounds are not two separate things anymore, in that place where nightfall meets the river and full bodies soak in the grass of nighttime. In that place where the woods whisper for themselves. They tell of things that cannot be heard or told again. Secrets so deep that they cannot be held or merely spoken of. They must be sensed, the way that, a tree leaf senses rainfall. And in that way, in that place, things are known... intangibly, in such a way that when they are known, they are known fully. So that there can be no remembering or forgetting. For they are alive, living, moving. The secret has taken birth in you.

2011-07-24T20:29:00.000-07:00

Morning breathes itself into my window

drawing me out

from somewhere in-between

wakefulness and dreams.

I want to take that piece of clear sky

and make it my own.

Have it replace my

chaotic morning mind

that rises like dust off an old bookshelf.

But here, here is all of your own mud.

And you must learn

to empty your own cup

before you can know how to fill another's.

2011-04-25T09:50:00.001-07:00

There is a river
that flows patiently over hard rocks.
That flows over and over again
because each time
the roughness becomes smoothened...
just a little bit more.

2011-03-27T18:14:00.000-07:00

This moment opens fresh,

with no traces of what it has been.

Carrying no scars

of the pain it has suffered before.

The dead weight of habit

drops

in the palpable quiver

of a bud,

waiting

to bloom into a flower.

This moment sees with

new eyes.

This moment is free,

this moment waits.

This moment offers

the gift

of seeing things clearly;

right now.

This moment holds at it's

centre,

that throbbing essence,

waiting,

for you to discover it.

It's rather simple really.

All you need to do is...

see.

2011-03-27T18:11:00.000-07:00

It is elusive.

Fingers grasping through

muddy water

always come out empty.

The water

is only left hazier

than when the searching began.

Have patience.

Watch.

Watch, as mud takes itself

from clear water

and in an instant

mud reveals itself as mud

and water

as water.

2011-03-27T18:09:00.000-07:00

I stop,

I sit.

And I listen to the wild.

I listen,

as it creeps into me.

The way that the nighttime creeps

into the sunset.

2011-02-01T11:24:00.000-08:00

I can try to affect policy changes,

I can go on long walks

or sit in dharna and fast.

I can try to meet

and speak with govt. officials.

I could write fiery speeches and essays.

I could resolve to keep marching

until something has

actually changed.

Although,

perhaps the

real work has only begun,

when I start to examine

the finer structures of my own mind...

and I see in myself

the same things

that I fight

in society.

Then slowly,

begin to push

at my edges...

allow spaciousness

around all these ideas and ideologies

that I cling to

so dearly.

When thought takes the form of

un-moulded clay,

soft, supple

and infinitely receptive;

Then,

I can finally move

into

the center of the whirlwind.

Then, I can pause,

to enter these questions: they speak like tiny whispers

coming from the chestnut box...

What are the lines that draw goodness

from the bad?

Who are the ones that decide right from wrong?

What is the kind of love that opposes hatred?

and where,

where can I find this thing that separates myself from the 'other' ?

My Invitation :)

2010-11-17T00:22:00.000-08:00

The time has come
for us to let go of the shores
and swim out into the ocean of the unknown,
to leap of the edge of uncertainty
into the abyss that lies beneath.

We have stayed closed up,
too long.'
We are living on the fringes of Reality,
while the wild waves wait upon us
to ride them.
To play in the mystery,
dance in the darkness
and watch in wonder
as the game unfolds.

It is that moment now,
that moment of choosing
between repeating the habits of the old
and awakening out of our slumber
into the freshness and possibility
of right now.

The earth stand as witness.

What are we waiting for ?

2010-11-10T22:55:00.000-08:00

Some lines that showed up while sitting:

There is such simplicity
even in this world of noise.

In the steady rise and fall
of the breath,
as it flows in and out
through the body.

In the seagull's outstretched wings
as it floats over the ocean waves.
In the lips of the child
as it runs toward you, smiling :)

Out there is the flowing river;
sometimes rushed,
sometimes slow.
Be here,
be here at the river banks
that hold the water as it goes by.

There is such stillness
in this world of noise.

The world is but a thin film
over reality.
When this is recegonised,
it seperates out
as would oil in water.

Purnam

2010-09-17T11:56:00.000-07:00

Take your next steps my child,
take your next steps.

Be not afraid.
Let go.

Have faith in me, for I am your deepest reality. I am all that ever has been and all that ever will be. Surrender to my will; all else is illusion... and suffering.
Only these arms can hold you.
Seek me relentlessly. The world will offer all of its distractions; keep sincerity in your heart and simplicity in your mind. You will find me here... waiting.. as I have always been.

Love.
Unconditionally, choicelessly... for I am not just in you, but in every little soul, every ray of sunlight, every blade of grass. I am the only reality. Perfect and whole. I am completeness.
So come, rest in my arms and dissolve into love.
Let your edges melt,
let the hard ice melt itself....
be flowing water.

Interconnectedness... ?

2010-07-15T03:39:00.000-07:00

One liners and spiritual truisms
are just
one liners,
and spiritual truisms.
Even words like
Beauty and Joy and Love
are just words.
And the word
is not the thing.

Words cannot know
that feeling.
That feeling that urges you
to leave the comfort of four walls
and go out
to dance in the rain.

Words cannot know
that as the raindrops
fall on this flesh,
they seep through
and make up a part
of what words call soul.

Words can say that rivers
and mountains and earth and soul
are all 'inter-connected'.
But where words are not,
there is no seperation anyway.

2010-07-15T03:37:00.000-07:00

Do you know that place
which holds the
distant quietness of the crystal caves?
Where the footsteps fall
of the one who has never walked before?
Which is the single
and ultimate ocean
that holds the water of every
raindrop,river and sea.

Let us set out now,
and meet again...
only over there.

2010-07-15T03:35:00.000-07:00

When it happens,
you will know..
As surely as the dawn
knows its own coming.

There will be no need for explanations
and no room for doubt

2010-06-04T00:18:00.000-07:00

Do your duty

and leave the rest to God.

2010-05-21T11:25:00.000-07:00

Tonight, the moon plays a game of hide and seek. Hiding itself behind the sky and then showing up once again from under this blanket of darkness. The night bats, for whom this is day, make their way across the sky. Almost as the eagles do in their day. The hoot of the owl sounds softly in the distance. The trees, silent in their magnificence, stand against the sky and the banyan drops its roots onto the road below where the busy people go about their busy lives.

2010-05-21T11:23:00.000-07:00

The answers are always,

so simple.

There is love,

that leaves behind its sweet perfume.

And then,

there is everything else.

When there is love,

everything else will be just as it is;

and when there isn't

everything else will be;

just as it is.

Not all that wander are lost.

2010-05-21T11:21:00.000-07:00

You ask me where I am going, what my plan is, where I intend to get to and how I intend to achieve my desired results. I say I don't know. You are concerned. You are concerned, for you don't want me to wander aimlessly, you wish for me to find my place in this world, for me to have stability, direction... maybe even a career. To do some 'good work' in the world.

Here I wish to propose to you that maybe there is something else. That not all who wander are lost . I wish to let you know that this wandering is deliberate. I do not know where the path leads, it feels half-blind to be able to see only up till the bend in the road. To want to see more but be required to keep walking so that I may keep seeing. But I celebrate this uncertainty. For it is only in having uncertainty that we can know certainty. It is the unkown that holds the known; and if we don't walk through its nomad lands we cannot walk through the density of the world-forest.

I am a wanderer and there is no purpose to this wandering life except for it to live itself, moment by moment. I do not work and I don't even live. I exist only to see love and be dissolved in it. As we all do. This, is the only responsibility; and responsibility is not work, it is not 'social' (or any other kind of) service, this is not an intention or a calling, nor is it vision, mission or purpose. It is just the simple fact, that this is what is to be done. The fact,that is as obvious in its simplicity as the honeybee that says: "I must make honey". The fact, that exists despite all else, independent and uncompromising. Like the freshness of the spring that comes forth from beneath the earth, rising unknowingly, of all that lies above.

2010-05-14T23:58:00.000-07:00

Delusion exists as long as there is a 'self' and an 'other'

2010-05-14T22:15:00.000-07:00

There is a tree by the lake
that bends itself
so that
the water may bear its beauty
rather than the blank, stillness of the sky above.

2010-05-14T22:13:00.000-07:00

It is out of mud that the lotus blooms.

2010-05-10T00:15:00.000-07:00

There is a vastness that holds us...
a vastness that is not just
of the skies
and the galaxies that surround.
But also
of the raindrop,
and the sparrow
that chirps in the afternoon sun.

2010-05-10T00:08:00.001-07:00

The earth teemed with life. Bird calls of every variety hidden in the foliage. Buzzes skimming over the surface of the pond and occasionally the soft splash of a creature surfacing from beneath. If you were quiet and very, very still the sparrows and little birds would come closer and a soft rustle would begin from the undergrowth. After a time the monkeys would quarrel loudly amongst themselves and all the other creatures would retreat. But soon the night time noises would resume and the sky began to envelop the earth in darkness. This day's delight was over but tomorrow was soon to come.

2010-05-10T00:02:00.000-07:00

Truth is always beyond the self.
Never try to reach it
for it will only run further away from you.
Empty yourself of all that is yours
and God, who has been waiting,
will come.
Like the sunrise
that waits for the sky
to empty itself of darkness
before it arrives.
Truth is that which is tantalizing
and mysterious,
that which is eternally unknown...
no, but not unknowable.
Never say that you have arrived,
for there is no place in which it resides.
But say this,
that you arrive now, in this moment
and yet again in the next
and then
arrive once over
in the moment after that.
Arrive like the freshness of the flower
that doesn't proclaim its arrival upon the world
but lets its fragrance
softly infuse the air around it.

2010-05-04T05:25:00.000-07:00

There is no awakening,
awareness is not a state of being.

2010-05-03T00:09:00.000-07:00

What is it to the stars if we are learned and wise... ?

2010-04-29T03:07:00.001-07:00

You haven't really seen the world until it becomes a thing of infinite wonder !

2010-04-23T01:59:00.000-07:00

We all feel and know and grieve

for this separation.

There is no part of us

that does not sense it.

We are speaking the language of the stars

that have been removed from the night sky.

Tell me,

who does not know this pain I speak of?

2010-04-23T01:57:00.000-07:00

The mountains, the trees, the rivers,

the sky, the sea, the rocks, the birds...

they each tell their own story,

they are singing a song.

Can you hear it?

2010-04-22T04:57:00.000-07:00

Just as you draw
the veil of darkness over my being
and as sleep becomes restless
in that long and unending night,
the day breaks
with a bright and blissful birdsong.

Tranquility does not drip slowly,
it gushes forth;
like the river that rushes downhill
cuts through the mountain
carrying away the sand and the rocks;
like the eagle whose wings slice the air
as it glides and swoops
doing its majestic dance with the mountains.

The eagle is ever-present,
it makes a clean cut
leaving nothing between itself
and all the rest.
There is no middle-point
between silence and noise.

2010-04-22T04:54:00.001-07:00

This relationship is intimate,
it is personal.
This is not a relationship between two,
but among one
and all.
In this there is no place for the 'other'.
For, if the self does not exist
how can the other?
In this sublime dissolution,
as the edges of my limits
expand into the limitless
Illusion becomes reality
and the world reveals itself
as a synchronous dance
to the rhythms of stillness.

2010-04-22T04:50:00.000-07:00

Solitude is where
the rainclouds meet the sky.
Solitude is a loneliness
that consumes itself
leaving none of its sorrow behind.
Solitude is an emptiness
that is so full
there is space for nothing except itself.
Solitude is exclusive
but yet includes everything.
Solitude is distant
but yet everywhere.
Solitude is always here and now.
Yes, even in the middle of the busy marketplace.
Look for it anywhere
and you will be sure to find it,
but for as long as you don't look
it will remain in hiding
only allowing you fleeting glimpses of it
when you least expected.

2010-04-22T04:33:00.000-07:00

Poetry cannot be an end in itself,
it is merely a consequence
of what is more than itself.
Poetry includes what it is not,
and is born out of it.
Just as music is born out of silence
and the unkown creates the known
poetry is the cup
that holds emptiness within it
and is born out of the emptiness
that surrounds it.

2010-04-15T23:41:00.001-07:00

How can we hear the music if we refuse to listen to the sounds of the silence from which it was born?

2010-04-15T23:34:00.001-07:00

Our lives have become an effort at evading the Question,

the single and eternal Question,

the Question that birthed us all.

Now,

the world we have created has lost all meaning

and forgotten Beauty.

All action is a denial of the present moment,

we are constantly attempting to distract ourselves

and God speaks only as a distant echo among the hills,

drowned out by the noise of the cities.

2010-03-18T21:58:00.000-07:00

Let us all be completely unoriginal,

let us find nothing new to say,

let us lack creativity.

Let us say the same thing the saints and the scriptures have always said

and in the same words too.

But above all else,

let us be true.

2010-03-18T14:38:00.001-07:00

What enlightenment?

There is No Path to Peace

2010-03-18T14:11:00.000-07:00

There is no point in the future to get to, for we are already there. Even in our darkness, we are embodiments of light. There is a deep knowing that exists beneath all the ignorance. The world is what it is and like a flower, unfolds itself. No evolution of consciousness is necessary, and certainly cannot be created, cannot be brought about. There can be no strategy towards peace (both inner and outer). For peace is not a place to get to, it is already here.

2010-03-17T00:28:00.001-07:00

There is only one question...

the call of the Wild

2010-03-08T20:51:00.000-08:00

We must access that which is wild within and learn to let it dance forth. To feel its rhythms, hear the silences in its song and dance into the wild ourselves. For this wildness is life itself, it is vitality, it is creation; and in letting it flow we are bowing down in surrender to the source of all that is. This wildness resides within each of us; in the soft belly whispers that we can hear when we are very quiet, in the frolic of the waves in the sea and in the stars as they float above us doing their secret dance with the universe, softly whispering down to us: " know that there is a music unfolding all around, a music that is born from the wild. Know this now and fall silent so that you may hear the song it makes."

The Arrogance of Knowing

2010-03-07T21:48:00.000-08:00

Lately I've been realising that the human mind lives within the fundamental delusion that it can know and comprehend everything, yes everything. This is the fundamental arrogance of the 'I', the attitude that we can design the best systems, create the best technologies, comprehend the greatest philosophies; that the individual is the fount of all knowledge and creativity. This amazes me, because sometimes when I am all alone and looking up into the sky I realize how very insignificant our world is, and suddenly the extraordinary importance we place on our lives seems so ridiculous. All that worry over the new job, the neighbour's plasma television, achieving that super-svelte size zero figure etc is so unbelievably misplaced. I am reminded of a quote from calvin and hobbes which goes “ the problem with science is that we have a bunch of empiricists trying to describe a world of unimaginable wonder”. It seems as though we are quite literally living within an illusory world that we create for ourselves in our heads, blindly playing our parts in the unfolding of a mega- drama.

I wonder if those of us that set out to change the world, to change society also in our own way fall into this trap. It might well be arrogance to believe we can accomplish such a task, especially with some new strategy, by designing new systems, breaking down the old ones, creating alternative technologies etc
Can the ills of the world as we know it ever be comprehended? The poverty, squalor, injustice, denial, mental noise, hunger, oppresion of women, disillusionment and depression, rapid loss of biodiversity and soil degradation... can it all be theorized about? Can we attribute it all to the corporates, the governments, the ignorant rich, the 'uneducated', the capitalists, patriarchy ? I'm sure that an intellectual understanding of the systems that we live within has it's place. It is certainly important to be aware of where our plastic goes to and where the food we eat comes from. But does it end there? How can we comprehend such deep violence except in complete silence (both from within and without) and surrender. Embracing the unknown and the unspeakable... that is, if such a thing even exists.

It is very easy to see a problem and to go about fixing it; and very straight forward too. Create movements that are the antithesis to what exists. See a patriarchal society so create a feminist movement, see the dominance of fast food and so create a slow food movement and so on. But it's much harder to step back for a moment. To truly examine for ourselves what is going on, to stop relying on theories, philosophies, sociologists, activists and movements to give us the answers but to truly examine the situation fresh and new. I'm not saying that we don't need to do anything about the crisis that the world has come to. Just posing that a response is different from a reaction, that the first step towards knowing is to realize that we dont know, the first step towards doing something about it is not- doing. The immediate jump into action could be merely a reflection of our ignorance and fear of the unknown.

Is it possible to live with the awareness of our limitations, to dissolve into the vastness that surrounds us and with humility ask for guidance. For without inviting some grace into our lives we would only be perpetuating delusion. If we don't realise that the truest knowing is in uncertainty and the sincerest believing is in doubt then we are like children playing with fire.
Maybe we can change the world, but maybe there is a larger plan unfolding that we know nothing of; maybe we do need to act, but maybe we don't; maybe the world is as it should be... but can we at least hold these questions open?

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?
-Lao Tzu

2010-02-26T02:05:00.000-08:00

What're you waiting for? ... jump up, and dance! :P

or laugh or shout or run with glee :D

The Call- Oriah Mountain Dreamer

2010-02-21T21:17:00.000-08:00

I have heard it all my life,
A voice calling a name I recognized as my own.
Sometimes it comes as a soft-bellied whisper.
Sometimes it holds an edge of urgency.
But always it says: Wake up, my love. You are walking asleep.
There’s no safety in that!
Remember what you are, and let a deeper knowing
color the shape of your humanness.
There is nowhere to go. What you are looking for is right here.
Open the fist clenched in wanting and see what you already hold in your hand.
There is no waiting for something to happen,
no point in the future to get to.
All you have ever longed for is here in this moment, right now.
You are wearing yourself out with all this searching.
Come home and rest.
How much longer can you live like this?
Your hungry spirit is gaunt, your heart stumbles. All this trying.
Give it up!
Let yourself be one of the God-mad,
faithful only to the Beauty you are.
Let the Lover pull you to your feet and hold you close,
dancing even when fear urges you to sit this one out.
Remember, there is one word you are here to say with your whole being.
When it finds you, give your life to it. Don’t be tight-lipped and stingy.
Spend yourself completely on the saying,
Be one word in this great love poem we are writing together.

note to readers

2010-02-21T21:12:00.000-08:00

To those of you who have expressed a wish to post comments on this blog ( and have even been kind enough to send me emails with your feedback :) I will be posting some of my writing on Facebook from now, so do feel free to add/ comment on my facebook page.

much love

Manasi

Silence

2010-02-21T10:24:00.000-08:00

We live in a culture that is so accustomed to noise that we have learned to value noise over silence. Whether it is the constant superficial chatter that we surround ourselves with or the noise inside our own heads, we have grown comfortable with it in such a way that we now depend on it. Our lives have become merely a reflection of this constant noise within our minds and we live wrapped up in its knots, counfounded within its twists and turns. We have forgotten that between constant activity, constant entertainment and mind-numbing lethargy lies a deep stillness. Forgotten how to hear the sounds of birdsong, how to watch the sun rise. How often is it that we are too 'busy' to give our children care and attention? in too much of a hurry to look into the eyes of the beggar on the road?
It is a pity. For if there were any cure for our growing self-importance, any end to the violence.... it would be this.

To be empty is to be full.

2010-02-10T03:38:00.000-08:00

Our lives are to be lived in service to all that waits to be born into this world.

Our task,

is to die to ourselves in each moment.

To completely and choicelessly be nothing.

To be empty is to become a vessel...

become the womb that nurtures goodness and joy

and be the bearers of light.

Warriors in our own right.

We must call out into the darkness,

the light of our being

as our only weapon.

We must venture into the unkown,

the sounds of our calling

as our only guide.

2010-02-06T20:05:00.000-08:00

The Woman as Temptress: For centuries now the woman and the feminine form have been placed within the archetypal role of "the temptress". The power of the woman lies in her ability to seduce man, to play upon his desire. The enchantress, the witch...She is darkness itself.

The Woman as the Object of Man's Desire: More and more the cultural myth has morphed from the woman being the temptress to the woman being the one that serves man. Women's sexuality is now harnessed by man. Her body is exploited:

Painted with make-up and posted on billboards. Forced to conform, to fit a size zero. Fucked and raped, but never made love to. Torn and teased but never celebrated.

In both these roles I see the same fear pattern. The Woman as the Object of Man's Desire emerges from the fear of the ability of the woman to seduce, to hold the reins of man's pleasure. The awesome power of women's sexuality and beauty is feared rather than revered and the fear of powerlessness bring about the necessity of domination.

What if there was another possibility?

The Woman as Goddess: What if we saw the beauty of the feminine as a manifestation of the divine? Her body becomes a temple, and entering it is an act of worship.

The woman holds her power not through getting man addicted to her form, but through the Grace of holding him and letting go: softly and slowly. When they come together it is sacred. When they move apart, it is love. Both body and soul are nourished and man and woman are fulfilled. The union of two is communion with all.

2010-02-06T19:51:00.000-08:00

To be afraid of death

is to be afraid of coming alive.

Trapped by the fear of letting go of ourselves, our narrowness,

we live half-lives.

Never touched by the magnificence

and sheer bliss of Life.

Closed to the possibility

of being truly joyous

and feeling every part of our being

immersed in the universe.

Afraid, that the world would open up

to be so incredibly beautiful...

if we were to see God everywhere.

2010-01-27T05:43:00.000-08:00

Poetry is not merely some form of entertainment,

the clamour of the senses

will not even reach its surface.

These are words

born from the depths of the soundless,

wisdom spoken from afar.

The poet

is nothing more than a scribe.

Creation

is the dance between

the form

and the formless.

Window Shopping

2010-01-11T18:33:00.000-08:00

Stop shopping for some spiritual entertainment.

Don't just take a dip in this pool,

it is like looking God in the face...

but with eyes closed,

you must immerse your whole being into the ocean.

Be consumed by the pain

of your own ignorance,

for it is only then,

that you can taste the joy of surrender.

And when you encounter the unknown,

let the wonderment flood through you.

2009-12-23T22:52:00.000-08:00

All questions and confusions,
all effort
dissolves into the asking
of who it is
that asks.

The quiet mind
does not seek.

2009-12-23T22:49:00.000-08:00

To sit with legs crossed
directing attention away from thought
actively following the breath
determined and purposeful,
is not meditation.

Meditation is the spontaneous silence of the mind.
Meditation is to come alive
in each moment,
fresh and abundant.
It is the
quiet joy
of the wind that rustles through the leaves.

Meditation,
is to offer away
the one that meditates.

Spiritual Practice... ?

2009-12-23T22:46:00.000-08:00

When the sun comes out,
there is light.
When it goes down,
there is darkness.

There is no attempt, no technique
no paractice or plan.
For it is the sun
that lights up the sky.

Relationship

2009-12-09T06:21:00.001-08:00

In the space between one soul
and another,
something sacred emerges.
One innocence touches another,
it is a conversation
in which there are no words.
It is a dialogue,
but not an exchange.
And in that moment
between one soul
and another...
there is magic!

2009-12-06T10:06:00.000-08:00

Sometimes we must go alone.

2009-12-03T01:18:00.000-08:00

Look up into the night sky.

In that immensity

everything falls away

everything in us that is small and narrow.

All of our insufficiency

ceases to be.

2009-11-26T20:39:00.000-08:00

We each carry the whole world within us
and that is the responsibility we must live up to.
To focus solely on the world outside
is not just delusion,
but a profound denial of the purpose of our lives.
For in knowing ourselves,
we know the whole world.
We know its magic and its malady
and in changing ourselves,
we change the whole world.

A dialogue between the self and the divine.

2009-11-17T20:01:00.000-08:00

All I have to offer

is my yearning,

my limitedness.

Too human

and too small.

But you take it

and then

you take some more.

As though it were the first gift

from the first child.

Is there any better thanks for such love

than to offer away

still more of my so-human smallness?

2009-11-17T19:59:00.001-08:00

Make a crack in the pot,

let all the water drain out.

It won't be so heavy anymore ;-)

2009-11-14T20:35:00.000-08:00

The complacency is jarring.

Every action seems like a pretense,

an attempt at evasion.

There is a discontent

that stirs from within the depths of the soul

and everything crumbles before it.

The last drops of consolation have fallen.

Still,

there is some peace in emptiness.

2009-11-09T07:21:00.000-08:00

Locked doors
and tightly shut windows
are earnest
in their attempt
to trap you within the shadows.

The brick walls
only get stronger
that are held in place
by your envy.

Until you hear a tapping.
Love knocks at your life;
and it is only
immensity that is left
to clear the cobwebs,
to sing life back into the house,
dancing in the darkness.

But can these
blood-painted lips then say
"I did my best"
or do they cry out
to the stranger at the door
"why must you chose me for your loving?"

2009-08-18T12:40:00.000-07:00

These pillars that you build

to hold the Self up,

will crumble.

Your palace

will crash to the ground.

All that is left

in the ruins,

is a message from the river.

To pour yourself

into it,

allow it

to take you where it will.

Pray,

that these rough,

hard rocks

may be smooth once more.

Firm,

so that they may

form the river-bed.

Kabir Bhajan

2009-08-17T21:45:00.000-07:00

नैहरवा हम का न भावे...

साई कि नगरी ...परम अति सुन्दर,

जहाँ कोई जाए ना आवे

चाँद सुरज जहाँ, पवन न पानी,

कौ संदेस पहुँचावै

दरद यह... साई को सुनावै

आगे चालौ पंथ नहीं सूझे,

पीछे दोष लगावै

केहि बिधि ससुरे जाऊँ मोरी सजनी,

बिरहा जोर जरावे

विषै रस नाच नचावे

बिन सतगुरु आपनों नहिं कोई,

जो यह राह बतावे

कहत कबीर कबीर सुनो भाई साधो,

सपने में प्रीतम आवे

तपन यह जिया की बुझावे

Translation

I am listless in this house of my parents
my Beloved's town is most beautiful,
from which no-one comes or goes
Neither sun nor moon
wind or water
make their residence there.

Who will carry this message there?
Who can tell my Beloved of this pain?

I see no path to light my way forward
and for this
I blame what has passed.

How do I build a bridge to reach that house?
with these pangs of seperation
burning like a fire within.

Duality dances before me.

There is none other than the Guru
who can show me this path.

"Your Beloved will come to you
as though it were a fantasy,
and that alone
will quench your thirst."
said Kabir to the aspirant.

2009-08-15T06:49:00.000-07:00

Passion does not come
in manageable proportions.
Bite sized,
and neat.
Wrapping paper
and ribbons,
don't seem to fit.

It is a life force
that carves it's own path.
Just as
the white mountain river
cuts it's course
through the
steep,
hard rocks.

It is the song that
sings itself
within the soul.
Your work is
to dance
to the music.

It will come to you;
In the quiet of the night,
in the crowd
of a busy street,
and in those moments between
the beating
of your heart.

You must stop then,
and dance.

2009-08-14T09:05:00.000-07:00

When in this world,
the ego
seeks many things.
But most of all
it seeks
release from itself.

2009-08-08T18:29:00.000-07:00

When all else fails me.
Thoughts,
words,
even emotions.
I am left
with the still and quiet knowing
that
I cannot let the darkness
of the night sky
steal the beauty of our sunset.

Can I Be A Light to Myself?

2009-07-30T11:40:00.000-07:00

I once had dreams.
Of women
with long black wavy hair;
and violet
in their eyes.
On their crimson lips,
they etched
the name of The Goddess.

I once
went into a forest.
There was Magic there;
and for a fleeting moment,
I felt it.

I once met a man.
And in his eyes
I saw,
the story of the Universe.

"Is it possible to keep awake totally?"
Krishnaji once asked,
"without relying on experience."
...
Can I be a light to myself?
Can I be a light that never goes out?

2009-07-26T07:02:00.001-07:00

I... ?

2009-07-20T02:17:00.000-07:00

note: Sati and Jhana are the Pali words for mindfulness and concentration.

as Darkness fills the night sky,
Desire fills the empty mind.
Rememberings
of that passionate embrace.
Those lustful eyes,
yearning for the space to be filled.

Thoughts race
one after another.
Weaving in and out,
of each other.

Crossed legs
and straight back.
Sati sits by him,
while Jhana keeps the mind at bay.
He is grateful
for their presence.

A poem from September 2007

2009-07-19T13:31:00.000-07:00

To God

It feels like you are waiting for me
and you know that I will come.
You're so much more than I can see
but yet, you and I, we're one.

For so long I've been me and you've been you;
Me... so seperated from my love.
But now I've learnt what it is to be true,
I sense longing as I watch the dove.

A poem from a few months ago

2009-07-19T13:27:00.000-07:00

In these lonely nights of the soul,
the heart is not to be found.

It usually likes to wander the streets,
going everywhere and nowhere
all at once.

In these lonely nights
it is not to be found.
For the soul has found company
in it's lonesomeness.

The Celebration

2009-07-19T13:24:00.000-07:00

This poem is dedicated to Nirali,Roy and Samir

This is to celebrate
the meeting of another soul-
a swapathgami.
One who dances around the fire
embracing the mystery of life.

To celebrate our nakedness,
and it's choicelessness
and our togetherness.

This is to smile,
to laugh,
to dance wildly
merging patterns and thoughts
and to find each other,
in that formlessness.

This is to remember
that we have been blessed.

2009-06-22T06:06:00.000-07:00

when there is relating then there is relationship.

Choiceless

2009-05-06T22:59:00.000-07:00

In love there is no giving or recieving

just a way of being

a way of holding.

The way that

the river holds the water

and the blue sky holds the air.

2009-03-30T10:11:00.000-07:00

In having wanted and wanted
in years of yearning
and moments of longing;
in that joy and sorrow
with a smile
that falters on the face
giving way to a tear
that lingers in the eye.
That is where I found beauty
in the fullness of life.

A poem that was sent by a dear friend

2009-03-19T08:52:00.000-07:00

Friend by Friend

We have been tending sacred fires for a long time
We are wanderers, drawn by the light of those fires.
Surrounded by darkness,
Emerging out of darkness,
We enter into the sacred ceremony of each other's life.
We sing, we dance,
Humbled by the power
Of each other's presence we pray.
We become prayers for each other.
We sing praises to each other.
And breath by breath, thought by thought, touch by touch,
Music rises between us.
What I was, I am no longer.
Shaking with hope, yielding to your hands
I stand trembling before you.

– Joseph Rubano

Trials and Tempations of Pink Chaddis

2009-02-15T08:04:00.000-08:00

I was just thinking to myself and I realized that even if I had to be the only person "defending" the Pink Chadi campaign I would still do it. Not because I believe in the campaign per se or feel particularly strongly about the political message.( In fact, it is possible that my views are quite the opposite) However, I see in this a beautiful opportunity to re- examine our understanding of non-violence.

For me, it is binary. Non-violence is where Truth is, where Truth is not : violence is. In this aspect I do not see shades of grey, a campaign for the RTI or Bhopal or Organic Food or for that matter Pink Chaddis all fall under one umbrella of un-truth.

Our currently reality however, is not enlightened... but we are not offered the luxury of not having to face and deal with the many 'injustices' of the world as we know it.

Keeping this in mind I feel more at ease with participating in the PC campaign than any other political campaign lead by seasoned activists. For what is worse than the unconscious excercising of the human ego, is the conscious excersise of it. In this respect I feel that the PC campaign comes with a certain innocence which in a world filled with anger and one ideology vs another is a breather. I am more comfortable with the innocent frivolity of underwear than the fury and hatred put out by strong focused campaigns backed by political ideology.

I also find it extremely fascinating that questions of non-violence, right and wrong etc come up so strongly in reaction to politically incorrect/ controversial campaigns. This is not a genuine motivation to question or to understand oneself. It is merely reaction to conditioning. It is yet another step in the wrong direction and serves to further our moral high ground.

Though I would love to generate more discussion around ahimsa, satyagraha etc and also create space to understand the real issues of feminism and social injustice I choose not to do so in such a forum.

2009-02-11T20:33:00.000-08:00

Last night I saw the moonlight on the
still
still sea.

2009-01-30T02:09:00.000-08:00

note: On reading this poem everybody's first question to me is "Are you going through some difficult break up?"
FYI- That is not the case. In fact, my inspiration for this poem came from a novel that I was reading :)

Moving on

'Move on' you say to me,
'Forget about it
and get on with your life'.

But I cant,
I wont.

For you are not separate
from me
you are not separate from my life.
For me to live wholly once more
to truly move on
this pain must be allowed.
To consume me
fully
wholly
completely.

And then,
I can move on.
And then,
I will move on.

City Life

2009-01-28T00:09:00.000-08:00

Mangled black feathers by the side of a black tar road,
perhaps the possesion of a bird
that saw its fate in the hands of some savage beast

Raindrops falling
through gaps between skyscrapers
that loom above
like a canopy
in this urban jungle.

Ferns spring up through the cracks in the concrete;
moss infests the sides.

Nature

Refuses to be drowned
in our sea of plastic,
concrete,
and other uninvited guests...

2009-01-26T10:04:00.000-08:00

If you have not found yourself then you cannot find another

Invisible Walls Unspoken Rules

2008-11-30T23:59:00.001-08:00

It was a Thursday afternoon, when Tara and I were walking along the row of shops adjacent to the beach. Inevitably, a Korathi woman approached us offering to read out palms; to tell us our fortunes in exchange for a few rupees. I didn't ignore her and pretend that she doesn't exist, as I am so accustomed to doing. But I spoke to her, with all the compassion I had and explained that we were busy with some work and couldn't have our palms read just then. Something in the way I did that seems to have broken down some walls, for two minutes later she tapped me on the shoulder and handing me a plastic bottle, asked me to get her water from the nearest coffee shop. She watched me as I walked into the coffee shop and stood around as the waiter got me the water. It felt like she was peering through the window into another world where she wasn't allowed:my world. Afterwards she graciously accepted the water from me with a smile and as I smiled back I realized that even though she wasn't allowed in my world and I in hers; there was a place where that didn't matter.

2008-11-30T23:34:00.001-08:00

Your fear lies beyond that door.
You locked it up
and threw away the key.
Now
you stand here
afraid
that your fear might find you once more.

Fear

2008-11-19T07:41:00.000-08:00

We are more afraid of life than death.

Faith

2008-11-16T05:34:00.000-08:00

There's a spirit that guides me,
a light that shines through me.

Absolutely Clear

2008-11-09T05:09:00.000-08:00

This is a poem by sufi saint Hafiz which touched my heart just at the right moment:)

Don't surrender your loneliness
So quickly.
Let it cut more deep.

Let it ferment and season you
As few human
Or even divine ingredients can.

Something missing in my heart tonight
Has made my eyes so soft,
My voice
So tender.

My need of God
Absolutely
Clear.

2008-11-03T19:00:00.000-08:00

When you laugh
to run from your pain
and when you smile
to hide from the sorrow
in your laughter there will be pain
and in your smiles, sorrow

A Question

2008-10-30T11:06:00.000-07:00

The raindrops fall into the ocean
are they lost
or found?

Haiku

2008-10-29T12:14:00.000-07:00

crossing the river
lost sight of the other bank
in the winter fog

Haiku is a Japanese style of poetry which consists of 17 syllables written in three metrical phrases of 5,7 and 5 syllables respectively. In Japanese haiku are usually printed in a single vertical line but when written in English we write them in three lines.

2008-10-27T08:38:00.001-07:00

The world transformed
my heart enchanted

2008-10-23T20:01:00.000-07:00

Angels know what it means to live in communion with God at every moment.

2008-10-13T10:34:00.000-07:00

Dont let the rain ruin the journey.

Hope

2008-10-02T10:50:00.000-07:00

From beneath the shadowy darkness of the canopy,
even the faint glimmer of sunlight through the leaves reminds me of the bright skies above.

2008-09-29T05:31:00.000-07:00

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?

-Lao Tzu