Poetry

Day 986

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Whirling-Dervishes-10b

Ever since I was little, I loved to twirl round and round with my arms stretched out. When I was overjoyed, when it rained after a long spell of sweltering heat, when Punjabi and Rajasthani folk music played fast and loud, when I felt absolutely free I twirled at one spot for as long as I could without hurling myself to the ground. It happened automatically and made me feel like I was on top of the world.

Whirling dervishes from the Sufi tradition have intrigued me for years. Sufism is a way of reaching God, which involves rigorous meditation and prayer, emphasis on inner self rather than external rituals, continuous service of humanity and renunciation of worldly pleasures. When they turn, their right palm artistically faces upwards to receive from the Universe and their left palm faces downwards in a spout, to symbolise giving of what is received. The head is tilted gracefully to the right as though they are looking at their hearts. They revolve as if powered by cosmic energy. It is mesmerising to be in the same space.

This evening after work, Si and I attended a ‘Mukabele’ at The Study Society in West London. It was a soulful and joyous ceremony. It was about experiencing inner stillness and opening of the heart. It represented mankind’s inner journey back to the realisation of his essential oneness with God and the unity of all creation. ‘Mukabele’ means ‘coming face to face’. The practice is based on these fundamental beliefs: God is the First and the Last, the Outward and the Inward. Wherever you tum, there is the Face of God.

This practice was originally developed by followers of the 13th century Persian mystic Jalalu’ddin Rumi, whose writings are some of the most enlightening.

“There is a life force
within your soul
Seek that life
There is a gem
In the mountain
Of your body
Seek that mine.

O traveller
If you are in
Search of that

Don’t look outside

Look inside yourself
And seek that.”

 

 

Day 981

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For Rene’

Somewhere in the sea
Are you waiting for me?
In that expansive blanket
Of blue
I am waiting for you
I’ve cried these tears
They’ve made this sea
And now I cannot find you
In this sorry mess of blue.

I’ve swam to the edge to reach This tip
Of nothingness where you left your shoes for a dip
From which you haven’t returned
And now I’m left tracing
Across this sparkling blue
Where has it taken you?

My love was pure
It held no bounds
And yet nowhere, anywhere
Can you be found
I try to search with frantic eyes
Where I can turn back the fate
Of your demise?

I hold your shoes pacing
these shores
Wont you be out soon, cold,
and need your soles?
I am here, a lifeguard
Supposed to protect you
Against these waves of blue.

I pray to the Gods and the earth and the creators I don’t know
That they can bring you back here to this spot where I bow
I’ll protect you better
Try harder
Swim faster
Against this tide that pulled you out.

If I can’t find you then what is my life about?

I’m so sorry, my angel
But I’ll never give up
I’ll wait here forever till this blue dries up
I’ll sit here searching until you come back.

-by Rene’s sister, Stephanie.

Day 976

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I grieve.

I grieve for his death.
For his guilt, his shame.
His self blame.
His sadness. His silence.
Every moment of distance.
Him, all alone. Forlorn.
His thoughts, torn.
His brokenness. Hopelessness.
His lightless eyes. His vanished smiles.
His hollow form. His shadow gone.
His quite desperation. Separation.
His terror. His fright.
Night after night.
Misunderstood, behind a hood.

I grieve.
For this black and white Now.
For this constant ‘How?’
That wretched day I went to work.
Every time I put me first.
Words unsaid. Eyes unmet.
Holidays unmade.
Jokes and Stories unshared . Games unplayed.
Songs unhummed. Beats undrummed.
Meals uncooked. Dreams unhooked.
Films unseen. Jeans uncleaned.
Hugs unheld. Incense unsmelt.
Cocktails unmixed. Good-nights unkissed.

I grieve and I am grateful
For all that was given
and all that was taken away
And all the nitty-gritty.
For it pushes me closer to Divinity.

Day 966

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It seems like that was another lifetime. Some moments however last forever. My mind has been dancing in overlapping elliptical, circular, zig-zag and squiggly shapes between the remotest past and the far future and deep inside this bottomless present moment. I find gems scattered all around. Today the moment when I first saw his face shone the brightest. I picked it up. I held it in both my hands, looked at it for a while, felt it, kissed it and held it close to my heart. This is where he lives. In my heart, in the past, the future and the Now.  That moment from another lifetime is mine again.

Experiences can only be experienced. Not explained. Ones who has experienced it know it, ones who haven’t can have a guess. Some songs say it all. This one does. It speaks to me. It’s a song of love. Roberta Flack sings to my heart. She knows how I felt the first time ever I saw his face.

“The first time ever I saw your face
I thought the sun rose in your eyes
And the moon and the stars were the gifts you gave
To the dark and the endless skies my love
To the dark and the endless skies

The first time ever I kissed your mouth
I felt the earth move in my hand
Like the trembling heart of a captive bird
That was there at my command my love
That was there at my command my love

And the first time ever I lay with you
I felt your heart so close to mine
And I knew our joy would fill the earth
And last ’till the end of time my love
And it would last ’till the end of time

The first time ever I saw your face
Your face, your face.”

Day 961

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Cycling again, I feel happy. Alive.
Every few hundred yards, hordes of pristine white conical lilies smile at me. The first time I saw a black and white picture of one such lily was 18 years ago. For the next 5 years it was the largest picture in our house. It filled our space and me with a sense of peace and beauty. I remember being mesmerised by it the first time I saw it. The fact that one single petal could shape itself into this exotic flower, stupefied me. The contrast with that particularly deep shade of green never fails to capture my eyes. Its elegance leaves me speechless.

It has many names – trumpet-lily, arum-lily and calla-lily. Botanically speaking, it’s not a lily at all. It derives its name from ‘calla’, the Greek word for beauty. In the 19th century, there was a flower-language boom that meant certain flowers were associated with expressing particular feelings. There was no need for words. No surprise that it was the theme of many artistic works.

The calla-lily came to play a role in the Christian Easter service as a symbol of Jesus’ resurrection. In art throughout history, the calla-lily has been depicted with the Virgin Mary or Angel of Annunciation. It is associated with purity. As it blossoms in spring, it is also a symbol of youth and rebirth. It’s appropriate for weddings and funerals. It symbolises love, devotion and grief.

While mostly white, they are also found in other colours, each one carrying a different meaning. Pink has a connotation of admiration, purple denotes passion and yellow is typically associated with gratitude. Black ones are truly enigmatic and carry a certain mystery.

“The modest Rose puts forth a thorn,
The humble sheep a threat’ning horn:
While the Lily white shall in love delight,
Nor a thorn nor a threat stain her beauty bright.” – By William Blake

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Georgia O Keeffe’s most famous painting – Keeffe Calla Lily