Uncategorized

Everything living on Earth is food for the Moon.

Posted by

2

So much of everyday life, including the innumerable religious festivals in India are dominated and determined by the lunar calendar. While the gross impact of the moon on water, especially the tidal waves is well known, the more subtle effects on humans and plants, less so. Biodynamic methods of farming acknowledge the cycles of the moon as fundamental to a good harvest as they incorporate cosmic energy to minimise disease and aid growth.  

At a recent Biodynamic meeting, I was fascinated to see a Planting Calendar based on the 6 cycles of the moon. I thought there was only one – Full to New and back.

Every 27.3 days, the Moon and Saturn are on opposite sides of the Earth. This is a great time for planting as their forces synergise to produce strong plants of high quality. Organic wine growers have been using this technique for a long time.

Like inhalation and exhalation, the Moon ascends and descends. The ascending phase is great for harvesting as the natural flow of energy is upward and the descending phase is a good time for transplanting saplings as the downward energy helps them take root.

Apogee is when the Moon is furthest from the Earth, a great time to sow potatoes. Perigee is the point in the orbit of the moon when it is nearest to the Earth. This means there is more moisture in the soil, making the plants more prone to fungus and insect attacks.

Nodes occur when the Sun-Earth-Moon are in line. It happens twice every month. It’s a bad time for any horticultural activity as the Sun’s beneficial influence is negated on these days.

As the Moon passes through various Zodiac constellations, it exerts different influences on different types of plants. At this point, my cognitive abilities were saturated, and I had to leave the rest for later.

I shall have mercy on you and stop here.

Splendiferousness from last night. I am sure Saagar would say something like,”Big-ass Moon. Innit?”

Let there be joy, peace and colour!

Posted by

0

Mandalas draw me into their whorls. A casual glance is never enough. My gaze gets fixated on each one and I lose myself in the movement and the stillness in that form. The patterns seem to be spontaneous and well thought through, calm and dynamic, chaotic and yet, organised. The literal meaning of the word is, a sacred circle and it feels like one.

A random advert on YouTube and I was at the local stationery shop buying a geometry box. I needed a compass and a protractor for the Mandala Workshop I had signed up for. I was excited at the prospect of making one but also worried about making a mess of it. My artistic abilities are fairly limited but I am a good doodler. Many a lengthy-phone-call have produced intricate henna-esque patterns on the handiest bit of paper loitering on my table.

The first thing the facilitator said was, today you will draw your Universe. Don’t erase anything. There are no mistakes. You will see, everything has a place, even the so called ‘mistakes’. So, erase nothing. It’s not about producing a beautiful piece of art. It’s about the process. After making the grid, she had us light a candle and guided us through a grounding exercise. Then she played a mellow piano tune and asked us to start from the centre of the circle and work outwards with a black uniball pen. No rules. No meaning. No right. No wrong. No special colours or materials. Just allow whatever wants to appear on the page to appear.

She said this practice can heal us as it opens the heart, takes place in the moment and is non-judgemental. Watch your inner critic coming at you pointing its index finger. Ignore it and carry on. Smile 🙂

Work. Work. Work.

Posted by

1

She was new in the office. Enthusiastic and hard-working. She wanted to prove herself. This was her first job. She held the belief that hard work and perseverance were essential to success. She was a 26 years old Chartered Accountant and had left her hometown and family behind for the first time, for a fancy job at a big company in a big city.

Four months into this job, she was dead.

No one from her place of work attended her funeral. Her name was Anna.

Her mother, Anita wrote a letter to the CEO of the company, with the hope that this does not happen to other young people. She urged him to change the poisonous work culture that pushes young employees to the limit, chasing unrealistic expectations. Like many other mothers, I am sure through a river of tears, she wrote hoping to make a difference.

All she has had so far are denials. It wasn’t us. We did nothing wrong. On linked-in, one business Psychologist remarked on the lack of resilience in the young and commented on what Anna’s mother should have done for her daughter’s well-being. She went on to boast about how high the Happiness index amongst the students in her organisation was. Whatever the hell that means.

I feel sickened by this. Is this typical of India? Is it all corporations? Or just the Big 4? Or is it human beings and their lack of compassion?

The fact that Anita’s letter has created massive waves and generated big discussions makes me feel a bit better. We, as humans, are about compassion. It is as essential to us at every stage of our lives, as water. There is hope. As for Anna’s parents, my heart weeps for you. Thank you for raising your voice on behalf of Anna, to wake us up. Let us actively look after ourselves and each other. We are strong yet fragile. Let us open our eyes.

Move over Sainsbury’s

Posted by

2

The nearest village to us is Shukravara-sante, which means Friday-fair. Sante is a periodical gathering of buyers and sellers at a particular place. This coffee-growing region has huge plantations where hundreds of people work. They get the day off to rest and do their weekly shopping. Hence, Friday is Sunday. It is the highlight of the week. The nearest town is miles away and why would one take the trouble to go there if the freshest produce is available nearby?

A collection of temporary and permanent sheds with people sitting on the ground, selling glass bangles in fancy colours, coconut-graters for a pittance, honey-mangoes, unfamiliar greens, dried red chillies in heaps, dried fish emanating its peculiar smell, plastic buckets and mugs in bright colours, cardamom and pepper, clay pots made locally to set curds in, snacks being fried on the roadside, fresh cane juice with ginger and lemon. A hundred yards of pure delight.

We’ve been here three weeks and visited the market three times. We can get most of our weeks shopping and see all those smiling faces again that are becoming more and more familiar every week. My flimsy Kannada and their meagre Hindi and English are sufficient when stretched. In the moment inadvertently provide live entertainment to the locals and laugh with them at myself.

The milk collection point is just down the road. It’s where the villagers bring milk from their farms for being sold and sent to a big dairy 40 Kilometers away. At 6.30 every morning when Simon brings a litre and a half of it in the steel milk churn, it is warm.

Opposite the chicken shop is a general store that sells eggs. The lovely family that run the chicken shop can’t sell their eggs in their own shop as people expect them to give them away for free. So, they sell the eggs to the general store and people buy them from there. An egg costs seven rupees which is roughly 7 pence.

Saagar would be surprised that I was trying to learn a new language, that we had moved to an unfamiliar part of India and started afresh.  Simon and I have wanted simplicity for a while and it’s finally coming. Couldn’t agree more with Charles Bukowsky who said, the less I needed, the better I felt.

Looking forward to the market tomorrow. Move over Sainsbury’s.