Those Days... Post 312

"It was a normal day. Nothing out of the ordinary, except we were together. We were young and nervous, quiet and in sync. And we walked without knowing where to go, without looking for direction… we walked into the arms of the sun. We found a church, we played with baby chicks, crawled through a fence into a field of maize, glowing in the sun it looked like a gold field of the Gods. We watched the cobs move with the wind… we walked with our hands loosely held together. Smiling, taking it in, we walked till the end of the world, we sat on a cliff and looked at the wild flowers and the stream below us. You looked at my eyes as the sun played in them and we sat for a moment, for an eternity. I showed you my home - I showed you my secrets, you listened, you opened up to me - quietly promising to hold my innocence, to protect it from all that will try to take it. And I smiled, without  understanding - I kept telling my stories, the adrenaline of adventure in me… I wanted to move, you wanted to stay still. So we stayed and moved together, and the sun burst into color in front of us as we watched. Friends, lovers, partners, beings… whatever we were in that moment - we were there, in entirety, in singularity, it was the start of the story…"

There are some memories we make which seem so ordinary when experiencing them and yet in time, when we move on and ahead, the comfort we take in from those simple moments invoke such deep emotions in us. We are so fragile in so many ways - so hard on ourselves, so combative with our desire. We use up so much of our energy trying to follow the pulls of those around us, those who are trying to  mold us. We take judgment and criticism to new heights within ourselves. So much torment in so many directions - and then we get these quiet recollections and it makes us wonder… who are we?

"Who am I" has been a strong occurring thought in my mind recently. I feel like I had a better grasp on it when I was younger. Maybe that is the just the charade of naiveté . But I did feel stronger, I did feel like the world was more open to me, was more accepting, ready to take me in. And days like what I described above, were perfect. There were no storms in my mind, no decisions or overwhelming feelings or desires to unnerve me. It was just in tune with myself, with nature…with the innocence within us. 

Innocence is a pricey thing we have. It is beautiful and pure, and it is the one thing that is easiest to rob. But it is one of those things I have come to realize in a little bit of an ecstatic moment, that it is easily replenish able. Our mind is hopeful, curious and ever innocent in some way or the other. And no matter how far we move from the "perfect" and the "calm" - the days of innocence and peace cannot be far as long as we taking deep breaths and remembering where we came from… and where we want to be. And that the person walking the path is more important than the paths itself that might dizzy or scare us… 

Just maybe….and this might be far-fetched…but just maybe, we will all be okay :)

The Night Day 311

It's a strange night... Strange night of dreams. 

Is this my imagination, nothing is as real as it seems

I am scared of a darkness that can't touch me

Tormented by a thought that hasn't occurred

But familiarity breathes in me

My old scars shift restlessly 

We know these winds

We know the signs

We have been here before

And I reluctantly put the armor on

For a war I don't want to fight

For a story I don't want to be a part of 

I let the smile go, the comfort leave me

The night has started weaving around me

And I prepare to fight a dream 

And gather my strength

He has changed his face

And walks toward me to hurt

But I am not scared 

For I will win... As I always do

I am just tired

For I will lose... As I always do. 

-RKS

What If's Day 310

Was it the way we should have gone
Would you have held on so tight
If I hadn't looked at you that way?
Would you have known what to do
Would I have known what to say
If we had to do it again?

We move away from each other
Take our places in our world
Is it where we are meant to be
Is what we love only what we see
These questions follow me
Linger on like your scent
Like a kiss that you don't forget
Like an ache you don't acknowledge

Why did we meet, did we have a choice
Pulled or propelled
Is this our reprise or downfall...
We are here, entangled in these distances
Entangled in these words...
So close yet.. So far away.
- RKS

Awakened Day 309

I have woken many days and laid still before I needed to get up. Taken deep, conscious breaths and slowly lifted my heavy eyelids. Watched my eyes adjust to the familiar darkness, and the silhouettes of curled up cat ears near my feet. Steady breathing, the sounds I fell asleep to still there, the day a mystery and I listen to my mind that still is playing around in its own thoughts. My true feelings are in charge, not bothered by the daily to-do's or nuances of moving around, getting to places.

There are times I want to stay still as long as I can… stay in this purely physical somnabulistic state. It's strange the thoughts which dance around in our minds then. Somehow this little poem was in my mind today morning and I thought I would share it.

It's been a whirlwind, it's been too quiet
We've moved too fast, we've waited too long
It feels too foreign, it seems so right
Lets stay still, let's run with the wind

Come let's catch the wonders of the world
Let's discover our inner selves
Let's dance to our rhythm
We're breathless, we're alive
We're here… we're here now.

-RKS

We meet again... Day 308

It is bound to happen in the course of our lives that we will repeat ourselves. Multiple times. We will tell the story of ourselves - where we are from, what we think and we have a moment to recreate ourselves. The past to be left romanticized or stripped. Emotion to be poured into memories and locations - we play with the blocks of truth and step over the blocks that lead to darker places. We will play in the shadows of mystery and move with the mood of the interaction. Are we the heroes or the villains of our story?

Are we strong, did we make all the right decisions - or are we quick to admit our mistakes, be humble? It happens to us enough times - that conversation with a stranger, the same questions and yet our answers vary depending on how we're asked. Depending on where we are, what frame of mind we're in. Sometimes I think when you try and get to know someone - are we just at the mercy of their ability to tell us their stories, ability to convey something we pick up - do the facts really matter to the listener? Or is it just the things we don't pay attention to. When caught up with telling a story, when caught up answering the question, is it our eyes that betray the inner self. Is it the way we speed up our sentences, or slow down, is it just the comfort or lack thereof, the unknown connection which connects two people in a simple place, which has little to do with what we think and more to do with just the idea of the interaction itself.

And yet we're in this place - introducing ourselves, taking in the other - words, mood, motion and all. Building ourselves up, breaking ourselves down, so many blocks in our mind, in our layers - the glass wall of anonymity dropping, one more story starting anew… Will we recount it the same way in the future, or will it already be metamorphosing in our minds - different for each party, evolving in the course of our future….

It sometimes is bound to happen that we will repeat ourselves - and yet every now and then in those repetitions, we discover something new in us. A new person speaking within, a new voice, a new way of looking at the old…a new way of remembering the old, of conveying. So with every opportunity we get to introduce ourselves, maybe its worth listening to what we say and if different elements, emotions are appearing in us… if in trying to share ourselves with a stranger, we're in fact learning something new about ourselves.

Pulls Day 307

In the dark, in chains, in pain… in longing, when lost
I question it all, the Gods, men and their intention
But never my love for you that grew in me soft
And beat against me hard.
In purity and in greed
In desire and in devotion
Without direction, without knowing the right way
I have loved you without limitation
Nor judgment..
I have loved innocently
I have loved you deep, deeper than I knew I ran
Loved you openly, so I never saw a you and me
But I have loved differently than you've known
And so I am now harshly awakened
Unsure how to be understood
How to explain this love I held in me
So easily.. like a soft breath
Like a breath of release
Of excitement, of wonder
A gasp of fear, a torrent of emotion
A breath which exists without reason
And I fall in these webs that try to rein me in
This love that was too simple for you
That loved without question nor pride
Without knowing how, I loved like a fool
And now I try to learn in my quiet
To learn to love as all others do.

- RKS

Faith Day 306

Sometimes I can close my eyes and imagine myself in a different place. A past life maybe, a place away from where I am. A different time, and the walls fall to the ground... a new stage, a different era. Sometimes like being in a black and white movie. The long black dress, a slow 20's song with beats that move to my walk. An aura of confidence, a few strides and the crowd parts away and for the moment I move from the door to my place, I command the air, no ones eyes leave mine - drawn in, in my hold and I smile slowly, my hair moves around me and the music follows me.

Then there are times when these same walls fall and I am alone on a mountaintop without feeling alone. Not being afraid, being the last person standing and it being okay. A cool breeze, the kiss of the wind, the warmth of the sun...as though nature itself had stopped to caress me, to celebrate my freedom.

There are many scenarios, some simple, some inspired by the surrounding, the setting, my mood. Sometimes when I am the most low - it is a short escape. Imagination fueling the mind, pretending we are okay. When I was younger, I remember reading somewhere that faith is what you believe in even when common sense tell us not to. Sometimes I think of these short moments as small stories of faith. A short story or reminder of a feeling that isn't so accessible to me in that moment. The faith of feeling in control and powerful, of feeling free and unafraid. Faith of one day facing our fears, to be stronger and not hurt so easily. To love despite the hurts it gives us and to believe that there is a reason for it.

So maybe it is childish, an idle minds play, wishful thinking, a daydream... but sometimes that is what faith is to me. A stubbornness, a crazy though, a belief beyond sense... a place only you see, a melody only you hear... and just by it belonging to you, just by seeing it come to life, sometimes it gives us a jolt of what we're lacking... a reminder of an emotion that might have become foreign to us. Faith - the story of where you want to be...

Unsolved Day 305

This is my now, the moment I breathe
And you move your hand away
And I watch your eyes look away
As I search for answers I don't have

This is my stand, this stillness around me
Tomorrow is the gap I can't ever fill
What will it bring, where will I be
But I need to leave it unsolved
This mystery, this quiet between us
I need to leave it unexplained

In my mind you're whispering to me
Taking me away, pulling me closer
And our echoes move together
In these halls of our making

This feeling it fills me
A daze, a place in between
Reality seeping into dreams
Things I have never felt
And why do we keep pulling at these threads
But I don't know the way out
I don't know the way in...

Our souls grasp for what we don't hold
Our mind craves the rasping breath
Of fresh hope, of innocent thought
And why can't I just have faith
In what I don't understand...
Just leave it unsolved
Leave it unexplained.
- RKS

An Evening Day 304

And he met me at the bottom of the stairs
He took my coat as though he knew me for years
He pretended to not see my tear stained cheeks
As he led me into the house from my dreams

He reached out for my hand as he walked close to me
Gently showing me wonders like an old memory
A hesitant laugh, and he smiled broadly at me
He kept me close, engaging me in the simple
No questions about the broken look I wore

The inner child at play, cautiously I looked at him
This stranger who spoke to me as as a friend
As though I was the only one there...

Unfolding, calmly leading, I followed curiously
His posture perfect, his mission simple
He kept me close as we went from room to room
And as the evening came to an end
He walked me to the door...
A simple souvenir to celebrate me he said
As he slipped the box into my hand.

I looked at him, unsure of what to say
He helped me drape my dark cloak
It felt darker than when I had arrived
He saw the sadness set into my eyes
And the weight fill into my breath...
As I walked away slowly from the light
He pulled me back, kissed my hand
Smiled his gentle smile and said...
"Remember me, when you're alone."

- RKS

What it feels like Day 303

How did we come here
Was it always meant to be
Was it a wrong turn
Or just the turns of destiny

And I sometimes think
Who are we to feel this way
Who am I to ask you to stay
How did  love come so fast

And in the dark you go
Places where I can't follow
You leave with my heart
Every time we pull apart

And I think how can I be
So complete and so empty
Just by the idea of missing you
How can you feel the same too?

There are so many questions
So many fleeting apprehensions
And then your soft whispers
And I am flying in this space

I am moving fearless
I am holding on tight
I am scared of it ending
Scared of it being forever

And yet we still write our story
We both know it won't happen again
No one will know but you and me
What it feels like… to really feel.

- RKS

Invisible Blocks Day 302

If we drop something, it must be picked up. If we break something, we attempt to fix or replace it. We are built to find solutions to problems. It is the basis of innovation and creativity - we are constantly looking for ways to improve, repair or rethink things. It's easier when they are in front of us, part of our daily process - when we can touch, when we can see - when the impact of the change affects us and others in some way.

But then there are the invisible blocks. The blocks in our mind… we can feel something is lost, but we don't know how to find it. We can feel broken, but don't know how to fix it. We don't have a guideline, there is no glue or a quick replacement to a hurt or a broken heart. There is no quick way, or amount of designing or planning a solution that will correct the quiet resigned being. And yet the feeling is the same… something is wrong, we must fix it. We are problem solvers, we don't dwell on the issue - we work on the solution.

Sometimes I think our mind is our greatest strength and our greatest weakness too. We are strong in so many ways, we are powerful beings.. and yet, in so many ways we can be left helpless, debilitated by our moods, by our inner turmoils. And while we are able to communicate, able to recognize the fault within us, the broken piece, the invisible obstacle - we are confused by ourselves. We are ourselves our own victims and at the same time the only one to be our own savior. Yes, those around us do weave their thoughts and stories into ours… but the fight is always within. The reprise is always within… and depending on which chapter of the story we are in… we need to play the appropriate role, be the connection, the sentient being.. even if we are physically apart. 

Yes, sentient beings… because each being is a mirror, holding all others in its gaze. If one is broken, then we are all broken. And once something is broken… we all know, it must be fixed. 

The Tale Begins again.. Day 301

Hello strange blogosphere… it has been a while since I've been here. The air feels the same on my skin, but it has a strange vibe to it. The colors are a different shade than my memory, the sizes a little bigger. We have both been weighed with the secrets of time. Some eager to flow out from our lips, to talk of like old friends too… and some that come heavy and age too fast, weigh us down faster than we  care to acknowledge. We shift under their weights, we hold them tight… and in some moment of hopelessness we move to distract, we punch these imaginary walls, we try to say the words we can't seem to find, and then fall silent - for there are some secrets where blood flows easier than ink. 

Happiness Day 300

It is hard to believe 300 blogs have gone by. There have been gaps and changes in life, mind, heart… the world. And somehow these blogs have gone on, connected dot by dot to a number - 300. It sometimes is interesting how many thoughts are in our minds. each day if we document our emotions - what we go through, how we react, how we feel.. If we could document every step of our journey in this life, I don't know.. sometimes the best part of it, is not figuring everything out. Leaving a little mystery, being a little ignorant… always ready to be a little surprised, little curious..

I searched for happiness in wisdom

I spoke to those who said they knew better

Those who were older, said they knew the way

I searched for happiness in their paths

And all I saw was their dreams and homes.

I searched for happiness among friends

Among loves that took me in its wave

I tried to move with the current of passion

I searched for happiness in their promises

But found less honor and more empty words

And  threads of faith that couldn't hold me.

I searched for happiness in myself

I searched within - looked deep inside to understand

I tore apart my mind, I looked around me

I looked into my past, into my decisions

I tried to make sense, choose more consciously

But in my attempts to control myself

I found places that were simpler, but did not fill me. 

And I searched till the search itself tired me

And days went by without me looking 

I lay down on a quiet dark night

There were no more tears to cry

A heart that could not bear to hurt

A soul that was quietly listening

I took in a deep breath… and I smiled

For while I had searched for so long

It was happiness that had found me.

- RKS 

A poem. Day 299

We're somewhere between the start and the end

The past is too far gone for me to hold on to

So I close my eyes.

Not ready for a future where we say goodbye

So I close my eyes.

And in these moments of silence

I think, what happened to those simple days

What happened to feeling safe in your arms?

What happened to the comfortable silences

That bound us together once.

What happened to the days when we felt free

Boundless, we moved, jumping at life

Every moment ours to prove

Every minute ours to claim…

And in these quiet evenings

I think, where did that feeling of faith go

When did the stories I keep telling stop happening

Where did I go where you could not follow?

When did I say things you couldn't understand?

And what happened to letting yourself go

What happened to wanting to hold me close?

And when the tears blur my eyes

I think you know, as well as I

We're caught in a conversation

Which neither wants to have

What happened to our never ending talks

And the long endless nights we were to have?

When did these distances begin in our hearts

What happened to move us so far along…

Shouldn't getting closer make us stronger

Shouldn't opening up make us braver?

Shouldn't there be a forever for you and I…

But we're somewhere between the start and the end

The past is foreign… not sure if it was mine

So I close my eyes..

The future is cold… do I even get to say goodbye

Or will I just… close my eyes.

- RKS

Layers Day 298

Our layers keep peeling off and new ones put on every day. Some days the metamorphosis is evident, we know something has changed within us, we can feel it in our movement, our thoughts taking new direction, our reactions - we know something is different today than yesterday. Other days it is subtle, silent, like a leaf falling gently on the ground, we don't know it's gone - we don't realize till the tree is bare and we try to reach for something that isn't there anymore.

Every now and then, by some measure of time when we face ourselves from a time back, whether it is a few weeks or years ago - we look at ourselves from the outside. With a new understanding of ourselves we look back at our younger selves and imagine what we know now, if we knew then. But then again, sometimes knowledge isn't enough on just it's own, it has to come with the hard lesson, blood, tears and all.

The mind is a funny place... it can show you the bright colors in a day and another make you afraid of the light. The friendly face can comfort you, or make you cringe in a strangers presence. Today someone makes you feel safe, tomorrow you don't know if you can trust them. Today you feel wanted and desired, tomorrow you feel isolated and misunderstood. We are on a yo-yo of emotions and and the mind is the pilot. Our body and mind is more closely related than I often give credit for. I realize the layers that fall off or pile on our minds, do so on our bodies too. It is not just a mind that cringes from touch, the body reacts. We walk different, we make ourselves smaller when sad - we stand different, we move different... we eat, sleep different. When the mind is at rest, the body abides - when the mind is in turmoil, the body responds.

In our rush to move through our lives, there is a point when we can't run anymore, can't pretend anymore. When we need to take pause and look at the layers coming off, learn the new ones coming on. Maybe it's the emerging from the cocoon - it is painful and comforting at the same time. We are growing up, we're growing up every single day. The day we stop learning, we stop questioning or being surprised by ourselves and our minds abilities to process, create, shape and move us - is the day we stop living. So despite my desire to eventually reach a point where the core and layers are steady, the demons at bay, the good angels at work on my shoulders, the confidence at the right amount etc.. I am trying to adapt to my somewhat troublesome sense of humility, my decisions which are slow and need to constantly be analysed, my innocence partially in check, my world-skills being developed and going to bed every night, trying to ready myself for the surprise of me...and what the curtains will reveal , what mood will await me when I open my eyes.  Yes just be ready to accept the absolute surprise of me.

Lilacs Day 297

And when the lilacs bloomed
He put them in her hair
He held her close, she was his

And when the summer came
He took her in a boat
And he smiled as the sunlight
Teased her eyes... She was his

And when the winter came
He built her a fire
The flames flickering on her face
He traced their shadow.. She was his.

She bloomed in his arms
She danced in his shadow
Basked in his love
She had everything.. she was his

But all seasons must go
So did this one too
She burnt in his flames
And screamed out his name

But there were no more lilacs
Or sweet stories to tell
There was no one there
To want her love
It was just a dream
And only there, was she ever his.

- RKS

The Pause Day 296

Breathe in... Let it be calm
Find a moment of rest
The world won't stop
You must find pause

Breathe out... Open your eyes
Look around you it's a reflection
Of what is inside you
You see beauty when you feel beautiful
You feel the depths of emotion
When you are open to the feeling

Breathe in... The space around you awaits
Take it all in it waits for no one
Your battles will never end
There is no one to rescue you
You are your own champion
You are your own savior

Breathe out...Take charge and command the air
It moves with your rhythm
It sings to your melody
The passions of your sighs
Change the mood of the night
The laughter from your lips
Colors the spirit that moves around you

Breathe in now... Let the world celebrate you.

- RKS

The Ghost Day 295

It sometimes feels like the whole world exists in just our minds. It really does, doesn't it? Our perception of time, emotion, our experiences, our interactions… it's just thoughts in our minds, our understanding. And sometimes it feels like we're deep vessels of thought just moving along with the crowd. Each vessel holding it's own perception, it's own point of view… and we walk together yet alone.

We take in what is around us but in our own special way. And then something happens… one of those vessels of body around us breaks our reverie…and we are now aware of something more than their physical packaging, they are sharing thoughts with us. Thoughts not necessarily meant for you but there it is… a different view point of what you recognize. Could be as simple as directions to a place - you would say it differently… or a location, a description, a conversation you happen to hear…an emotional outburst we're not allowed to have. Something which is not related to you… and you're part of someone else's world. We now exist in a different plane. While we look at them as strangers, there are ties that link us as one. We're all in a way images of each other, humans reflecting on other humans.

The ghost it walks among the people
It moves with grace and poise
Floating over the ground but pretending to step
The ghost it speaks to others imitating their mannerisms
The ghost has no heart but must empathize
The ghost has no fear but must be cautious

The ghost it moves among the people
Dancing to their tunes it tries to blend in
It is cold and has no memory
It's focus is in the now and this moment
I watch the ghost smile politely
And hide behind corners when it gets a chance
I watch the ghost move appropriately
And hide in the walls when it gets a chance
I watch the ghost sigh almost painfully
And hide away in excuses when it gets a chance
I watch with no thought, with no recognition
As it walks toward me. I look into it's eyes and see...
It has my eyes... It's the ghost of me.
- RKS

Inner Turbulence Day 294

What is behind a face, what is the thought behind an ordinary face in an ordinary day… do we stop as long as we should to something out of the ordinary? Can we ever know the battles that go on inside a man's mind.. do we really reside on the other end of the fence, or do we just don't stop enough to listen, to care… to ask, really ask - is everything okay?


Swept away into the ocean
Pulled away from shore
Feeling the strains against me
I take a deep breath and put on a smile
The person you greet, that which you see
A man of ordinary fates and a normal story
You walk past me casually for I can't surprise you
I move with the ease of the troubled
Who has gone too far to even try
I have the calm of the resignation
That decides to no longer fight
The inner turbulence inside.

I close my eyes and I am taken away
The waves loom larger and I can barely gasp
Water fills my lungs, my chest tightens
A constant nudge and I am suddenly awake
To your questions and little nuisances
Is my quiet demeanor an irritation to you?
Half hearted concern, the shifting of your eyes
I'm not the sort of man with who you spend time
I'm the quiet one who keeps to himself
Laughs appropriately and won't understand.

I have eyes neither beautiful nor too deep
I don't have have charm nor the right words to speak
I move with the crowd for I don't know how else
To keep myself breathing and my eyes wide open
For all it takes is just one moment to myself
And I am swept away in the ocean
Roughly pulled away from shore
Battling with shreds of hope
Fighting hard the inner turbulence
To which you're blind.

- RKS

How Do I… Day 293

How do I make you see what you mean to me
That without you I am alone and empty
What words can tell you how I feel
How do I make this emotion seem real?

How do I tell you that you're my breath
You're my heart, you're my hope, my faith
How do i keep myself away from you
How do we hold on, when we're so far away
Turning away, where do I go, where to?

Would you just trust me
With you is where I want to be
The reins of life have trapped me
There is nothing but darkness where I see
But you're my breath, you're my heart
You are...you're my shadow, I ache apart

Will you listen to my silences
And know how hard this feeling beats
Would you remember my quiet promises
Or will they get stolen in the waves of time
Washed in rains, tears you won't know belong to me
The words I spoke, the moments we shared
How do I tell you, what you mean to me...
That without you, every day is cold and empty
Will you know if I didn't say
Would you find me, if I walked away?

-RKS

Human Form Day 292

The state of our emotions, at times when it reaches its peaks, is best expressed without words. Sometimes even the slightest stirs in our souls can be shown in soft movements, slow breathing. Taking a feeling that lives within us and describing it with our physical beings. Sometimes I think the human form cannot look more beautiful than it does when in dance.

I often write about dancing - I think it is a poetry of the body. Recently I was at a show where I didn't really know the storyline, there was no narration. But there was music, and song in a language I didn't understand. Yet there was dance, and suddenly it was right there. The mood of the actor being spread to you. Energy showing passion, showing curiosity, discovering love… being torn away from the one you love. The desperation - to utter despair. Is it really the dance move that conveys the emotion? Or is the emotion which fuels the movement. What is it that we connect to?

The eyes of the actor are transparent - it is a strange thought. As actors, a mask is being put on, it is not who they truly are. They are now in the role of someone else, we know that - they know that… and yet for them to convey feeling to us, they must act without any walls, without any masks… they need to engage an emotion and fit into this pretend role… to convince the audience in front of you to play along. To weave a story which will take you to a place that doesn't exist, a tale we don't know.. and yet sometimes, it happens…and we're lost. Our mind sometimes seems so quick to adapt to the make believe world. Not just in thought, but in reaction. Why else do movies make us laugh, or cry? Why does a show stop your heart, why do you feel the anticipation build up? We know it's not real…

Human form… in all its fault and its imperfections, when in motion, when in dance… when raw in emotion is breath taking. We are perfect and simple… we're uncomplicated, and we're encompassed in just one emotion - in just that one moment. We're not complicating it by trying to add in what we must do, and what we mustn't, who we should be around who… actors engage one emotion, and they find its depth and they speak it loudest..when they speak with no words. It makes me think sometimes who is really on a stage, who is playing a role, who is pretending… the actor on the stage who accepts and displays their feelings, open and raw for all to see, or the audience who wears the mask of etiquette, whose faces we all look at and try to read, to understand?

I'm Okay Day 291

Whats behind those beautiful eyes
They speak louder than your sweet lies
Your lips slightly quiver when I ask
Will they say what's behind this mask?
But they simply whisper "I am okay"

The slight tremble in your hands
Distracting you from your confident stance
You try too hard to be at ease.
Your eyes dart around the place
When they feel they aren't being watched
As though they are looking for a ground to claim
A piece of land they can say is theirs
Somewhere you feel safe...

And I ask with no words
As you will answer with none
Your silhouette still as you think
For just a moment you're there
For just a moment, your guard is down
Then a quick smile, a hurried blink..
And I am met again with those eyes
That talk louder than your soft smile
That echo the resignation of loneliness
The kind which no longer tries to speak
Which is so strong now, they feel weak

You question the dark within you
You drown in your fear, you search for acceptance
So many thoughts which I will never know
So many feelings you will never say...
For whenever I ask...
Your small hands reach out to reassure me
As your lips softly form the words "I am okay".

- RKS

Herding Cats Day 290

In the warmer days the cats like to go outside. They stay within sight and usually maintain their boundaries well. Every now and then in a playful jolt or a strong distraction, they rethink their boundaries and starts the process of slowly shepherding cats. Trying to steer their direction… I have heard it being described as one of the most painful tasks … herding cats. But while trying to usher them towards the front door, I thought about the invisible leash of trust we have.

They could so easily dart, and there's no way me the fumbling human could keep up. In a lot of ways they have the upper hand and what keeps us tied to each other is trust. They give me the place of "alpha" of sorts, and allow themselves to be guided. And maybe by my reaction and their desire to please the "pack" - we're able to give and take and create this relationship.

Trust is one of those tricky things. I sometimes think it works best when it is invisible, when it's a little bit effortless and also a little bit painful. When we know what we're losing, we sometimes value it better. When we are able to pull at its reins a little, we make it stronger. Trust doesn't necessarily bind us or hold us prisoner. It is a direction, it is a faith that this path will lead you to a place you want to be. It's like that promise you make as a child to yourself, or the feeling you know you want to hold onto within you. The sense of accomplishment maybe.. in a relationship, be it with another human or a fur ball.

Herding cats maybe is a good way to describe trust… for we reach the same point eventually, just not easily. And while there is a way of going about it, like using a real physical "constraining" leash… there is a beauty in seeing them in their element. Seeing them pounce and attack, hiding in the jungle of the grass, gliding up the trees…and I in my faith in them am able to appreciate their flight, their pondering expression as the wind blows their fur gently, and not worry of them running and breaking my trust. And they in return can feel safe and explore, be bold and rely on a trust they don't need to voice or articulate… just the faith that we're there for each other in this careful bond we've preciously built.

We're both in our own way simple… celebrating our relationship.

Connected Day 289

A blank screen, now being filled by words. I don't think I have too many word to share, or maybe I have too many. It's funny - I once told someone that when I have nothing to write about, I write about writing :) That statement sometimes is more true than I realize.

I think we all look for buffers in our life. We can't always move with a burden of disappointment, we cannot always move with the adrenaline of joy, there are those moments we search for - the quiet, the non intrusive kind. The kind where you don't decide where you want to be or how you want to feel. Sometimes I think writing is a buffer for me. When I write here, or when I scribble elsewhere, it is a buffer…a kind of way to not think of what is happening. A transportation to a different place. But I must write about something… do I write about what is going on, am I then losing the point of my buffer? I don't know… just random musings. 

I have been thinking of myself more abstractly recently than I have before. I sometimes think we have so many versions of ourselves in our one lifetime. Phases maybe… the coming of age story, the first heartbreak story, the crazy friendship, the struggling truths, the dark, the light, the love, the pain. Every portion of our life, every story sometimes along with the facts is also a summary of who we are. Everything changes us… darkness changes us, kindness changes us. I think what I have come to realize, is we cannot fight everything - we cannot take on nature, fate, our reactions, ourselves, change, our emotions - we cannot change who we become, which journey we embark on. We will be changed by merely living. And life isn't a smooth journey, it isn't a gentle lake, nor is it always a roaring ocean. We just need to learn to accept the changes in us, around us… and we need to never let them reduce us. Never let them reduce our appearance in our eyes. Bend with the change, don't break with it. Let go when it's hard… hold on when it's harder. Say goodbyes, say hello's… experience what you do, feel it all… find your buffer, take it in. Breathe in, breathe out. There has to always be a way to be strong… even by admitting we're not, even by speaking with our silences… the loud silence which belongs only to us, the silence no one else can hear… even by surviving that - we're finding a way to be strong. Every morning, every day…just like this blank blog, without knowing it… I have written so many words, I have filled it with my mood, my existence. It is mine… for this moment, this canvas is mine. 

Sometimes writing here, I talk to myself as much as I do to my abstract audience. I often wonder if my words are reflected in someone else. If we truly are islands of emotion… could there be that much emotion in all of us? Or do we all feel lonely? Do we all feel scared sometimes, do we all feel powerful and ambitious? Do they mean the same things to us? Words, thoughts our bridges to ourselves. And here, by me writing this…by you reading this… we've made a small story. A story we might not relay to others, but maybe like me you're reminiscing, maybe like me you're hoping… like me you're looking for a buffer… a timeout, a moment to re-iterate…the elusive escape, and just like that this is done. This blog is over, our connection is done, the feeling I wanted to share is out there…. it's in your mind for a minute…and ours to ponder, whenever we need to. 

Just like that… this blank screen is no longer blank. 

The Gentle Night Day 288

The moment before everything changes is most beautiful. Almost terrifyingly beautiful if you look back. The comfort of the normal teases you, and you realize the worth of all you had. You look back longingly to that perfect moment - the moment before you awoke to a different reality. 

Some nights have that quality - the calm kind - the terrifyingly beautiful kind. The night is warm, just right… the wind is soft, just right. The stars twinkle and the energy in the air invigorates you. Softly dancing around you are sounds, the just-right kind. The excitement and peace are at balance. The sort of feeling you get when you were young and have a deep certainty within you that we will never get old nor die. So young that we feel ever powerful, the world is for our taking.  That kind of feeling, that perfect time.

Some times I remember nights like that, and I think of how I didn't think much of them… other than trying to be a part of it. Trying to envelope myself in them, breathe a little deeper, stay out a little longer…watch the grass tango with the wind. It was just beautiful. There was a calm to memories like that. 

And with time, those simple memories have become more beautiful. Beautiful because of the river of time that starts to flow in between. Have the nights stopped being peaceful or does time make us so cynical? Do we lose the ability to truly enjoy moments… to enjoy beauty even when we know we are mortal and like those blades of grass, moving to the whims of fate? Does it prohibit us from enjoying a moment because we know… we just know, there's always a perfect moment. that one perfect memory…before everything changes. 

The Feather Day 287

The feather it floated in the air
Unnoticed it flew everywhere
It settled on his shoulder
And he picked it up gently
And ran it across her skin as she smiled
Soon forgotten, the feather it took flight again

The feather it moved with the breeze
And rested on a grass blade
A dog chasing it, a playful ramble
It fell to the mud and stayed still
The rains came and washed it clean
And the feather it took flight again

The feather it got stuck on a branch
Being gently lifted by a birds beak
It took flight on its wings again
She placed it gently in her nest
And it became part of the shelter it gave
Till the night the wind blew fiercely
And despite it, the feather took flight again

It moved with the pulls
Not knowing where it would go
Not knowing where it could stay
The feather it belonged to no one
But with everyone it shared
A moment, a thought, a treasure
Till time tugged at it to move on
And the feather, it took flight again.

- RKS

Soft Whispers Day 286

Some days I wake up and take in the morning, do a check on myself, my current feeling and think about the act of waking up. Everyday we wake from slumber and as our mind finds its alertness, it jerks us from our cradle of sleep into our reality. Whether it is a beautiful reality, or a longing, or an uneasiness, a brightness or a dark - we're jerked from our sleep into it. 

For the longest time I have felt we have a control over our moods and thinking. If we think positive enough, we will be happier. If we push ourselves harder, we will succeed. There are a lot of things behind that thought - us being in charge of ourselves, I guess. If we decide to do something, who stands in our way? Just think it and it shall be. 

Though that does help us pull through, will power can make you scale many mountains - there are things which are not just controlled by thought and our mind. Our being speaks to us in ways we don't always understand. And sometimes in the morning, when thought is still stirring - the body speaks to you, the soul reveals its anguish and desires. You feel who you are, more than think who you want to be. You feel your presence within you. We tend to demand a lot of ourselves because we try to live up to an ideal that we've created. And yet there is a much bigger and simpler part of us that has a simple desire - to be happy, to find peace. It doesn't understand the games of man, nor the pulls, or the reasons. It has no evil nor is it redemption... it is simple in it's existence. It is the feeling which keeps you down when you don't understand - that pulls you forward and surprises you. 

So many times we're so busy thinking and listening to our mind, that we don't listen to the voice within us which speaks without sound. The conscience within us which fills us with life, the soul in us who stirs with joy and equally shatters when it is pulled to a place it cannot extend. 

Still mornings... everyone has a different morning every day... and yet, sometimes in the rush to get out the door and start the day, wear our armors - it is the most important time, when we can truly listen and engage with ourselves mind, body and soul..

What We Want Day 285

Are we capable of voicing at every second of time what we need? What exactly we want said and done? Can we comfort ourselves best, can we be our own best friends? Why do we need another to say what we need to hear - how does our dependence on another being who is as complicated as you in their own way, a comfort to us? Somehow these thread of humanity works that way and in the "faceless crowd" we start finding comfort in some, more than others. We start needing, we start looking when we feel most alone… we start believing they will always be there. Do we make ourselves more vulnerable, or do we get stronger by the mere hope that our faith is not misplaced, our love is not undeserving… 

My eyes dart around in the darkness looking for similarity

How long have I been lost, how far have I drifted?

How did I come so far, you said you would never let go

How am I here without you, you said you would follow

I close my eyes, the darkness I find within is comforting

How long have I been asleep, why do I feel so cold?

If I could just see you, these skies would not be so gray

If I could just find you, somehow everything would be okay.

I must keep moving, there has to be a way back home

There must be somewhere I can go, to find my steps

And yours will find mine, and I will dance in the sky

You won't let me fall, and in your arms I will smile.

The cold rain falls as I move with the faceless crowd

The silence is getting suffocating, and feels so loud

Is this a dream? A parallel reality? A vision, a fear?

My eyes dart around in the darkness...

If I could just see you... 

- RKS

Superhero Day 284

I have taken a little bit of a hiatus from writing recently if noticed - I guess I have been distracted with things around and in me. Not devoid of thoughts or topics, but sometimes I don't really know if half-baked thoughts are worth penning down :)

This makes it sound as though I have a very well - thought out blog here, but quite the opposite. Just a simple thought I wanted to write down. In a lot of my own blogs and things we say to others, we often motivate people to be strong, go-getters, to not accept defeat, not give up. Stand of something, embrace yourself. In a lot of ways an ideal state of being is that of a "super hero". Perfectly balanced, content, at ease and peace - able to give abundantly, accept graciously - to go with the flows and tugs of fate and time. Maybe the state is just what we all hope to attain. After all, do we not set the highest goals when searching for something to work toward.

There are times though when you're knocked down by things you cannot see or quantify. The challenges don't play fair, and the battles are unbalanced. Sometimes you don't even know who you're fighting, what you're fighting for. Times like this you get humbled by life. You stop preaching and telling yourself and others what to be and do and become the listener. You see what is around you, you take time to look at yourself - at all the strong strides you took forward yes, but you notice the calluses on your feet too. You become the listener and you observe, you re-invent, you recreate the meaning of being the "super hero".

It is a burden of sorts to be perfect. To even attempt to attain perfection. The hero which must always rescue - every person they save, they have defeated someone else to do it. Every duel they fought and conquered leaves behind the wake of a the devastated. The good side vs. the bad side - maybe the lines aren't always blurry. But heroes that walk out of a battle victory do not leave unscarred. They are not allowed to feel the simple emotions of an "ordinary meek man" - fear or any form of selfishness. Bravery and accomplishment without arrogance - perseverance without exhaustion. Well, while all of us don't go scaling from buildings, or stand on battlefields - we sometimes expect ourselves to behave like that.  And I guess even "super heroes" need to know when to step down and recharge for the next ball that comes their way.

The Thief and the Moon Day 283

Said the thief to the moon, "I have stolen diamonds and treasures beyond man's imagination
and yet they fall short in the presence of your light. I must have you, I must find a way."
Said the moon to the thief, "So many hands rise to touch me, yet they all fall short
I am not hiding from anyone, I am lonely with these cold stars - come to me if you've heart"

And the thief traversed many a lands chasing the glorious ball of light…
His velvet gloves on, he moved with the waves and chased further when it started to diminish
He built ladders and weaved plans, he dreamt of nothing else, his every thought spun around the moon
He walked with people, yet his eyes were always adrift, he waited for the darkness to behold its sight
He felt drawn in a way he could not describe, his every treasure and possession paled in his eyes
He must have the moon, he must find a way… yet the days turned to weeks, which bled into years

Said the thief to the moon, "I have tried all that I can, and I have fallen in love with you
Nothing and no one else will do, I need to find a way to be with you.
I don't want to possess you, I just want to exist with you… feel your cool touch on my warm brow
I am exhausted, I cannot feel anything else, I cannot be with anyone else…"
Said the moon to the thief, "So many rise to own me, yet very few travel with me through the darkness
You look for me even when I am hidden behind the veils of the clouds,
You call for me even when most don't notice my waning self…
I have followed you as you've loved me as no other…
There is no beauty in me, if there is no poet like you…
There is no depth in me if there is no one who seeks to see me as you do
I have followed you as you followed me for you've heart…
Lie in my light, and let us be one…"

And so he lay on the ground, closing his eyes and she glistened over him…
And he climbed up the silver staircase as she opened up to him
His spirit soared and filled her with a desire she had never known…
Together, they moved…hidden behind clouds, they danced…
A story no one could have known….
A story of a thief and his beloved moon.

- RKS

The Infinite Day 282

There was a football field, when empty, it seemed larger than it appeared. And when I walked on it, it seem to span forever. When I lay down and looked at the skies, the green surrounding me, the stars peeking out of the dark cloak that covered them, a warm breeze caressing my face - I remember thinking, this is what infinity must feel like. Something not measurable, the expanse of a thought or an emotion can seem so large and encompassing the closer we get to it.

There are so many places we go to - some physically, some just in our mind. We imagine worlds and scenarios and sometimes act on them. We transport ourselves with possibilities and thoughts. Aspirations of a place to reach and be. And a portion of our life seems to be lived in the future which is always ahead. We imagine the tomorrow, we think of a better time, or have a running to-do list to get to. We believe we will find relief in another situation, the answer to happiness. And sometimes its easier to let our minds drift and be there. And other times we feel trapped in a space we can't get out of.

I write this blog often times assuming that a lot of emotions/thoughts I have are understood by someone who is reading this. Maybe I am wrong, maybe I am the only one who thinks of infinity and the expanse of a universe when lying on a football field. Maybe only I think of where the mind can co-exist in planes beyond our reasoning. Possibility and future, I don't know. There are times when we assume to identify with others - for how can we be different? In some measurable way we must be the same - cut from the same cloth. We are human, we have humanity, we possess empathy - is that the end of our similarity? Or is that even assuming too much… I am not sure.

At times my thoughts here, seem just that - my thoughts. I am not sure who I am relating with, if I am doing a good job expressing things….and yet there are some moments when I remember something, and I want to write of it. I was looking at the sky today - with the stormy clouds settling in and the bare trees dancing with the wind and the first stars peeking out… and I thought of lying in that football field. And I thought of how we're all part of an infinity that is both immense and minute. And maybe it's just me, but someday when I do close my eyes, I want to be under that sky and be surrounded by that feeling. Part of and immeasurable, complete and undefinable… infinite and scattered… the sky holding my last breath.

The Unspoken Day 281

There are things I want to say to you
Yet they don't find their way to my lips
They just peek at you from my eyes
The thrust of these thoughts fill me
They pound at you, asking to find flight

Flight in the arms of sound
Shape in the form of words...
Release from the silence that guards it
Some way to dress up this feeling
So we could hear me say them
And we could watch you react

Yet it remains a feeling...
A feeling like a scent in the air
Something we both know of, yet can't explain
A secret which neither of us can hide
And even though I don't need to...
Sometimes, when you hold me with your eyes
And the desire beats hard in me...
There are things I want to say to you
which don't find their way to my lips
Just reach out to you through my eyes.

- RKS

Beautiful Tragedies Day 280

Today I thought I would share a "guest blog". This was written to me by someone who has had a deep appreciation of war which I had never understood. I asked him what appeals to you about it? I don't see beyond the bloodshed, necessary or not, why does this interest you… to which he responded to me with this essay which I think was really well written. I recently remembered it as I came across it in my email and thought I would share it (with or without his approval) :)

I was eleven when I first discovered the American Civil War.  At that time I checked out a book that appealed to me in terms of its graphics, started to understand more about it and was on my way.    Other than my college years I’ve never been away from it in terms of an interest.

That said, I’ve never really dwelled on the reasons why because no one has asked me.

There were so many ‘big picture’ results and consequences of the conflict.  For all intents and purposes, the end of slavery in the western hemisphere.  It was the first seed sown for civil rights.  The end of a way of life for half this country, meaning the South, in terms of attitudes and customs.  The acceleration of industry and manufacture in the North for the war effort became the basis for much of this economy going forward.  The beginning of the modern navy as wooden warships became obsolete literally overnight due to the battle of the Merrimac and the Monitor at Hampton Roads Virginia.  The importance of railroads jumped up. The advances in weaponry and resulting change in battle tactics were felt the world over.  All this in the space of 4 years!  How couldn’t this be fascinating to any historian, or in my case, someone with a history degree. 

It was also the first war to be chronicled by photography.  Matthew Brady and Tim O’Sullivan in particular photographed the battlefields and their grisly aftermath and to quote someone from the time “brought the corpses and horror to peoples doorsteps”.  This fact did much to defuse the ‘romance’ of 19th century warfare and fueled the first anti-war sentiment in this country.

It was a war that began with all the age old notions and practices of old world chivalry and ended with the concept of total war.  Well meaning prisoner exchanges performed due to statements of honor early in the war evolved in the latter phases to the complete devastation of land and homesteads to bring the war to the civilian population and thus end it through the destruction of their will and resolve for the cause.

The war’s real fascination for me however was the common man who fought it.  Anything I read now deals with small unit histories, where you get a lot of diary observations from the volunteer who slogged through it all for his own purposes.  Why did they go through the incredible hardships?  Though the issue of slavery is always front and center in any discussion of this war, the vast majority of soldiers on both sides fought for different reasons.  Southern soldiers were dirt poor, the idea or wherewithal to own a slave far beyond them.  They were more incensed against the idea of the Yankee invader in their midst and with the right to secede.  Most northern troops considered the black man as well beneath them and not why they were in the field but rather for the preservation of the Union.  When slavery abolitionists tried to emphasize the liberation of the black man as a rallying cry, most northern troops turned a deaf ear.  Yet the feats performed and endured in the pursuit of their idea of nationalism are mind boggling.  To give you two examples:  Sometime you might make a trip to Harpers Ferry, Virginia.  (The Shenandoah Valley in Virginia is one of my favorite parts of the country, beautiful and the location of so much of these Civil War locales).  You’ll see that it’s a town nestled in a little valley surrounded on three sides by large peaks.  It changed hands many times during the war.  When first taken by southern troops they dragged cannon up to the top of those three peaks.  They did this barefoot as shoes were at a premium.  They did this when their main diet component was not corn but ground up corn cobs as provisions were light at that time.  They did this without benefit of roads but through the woods and underbrush of these peaks.  No horses dragging these cannons, but men under these conditions.  Incredible.  On the other side of the coin, at the battle of Cold Harbor in 1864 northern troops had fought a hard spring campaign with huge amounts of casualties.  They came to this battlefield and looked across the fields at the southern positions they knew they would be ordered to assault.  They could see that it was tantamount to suicide so many of them took little scraps of white paper and wrote their names and next of kin on them and pinned them to their uniforms.  They were then ordered to advance.  In the space of 30 minutes, over 7,000 of them were casualties.  They said if you looked over the field it was just a mass of blue uniforms with little white scraps of paper fluttering in the wind.  Sad. Yeah. Fascinating, even moreso.  Why didn’t they look at this battle to come and say no, we’re not going to die here?  They had a devotion to their perception of duty that many (myself included) can’t understand today.

With all this carnage in mind it makes it more ironic that the men on both sides had more in common with each other than with their high ranking commanding officers or civilian populace.  During lulls in activity the men on both sides would call their own truce and ‘meet in the middle’.  Southern tobacco freely traded for Yankee coffee and newspapers.  They’d compare their views of the war.  When the officers would appear the men would go back to their respective positions and yell at each other, “Put your head down Johnny Reb” and “Watch yourself now Billy Yank”, and begin taking pot shots at each other.

I also am drawn to the Irish aspect of the war.  Huge numbers of Irish were leaving Ireland at that time looking for any opportunity here and the army recruiters waited for them at dockside.  As soon as the Paddys walked off the boat they were given the speech about the stability of the army and to be accepted here it was best to fight for Lincoln.  They literally signed up on the dock.  They were the largest foreign born ethnic group in the war and many of them died for a country they never got the chance to know.

General Dan Sickles has his leg blown off at Gettysburg yet insists on being taken before his men with a cigar clenched in his teeth to rally them before being taken to the rear, Henry Culp, a northern boy, born and raised on a farm in Gettysburg yet joins the Confederacy.  Fights a number of battles with the southern army and ironically winds back in Gettysburg in 1863 and is shot and killed making an assault on his own family farm.  Robert Shaw, a Boston blueblood with any number of opportunities open to the wellborn yet decides to undertake the stigma of leading black troops, the 54th Massachusetts, to make a statement for abolition.  He is killed leading them in the battle at Fort Wagner.  Just a few examples of the brother vs. brother and convictions that make it compelling for me.


Ultimately, the greatest single event in our history and akin to a family tragedy that resonates today. 

Hopping Through Thoughts Day 279

Been staring at a screen for 14 hours today and should probably turn this off and go to sleep... but felt like I should also write something quickly down before I do. 

Been thinking of a lot of things recently and they are occupying my mind's real estate. Been told I think too much, over analyse too much... and to me, it is just understanding before accepting. Anyway as I mentioned, am a little tired tonight so this is going to be jumping all over the place...

Here are some questions and their thoughts that I've been having....

1. What stems insecurity? There are different kinds of insecurities that we experience - the more basic, common one - the vain one, the one based on looks and confidence. There are insecurities that come from circumstances where we feel vulnerable, just a gust of wind away from toppling down... We're insecure when we try to imagine a future which is a ghost. We're insecure when we live in fear of yesterdays mistakes which is also a ghost... We're insecure when our doubts and optimism don't balance each other. Insecurity expands out into many different branches the more relationships we build... and the more we try to control and claim comfort from them.

2. Been thinking about polar vortexes - being in the center of two now in just the past few weeks, I guess that's not too surprising. It's an interesting description of being in the center of a whirlpool of mother nature who seems to have forgotten it is March... it is the month of spring. 

3. Old friends are truly the best way to remember and realize what you've become and  how much you've grown. Time is an interesting thing - it changes and shapes us so subtly... us living with the blinders of "now" - we don't even realize how each step, each decision is changing us and how we're growing more tolerant, or less... growing happier or confused...or just expanding in our thought process. 

4. I sometimes think our human bodies occupy spaces on Earth - sure they do, I am here writing in one, and you reading in one. But I think of the ways in which we occupy that space. If I were to expect myself to be defined...what would it be based on? Would it be my choice in my favorite book? Have I occupied an understanding as someone who enjoys that genre? Do I then get remembered for my love for a food, or a piece of art, a song, or a color? An action or an opinion? Every thing we do, even our small choices and simple "endorsements" are what make us fill out these bodies and give us a measure, a personality, a form we can identify with. 

5. I also spent some time contemplating the theory of some French men _ I think one of them was called Barthes (too tired to google check) who said "the author is dead". Meaning, when we as writers put something out there - in form of a story, a poem - or a blog as such, these words are no longer mine. These are not my thoughts that belong to me but are open now to public interpretation. In such a way all of literature is public property. Often times, we are taught to not know about the writer, to find our own connection and understanding, to not limit yourself by what you know of the author. This makes the writer a mere vessel...a mere medium through which words and thought are expressed. And with each word put out there... they are distanced from the author and left in the hands of the reader to mold into whatever they desire.

 I dont know if I completely agree - for sometimes I think understanding is the start of accepting.... but this basically completes the circle... 

Thinking too much.

So, now I shall say good night, till it be 'morrow.

Struggling Strength Day 278

I was once told that where there is no struggle, there is no strength. Strength... I have been called so strong by some that they have felt they no longer need to walk by me. To have known the stony resolve of survival when you hit the cold floor, the lonely walk when you walk the "right path", this is what we call strong. The truth is there is no strength without any struggle. You cannot build the calluses on your soul, heal despite the scars without sacrificing, without getting damaged, without hurting. Strong is nothing more than a fight, a battle dance with your demons, with your ideals, with your stubbornness to not give up.

She had worn her armor on for so long and so tight,  she had started missing the tenderness, the simplicity of moments. 

With the cloak of the night, come to me

In this dark quiet, come find me

Sit with me, tell me your stories

Let me watch the moonlight dance in your eyes

Color this black with your laughter

Let me play with your fingers

And then as it had to, comes the day she is in the presence of those where she didn't want to hide, she began to forget why she had her weapons. The want to let go and not be "strong", to be allowed to be weak to emotion and happy, took over her like a childish desire.

No! Don't come too close, these scars will scare you

They are mine but their reach is strong

Don't try to come too close, don't look at me in the light

Keep your spirit simple, your love pure

Don't look too deep into this bottomless pit

The shadow of her innocence fading, she realises that, that which has broken her cannot be fixed. That which is broken cannot be mended... and all who walk in the cracks of its memories will hurt too. She knows to be alone is to protect, she smiles with the new purpose she has found... she whispers to the dark embracing arms...

Go now with the morning light

Don't look back, keep your smile with you

I will remember your hands locked in mine

Your memory will heal me, you will know no struggle

Go now... for I will be strong, for the both of us. 

Electric Day 277

I had the experience of my first "concert" of sorts recently and had scribbled this down. Just never got around to posting it. There was a strange connection between the thousand people who had come out to watch - there was almost an electricity charging everyone up. Where the night went, how we danced so long and how all inhibitions just disappeared into one evening was the inspiration of this poem. I thought it might give it more context if I gave a little introduction to it :)

Moving in rhythm, the flashing lights calling us out
Puppets in motion, the music fueling us along
The mind quiet, the senses alive, our body is our guide
Moving in unison, the sound seeping through our barriers
Staying with us long after we break apart and go
We're electric, we're unstoppable, we own this place

What is this connection - it ties us together
What is this connection - it binds us to ourselves
We meet ourselves in the shadows of strangers
We move within the safety of the dark, we have no shame
We're electric...we're invincible, we claim this night

In our quiet resolutions, in our loud steps, we're heroes
We're slaves, we're beautiful, we're perfect
The lights play on our features, like we're cut-outs
Our senses reach their peak, we let our own judgments go
Our eyes are bright, our skin glistens in the night
We're electric...we're evolving, we find ourselves tonight.

- RKS

Storms Day 276

Right before a big storm, there is a strange stillness which takes over the air. The normal slowly starts to stir uneasily. An eerie mood settles in the sky before the first lightning strike. And even if you can't see the dark ominous clouds, you can feel the change… almost feel nature gripping in anticipation. You can taste it, smell the air, the charge in the atmosphere raises something within you. And you wait… you grit your teeth and await… silently, like the trees and grass, with the wind that whispers it's arrival, you watch the dark clouds gather strength and come toward you.

Calm before the storm - I am not sure if there is such a thing. Some part of us has been tuned to know when something big is about to happen. Sometimes we're not listening enough, or we're shifting our thoughts into denial rather than preparation. Storms come in our live metaphorically and literally. Both in their own ways creating havoc.

What is a storm after all? It is strength, passion which doesn't deter it's path - it goes where it chooses without invitation and without any apologies. It removes all that is in it's path, it reduces everything to it's will and when you're in the midst of one, sometimes the best thing to do is stay still, dig your feet into the ground, close your eyes and let it pass over.

In the last couple of weeks, I have been a witness to both kinds of storms. The kind of storm which trapped us indoors and also the kind of storm which breaks a person down to pieces. Where there is no other thought and a person's most natural of instinct is shattered. I have had some days of pure simplicity, appreciating the sun and the beautiful sky… and in the next few days, have seen a child buried in the cold, unforgiving ground. Elements are what we're made of and elements are what we return to. Sometimes I think - are we not the lashing storm ourselves? The soft rain that follows desolation or the scorching heat, are we not the warm breeze as well as the soft snow? Is our nature not in tune with the nature around us… does it listen to us, the way we listen to it… does it feel the rain of our tears that fall on its ground, does it see our angry dances - do we stir the elements the way they stir us… does nature ever succumb to the power of the storms that exist within us?

A few words.. Day 275

I have had so many thoughts and blogs in my head in the last week or so. It really has been just a week since I thought of writing here and yet the illusion of experience has made time feel much longer :)

I will start writing them out - sometimes thoughts are almost caged in my head till I write them. I guess it would be a matter of time before I forget, but till then, they seem to bang against the walls of my head, wanting to come out in some form of expression. So I will write them out, fill these awkward silences of my blog :)

But today I wanted to write something short… I had my birthday recently and one of the gifts I got (which was a few days earlier) was my poems from this blog published in a book. I had been meaning to write about this and well, now is as good a time as any :) It's something small in a lot of ways but it was kind of special seeing these blurbs of thoughts which I put out here - my poetry which has been the most personal, collected and printed. It's a small book and maybe just the start of something else… but it felt strangely real when I could run my fingers over the verses and read what I had written over this "challenge".

Since I was very young, I have been fascinated with the idea of "publishing" my works. I have always felt there is some sort of immortality to a book. Some sort of eternity in a published word, that lives on centuries after you're gone. It reaches people you don't even know, people who don't even exist - your words are quoted, you're analyzed and your emotions are given a higher ground… it takes a book to write of a legend, a story to make a hero known and a poem/song to remember what has occurred in an otherwise normal day. While I don't expect this little book to do as much.. to see it printed in that way and for me to read it, was very special to me. And if this blog does nothing else - it gave my poetry some form of immortality even if it is just one edition of one book :)

Vastness Day 274

I had to work late yesterday and when was walking down the corridors, the emptiness of them caught my attention. It was quiet and there was no one around and lights were dim. It sort of made the place look a lot bigger than it does normally. Vastness... we sometimes are so unaware of it till we're faced with it one on one...

Buildings or the earth or sky, or anything in between... we sometimes forget we're little human beings a few feet tall and not very physically strong, not without our "aids". Each building around us we walk into with such authority and mingle in with the other beings. And if we ever need to measure or do something like paint a wall... that is when it's actual size impresses us.

Sometimes it's the impact of a person, we get used to people in our lives. So easy for us to make room, give time... and when they are not there, missing or gone... that's when the "vastness" of their existence that is filled within us is felt. We don't fully realize the impact someone has on us till they leave. They appear in small things which we didn't notice before. We do build ourselves up and find ways to move on to the next day, but it's like repairing torn sails, never quite the same.

Strange how quickly our mind adapts to "normal". We make places and people our home. We build our identities from them, unaware of how every day, every minute we spend in a place or with something - the closer we're getting, the more of ourselves we're investing. And it takes one snap, one break in the "normal", one unexpected goodbye and the amount we've stretched ourselves out, the space that was filled is now much larger than we realize... and we walk in the corridors of life with the resounding echo of our footsteps in time.

The Run Day 273

I am on the run
Moving fast
Staying in the dark
The shadows watch
The blur of me passing by.

A quick stop
Catch my breath
Can't stop for too long
Must keep running
There must be an escape
Need to keep looking

The dark beings loom large
The darker night seems endless
The whispers get louder
The promises are broken
I run for there is nothing to trust
When you don't' stay still

Nothing holds me back
Nothing pulls me ahead
Urgency building up
Must keep breathing
My legs give way
My eyes hardly keep open
The drumming of my heart
The echo of my hard breaths
And the chant…
Keep running, keep running.

I am on the run
My feet are my path
My instinct is my compass
My eyes are my beacon
And my fear is my strength
There is no time to think

Whispers get louder
The pity echoes in their voice
My chant interrupted by their laughter
"Does she not know she runs from herself?"

I stop. I halt.
I am running…
Even when I sit still.

- RKS

O Winter Day 272

Winter seems to be at it's harshest right now. The cold winds beating hard, the snow drift, the frozen breath, the numb cheeks and nose... been a harsh couple of days. While making a 10 minute walk to my station, I had this verse from one of William Blake's poems in my head and thought I would start this blog with it:

O winter! Bar thine adamantine doors
The north is thine; there hast thou built thy dark
Deep-founded habitation. Shake not thy roofs
Nor bend thy pillars with thine iron car.

He hears me not, but over the yawning deep
Rides heavy; His storms are unchained, sheathed
In ribbed steel; I dare not lift mine eyes;
For he hath reared his scepter over the world.

It has a couple of verses after this, but I always liked these two, and living in cold places, I have come to appreciate the personification of winter and it's cruel ways :) Maybe harsh... but sometimes the only way to accept something or someone in your life is to personify them, their intentions. When you see the flaws in someone you can choose to be more understanding of them perhaps. Maybe cruel winter is doing nothing but it's part in the scheme of things. I think of all the bulbs buried underground that need this damning cold to bloom. I even have some cherry blossoms in my fridge for months now so as to recreate the harsh Japanese winter... well if that works or not, we shall find out :) But it is somehow necessary to give life to these beautiful plants.

I don't know - thoughts are a little all over the place tonight. I do try to see the beauty in the white wonderland around me. I do at times find some joy in the soft flakes and blankets and fires never felt better than they do in winter. But sometimes it is too still.. and the cold starts to feel alone. An immense wall we cannot conquer. Defenseless and small, we stand still and wait for it to pass us by.

Book Trance Day 271

I always seem to have my head in a book. I guess enjoying to write and read kind of go hand in hand. Some books though have this way of entangling me in them and the lives of its characters. So much so that sleep, and every spare moment ends up being spent glancing at the pages. Sentences or situations running through my mind, almost like I am part of a secret adventure, a place which no one else is aware of. The emotions and heartaches, the triumphs and adrenaline, the meaning and reasons in those words are all part of my own.

And then as it must happen… the book comes to an end. The rush and excitement reaches the last page and then it's over. And there is almost a little sense of emptiness. Thoughts still wander to that land and you contemplate over some reactions and maybe rethink some situations or motives. And then eventually those thoughts are done too… and like an old friend who has to go, you need to learn to say goodbye.

Maybe this sounds overly dramatic but anyone who has loved a book truly knows what I am talking about. The silver lining is that there are always more books, endless adventures for us to embark on. And I think it is every writer's dream to connect to someone… to have their words bounce inside someones head. I sometimes think if any words I write here would carry on in someones head, link them to a thought or a memory, bring them closer to a realization? Or are these words just specks which the eye glances over quickly and discards? Regardless, while writers do hope to connect, the act of writing is not motivated by that.. at least it is my assumption that we all write.. for it is like art or a song in your head and you write for the simple joy of stating and bringing to life that which lives in your mind…giving life that will surpass your own, immortality to a story, a thought or a mere blog.

Walking Through the Mist Day 270

And I walked out without anywhere to go
Without need to search, nor desire to find
I walked on to meet what awaited me
Eyes, the souls to man, yet found so many blind
Looking straight at each other, nothing we see
Bound by our inadequacies, bound by our fears
I freed myself and walked on looking for another
Another free soul who could walk with me unafraid
I walked on and with each step found more the need
to be with myself, in the quiet of my mind
In the quiet of my steps, I tread lightly
My heart light and feet lighter, I move on
I did not need answers, nor did I have questions
Yet the beating of my heart grew stronger
A small struggle then...
My soul took the reins and pulled me toward him
Toward and together, my soul entwined with his
A rush, a pulse to meet, and yet when they could
They barely touched, basking in the charged space of their closeness
Of their wants and needs merging, their hopes and thoughts
their loves and lusts, and triumphs and failures
Without humility, nor arrogance or shame or fear
Slowly, deliberately... They became one.
And we walked out together
Without anywhere to go...
Without need to search, nor desire to find.

- RKS

Betwixt and Between Day 269

Last couple of days, I have found myself looking at the sky. And it has put on a show worth watching, from the northern lights to the moonlight, to a thunderstorm to the soft blue clear sky. Sky watching has been something which I end up doing every time I get some time to myself. The floating clouds, the nature's own show.

The movement, the feeling that I am floating with those clouds made me think of animation. It's been somewhat of a fascination with me. One of my first science projects was the "bird free or in a cage" - drawing a cage on one side, and a free bird on the other side of a disc, and pulling a string which would spin the disc and make it look like the bird was in a cage. The fooling of the eye… the birth of magic, perhaps? Our instinct to be in awe of things that surprise us… that pique our curiosity.

Movies - the new way of story telling. This need for telling what we witness begins from the days of the cave men all the way to today, when new lands, planets, races, creatures beyond our comprehension are brought to life. And we all too willing to believe, to extend our imagination and curiosity… to be in awe of that which is greater than our own limited experience. Even if appreciating it's not real to some extent - we still react, we still live several lives in the time we're watching the movie  unfold. Our mind transports us to where they are, their emotions tie in with ours.

We have a need to document, writing our own history in a way…we can see how times have changed by flipping through movies through the ages. Is this blog, or any book not doing the same? Both are attempts to recreate what is in our mind, some through words, some through picture… sometimes just a simple thought - like the changing skies… to invoke an emotion, to entertain…to keep the audience interested just enough that they would want to know what comes next...

Our Season Day 268

Every new chapter begins with the shedding of the last. This year seems to have begun in the same way. The shedding of the ornaments, lights and christmas trees. The cold stillness, the snow, the story of change already in motion.

There are many ways we define ourselves. We look at ourselves in a certain way, we must have some level of understanding of ourselves, for us to make decisions, for us to know how to be, who to be with, where to go, what to do. A measure of a year, is it really a clean slate - a fresh start, or just our way of giving an age to our thoughts. A commemoration of our maturity, of coming to age. A year seems like a long time, and yet when we stand on the cusp of a new one, it seems like the last one went by so fast.

There are two eternities a man can get lost in - yesterday and tomorrow. We spend so many of our thoughts in the past and even more in our future. And while I usually push for the idea of living in the present... I recently have found that an insistence to measure life with just the "now", sometimes leaves you just there. We find ourselves in a rut, in this "now" we have adopted... we don't need to lose ourselves in the eternity of tomorrow, but we do need to steer our boats, we need to set course to some path for us to stay in motion. We need to move with the flow of water... shed skin and move on to the next chapter.

Even standing in the midst of the coldest days, the days defiantly grow longer, reminding us that we're still moving even if all is still, all is frozen. Everything has it's season...and so do we.