Tango mood today. Argentine tango to be more accurate. Thinking, watching and talking about it today has put little else in my mind :)
I remembered while talking to a friend what the instructor who first taught me told me... He said "Forget the moves, just dance with me... give me your soul. So that I may give you mine." It sounds straight from a movie and maybe it's a famous quote - but it does surmise what tango is. There is a deep connection between the two parties. As the girl - you are almost submissive and you hand yourself to the guy to lead you. And it takes a good lead to allow you to be as beautiful as you are capable of. So in handing yourself over, you are actually feeding your energy and strength into the canvas, and your partner in turn is using that energy to create the art formed in that same canvas...
It's very interesting me to how different dances speak differently. The energy levels, the music associations, the histories... the kinds of moods you can portray in different kinds. Tango to me is a very passionate dance. They call it the three legged dance, you are tied into your partner and even in an open embrace and slow dance, there is a strong connection between you which has to be present in order to perform this. It's a communication of your desire - it's fueled by your mood and how much of yourself you're willing to share.. and how much your partner can take.
Tango originated by the slaves in Argentina being influenced by both cultures finding a place in where they could dance. Tango means "closed space" - a kind of safe haven where they could dance. Tanguere - meaning to touch is probably the more adapted meaning of it. While "tango" is more of the place where the dance occurred - tango, to me, is just that - the closed space, when you shut the world out, there is nothing but that moment, when your mind is off, you have to switch it off... and pay attention to the conversation happening between two bodies. And almost like magic...in this closed space... you start to move, you start to glide... you start to twist, you start to extend, like a language you didn't even know you speak... you start to dance...
Tuesday, February 26, 2013
Monday, February 25, 2013
Hands
Day 150
Soft, unscathed, no calluses - our hands begin small and curious. Reaching out to whatever shiny object grabs our fancy, responding to the touch of warmth... little fingers holding on tightly to another larger one, feeling safe.
Sucking on thumbs, to sticking hands in every possible place. Your hands support you while you play, explore... they wipe your tears, they help you reach out to someone else - hold their hand. You grow older you learn to write, to express, to draw, create... You embrace knowledge through them, they brace and break your fall.
Your hands, your tools...they put food in your mouth, they put the clothes on your back... straighten out your hair, brush your teeth.. They fold into fists of anger when you're unable to comprehend, almost like containing your emotion, stopping it from leaving. Fidget when you're nervous, console when given a chance. Caressing creating, they carry your feelings and portray them in their own orchestra, hands playing the role of a director.
Swollen, raw, bruised, wet, dry.. your hands age with you, share your stories with you. They tremble in fear, they steady when holding a child, they embrace, they protect... they write letters, they hold stories, they enact, they know the pain of letting go... holding on often longest...reaching out first.
When aged, your hands become your eyes... feeling for you... guiding you. Your hands in prayers.. your hands in surrender, your hands in love... in despair, in dance. There is so much your hands say and do, such a large part of our existence is in these little extensions of our bodies.. Every now and then I like to look at my hands, look at the hands of others.. they are quietly working as our instruments, and if we stop and observe, we will see the remnants of the places where we've been, all the life we've embodied, hidden in the scars, the wrinkles, the spots, the marks.. they lie unnoticed - these tools quietly awaiting their next command.
Sucking on thumbs, to sticking hands in every possible place. Your hands support you while you play, explore... they wipe your tears, they help you reach out to someone else - hold their hand. You grow older you learn to write, to express, to draw, create... You embrace knowledge through them, they brace and break your fall.
Your hands, your tools...they put food in your mouth, they put the clothes on your back... straighten out your hair, brush your teeth.. They fold into fists of anger when you're unable to comprehend, almost like containing your emotion, stopping it from leaving. Fidget when you're nervous, console when given a chance. Caressing creating, they carry your feelings and portray them in their own orchestra, hands playing the role of a director.
Swollen, raw, bruised, wet, dry.. your hands age with you, share your stories with you. They tremble in fear, they steady when holding a child, they embrace, they protect... they write letters, they hold stories, they enact, they know the pain of letting go... holding on often longest...reaching out first.
When aged, your hands become your eyes... feeling for you... guiding you. Your hands in prayers.. your hands in surrender, your hands in love... in despair, in dance. There is so much your hands say and do, such a large part of our existence is in these little extensions of our bodies.. Every now and then I like to look at my hands, look at the hands of others.. they are quietly working as our instruments, and if we stop and observe, we will see the remnants of the places where we've been, all the life we've embodied, hidden in the scars, the wrinkles, the spots, the marks.. they lie unnoticed - these tools quietly awaiting their next command.
Sunday, February 24, 2013
My Time of Day
Day 149
If I could be enveloped in a day...
Would you remember me as the night
Cloaked in my darkness, in my vulnerability
In my armor, ready to fight, strong
Refusing to be afraid, to give up
Or cornered... would you picture me as giving in
Would you be able to walk with me as I am?
Would you be able to walk with me as I am?
Would you remember me as the dawn
That breaks when the fight has worn me out
As I walk on the battleground of my soul
Tired, looking for refuge, letting hope
Heal me again.. or weak.. beaten down hard
Would you be able to surrender yourself to me?
Would you remember me as the glorious sun
Dancing in the glow of the light, burning strong
Burning bright, claiming the world by its reins
The stories of the dark unable to touch me
The stories of the dark unable to touch me
The light burning us with desire and intention
Would you be able to dance with me as I am?
Would you remember me as the quiet evening
The setting sun painting its colors in my eyes
The day ending, the time when I hold on harder
To the feeling that it will start again.. and while we
Part... and I hold on stronger, hold on with determination
Would you be able to hold on to me too?
And when the darkness would come.. and I must
Put my armor on again...
Would you remember the next day and every day
And every moment and battle and victory
And loss and nothing and everything that followed...
Would you still remember...
Would you still remember me?
And loss and nothing and everything that followed...
Would you still remember...
Would you still remember me?
- RKS
Helpless
Day 148
We must have some power within us. The power to change situations, the power to help, the power to heal. We must have some power to pick ourselves up, to support, It is what propels your confidence, your faith. In a lot of ways when that feeling of helplessness takes over - when you feel like you have no control on fate and rules of society have clipped your wings - it leads to despair.
In a lot of ways it humbles you - makes you realize how small you and your intentions are. How little of an impact you can make... your existence is hanging on threads of some Gods whims. You are a puppet in this play... you are given feelings and emotions - but no power to magically change or revoke. Do we then give up... and give in?
I don't know. It's strange... being helpless while is one of the worst feelings you can go through - is also a building block for faith. The point where your faith in yourself ends... begins faith in the pull of the universe, of things happening for a reason.. of us being propelled in this way for a purpose. Are we being pulled apart or being pushed together? Is helplessness just narrowing our vision, like wearing blinders... unable to see what's happening? In this storm are we creating a bond that will tie us together forever. Are we able to love without shame, to show tenderness with no fear... to be selfless, to be wrapped up in the comfort that you could feel so much.. so much for someone else, that you are bound in a way that can never be broken, even if its tugged at, even when it hurts... Is there comfort in knowing.. that the power we look for to change the world, is in the world itself.. is part of the surrounding itself - and when we stop struggling, when we lower ourselves from our pedestal and move with this force - we have more power than we can imagine.
In a lot of ways it humbles you - makes you realize how small you and your intentions are. How little of an impact you can make... your existence is hanging on threads of some Gods whims. You are a puppet in this play... you are given feelings and emotions - but no power to magically change or revoke. Do we then give up... and give in?
I don't know. It's strange... being helpless while is one of the worst feelings you can go through - is also a building block for faith. The point where your faith in yourself ends... begins faith in the pull of the universe, of things happening for a reason.. of us being propelled in this way for a purpose. Are we being pulled apart or being pushed together? Is helplessness just narrowing our vision, like wearing blinders... unable to see what's happening? In this storm are we creating a bond that will tie us together forever. Are we able to love without shame, to show tenderness with no fear... to be selfless, to be wrapped up in the comfort that you could feel so much.. so much for someone else, that you are bound in a way that can never be broken, even if its tugged at, even when it hurts... Is there comfort in knowing.. that the power we look for to change the world, is in the world itself.. is part of the surrounding itself - and when we stop struggling, when we lower ourselves from our pedestal and move with this force - we have more power than we can imagine.
Thursday, February 21, 2013
Cinquains
Day 147
I read a lot of poetry and I guess scribble down quite a bit of it too. Being sort of a literature geek I think I take a lot of the different kinds of poetry as something everyone knows... But recently in a conversation I mentioned cinquains and got a room full of blank stares. So I made it a personal mission to talk about it a little bit here. Cinquains aren't very popular to be fair but they are being embraced by more poets.
Cinquain
Witty, Descriptive
Laugh, Think, React
Encompassed in five lines
Poetry.
No, that's not randomn babbling - that is a cinquain. I just scribbled down a cinquain to explain a cinquain :) It's a five line poem - starting with the first line, giving you a title of the poem, second line is adjectives, third, explaining verbs invoked by the adjectives, fourth the feeling related to line one and finally the one that ties it together, wraps up the cinquain.
There are so many kinds of poetry - from the 14 line sonnets I have shared, to the "carpe diem" ones, to quatrains, and odes. More recently.. the blank verse style of poetry, unrhymed, unobstrusive - following more the rhythm of speech than anything else.
Well I am not going to break out into a full literature lesson here! If anything at the end of this challenge - I can say I introduced someone to the world of cinquains, size poetry and petrarchans! Or.. maybe helped someone sleep better :) Will end this very educational blog with a famous cinquain.
Adelaide Crapsey wrote a number of cinquains - developing a more modern take, now known as the "american cinquain" basically a variaton on the stresses and syllables allowed in each line Cinquains in a lot of ways are almost like abstract art pieces... you stare at it, and think "I could have done this!" Or maybe you look a little longer and think "uh thats it?" and maybe there is a moment when you see deeper and uncover a lot of hidden meaning in the 'unsaid' and it all comes together ....or maybe you just move on to the next best things :) Either way, here are a few:
Snow
Look up . . .
From bleakening hills
Blows down the light, first breath
Of wintry wind . . . look up, and scent
The snow!
Anguish
Keep thou
Thy tearless watch
All night but when blue-dawn
Breathes on the silver moon, then weep!
Then weep!
Trapped
Well and
If day on day
Follows and weary year
On year . . . and ever days and years . . .
Well?
Cinquain
Witty, Descriptive
Laugh, Think, React
Encompassed in five lines
Poetry.
No, that's not randomn babbling - that is a cinquain. I just scribbled down a cinquain to explain a cinquain :) It's a five line poem - starting with the first line, giving you a title of the poem, second line is adjectives, third, explaining verbs invoked by the adjectives, fourth the feeling related to line one and finally the one that ties it together, wraps up the cinquain.
There are so many kinds of poetry - from the 14 line sonnets I have shared, to the "carpe diem" ones, to quatrains, and odes. More recently.. the blank verse style of poetry, unrhymed, unobstrusive - following more the rhythm of speech than anything else.
Well I am not going to break out into a full literature lesson here! If anything at the end of this challenge - I can say I introduced someone to the world of cinquains, size poetry and petrarchans! Or.. maybe helped someone sleep better :) Will end this very educational blog with a famous cinquain.
Adelaide Crapsey wrote a number of cinquains - developing a more modern take, now known as the "american cinquain" basically a variaton on the stresses and syllables allowed in each line Cinquains in a lot of ways are almost like abstract art pieces... you stare at it, and think "I could have done this!" Or maybe you look a little longer and think "uh thats it?" and maybe there is a moment when you see deeper and uncover a lot of hidden meaning in the 'unsaid' and it all comes together ....or maybe you just move on to the next best things :) Either way, here are a few:
Snow
Look up . . .
From bleakening hills
Blows down the light, first breath
Of wintry wind . . . look up, and scent
The snow!
Anguish
Keep thou
Thy tearless watch
All night but when blue-dawn
Breathes on the silver moon, then weep!
Then weep!
Trapped
Well and
If day on day
Follows and weary year
On year . . . and ever days and years . . .
Well?
Tuesday, February 19, 2013
Untitled
Day 146
Been a little dry on "blog juice" as I call it. I talk of these kind of days often - when you're more of an audience and less of a participant. You slow down, you stop... but the world doesn't. Time continues to flow, the earth continues to grow, the day starts, the stars come, people keep moving on. Like being on a ship - whether your feet move or not - you are moving in this vehicle.
There is so much to take in and it's not always just what's happening around you - it is what is happening inside of you. The way you are metamorphosing and growing. There is an entire universe of thought that could be unfolding in your mind, if you have the curiosity and desire to chase it down. Well, in this place of thought and observance.. I was thinking of how places and things around us will most likely outlive us.
There is so much to take in and it's not always just what's happening around you - it is what is happening inside of you. The way you are metamorphosing and growing. There is an entire universe of thought that could be unfolding in your mind, if you have the curiosity and desire to chase it down. Well, in this place of thought and observance.. I was thinking of how places and things around us will most likely outlive us.
These feelings seem so big
They define my existence
My feet on the ground
The river flows to my rhythm
The wind dances with me
Nature wraps its arms around me
The rain falling in my hair
Watching me grow, watching me
Weaving through memories
Growing with me, the sun sets
The sun rises, the world keeps moving
I am keeping on, tagging along..
Time keeps passing us by...
Let's walk now..
The wind and river propel me
The flowers so sweet...
Let me lay now...
Ground on my back..
Sun above me..
These feelings seem so small..
Giving into the elements..
The river washes away my doubts
The wind caresses my fears away
The sun heals me, while nature
holds me in its arms..
Defined... we are one..
They keep my story safe.
They keep my story safe.
- RKS
Sunday, February 17, 2013
Story of the Trees
Day 145
The apricot tree was my favorite. It wasn't the largest but it bore the most fruits. It had some lower branches making it easy to climb. It was big enough to climb up and perch on while munching the apricots. Would often take a plastic bag hanging from my elbow and fill it up with apricots. Would take books in there too to read while munching, legs swung over on either side of the branch.
So many of those trees in my childhood home are engraved in my mind. The weeping willow - we hung a car tire from it. I remember how much effort we would take to cut through the rubber to give it a "chair" look - the blue and white rope - getting it over the branch. So many memories from that swing.. the number of times I sat in it, with my thoughts, with my sketchbook, my notepad writing stories - with my friends.. I remember after the rain the water would fill it up and it used to be fun to tip it over... eagerly waiting for it to dry. Sometimes would get so impatient would grab a towel and make that into a cushion. It's vines where perfect for making bows (that is another story - the bow-arrow series, probably due to strong ramayan influence... ), the swishing sound they made.
We probably had 10 peach trees, none very large. In the corner of our yard was the nectarine tree. I still remember the taste of that juicy fruit. Till today it is one of my favorite fruits. I used to watch the fruits come out and check on them everyday till they were the perfect color for picking. A little more up and we had the golden plum tree.. those were the fruits we had to have the most patience for. Grew so slowly.. and birds were always ready to have a bite before we got to it. And scarecrows don't really work..! Scared me a few times.. but the birds not so much.
One more tree in our yard I remember was the red maple tree.. definitely have a soft spot for maple trees. I used to collect the leaves that fell in the fall and string them on blades of long grass. Make necklaces, or bracelets, preserve them - endless art and stamping from the shape of the leaves and all the colors it wore. The rose bushes, the sweet pink flowers, the hedges with the "poisonous berries", the long grass I braided several times, weaved into shapes.. the dandelions and marigolds, the hyacinths. The cactus on whose leaves we engraved our names. The pine needles, the stump benches, the ground where we buried my dog.. it's just a yard at the end of the day.. but in so many ways its most of my life... could relive 21 years just by walking through that yard.. so many memories. I wonder if the trees still remember me... if when the wind rustles through the willow tree, it recollects my laughter, and tears.. the comfort i found in its shade? Is there still imagination transforming that yard into a wonderland - a playground...
I wonder if the apricots still taste as sweet and if a child is weaving dreams perched on one of its branches...
Disarmed
Day 144
Can we grow in the shade of others? Do we need to keep a distance in order to grow and expand ourselves in the sun. Searching for our own identities, we sometimes need to step away from what is expected of us and the preconceived notion of what someone in your place would do, how they would behave etc - and try to discover who we are inside.
We are all promoted to find who we are and what we stand for. We should celebrate our differences and yet.. things don't always work out well for those who do. In a lot of situations, birds of a feather flock together is what happens.. how is this happening, if we are all individual separate beings? Someone somewhere is getting drawn to a line of thinking or traits - we're not ready to explore and find things out of our comfort zone. Friends so alike, their tastes so alike - just extensions of you. Why are we so afraid to have a different voice of reason, a different stand - a different viewpoint? Why is it intimidating to be in the presence of someone who can offer you so much experience?
Being yourself is a challenge on its own - but being asked to hide yourself, to channel yourself is a sad waste. Why is the celebration of yourself narcissism? Why is loving yourself, or following your desires, selfish? Why is speaking your opinion or dressing how you want resulting in judgment? There is so much inside of us and yet a lot of the world is so unable to open even their thoughts to a different breed.. to someone who is willing to grow and find the sun - someone willing to share, and give.. but not be cloned into a version of someone elses manifestation. We'd not be so defensive and afraid to share ourselves.. we could all meet in the safety net of acceptance... be propelled by passions and be gentle and powerful and amused, heck even be charmed by difference.
We'd all be ourselves - be seen. Disarmed and safe to discover what we're made of.
We are all promoted to find who we are and what we stand for. We should celebrate our differences and yet.. things don't always work out well for those who do. In a lot of situations, birds of a feather flock together is what happens.. how is this happening, if we are all individual separate beings? Someone somewhere is getting drawn to a line of thinking or traits - we're not ready to explore and find things out of our comfort zone. Friends so alike, their tastes so alike - just extensions of you. Why are we so afraid to have a different voice of reason, a different stand - a different viewpoint? Why is it intimidating to be in the presence of someone who can offer you so much experience?
Being yourself is a challenge on its own - but being asked to hide yourself, to channel yourself is a sad waste. Why is the celebration of yourself narcissism? Why is loving yourself, or following your desires, selfish? Why is speaking your opinion or dressing how you want resulting in judgment? There is so much inside of us and yet a lot of the world is so unable to open even their thoughts to a different breed.. to someone who is willing to grow and find the sun - someone willing to share, and give.. but not be cloned into a version of someone elses manifestation. We'd not be so defensive and afraid to share ourselves.. we could all meet in the safety net of acceptance... be propelled by passions and be gentle and powerful and amused, heck even be charmed by difference.
We'd all be ourselves - be seen. Disarmed and safe to discover what we're made of.
Friday, February 15, 2013
The Unsaid
Day 143
Day of love, hearts, romance, chocolates, flowers - the lonely get lonelier, the romantics get their hats on... trains are flooded with guys holding flowers, shops, restaurants abuzz.. all because of the declaration of a day of "love".
I am not a big follower of what has come to be the "traditional format" of today - but in a way it's a sweet day. I think we get caught up in so many things at times - that random days like this appear and we have an excuse to do something.. to stop, pause - think, appreciate - say something sweet - do something nice.
Sometimes I think we should all take our calendars and randomly circle days and make that commitment to ourselves, a promise - to do something to appreciate people we know, people we don't - to hug someone you might see everyday - just make a connection. We all do feel things and yet sometimes don't say anything - it's not "appropriate" or we "don't know how" or these things are already "known" - there will come a perfect time, or maybe we aren't ready to acknowledge, we are not used to them. I don't know - there are a lot of reasons or excuses... a lot of moments which pass by in our minds...
It's enriching to you, to understand how you feel - to hear the words out of your mouth - to see the effect you have on the person - you tug at that connection, it's a good feeling. So if anything - say how you feel or be a good recipient when someone reaches out to you.
I am not a big follower of what has come to be the "traditional format" of today - but in a way it's a sweet day. I think we get caught up in so many things at times - that random days like this appear and we have an excuse to do something.. to stop, pause - think, appreciate - say something sweet - do something nice.
Sometimes I think we should all take our calendars and randomly circle days and make that commitment to ourselves, a promise - to do something to appreciate people we know, people we don't - to hug someone you might see everyday - just make a connection. We all do feel things and yet sometimes don't say anything - it's not "appropriate" or we "don't know how" or these things are already "known" - there will come a perfect time, or maybe we aren't ready to acknowledge, we are not used to them. I don't know - there are a lot of reasons or excuses... a lot of moments which pass by in our minds...
It's enriching to you, to understand how you feel - to hear the words out of your mouth - to see the effect you have on the person - you tug at that connection, it's a good feeling. So if anything - say how you feel or be a good recipient when someone reaches out to you.
Tuesday, February 12, 2013
Being Good
Day 142
The trials of tomorrow - the questions, the jury, the chase..
No, I am on a pursuit of happiness, I am going to let it go
I am going to find what makes me smile, what makes me
Want to run and dance in the street, drum my fingers
I will be good - be good to me.. be good to my soul
There is this energy inside us which leads us to good places. I don't mean the tropical place with beautiful waves and the warm beach under your feet (though that's pretty wonderful)... I mean the good place in our heads. The good place which makes you wake up with a smile on your face, the good place when nothing can bring you down - when every song sounds like its playing for you. When strangers smile at you and you smile back - when the world is moving at your rhythm, when you seem to radiate energy, and everything around you is just right.
The good place of confidence and self assurance, when you're content with the moment - the day you're in. It is your stage and you are your own audience. You put on the show, you act out the play - you celebrate in your theatrics or your lack thereof - you are beautiful and untouchable - even your flaws and vulnerabilities are imperfectly working to lead to the perfect creation of you :)
This is the time when you shake off all the things weighing you down - not because they are over, but because you have to switch focus now. For no real reason or sign from the universe other than your mind has taken you to a good place and everywhere you go and be will need you to travel light.
I don't think I feel this feeling all the time - but I know its easy to tap into, when I just let myself go to it. When the confusions build up the walls, it's good to remember that - the feel of rain, jumping in the puddles - the perfect time when you decide to make you happy.. and everyone else around you falls into chorus, cheering you on - taking the world on by storm, it's you in the spotlight.. hear the chant - be good, be good to yourself..
No, I am on a pursuit of happiness, I am going to let it go
I am going to find what makes me smile, what makes me
Want to run and dance in the street, drum my fingers
I will be good - be good to me.. be good to my soul
There is this energy inside us which leads us to good places. I don't mean the tropical place with beautiful waves and the warm beach under your feet (though that's pretty wonderful)... I mean the good place in our heads. The good place which makes you wake up with a smile on your face, the good place when nothing can bring you down - when every song sounds like its playing for you. When strangers smile at you and you smile back - when the world is moving at your rhythm, when you seem to radiate energy, and everything around you is just right.
The good place of confidence and self assurance, when you're content with the moment - the day you're in. It is your stage and you are your own audience. You put on the show, you act out the play - you celebrate in your theatrics or your lack thereof - you are beautiful and untouchable - even your flaws and vulnerabilities are imperfectly working to lead to the perfect creation of you :)
This is the time when you shake off all the things weighing you down - not because they are over, but because you have to switch focus now. For no real reason or sign from the universe other than your mind has taken you to a good place and everywhere you go and be will need you to travel light.
I don't think I feel this feeling all the time - but I know its easy to tap into, when I just let myself go to it. When the confusions build up the walls, it's good to remember that - the feel of rain, jumping in the puddles - the perfect time when you decide to make you happy.. and everyone else around you falls into chorus, cheering you on - taking the world on by storm, it's you in the spotlight.. hear the chant - be good, be good to yourself..
Monday, February 11, 2013
Moulds
Day 141
When awake - sorrows of the world can tear you apart.. and the joys then put you back together again - different from before, but still whole. The mind moulded by what touches it...
I often talk of how thought changes us and moves us - can transport us, and can change us. One point of intent, one thought.. and our mind is changed, the touch of a thought and our mind is caged. Possibilities are born from my thought, limitations are expressed by thought...
Thought... a sonnet came up in conversation - Sonnet 44, revolving around thought.. and the places it can be. To be fair, I should put Sonnet 45 as well... they do sort of go together - revolving around the four elements - earth water, air and fire.. 44, revolves around the first two - and 45 the other. Both about the poets heart being elsewhere - desire and frustration playing along. Just one of the moulds thought can assume?
SONNET XLV
The other two, slight air and purging fire,
Are both with thee, wherever I abide;
The first my thought, the other my desire,
These present-absent with swift motion slide.
For when these quicker elements are gone
In tender embassy of love to thee,
My life, being made of four, with two alone
Sinks down to death, oppressed with melancholy;
Until life's composition be recured
By those swift messengers return'd from thee,
Who even but now come back again, assured
Of thy fair health, recounting it to me:
This told, I joy; but then no longer glad,
I send them back again and straight grow sad.
SONNET XLIV
If the dull substance of my flesh were thought,
Injurious distance should not stop my way;
For then despite of space I would be brought,
From limits far remote, where thou dost stay.
No matter then although my foot did stand
Upon the farthest earth removed from thee;
For nimble thought can jump both sea and land
As soon as think the place where he would be.
But ah! thought kills me that I am not thought,
To leap large lengths of miles when thou art gone,
But that, so much of earth and water wrought,
I must attend time's leisure with my moan,
Receiving nought by elements so slow
But heavy tears, badges of either's woe.
I often talk of how thought changes us and moves us - can transport us, and can change us. One point of intent, one thought.. and our mind is changed, the touch of a thought and our mind is caged. Possibilities are born from my thought, limitations are expressed by thought...
Thought... a sonnet came up in conversation - Sonnet 44, revolving around thought.. and the places it can be. To be fair, I should put Sonnet 45 as well... they do sort of go together - revolving around the four elements - earth water, air and fire.. 44, revolves around the first two - and 45 the other. Both about the poets heart being elsewhere - desire and frustration playing along. Just one of the moulds thought can assume?
SONNET XLV
The other two, slight air and purging fire,
Are both with thee, wherever I abide;
The first my thought, the other my desire,
These present-absent with swift motion slide.
For when these quicker elements are gone
In tender embassy of love to thee,
My life, being made of four, with two alone
Sinks down to death, oppressed with melancholy;
Until life's composition be recured
By those swift messengers return'd from thee,
Who even but now come back again, assured
Of thy fair health, recounting it to me:
This told, I joy; but then no longer glad,
I send them back again and straight grow sad.
SONNET XLIV
If the dull substance of my flesh were thought,
Injurious distance should not stop my way;
For then despite of space I would be brought,
From limits far remote, where thou dost stay.
No matter then although my foot did stand
Upon the farthest earth removed from thee;
For nimble thought can jump both sea and land
As soon as think the place where he would be.
But ah! thought kills me that I am not thought,
To leap large lengths of miles when thou art gone,
But that, so much of earth and water wrought,
I must attend time's leisure with my moan,
Receiving nought by elements so slow
But heavy tears, badges of either's woe.
Sunday, February 10, 2013
Force of Nature
Day 140
Towers of snow everywhere, the sun reflecting off it, the blue skies - the calm after the storm I guess. The "calm" really does seem more obvious after a snowstorm. Everything is covered and beautiful, destruction not as visible as the ice castles around you. The icy domes, the snow bridges - the transparency, the beauty of the white all around you.
Surreal - a word which came to my mind a lot today seeing it all around. There is really no escaping mother natures fury. She does her dances in so many ways and methods... the times when life does hit a pause and you realize how vulnerable you are to her moods. Nothing is beyond her, we just take cover and wait for it to pass. And then once the storm is over - there is life again. The warm sun comes out, the snow starts to melt, life resumes... Volcanoes after effects too - in a dark crater of nothingness there would be one little sapling of life starting the story of creation again.
Crashing waves - the same serene beach you took a walk on, now dangerous - dominated by the ocean.. everything waking to life, it's wrath unleashed. So many forms of natures anger, natures dominance shown... there are times when you just bow down and let it lead you. We feel so small suddenly in its presence.. everything much larger and out of our control.
Well in that context of nature - I began thinking, aren't we part of nature? A creation - just like the ocean, sun, volcanoes - we have energy within us, we are so capable even in our small existence. We might not have 35 feet waves, but we can start chains of events which can change the course of so many things. The power of thought could ignite a fire, strength within us - in our own realms, in our way - maybe we can be a force of nature too... change a life, build a tower, keep a promise, change, create.. in the darkest of our moment, stand up - tall and recreate, be ready to rebuild... after every storm, there is a new day, a clean slate.. a new beginning.
Surreal - a word which came to my mind a lot today seeing it all around. There is really no escaping mother natures fury. She does her dances in so many ways and methods... the times when life does hit a pause and you realize how vulnerable you are to her moods. Nothing is beyond her, we just take cover and wait for it to pass. And then once the storm is over - there is life again. The warm sun comes out, the snow starts to melt, life resumes... Volcanoes after effects too - in a dark crater of nothingness there would be one little sapling of life starting the story of creation again.
Crashing waves - the same serene beach you took a walk on, now dangerous - dominated by the ocean.. everything waking to life, it's wrath unleashed. So many forms of natures anger, natures dominance shown... there are times when you just bow down and let it lead you. We feel so small suddenly in its presence.. everything much larger and out of our control.
Well in that context of nature - I began thinking, aren't we part of nature? A creation - just like the ocean, sun, volcanoes - we have energy within us, we are so capable even in our small existence. We might not have 35 feet waves, but we can start chains of events which can change the course of so many things. The power of thought could ignite a fire, strength within us - in our own realms, in our way - maybe we can be a force of nature too... change a life, build a tower, keep a promise, change, create.. in the darkest of our moment, stand up - tall and recreate, be ready to rebuild... after every storm, there is a new day, a clean slate.. a new beginning.
Friday, February 8, 2013
Irrational Sense of Optimism
Day 139
Being beaten hard by a "crippling, historic, blizzard" - and I am blowing candles imagining the good things that happened today. Got to sleep in, spend a lot more time at home, see natures show, cuddle with cats, speak to a ton of people, feel special - feel connected.. and the cold, howling wind falls in the background. That's the dose of optimism - you just decide to look at a positive thing and things start looking better...
It is irrational isn't it - we're built for survival - we should always be ready to prepare, in the midst of a storm - gather wood, huddle, conserve energy, be safe, be aware :) In any situation - preservation is our inbuilt first thought. So where does optimism come in? I guess it's sort of a fuel - a high, it can push you forward - make you happy - make you feel like it's worth doing and enjoying whatever, wherever you are at... and you get so much energy suddenly, you are not weighed down by despair. There is a reason, there is joy, there is the belief that we're heading toward something good and that everything around you is lending itself to you - moving to your rhythm, bowing to your will...
Optimism in its irrationality gives us strength - we refuse to let people or situations dictate our moods or feelings - it's taking charge of yourself, of circumstance and steering it where you want to be, toward it at least. Contagious - it makes you feel powerful - you can stand up to any storm - or huddle up and believe you can at least :) Bask in the high of this irrationality - it will keep you warm.
It is irrational isn't it - we're built for survival - we should always be ready to prepare, in the midst of a storm - gather wood, huddle, conserve energy, be safe, be aware :) In any situation - preservation is our inbuilt first thought. So where does optimism come in? I guess it's sort of a fuel - a high, it can push you forward - make you happy - make you feel like it's worth doing and enjoying whatever, wherever you are at... and you get so much energy suddenly, you are not weighed down by despair. There is a reason, there is joy, there is the belief that we're heading toward something good and that everything around you is lending itself to you - moving to your rhythm, bowing to your will...
Optimism in its irrationality gives us strength - we refuse to let people or situations dictate our moods or feelings - it's taking charge of yourself, of circumstance and steering it where you want to be, toward it at least. Contagious - it makes you feel powerful - you can stand up to any storm - or huddle up and believe you can at least :) Bask in the high of this irrationality - it will keep you warm.
Thursday, February 7, 2013
A thought?
Day 138
One more day to document.. to gather what I thought of and put in writing. 138 days.. every now and then the number surprises me. Not so much that I have written so many blogs but just at the idea of how much time is going by and how much happens around us. It's like a movie of sorts.. with no pause button. The reel must keep rolling.. the pictures keep flowing from one into the other...
Anyway not too much tonight - I did read something interesting today which I thought I'd share. It got me thinking a lot of thoughts but I will just share it in the form I read it :)
Because children grow up, we think a child's purpose is to grow up. But a child's purpose is to be a child. Nature doesn't disdain what lives only for a day. It pours the whole of itself into the each moment. We don't value the lily less for not being made of flint and built to last. Life's bounty is in its flow, later is too late. Where is the song when it's been sung? The dance when it's been danced? It's only we humans who want to own the future, too. We persuade ourselves that the universe is modestly employed in unfolding our destination. We note the haphazard chaos of history by the day, by the hour, but there is something wrong with the picture. Where is the unity, the meaning, of nature's highest creation? Surely those millions of little streams of accident and wilfulness have their correction in the vast underground river which, without a doubt, is carrying us to the place where we're expected! But there is no such place, that's why it's called utopia. The death of a child has no more meaning than the death of armies, of nations. Was the child happy while he lived? That is a proper question, the only question. If we can't arrange our own happiness, it's a conceit beyond vulgarity to arrange the happiness of those who come after us.
Good night world...tomorrow we will tackle, tickle and track you down..
Anyway not too much tonight - I did read something interesting today which I thought I'd share. It got me thinking a lot of thoughts but I will just share it in the form I read it :)
Because children grow up, we think a child's purpose is to grow up. But a child's purpose is to be a child. Nature doesn't disdain what lives only for a day. It pours the whole of itself into the each moment. We don't value the lily less for not being made of flint and built to last. Life's bounty is in its flow, later is too late. Where is the song when it's been sung? The dance when it's been danced? It's only we humans who want to own the future, too. We persuade ourselves that the universe is modestly employed in unfolding our destination. We note the haphazard chaos of history by the day, by the hour, but there is something wrong with the picture. Where is the unity, the meaning, of nature's highest creation? Surely those millions of little streams of accident and wilfulness have their correction in the vast underground river which, without a doubt, is carrying us to the place where we're expected! But there is no such place, that's why it's called utopia. The death of a child has no more meaning than the death of armies, of nations. Was the child happy while he lived? That is a proper question, the only question. If we can't arrange our own happiness, it's a conceit beyond vulgarity to arrange the happiness of those who come after us.
Good night world...tomorrow we will tackle, tickle and track you down..
Wednesday, February 6, 2013
Write, write...
Day 137
Write about the stars, their burning fury, their soothing presence...
No, write about substance, about the meaning of life, talk sense...
Make it deep and meaningful, tell us what makes your heart yearn..
No, frivolous and funny - make it light, make us laugh, the tears burn
Humor us, no describe it, write it, rhyme it...say the words that will speak
To the soul, to the mind, to the heart - the story which reminds us why we're weak
Why we're weak and strong and beautiful and caged and free and small and big.
Write about the small things - the things which we don't see, write about animals
The world from their view, the world from the view above, write to us about falls
Write about the difficult rise, the calm in the storm, the fury in the quiet
Write to us about the demons that keep you up, the magic that warms you
Write about love and it's enormity, fear and it's weakness, hope and it's power
The Gods and their judgment, the ocean and its mysteries, the woods that invite
The darkness that chases, the food that entices, the sculptures of nature, the theme of life
Write about poetry and it's wonders, write about old memories
Experiences and places you've been - things you've seen.. don't go too deep
Don't go too deep but write of the threads that collect us all - the soulmate
That pulls us in.. the one normal day which changes your life, or the claiming of
Normalcy in utter insanity - write, rhyme, humor, intrigue, captivate, confuse
Awaken, asleep, quiet, loud - paint this canvas with the thoughts that fill you
Fill the canvas with the thoughts we have... feel the words, don't feel too much
Play with words, play with the moment we're in - let's talk of dance and passion...
Let's reach out and embrace, let's celebrate sensation.. no, stay on one path
Write of one - write in theme, write with intent and direction... voice even your silence
Write write....keep writing, the days are going, we're growing, we're falling... write.
Let's write about the stars... their burning fury..their soothing presence...
- RKS
No, write about substance, about the meaning of life, talk sense...
Make it deep and meaningful, tell us what makes your heart yearn..
No, frivolous and funny - make it light, make us laugh, the tears burn
Humor us, no describe it, write it, rhyme it...say the words that will speak
To the soul, to the mind, to the heart - the story which reminds us why we're weak
Why we're weak and strong and beautiful and caged and free and small and big.
Write about the small things - the things which we don't see, write about animals
The world from their view, the world from the view above, write to us about falls
Write about the difficult rise, the calm in the storm, the fury in the quiet
Write to us about the demons that keep you up, the magic that warms you
Write about love and it's enormity, fear and it's weakness, hope and it's power
The Gods and their judgment, the ocean and its mysteries, the woods that invite
The darkness that chases, the food that entices, the sculptures of nature, the theme of life
Write about poetry and it's wonders, write about old memories
Experiences and places you've been - things you've seen.. don't go too deep
Don't go too deep but write of the threads that collect us all - the soulmate
That pulls us in.. the one normal day which changes your life, or the claiming of
Normalcy in utter insanity - write, rhyme, humor, intrigue, captivate, confuse
Awaken, asleep, quiet, loud - paint this canvas with the thoughts that fill you
Fill the canvas with the thoughts we have... feel the words, don't feel too much
Play with words, play with the moment we're in - let's talk of dance and passion...
Let's reach out and embrace, let's celebrate sensation.. no, stay on one path
Write of one - write in theme, write with intent and direction... voice even your silence
Write write....keep writing, the days are going, we're growing, we're falling... write.
Let's write about the stars... their burning fury..their soothing presence...
- RKS
Tuesday, February 5, 2013
Sails
Day 136
The current gets strong at times, pulls us many directions. It comes as stress, comes as unresolved issues, comes as impossible deadlines, unreasonable expectation, uncontrollable circumstances, from anxiety and from despair. Whatever the pull, sometimes it takes all you have to stay afloat. And then there is reprise - maybe its the calm before the next storm, maybe its the eye of the storm - or maybe it is the promised calm.. but some time or the other our mind decides to let the conflicts go and we start sail again..
Sailing through this river.. sails open, handed to the winds.. lying on the floor, marveling at the stars - let the invisible wind guide us - our antennas open to the transmission around us. Peace isn't a state of complete contentment, of utter organization and everything happening as we desire.. I think peace is the conscious acceptance of all that is, is the way it is meant to be. It's utter acceptance of life and it's imperfections, of situations... it's almost like giving up the belief that we might be able to change the course of the world, that by worrying about something will change the direction of it. It's not a cowards place, it's not giving up - it is belief, it is connection - but it is also an action - you give, you receive - you react, and action will happen.. and vice versa. It's knowing you can take a moment to feel the breeze, and enjoy the soft flow of the river...
I remember one of the first times I went sailing with a friend - at first, it felt more of a hassle than anything else - he was doing lot of running around and throwing instructions at me, but when the sails came out, when the wind finally took charge and we could sit down and glide with it - it was an amazing feeling. I remember the feel of the wind on my face, watching the wind fill out the sails - the way it made its presence known, the cloak of the sail, the dance it did.. and once the sail relented, once they found their balance - it was so unbelievably smooth and quiet.. You realize you can't really change the course of the wind, you need to change your direction, you need to change your thinking to adapt, to strike that balance - I guess that's the moment I am talking of in this blog. Sometimes, we need to let the impossible go - let the wars go, let the insatiable quest go - just let the moment you are in take charge and just go with it.. at least for a day, raise the white flag - lay back, relax - let your ship sail away from sight, it doesn't mean the journeys over - just a bend in the river.. just a new horizon to discover.
Sailing through this river.. sails open, handed to the winds.. lying on the floor, marveling at the stars - let the invisible wind guide us - our antennas open to the transmission around us. Peace isn't a state of complete contentment, of utter organization and everything happening as we desire.. I think peace is the conscious acceptance of all that is, is the way it is meant to be. It's utter acceptance of life and it's imperfections, of situations... it's almost like giving up the belief that we might be able to change the course of the world, that by worrying about something will change the direction of it. It's not a cowards place, it's not giving up - it is belief, it is connection - but it is also an action - you give, you receive - you react, and action will happen.. and vice versa. It's knowing you can take a moment to feel the breeze, and enjoy the soft flow of the river...
I remember one of the first times I went sailing with a friend - at first, it felt more of a hassle than anything else - he was doing lot of running around and throwing instructions at me, but when the sails came out, when the wind finally took charge and we could sit down and glide with it - it was an amazing feeling. I remember the feel of the wind on my face, watching the wind fill out the sails - the way it made its presence known, the cloak of the sail, the dance it did.. and once the sail relented, once they found their balance - it was so unbelievably smooth and quiet.. You realize you can't really change the course of the wind, you need to change your direction, you need to change your thinking to adapt, to strike that balance - I guess that's the moment I am talking of in this blog. Sometimes, we need to let the impossible go - let the wars go, let the insatiable quest go - just let the moment you are in take charge and just go with it.. at least for a day, raise the white flag - lay back, relax - let your ship sail away from sight, it doesn't mean the journeys over - just a bend in the river.. just a new horizon to discover.
Monday, February 4, 2013
Heady
Day 135
Tonight my mind is a little tired and it's kind of strange to me how in this semi-exhausted state, I usually end up recalling random poems/sonnets..
Well tonight, I thought I would share one of my favorite Sonnets - Sonnet 61:
Is it thy will, thy image should keep open
My heavy eyelids to the weary night?
Dost thou desire my slumbers should be broken,
While shadows like to thee do mock my sight?
Is it thy spirit that thou send'st from thee
So far from home into my deeds to pry,
To find out shames and idle hours in me,
The scope and tenor of thy jealousy?
O, no! thy love, though much, is not so great:
It is my love that keeps mine eye awake:
Mine own true love that doth my rest defeat,
To play the watchman ever for thy sake:
For thee watch I, whilst thou dost wake elsewhere,
From me far off, with others all too near.
It's an interesting sonnet.. the poet starts off talking of how his beloved is jealous, tormenting him - stealing his sleep.. but the truth is found if you read the poem backward. It is because the object of affection is away - it is the imagination, the potential of what could be happening that keeps him awake. Jealousy of the mind... its a balanced poem at the end - from the accusation of the beloved, to the end of the poem when the poet is accusing the beloved...
Jealousy, infatuation - feelings, love - it's a heady mixture at times and this sonnet just seems to summarize that state of mind. When in the middle of all of this, you still feel sane, feel so right - you are blinded to your own behavior, you're pawn to your hearts whims.
Well tonight, I thought I would share one of my favorite Sonnets - Sonnet 61:
Is it thy will, thy image should keep open
My heavy eyelids to the weary night?
Dost thou desire my slumbers should be broken,
While shadows like to thee do mock my sight?
Is it thy spirit that thou send'st from thee
So far from home into my deeds to pry,
To find out shames and idle hours in me,
The scope and tenor of thy jealousy?
O, no! thy love, though much, is not so great:
It is my love that keeps mine eye awake:
Mine own true love that doth my rest defeat,
To play the watchman ever for thy sake:
For thee watch I, whilst thou dost wake elsewhere,
From me far off, with others all too near.
It's an interesting sonnet.. the poet starts off talking of how his beloved is jealous, tormenting him - stealing his sleep.. but the truth is found if you read the poem backward. It is because the object of affection is away - it is the imagination, the potential of what could be happening that keeps him awake. Jealousy of the mind... its a balanced poem at the end - from the accusation of the beloved, to the end of the poem when the poet is accusing the beloved...
Jealousy, infatuation - feelings, love - it's a heady mixture at times and this sonnet just seems to summarize that state of mind. When in the middle of all of this, you still feel sane, feel so right - you are blinded to your own behavior, you're pawn to your hearts whims.
Sunday, February 3, 2013
The Cocoon
Day 134
Caterpillars are boneless but have over a thousand muscles... How does something so small, so different looking turn into a butterfly? Where does a land crawling animal get wings from? Where does the green lil bugger get so many colors from.. what happens to it in it's moment of hibernation - what happens in the cocoon..
The cocoon - the retrospect, the "right decision" made in the future, the learning, the growing - the shedding. We go through so many experiences and when we cut off and take the time to take it in - when we are in the cocoon then the true metamorphosis happens. What emerges from that - who will walk out the door the next day? Stronger will, weaker determination - new awareness, more cynical?
So many situations happen around us, and we're often not alone when they happen - same situation, same environment - same deal - and completely different ways two people process it. Come out with different versions, different highlights - the mind molded by its unique experiences processes it just as uniquely too. Cocooned we let it soak in, we let our feelings process, we rationalize, we contemplate.. we slowly find our wings... and then attempt to fly... once again, facing the world.
Facing the world - being one, merging - accepting, rebelling - making your own identity. Going from the observing crawling beast to the beautiful butterfly dancing in the limelight... true beauty can never be hidden, true spirit can never be broken...
The cocoon - the retrospect, the "right decision" made in the future, the learning, the growing - the shedding. We go through so many experiences and when we cut off and take the time to take it in - when we are in the cocoon then the true metamorphosis happens. What emerges from that - who will walk out the door the next day? Stronger will, weaker determination - new awareness, more cynical?
So many situations happen around us, and we're often not alone when they happen - same situation, same environment - same deal - and completely different ways two people process it. Come out with different versions, different highlights - the mind molded by its unique experiences processes it just as uniquely too. Cocooned we let it soak in, we let our feelings process, we rationalize, we contemplate.. we slowly find our wings... and then attempt to fly... once again, facing the world.
Facing the world - being one, merging - accepting, rebelling - making your own identity. Going from the observing crawling beast to the beautiful butterfly dancing in the limelight... true beauty can never be hidden, true spirit can never be broken...
Saturday, February 2, 2013
The Grip
Day 133
Appearing before me like a memory I try to forget
Asking me questions I am not ready to answer
I look at my reflection and try to find the eyes I have not met
Running so far, but going nowhere, what do I stand for?
The demons are strong, they have not gone they just hide
They rise from the ashes when the will weakens
They gaze without intent, without power, they stride
They loom above, ready to sweep down when fear threatens
The mind, the victim, the terrorizer, the messiah
The different cloaks, the different shades, who are you
Who do you become, what do you desire
Where is your anchor, what place will hold you?
Darkness, shadows, the deep, the endless
We play this game, we stand up, we break down
The grip tightens and we declare ourselves fearless...
Shaky feet keep steady. I wear the scarred crown.
Escape or embraced where does the story end
Do we tie ourselves down, or let ourselves fly
Do I reign this night, what stories will it tell
Do I grit and move on or dance in the why
The grip tightens, the reign continues..
- RKS
Asking me questions I am not ready to answer
I look at my reflection and try to find the eyes I have not met
Running so far, but going nowhere, what do I stand for?
The demons are strong, they have not gone they just hide
They rise from the ashes when the will weakens
They gaze without intent, without power, they stride
They loom above, ready to sweep down when fear threatens
The mind, the victim, the terrorizer, the messiah
The different cloaks, the different shades, who are you
Who do you become, what do you desire
Where is your anchor, what place will hold you?
Darkness, shadows, the deep, the endless
We play this game, we stand up, we break down
The grip tightens and we declare ourselves fearless...
Shaky feet keep steady. I wear the scarred crown.
Escape or embraced where does the story end
Do we tie ourselves down, or let ourselves fly
Do I reign this night, what stories will it tell
Do I grit and move on or dance in the why
The grip tightens, the reign continues..
- RKS
Friday, February 1, 2013
Memory Collection
Day 132
Recollection works in a funny way - I dont mean recalling a certain event in time - more like a place or space in time.. the things you pick up when you don't realise. The smell of the dusty road, the taste of the sweet flowers, the feel of the air.. there are many things which we're aware of, things we are picking up and storing away... and if ever we're faced with that same place again - we feel like we can trace our footsteps and go back there again...
Things sometimes seem much more alive and bigger in our mind... the school you grew up in, you prolly recollect as a much bigger place because of the significance it had at that period in your lives and perhaps being the height of a chickens knee didn't help either. So now when you're in that same place - older, with bigger challenges and genrally bigger - it isn't so daunting, the memory - the recollection is much more pristine than the actual physical structure..
Not much to say tonight.. just thinking of what we could be recollecting in our everydays that we don't even realise.. what is speaking to us, what sounds are becoming familiar to us - what smells, what sights.. what is beocming part of our normal, our constant which will one day be what ties us back to this time - to this situation.. to this very point of now.
Things sometimes seem much more alive and bigger in our mind... the school you grew up in, you prolly recollect as a much bigger place because of the significance it had at that period in your lives and perhaps being the height of a chickens knee didn't help either. So now when you're in that same place - older, with bigger challenges and genrally bigger - it isn't so daunting, the memory - the recollection is much more pristine than the actual physical structure..
Not much to say tonight.. just thinking of what we could be recollecting in our everydays that we don't even realise.. what is speaking to us, what sounds are becoming familiar to us - what smells, what sights.. what is beocming part of our normal, our constant which will one day be what ties us back to this time - to this situation.. to this very point of now.
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