In one of my travels a sage asked me, what is the measure of happiness? I tried guessing but I could have never known ? As I softly asked him to please stop smiling only, and say. He took his time. And said the true measure of happiness is the average of sunrise and sunsets a man sees divided by days of life. Sometimes it feels inappropriate but it is kind of apt.
Sometimes from somewhere a may be comes. Now may be is hope. It is told to you if you can run till a point you might catch what you are seeking. The time is limited. You have no idea of the way. Your resolve at first will be far from achieving it. But in the now you start running. But you realize that light has started getting darker. The steps are uneven. Some slopes. Some roses with thorns of autumn. Some puzzles to make the way interesting. If you then just gain that rhythm of not merely running but enjoying the performance of just being. Using body and mind just as a tool. That when you will even reach. There will be no one to clap. But the rewards are going to be so multiple from all the oxytocin that you created with your thoughts, with your lungs. That whole space will start treating you as you are his own. Quietly.
The illustration is a part of an essay on environment/The age of trees.
Its night. Tonight I am the only person left on this hill. From my hut the jungle starts. After many leafless apple trees. I live in the farthest hut amongst three. The third one. It’s partially pink and other room is wood. The room is a closed wooden mountain balcony. Surely a bear might not be able to break the door and come. I heard in the noon. Somebody saw two bear cubs nearby. The wooden room has a pillow swing, but it doesn’t swing. Finally the Israelis left today. They lived here for 6 months. I shouldn’t say more. The nights are cold. The day was sunny. Some men have been slowly slaughtering trees for past few days. I hear their machine daily. Pluto arrived with potata, she is a beautiful mountain bitch. Follows Pluto like a shadow of a queen. She gave birth to nine pups last week. Later Pluto took me to the thukpa shop. I ordered momos too. Thukpa was water with 10 indian chic peas and noodles minus joy. Meanwhile …
The most beautiful things in life work and are found in silence. So should be working of our stomach be. It is the home where Shakti resides. Feed her respectfully.
A trigger prompts a cycle. And that cycle might go on longer than it should. The first spoonful of ice cream can trigger a cycle of binge eating that you regret later. The silence of walking into an empty house might trigger you to turn on the TV, and that cycle of wasting time watching nothing that matters goes on all night. The rush to get out the door leads to a cycle of rushing, which makes your commute a daredevil exercise, one that takes hours to recover from. It’s really useful to see your cycles and to work to dampen them (it’s almost impossible to go cold turkey). Even better is to find and eliminate the triggers. That’s surprisingly easy if you care enough. Quit Twitter. Empty your freezer. Wake up ten minutes earlier… Make these decisions when you’re not in the middle of a cycle. With the trigger gone, you might discover the cycles are gone too.