The poet-priest Kabir says, the first thing in the morning, do not rush off to the work. But take down your musical instrument and play it. Then test your work in the same way. If there is no music in it, set it aside, and go find what has music in it, for you to play it again.
There are many layers under our skin. Cells that live with us and leave us without even letting us know, doing their work quietly. Taking all the time of their own in becoming and unbecoming, as they slowly settle into a tendency. We become our tendencies. Repetition of gestures become life long habits. As simple as acquiring the taste of sugar. For some, Coffee in the morning is a habit. Like buying bottled(plastic) water, but it wasn’t used to be. Making a habit is a lot easier than breaking one (ask a smoker), you can live on old habits for a while, but the future seemingly depends on finding and building some new ones with (and for) your people. Or your family. Or yourself. As soon as something useless starts becoming a norm for the body; this mind should be taught a lesson. Every becoming habit should be tested in its phase of tendency. One must shock it, confront it. We should oppose ourselves, resist our actions, question and be strict with ourselves. Because, undoubtedly …
In these ongoing paralysing times of helplessness, while doing nothing; close your eyes. Think of water, a river. And if possible become it. Shiva was eyes wide open in all directions. Yet the destructive eye had to open, and took him inwards. Ujjain arrived in the morning. We went to pataloka to touch the equator in dim light and later ate potato spice. Darkness is the birth place of all creations. A child becomes in the dark. The lights glows the most in the dark. It is not that the darkness is wrong. It’s a part of life, a backdrop for the stars at night, the space between what you know. Darkness has a way of reminding you of the light. ExistING side by side. Sometimes overlapping, one explaining the other. And Mangla, the beautiful brown cow here in the village is pregnant. One big similarity, between a cow and a human mother is that both take nine months for their child to come out playing in the wild. Also one of many reasons, the oldest living civilisation …
Years from now, after this event is long over, what should we remember about it? A week from now, when the crisis hits, what should we remember about this meeting? Tomorrow, when the day gets busy again, what would you like me to remember about the discussion we just had? Begin with the end in mind.
Draw a perfect circle. Use a compass or a plotter. Now, zoom in. If you zoom in close enough, you’ll discover that it’s not a perfect circle at all. In fact, anything we create, at close enough magnification, isn’t perfect. It’s foolish to wait until you’ve made something that’s perfect, because you never will. The alternative is to continue to move toward your imaginary ideal, shipping as you iterate. Getter better is the path to better.
He woke up four inches below the snow like bed. But the day ahead was going to be as treacherous. He felt excited because travelling to rural India gave a smile to his face. Indian villages to a good extent still practice their civilisational old traditions. The air is different, the land for miles is green. But leaving Delhi behind is a lengthy affair. Their is an infrastructure push. Hundreds and thousands of trees that once gave beauty, breath and shade have now given way to expressway and highways and along with it empty, always being constructed high rise buildings. Slowly we start going past it. And we start seeing cow dung cakes kept for sun drying for kilometres. For centuries cow dung cakes known as “upla” in Hindi are used for cooking, cleaning homes and for homa- the fire worship. It’s smoke is known to purify the environment killing small insects and creatures. Many years ago someone said to Nara about India, when he was roaming in the river valleys of Kedar, that India …
She kept looking towards the sky while floating in the water kept for cows. Her death seemed such that at one time I felt she chose it. But do birds more so when one is a predator choose their own death? When Maharaj ji arrived, he first closed his eyes. May be she needed someone to close her eyes before it could be plucked out by hungry ones. May be he earned this burial. To only put a stop to this cycle. May his body rests and the spirit awakens. Aum Shanti In Photos 1
Winters had started settling in Leh. I used to get up the earliest, take the coldest shower from the waters of Indus. For at least half a day to come, my peace with that. I was making tea when i heard Cynthia, singing. An old American woman who had been teaching in Leh for last 29 years. From the US, she arrived each winter to teach Laddakhi students. I offered Cynthia Tea. She said “I am sorry, I am still not Indian’ and laughed out loud. And asked me to come up and look at the old lines on her table. The table had a beautiful map. And this map sounded fulfilling. It had a path along the river Indus, that left the road way down and lead one to an ancient looking narrow canyon. She suggested, I must take that. And then without asking walk for an hour or two to the village called TAR. There lives my best friend; in a cave, like kitchen, where Ibex’s and snow leopards come sometimes to say …
The night was strange. It was a mix of sleeping deep and aware of some thing gone wrong. Two weeks were over in Leh. And as I had planned I got a bike for myself from Angchuk. I wanted to have a classic 350 but after the new UT status, government ordered the bike union to commercialise all the bikes or they’ll be seized. I got a Himalayan with me. While riding down to the narrow path of lama ji lane at upper changspa, something happened; the tendon, the tissue that joins the back part of the knee just went numb. For a moment i could not lend my weight on to my left leg. As I lied in bed in the night the pain was such nonsensical that I couldn’t straighten my leg, and if i even pushed and did, i could not bend it again. Throughout night as I moved from one position to other, I could feel the weight of my knee. Somehow i completed the task of sleeping. In the morning …
Even after thinking about doing something daily, one ends up doing it, achieving it, finishing it only in the head. In the head is good, as it creates enough compound interest in head but it is not good enough. I have had ups and downs, and have been away from home for some time. I was in Kashmir when article 370 was taken off. I was one of the last person to have trekked the majestic Amarnath ji this year. Without any plan or any inclination to have wanted to do it but surrendering to flow of life is such it takes you along on the paths, and you would enjoy. I fell in love with the harmony of the few people who walked along, some saints barefoot, and two without a leg who finished approximately sixty kilometres in as many days as I did. Food, sweets, tea, love and the name of shiva. But the feeling was erratic even then. Tents, people were leaving a month before. And many had already left. The way …
Slowly I have started smelling like fire. There is nothing more to feel one with the divine than this. Ash is all over my head, my clothes, my legs are bereft of a sole. Pouring Ice water every morning on head now seems a ritual. And the heat from the fire has become a family. Is it because of these squirrels that i have started listening to? Or that bird in the morning quietness who comes sits by my bed in the darkness of the dawn? Something will change. It seems to be initiating something and directing somewhere i cannot know just now. Hear hear they say. Hear till your eyes see the light.
Sometimes one dip changes your smile and temperature. It takes you then to places that can only be created in dreams through memories ofcourse. You walk long looking at forms, colours, patterns, walls, speculating age, sounds of children and cows, of burning dead trees and water ripples, hearing bodies visually and later language. Sometimes a small reaction changes the whole tail of events. Sometimes the start was the only end. But the dip is important. Because that is a window to nature. And nature is inside.
Left my red bed today. Made coffee for the other two. For myself I had cashews, raisins, walnuts four each, early in the morning. I first thought to go cycling but today it seemed well to sit and better prepare for the upcoming challenge. I washed myself fast and shaved in harmony. I was ready in time. I cut all the fruits and ate. Got to the new hotel where the workshop-residency will be taking place. I got the first room by the pool. Didn’t want to stay that much upfront but it saved so much time that i can only feel blessed. I was saved from so much small and big talk, distractions that might have triggered further distractions. But all in all It was a privilege to come this far, meeting people who have been working in their preferred sense, in person sharing and making a world feel one and together again. It is rare for artists to come together and see each others work and ethics. And more so when, here in …
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.
We spent almost 15 years being brainwashed on learning things that have nothing to do majorly with our present mind space. And we keep paying the price. It is proven that the most dangerous habits of all come from high school. Because if you are not willing to explore and experience, you are not willing to learn. Traditional schooling rewards multitasking and widespread mediocrity, with a focus on ‘good enough’. means you’ve done enough, quick, get on to the next average thing. Repeat the cycle. I was reading somewhere that almost every public speaker has experienced the back-row syndrome. Where did we learn to seek out the anonymous middle or the other zone of the back row? Who taught us to worry about getting called on? If you’re going to bother showing up, why not show up in the front row? It’s that tension and focus that will help see you beyond and soon yourself in a different light. Wondering is a lot more effective than wandering. School pushes hard for wide, bot not deep. It …
Dawn 7 New Delhi The day was Tantra. But first of all what is it that you feel when you read this word? Does it evoke complexity? Mixed emotions? Were you uncomfortable? Does the sound of it makes you uneasy? You should tell me. I have grown knowing Tantra in two forms that came from two masters. The first one was an elderly, who poured his grace for weeks in me for all the time I could spend in his space. He talked in Sanskrit and Hindi. And he introduced me to the simpler, most basic and foundational form of Tantra. Probably because he must have grown infinitely from within simplifying aspects of life by himself. One morning as we sat facing each other after the concluding homa, the sacred fire. He said tan is body and tra is rhythm. It is only a practise of rhythm of the body. And thus he simplified mantra and yantra. The other two forms of body sciences were prevalent since the Vedic times specific to a few tribes but were not …
– All say i have gone on my mother, slanting slope with a dead end like nose, high cheekbones, eyes watching from a socket, paler complexion. Today when i lied beside her listening, i saw a few lines sketched around her lips, tight forehead, intense she looked, and looked old. I leave for Kashmir the day after for a month and wanted to post this write-up which i wrote six months ago on the ghats of Benaras. I am drunk tonight. … Holi city, indeed Crowded by boredom Of new and the old Japanese is written on the walls, Telugu, Gujrati, Hindi, Marwari and deity of the falling doll, Walls are tall as lanes are narrow concluding steps Going towards the flow Ganga looks like one today The sun is shining on the polluted dark A bark flows with the river, with a free body, swelled liked a shapeless balloon Him, crows are murdering more. But the noon is calmer here, they say, river trudges up from there background chantings and prayers from sound systems …
ROAD TO NARA 