Wishin on Meteors

Twinkling, shuddering, blazing sky.

All the colours of a rainbow,

Red, blue and white.

Meteors rain on,bringing light.

As, the sky retains its darkness, in all that light,

I was enough - before.

The whole world was, alas, enough before.

Sometimes, I wish I hadn’t met you.

Pains of parting were a plenty, before you.

But yours has a keenness of a different hue.

Sometimes it seems unfair,

To have so many, away.

Whichever side, each stays half,

Complete – ever are we?

Free, we are bound, and bound, we are free.

Hopefully.

On the first night of winter

The rustled whispers,
Of moving boughs.
Go through my eyes,
To my heart.

Talk to us, they say,
Let us see, they say.
Under those layers,
beats a warm heart.

Overflowing with wonder,
Ah! what a blessing.
That the magic of the night,
Should always survive.

Delight, that you can hear,
The howls of the Saharan winds,
Carried, on the whispers here.
Or the scent of the gurgling ocean,
so near.
So much - oh delight!
That you can smell the Savannah,
ere light!

Blessed, Blessed, sung my heart,
In reply to the wind's demand.
For I am a particle,
here and no where, thus everywhere.
I am a thought,
A vision,
An idea.

Feet, weary, of polished floors,
fall naked, on cushions of green.
Grass, full of pearls,
half a quiver, half freezing.
Roses, a bloom, in a garden,
Regained their perfumes,
Tonight.

Each a subtle song,
Carried on the cool air.
What changed O' flowers?
You never smelled in Summer.
Maybe all that is touched,
By this wind of everywhere,
Echoes and calls,
Sings everywhere.

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I want to walk with you,
These streets , full of memories,
Let us not talk,
Let us not speak.
Just walk,
Observe,
Discover
And delight.

I show you something, you show me something else,
I talk to the flowers, you laugh with them,
We, in a reverie , but not alone,
not together either.
Just being.
There.

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I came home after work and was excited with the prospect of having an evening off , usually, my days are full to the brim, up until 9 pm most days, after which I come home, shower and go to bed after talking with people.I went for a walk, I wrote, and am still excited  at the prospect of cooking hot dinner and eating it off of a plate and not a lunch box, a hasty something put together in the wee hours of the morning, cold but sustaining. I am going to cook something amazing and gorge on it.

Love me world :)

Indescribable beauty of moments.

I was sitting in the university lab and working on the Ebola rapid response Hospital in Kenema, the only place with a specialized Lassa fever ward. I have formed a special affinity with that place thanks to the New Yorker's amazing correspondent Richard Preston,(http://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2014/10/27/ebola-wars)  and that led me to the Viral Hemorrhagic Fever Consortium (http://vhfc.org/home) . Such inspiring people!

Working twice on studios which have a specific humanitarian and sustainability focus, I have newly discovered a new direction.

Anyhow, that all being the professional passion chatter, I was talking with mom and she told me to go home as I am unwell, why - what is the point of going home? She said you should rest. Agreed, I should, but what is there to go home for? No one awaits me, those who care about my being sick are thousands of miles away.(Though my room and my creating projects do exude a sublime kind of love to me.)At least, in University, there are people who have shared grievances, the minds working rapidly and to solve some problems of the world, and the university offered up a friend who came and gave me a hug.

The right work is always right, the right time and place will come and find me. I now know why people devote their lives to causes, it just is such a powerful thing, knowing that you can make a difference, if you tried. In this world of the west - only a single life style change has the potential to end so much suffering.

As an artist, as a person driven by the need to capture beauty,  sometimes I am overwhelmed by some looks of myself, like now while working on the computer, I see my reflection, in a repose, resting my arm and staring at the black window of the drawing - I am struck by the view and the need to capture it in the right way - and then I feel the helplessness, the inability to actually capture the right view by the virtue of being entirely unable to move - what a waste , I go on, that I am stuck in this body, limiting my ability to capture it. Here is no vanity, nor any pride, just a slight sense of loss and frustration.

How absolutely weird.
I wish I could paint.

Then, late at night, walking home to feed myself and to sleep, I came up on a clump of grass, perfect in its roundness, with the circular periphery made of high greens quivering in the night air. I stepped neatly in that circle, and looked up at the stars framing the moon , I could have been in the Savannah, in Africa , with lions rustling away slowly towards their prey. My heart expands and envelopes my mind, as I get transported just by mere imagination, I can even smell it.

I think a silent observer would really be intrigued as I walk down anywhere, night or day , as I am constantly in communication with the elements, things and seasons. I'd flop and frisk, look at things with dancing eyes or forlornly, bow down low and run, speak and sing- how can one not, in our world of absolute beauty. My walks are the tools of connection, of being inspired, and of healing when I miss people too much. Being me, I have had to learn exactly how to hug myself close and form a cocoon, doesn't always work - and the world always helps and shows me love. I don't make it easy on myself, I am a harsh task master, sometimes it is a lonely journey requiring courage, but then, we must remain true to a life with purpose. There is no more sure fire way to unhappiness,as you will hate yourself and those who love you if you don't remain true to yourself. But this of course doesn't mean that I am not there for them, in a way I am more with them than ever before- I believe I am much more open and connected to them after I have come away, I've seen their qualities that I hadn't noticed before, their faith and courage, and also how much they actually mean to me, how very important their being in my life is. Si, Distance does open up our eyes and we no longer have the luxury to take anyone for granted.

Loneliness leads to a deeper understanding of self. It has been a philosophical experience as much as a cultural and social one. I now understand what they mean that life is, in its essence, a walk alone.
Not that I would mind having my brother to show all the insects, or my dad to teach me about all those insects so that I can teach it to my brother.
And mom,so she can tell me about the pickle recipe or how the Kitchen is a chemistry lab. 
I am truly blessed to have the people that are in my life.

Going by the number of fascinating, lovely people I meet everyday - you'd think I would just be overrun with friendships and connections! :) That is a blessing too.

Another eternal truth, no matter how much you know someone,something, there is always something new to discover, be pleasantly surprised at, to celebrate. If two people grow together, I do not see how this new notion of "bored of them" works.

Last night, I was coming back from university, awaiting my bus and working out a fulfilling way of loving.

"I look at the stars, and the moon,
In their eternal love for me,
I do not feel alone.

I smile at the flowers,
Kissing them with dewy lips,
Only they relieve the hunger,
For yours."


Once, I was passing by the Art Gallery, the cultural precinct is such an interesting place, and overheard this from an older lady, "I don't know why you listen to me, I never would!"  :)

I dream of grand escapades and adventures, and indeed, they are AWESOME, I do value the everyday beauty of the dandelions, I do not understand how anyone can be bored - it is just an unwillingness to face up to the uncomfortable feelings generated within, I believe this generation is the most hidden one, they hide their qualities, the ability to be kind, loving, generous, they are afraid to love, they are afraid to show loss, or to grieve in public, to show all the natural emotions, but they are not afraid to be profane, to be rude or to hurt. 

We need to be more compassionate, to ourselves, first of all. Compassion doesn't make you weak, it makes you courageous enough to face up to the realities of what you are feeling. You are not bored, you are afraid to be alone, you are afraid of thinking, of feeling. The hiding behind screens and televisions discourages thoughtfulness, creating, and living. Though, not meant in the regimental sense, as there is always so much to learn.

"See it all, observe, its around you. Everywhere you go, find all the pleasure there is in this world and live it. Smile at every passer by and touch every leaf..... love is always in the air."

I believe I would like half an hour every night of just lying under the stars with my beloved.

We are meant to look at the stars, its in our genes and good for the heart.
 "How gladdening and ennobling it is to look up at the night sky,fringed with the dark silhouette of leafy trees, that in the scheme of life, that beauty is eternal."

Now, dear reader, get ready to form a picture in your head.
"The bus passing by. A young man of about 20 ,on a bicycle, framed by leafy trees. A cloudy afternoon with diffused lights and high wind. His features are very delicate, Noble yet frail, dark green lively eyes, accentuated by the same green of his jacket. Through the glass our eyes meet and I smile, wanting to convey my pleasure at the beauty of the human form."

I am sure this conjured up very different images for each one - I really wonder if pictured, what each would look like?

If I pass by something that pleases me, I tell it, for the world tells me the same and it pleases me to no end and I like to keep the circle going. Beauty is no one's property, nor is spirit, it comes and fades,though one hopes the spirit keeps.

Last night, I dreamt of being home, I dreamt of my mother,hugging me and cooking for me,I dreamt of helping her like usual in the kitchen, and my brother there, telling me of one of his escapades as I put my head on his lap. I was also writing this to someone special - telling him how amazing it felt to be taken care of, and to be there, and while writing, I was crying, then I woke up crying, mumbling something to my mother. My eyes slowly focused on the bird on my wall, sent by my friend in Canada to help make me make my room mine , and I realised I was no where near that sun drenched room opening up to tall trees and loud calls of birds. Oh the emptiness.

Recently, it must have been a rougher ride than I gave it credit for. I've grown to love toiling away, this must also have a rather obvious connection to the other students complaining about how their mother was always asking why they are late for dinner and how inconvenient it is to go home to eat (well! you have someone who cooks for you and wants you to come and eat! :P ) and my chat with a married lady yesterday, who is one of the students under my care and she is almost having a breakdown with the amount of work in her Bachelors first year and how she can't cope with Architecture and family. She has three kids, and architectural studies seem to require a full time relationship with it only :P I am not the wisest in that situation, but blocking off certain time zones usually helps, as well as asking for help. So while there are kids, there is a husband too - see! There,already a silver lining.

At least I get to feel empty, that gets me creating! It is like I feed on words when I write, I always seem to skip meals :P

Recently, a friend posted this image, and to end I shall put this out for anyone who wants to use it again (of course it isn't mine)

I'd say, why just a photographer? That is inadequate - it should be a video and you can always do a screen grab! :P

“The soul, fortunately, has an interpreter —often an unconscious but still a faithful interpreter—in the eye.” ~ Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre

 

Embittered hearts and the healing of the species.

Human kind needs to be healed.

It suffers from imagined problems as well as the very real ones, created mostly by the imagined ideas of misguided people in powerful positions.


It has never before been so clear to me that human kind has gone around and around and hurt its psyche so much that all I can feel is pity and sorrow for it. It is sad.

I am going to proceed on to feeling angelic!*

 Well, to be honest, I just want to keep writing sentimental poetry and not write about the social problems. Really, who cares.
I do. Which is the problem.

I can't do "impersonal" so well as the westerners. Gosh, can they do that !

Neil was going on about why it is important to be "unavailable, selfish and mysterious" to stay in a marriage, that if you left your better half hanging, always not quite fulfilling their need of your availability and affection, it will keep them hooked to you.
 I said, "So keep the relationship a unhappy, unhealthy one,


 As they say, you always have a choice, don't let bad experiences harden you so much that you miss out on living.
 I don't do venom ,or vindictiveness
 Too much energy that can be used for better pursuits.
 if I don't like something ,I say it. I get angry, I get sad. I don't get jealous or want revenge.

" connection and attraction are not mutually exclusive " I firmly believe this.

 I really don't understand today's generations sadistic views towards what they shall find in love, why presume what you don't even know. I just find that the more partners people change, the more dissatisfied they are,for they leave a little bit of themselves with them, and that is never back no matter how you move on. That is why today's relationships are so fragile. Everyone is also ready to "find someone better". People didn't complain so much ,they used to be happy ,in love and content with their love, they did all the things they wanted together. And also understood that sometimes, setting those we love free is the greatest expression of love. Love is not dependency, and when you rely on someone else to make you happy, you put too much on their shoulders, they might buckle under the weight. That being said, love is also doing things for each other without being asked, when you have to ask, this might breed resentment. When we do things just cause we know that will make the other ones happy, we make them pure and true. No one changes for anyone, and one shouldn't expect them to, but there is no bigger a proof of love, when they change ,slowly, from within, to better love you.

People seem to have forgotten that everyone is essentially different, yet it is worth making the effort for someone. They also seem to be so lost to the fact that love drives the world, and love is not "only" the romantic kind, (which is only a meagre 10% of all types of love). To me, most sacred is the love between friends, love that comes without expectations of any kind.

Questioning how I know if their sex lives were (of those old days) "oh so amazingly hot" is futile- as I don't. But most were more happier and truer.and more "together" (That's the kind of questions Neil does ask sometimes)

The truth can not be denied that the society was much more happier as a whole when there were less sexual partners involved.I am not advocating staying a virgin until you marry or something like that, nor am I religiously inclined - don't get me wrong.I am just stating facts as they appear. I am totally advocating waiting for the special connection, and for someone who truly is worthy of such intimacy. When we value what is happening and cherish it. 

 That a little bit of control or understanding before indulgence would do this society a world of good.
 Because, today it seems, the sacredness of that particular human contact is essentially lost.That is all. Keep it important.
(until here, it was written a while back, with some new edits - I am so horrible) 

Do we really want to live in a world where the idea of love is mocked, hearts are lonely and young ones become cynics before they hit puberty.

Connections of kindness if what we need, where we do things that have no reciprocation apart from spreading the feeling of having done something that we wanted to do because it felt good.

And - on that note, I will admit that there are many such things and doings that I encounter ,each day, everyday! SO the world is running well and true and I need not feel so bad after all! (and not let the cynics drive the ideas!)

I love to write letters, I wrote a letter to a family who extended their warm hospitality and love to us when we travelled to the desert of Kutchh some years back. The son of the house wrote to me on facebook with the photo of the letter after a few years, asking if it was me, and inviting us back whenever we might be able to go.

Pretty ,beautiful, old fashioned letters!


Just like the Lamas from the monasteries high up in my favourite mountains, kindness connects us all. (A Buddhist friend recently told me they shouldn't have been corresponding with me anyway , poor creatures - I was a breach of their vows, woops,sorry guys )

And after having said this all  - I have no clue what romantic love is supposed to feel like, and it frightens me to death. Each time when I think of it, I feel the charisma of the thought , the magic of the connection, the eternalness of it - and also the horrific notion of being tied down, of becoming complacent and comfortable,of loosing my aspirations.

I do not know how to balance it, how to not be so frightened. I, the one who loves the world, frightened of love? What kind of a twisted joke is that.

Maybe there is a start of an answer here , in this article that I found this morning. I always seem to find what I really need to read. (well I am no where NEAR those two questions mentioned there) She is right, some times, we asks too many questions. Maybe I am putting too much pressure on things and I need to live in the now, just in the now. Which is very hard for someone like me who is a thinker - but don't we always learn :)

http://www.elephantjournal.com/2014/08/is-he-or-she-the-one-ask-these-2-questions-kimby-maxson/

So apparently, for the first time, mother is unable to understand or help, she is the one who questioned and shook me up, so I must dig around in the brains of the brilliants (no more brill than me ma ya hear!) to bolster my courage. Bloody hell, how can it feel so right and be so scary ( the element of having only grudging approval?) . Or is it just a fancy of my extravagant mind that always insists on over analysing.

Maybe I just need to go away on a trip :)

Maybe it is just the question of balancing my ego - the notion of "I" and another. With my people, they feel like an extension of me , or I feel like an extension of their existence. We are essentially not a different people, while yes we are different persons. Forging another such covalent bond might very naturally feel alien, like a foreign body entering the blood stream. The key is to give it time, to not rush things and trust in the universe.

But mostly, it is the question of not questioning the fear , it is there because it is natural, it is real. It is there because I care a lot. To understand that what we have been fed as a "general idea of romance" is a fad , real love takes work and time and it is frighting. I am probably not the only one who has questions, and it is ok to have them. Just like my attitude towards things outside of my comfort zone, what seems too complicated has something that makes it worth it. Rational awareness and being open to change, growth and uncertainty teaches us how to be our better selves. There are no maps in life. Firstly, I must relate well to what scares me, so that I can learn from it - after all, accepting this doesn't make me weak, it just makes me an artist who sees the alchemical properties of beautiful, wild things that roam free in the dark enchanted forests and know that each are there.      

Like Steinback said very wisely to his son, "Nothing good gets away."

http://www.brainpickings.org/2012/01/12/john-steinbeck-on-love-1958/ 

Understand that this is definitely not designed to push anyone away :) 

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Now is the time to share what I wrote to my beloved-s on/ near V day. (one of the advantages of being that close to me , you get pearls of words :P )

Thank you Mr.stardust for your usual, enchanting words and flowers.But mostly for your continued love and being SO you that you always paint everything associated with you with the colour of childhood mischiefs and adventures. It is like living in our favourite books.As if the years haven't passed at all.

"My beautiful, it is raining, storming. I am in a bus, it has the air conditioning on, but it has that misty, rather cool yet fresh quality to it that I associate with the smell one gets under a freezing waterfall that runs over dark green leaves. It is slightly enchanting. It transports my soul there. How very mundane a thing though? Maybe even undesirable , when you consider that the machine must be not working properly. Then, the bus turns a corner, there is a shallow carpet of dry leaves, formed like maple. Every leaf is wet, apart from one, which still holds sunshine and summer on it, it hurls itself in the wind and swirls, like a happy maiden in her summer dress.

I look at it, and think of you , for you may see the poetry in it as I do. Wistful rainy evenings. Thank you for the grass flower in the book."

I encountered a change of dynamics with my aunt recently, which was imminent ,with her having found her other half :)
"I want to recapture the magic that we are, when we go out at night, hand in hand to explore.

We can be anywhere, and it becomes new york. "

I am sure it is still there, I am extremely excited about getting to dip in to this new equation.


And then, the most bare faced, sentiment strewn writing that makes me dewy eyed, that is for my brother. 

"My dear darling, you not only hold my heart, you permeate my soul.You are in my every pore. We rightly share the blood, for it is true that you are the child of my heart. Every rainy evening that passes without you, cries for the sorrow of not sharing the tinkling laughters that we would have shared together. Even the memories of our places in time, each marked by its breathtaking quality, wrench my heart so that even the enchantment of a rainy evening fades, almost, but not quite. For you reside fully, even in these memories, and our hearts are together, wherever we may physically be." 

you all lucky orchids!

"I like your nose, I like your eyes, but I like you the most."

Compilation over a few months.

I have big eyes, now they are so clear and bright, brimming red. Lashes well defined with the mascara of moisture.

If only Captain Vidur was around, he would know what to do. He would never ask me why I was crying, because he would know - if not the trigger than at least the sorrow that built up to it. He would only hold me tight and let me wet the front of his t shirt up with all those slobbery things one does while crying quite non elegantly. (yeah - I am not a sniffer) He would wait it out. He would not say anything other than comforting nonsense and say yes to every outrageous claim that I may make (Do make quite a few). His bright philosophy would come only after I'd grown breathless and tired of my sobs and would be quite clear headed ,even if a bit dazed.

Oh my brother! I miss you. I miss my mom's comforting touch and my dad's wise diction. It seems life is not as important without those who you love near you, even with their annoying ways and opinions and constant irritations. It is life half lived that is lived alone.

Some can, but I can not live without my family. I am a rooted overgrown tree with branches that strive to expand and the roots that go down deeper and deeper. Maybe I should learn something from the Banian tree.

Counter intuitive , but true.

This has always been the problem.
Maybe ..... As I told my dad , I would like to live six months in India, and six anywhere else. Somehow make enough money to support this and have a farm.

The west is a great place to make money, it is safer , calmer, more appreciative, more polite and civilised (yes, in a way) and charming in its own way. (I stopped there and yes don't know what the thing was about)
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Having cleaned the kitchen, I was about to retire for bed and someone knocks on the security screen, as I like to keep the door open. It is touching 11 PM and my heart jumps a little as I am alone in the house. ( I love it)
"Delivery"

"oh! ok, must be for the one in the back"
I go out and guide the young Chinese  through. I come back in,I hear him go to the door and tentatively try to get it all done- in those moments, I feel very close and sympathetic to the delivery guy.  You may wonder why dear reader, I did because I heard the same kind of tentative nervousness in his voice that I feel. That feeling of loneliness one gets when one knows that there is not one here who would care or readily help - the tentativeness born of being unsure, born of distance and the aloneness.. I wish him luck and I also made sure I wished him good night. I felt close to him because while he might be from our rival country, he was still an international student like me, trying his best to do his work.All alone.  

These moments fraught with adventure and nervousness . Ah! I've had so many of them. They never lose their charm I suppose. But the one with "loneliness" mixed together in it are no fun.
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When you invite someone, they should either accept or deny the invitation. Plainly ignoring it is the hight of insulting behaviour.
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There is an old saying in our language, (Gujarati)

"Manma Paranvu ne Manma Randvu"

Which translates to, "Marrying in your own mind and widowing in your own mind"

I always agreed that it is a very wise saying. It is for when you can not be open about your feelings and are in a desperate pickle because of it! And in all probability, the other person doesn't even know about it.Such fun times eh sailor?
http://www.elephantjournal.com/2014/09/to-love-a-girl-who-wanders-toby-israel/

"A guy wouldn't inquire unless he intends to go!"
I told my tormented girl friend who was the glum- s because her new love interest hadn't written to her about their proposed outing , heck ,he hadn't written to her for 4 days.

That is torture to us women, mind you all guys!

She says I am becoming more British in my speech by the day, and she also said I am too open.
Well, at least I don't feel as stifled and helpless as her. I have never done stifled too well, I burst when I try to.

She gave me an insight, she said men (I will say people) are like ducks , if one goes near them too fast, they flap away squawking.I think we all have developed this fear of emotional "getting close" , while that very thing is what is the most precious, beautiful thing in the world.
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And that shows how soon I can let go, over the years I have changed, changed so much. I used to think that I will never grow out my tempestuous temper, one that scared anyone and everyone in to silence. I have had to work on it, and I still flare up, but rationality has taken a new, healthy hold. I suppose it was the age too.  Being right is not as important any more. What goads me now, if anything , is when someone near my heart does something that will be harmful to them later on. Granted, I glint and sparkle in my anger, but it is a pure anger, not vicious or jealous. Envy has no place, awe does.I never did get the green monster's bite.

More than anything, I am sure of my love for myself and others, my heart has never been so open before.

Why am I going on about that anyway?

One day,I dreamt of flying,
High high, up in the air.

Not that I love not the Earth,
but for my heart feels snared.
It is a humming bird,
It loves its wings of gold. 
As the motions swell and flare.
They become, addictive.
But more than that,
my heart is an idea.
An idea precious and pure,
too vivid to be real,
too real to be false.

It worries and it twists,
for the path is unknown.
It questions and answers,
It yearns and shies away.
For I thought I knew it all,
But I do not, But I don't.
Ideas must change, sometimes.
Or evolve in to a new meaning.
But more importantly,
Ideas should be fearless.
Scared not in to complacence.
So I breath,I breath.
Again.

Sush,dear heart,
Hush now,my love.
You mustn't ask too much,
Nor be silently accepting,
For that is untrue.
Remain true, 
Remain you,
All else,
We shall see.

Someone very lovingly told me recently, when I said to him, "You know, everyone loves me"

"yes, I know, and if they don't , they should."

How do you contain such confidence in you in your little heart :)

Because I am.

http://www.elephantjournal.com/2013/02/how-to-stay-young-hot-forever-advice-from-a-96-year-old-grandma/
This has always been a favourite read for me. But because of what happened yesterday , I am going to put it with it.

I wrote about it so I shall just paste the same here.
" Today at work , an old lady came up to chat with me. She is French, upright, coherent and collected, and 94. She runs her late husbands business still , who was English and they came out here 30 years back. She said she doesn't enjoy here always as people aren't friendly. (I wonder)
She made me think, I want to be like her at 94. Very elegant , no stooping or shuffling of feet business. No sir. And I see young people walking around with no grace at all. It is a shame. A proud erect back does say a lot.

She told me she liked my face, particularly my eyes, "your eyes are alive" ,she said.You are very full of life and it shows on your expressive face. She took my hand in hers (and as I had just come back after buying milk ) "Oh!! your hand is cold, but your heart is warm." I wanted to give her a hug, but she wasn't your normal little old lady, you couldn't handle her like that without considering first hand what you are implying, but I did give her shoulder a squeeze and asked her to take very good care of herself. I know she will."

http://sustainablehuman.me/how-whales-change-climate/
I love this video. You'd have never thought, would you have? The complex relations between animals and ecology are very easy to miss. Humans in  their usually haphazard way, have no notion of anything what so ever.

I am unfashionably sincere , live with a feral honesty, and suffer a libertine's desperation for new experiences. Those elegant of soul, those loyal of heart, those extravagant of mind will understand what I mean.

Doesn't mean I can't do a Jane Austen's Heroin justice in tight social situations, Me is sleek dude!

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“Nothing makes a woman more beautiful than the belief that she is beautiful.” ~ Sophia Loren 

Thus  - I shall always be beautiful. That is my resolve.

Today was a magical day, I set forth in to the world with my dreams on my sleeve, with my heart quite open, and a smile on my face. Then, the world loved me so! My magic was felt widely and all over. All that met me want to talk to me, and I ,them. They all felt a pang when I left, when the discussions came to a close. The bonding energies ran high and vivid. It was amazing, it was rewarding in a most human way, It is exhausting - mind you - all that stimulation of the soul, but worth it for the unadulterated happiness and understanding one gets of the world.

I have started a ritual, to greet myself once I have become conscious of a new day having started when I awaken. They say, "Talk to yourself as you would to a loved one." That's a no brainer right? But do you really do that? There is no one so hard on us, as us alone.

So I went early for my yoga class, after a minute breakfast of oats soaked overnight in home made yoghurt and berries, nuts.  I wrote a tentative brief for our studio proposals for our team before leaving. Using your brain first thing in the morning isn't such a bad idea. It also gave me something to congratulate myself for. Something accomplished so early in the day. 

 

Most of my days tend to be choke full of things to do (and others are full of lazy lolling around in luxuriant sensuality of being, reading, sleeping ,creating) - I reached the house of my students, they are fast becoming my most favourite but I must also say that each have their own endearing perks. These two ladies just happen to be right up my alley, so they say. I didn't realise my yoga student is one of the only 4 specials of "something" in Australia (considering that number, I shouldn't say what it is - her privacy thing) , and I haven't met a more humble, down to earth person. So gentle ,but firm in her ways. The other one is more bubbly, yet very firm in her way too. Rather like me, childish, happy, chirpy. The eye will be drawn to her. Always doing something. Both are amazingly intelligent, insightful and interesting. Today, my teaching was overlaid with pleasure of the company. We drifted off in to our talk of insights in to the different cultures, what is rude and what is not, lions, philosophy of things,love, men (for me) and relationships in general, Impact of congestion on the way people behave, and the downfalls of Australian society , and Indian. 

She is a Psychologist. I am a gatherer of wisdom. We both agree that the drive to achieve that mythical  "Status" , that elusive something is killing of the enjoyment of living. Mostly here, things can not replace moments, bought things can not bring as much joy and satisfaction as making things with your own hands or with someone you love. 

She has mastered her characters now and vowels, Now I told her, "you are now free to use this language!" She wrote my name herself. I am not going to make her learn words first - first we are going to have SO much fun with the structure of the language that she had learnt, I want to reinforce it  - she is going to write a passage of English, in Hindi script. Talk of fun ! We also agreed that my name, if spelt Deeva, would be rather unappealing, and that my mom says about (and I agree) the influence of names on personalities, and she agrees too - as she has seen so many similarities in personalities, strengths,weaknesses , in her clients - I have observed the same. I like Diva. We both agreed, that "the true success of parenting lies in the offspring liking = loving the person that they are" - good work my parents.

 Oh, and we sit here, learn,teach ,and grow - while sipping green tea. We also get excited about pebbles, shells, insects buried in amber, metal ants and crocheting/ embroidery, anything. We are like that.

 Neeedless to say that the class lasted almost an hour longer than planned - we hadn't had a session  in the last three weeks and it was a delight. We didn't want to part. We wanted to keep talking. She is 60 and I am 25. We are the same. We have the same enthusiasm for life. Today she asked me what my dream was, what was my ultimate goal? She is a good psychologist cause she said, "If you could live here half the time and half the time in India, that would be good for you." She understood. She didn't question me when I said I want a farm near Gir, so that I can make sure my children know what life really is. Growing up partially near a forest, near the lions. She agreed it would teach them something nothing else can. Respect, for all things that matter. A deep rooted intelligence and empathy. Culture. Art. History. While the influence of the west would teach them to be questioning , to be analytical, open and friendly. How I want my art to make my money for me, how I want to create more, as I travel, and the consensus was, I will need to find someone open enough to my ideas, while I have to be open to fluctuations , the most important thing for a relationship is to be able to integrate plans from both sides together, in a way that works. So that the respect and enjoyment of each others company can fuel things and the differences may not work against ,but for the strength of dreams made bigger and better.

That is all I want.

Anyhow,so as you can see , I have no problem opening up to people that I like. I also got two hugs.

Then I had to go and deliver some photos :) When I talk of/think of my dreams, I seem to extrude this happiness that makes people want to hang around. Even this guy who came to take his thumb drive faltered and had a chat before leaving. People love the stuff. 

Then I went to Kakulas, it is a grocery store that sell Indian and Mediterranean spices, herbs, nuts, grains, beans, cheeses, lentils, and more,and more, in a loose way. Which I love.SO ... I was filling up things and beaming at nature's bounty, when a guy came up to me and asked if he could help, or if anyone was attending to me, so I said, not I was doing my own thing, thank you. He then introduced himself as the owner, we shook hands, and talks started. He is Greek, and asked if I was Macedonian or Italian /Greek? My features, he said, are very Mediterranean. Alexander did pass through India, he said. So I repeated the story of my family having "some sort of distant connection to Italy aeons ago" (My aunt and me used to dream of living in Italy (before we found this in some piece of literature), at one stage and wishing we were Italian - dreams come true in ways you can't fathom) He then asked what he could offer me, was I a sweet person or savoury? So I went for savoury and he gave me a bag of salted cashews that they roast in store as a complementary gift. I said I loved his store because it made me feel like home. He then asked if I had time to sample his best silver needle white tea as he enjoyed talking with me. I said ok, why ever not, a tea cup for new friendships! ( made sure he knew I had a boyfriend , a hypothetical one, for now. Rich older men, One has to be very to the point with the image one gives- I have no intention of giving the wrong sort) - so apparently, this tea is $800 a kilogram, sadly, I had to say, I am tea layman - and have no sense of the refined in teas. I do feel rather happy I've tried it though :) It was interesting to think about. 

We talk about what I did, about his Catholic background and his interest in the Iscon temple, his training as a lawyer, Havans, and Lord Krishna. He asked if I wanted to join him sometime when he went to the temple to sing the "Bhajan" ( It is sometimes weird talking with people here about my own culture and they seem to think I might not know it) , I said I have nothing against singing prayers, I love it, but I have everything against any kind of Hierarchy in a spiritual thing, when it becomes a cult, it brings in politics. We talked about spirituality, Hinduism ,Buddhism, how all the divine entities are necessarily of an individual's choice, how only necessary understanding is that of the universal energy, that is in us all, how we all can be Buddha, and that Buddha is not meant to mean God, just as important, like us all-  and he asked if I had studied these thing very deeply? How did I know so much ? So clear in my spiritual convictions? And when people go like that on me, I go... "errrr .. yeah I guess I know a bit, but nah, I am not a scholar of any of it." I mean, why does one need to have to have done that to have some clarity?  I am just not all over the place, in that topic, that's all. He said he wasn't trying to convert me to anything by asking me there, well I said,I am already a Hindu, you can't convert me to Hinduism. In the end I said I may come, with my "boyfriend". He said yes, maybe you can be my yoga teacher later on. We exchanged cards and he walked me out.  He said, "You have a very kind face, a sweet face that shows you will listen when someone speaks. You have the right energy, and that is what must make people speak to you." 

Well I am just happy that I can speak to people, and connect on so many levels. It is a privilege. 

Then I walked in to Govinda's to get my lunch, a man standing in front of me looked at me shyly and being on my high horse, I said hello - He flushed and kept peeking at me through out lunch, a little girl came in with her mother, and she kept looking at me, then I made a face at her and smiled, so she smiled and sat near me, looking all the time. It is a bit uncomfortable to have two people kind of staring at you and I was careful to not let my sauce drip :P . Then I got up, said by to the guy (still trying to hide that he was looking and smiling) - who said bye with alacrity for someone not looking, and I said a bigger,louder ,wavier bye to the little girl, who jumped off her chair and waved at me with both her hands, blowing a kiss. 

I passed a fund raiser guy and shook his hand, and we did a half dancing swing, "you are happy!" he said, and we exchanged greetings. I went past the museum and the urge to go in again came over, so I did, and had a turn around in my favourite "Treasures of Afghanistan" - I have gone to them when ever I was in need of inspiration, it had smelt, felt, tasted or something essentially home like. The touch of mystery and history, of treasures and craftsmanship. Something remotely connected to the aching love I have for the Himalayas, and of course, the Hindukush. I talked with a staff member who then let me see a new york artist's impression of the gold ornaments, and showed where she was struggling to find the exact likeness of the intricate carving and emboss work. I spent half an hour with her working that out. It was the three dimensional form and the lighting that made the undulating landscape a bit incomprehensible in a two dimensional illustration. Then ,as always, I looked at the tree of heart, leaf petal crown, closed my eyes capturing the picture in my head, and walked out. 

Then I went and did my vegetable shopping. Came back and left again to meet another client, she had made me some home made Murukku to munch on while I "Thought on things". So people gave me food :) and a hug.
Walking up to her had brought me past my little girl friend's home and they had extracted a promise from me to come play with them after my business- they will prepare flowers for me, and so they were sitting there waiting. We had a play, today I got to introduce myself to the respective parents who were rightly concerned, then they gave me the flowers and one of them came over to jump on the trampoline , and then they both gave me big hugs, and more promises to come by "anytime we can!" (scary ! )

Then I came back home and jumped on the trampoline while Neil told me about his day .

So, after dinner - I slumped off to sleep without even realising it. This whole connecting business is exhausting.

BUT, now that I have recorded this day , I can always come back to it and re read it,when I need that extra willingness to smile and move a bit closer to people. But as I told someone, "there is a hidden delight, a glamour, in wallowing in sorrow too!" So sometimes, it is permissible, in moderation.