Day 777

Meditation

I am the breath of eternal presence
I am the resonance of the heart
The sounding of the creation and beyond
The sounding of eternity and infinity
The divine vibration that brought all into being
Not too loud not too silent
Not too light not too dark
Not too hard not too soft
Neither too aggressive nor the abused
I am the balanced inner strength of equanimity
Creation is only a blink of the ‘I’ of eternity
Eternity is only a blink of the ‘I’ of creation
Words carry a vibration of consciousness
I am the spiritual intensity of words
I am the sound of one hand clapping
I am the sound of one whole remembered
I am the heart’s mantra of transformation
I am the sound of virtues nurtured or not
I am the sound of choices made
Eternally and infinitely vibrant
I am also silence resounding
And none of the above
The only one I can change is myself
I am neither the changer nor the change
I am destruction as I withdraw energy and change focus
I am creation as I give energy to the new focus
As I am destruction so I am creation inseparably
I am the ebb and flow of life itself.
Going with the flow is not an aimless drifting downstream
It is a purposeful working with what is
I am the sound of humility and renunciation
The emptiness of the divine
I am the sound of gratitude and fullness
I am all concepts and none
All beings and none
All form and none
All consciousness and unconsciousness
I am everything and nothing
I am and am not.

– Satya.

Day 776

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The best  part of getting a hair cut is the repeated minuscule warm contact between the finger tips and scalp. My hair-dresser is an old friend. She knows how much I value her loving head massages. Shortly following Saagar’s leaving, a few minutes of massage would bring forth floods of tears. Now, it is an immersive experience that makes everything else disappear, including me. What remain are the nerve endings gently firing away on both sides of the points of contact. It is a welcome interference in the body’s bio-magnetic energy field.

Sights, smells, tastes and sounds grab our attention easily. It’s impossible to ignore a loud conversation on a bus, a song I loved to dance to, the aroma of red onions and cumin seeds spluttering in butter and the accompanying nostalgia. Touch is like a shy cousin of the other senses. It requires nurturing and careful attention.

Brockwell park was graced by a hazy sun this afternoon. I walked past the logs of wood where Saagar and I used to sit when he was unwell. My mind started to somersault. I closed my eyes, leaned against a nearby tree and brushed my hand over the bark.It felt like emery paper magnified a hundred times. I stayed there for a while. In the herb-garden, the sage leaves felt soft and fuzzy. The silkiness of the purple and yellow petals of pansy on my face was like butterfly wings.

The wooden bench I sat on felt smooth as marble but warm and welcoming.The metal plaque on it said that it was there in memory of some one who died in 2013 at the age of 50. My age. I wondered what their story was. “Thank you. Sorry.” I said silently.

As I touched all these things, I allowed them to gently touch and settle my heart.

 

Day 775

Time to go home. One home to another. Travel. Separation and reunion. Heartbreak and excitement. Holiday over. Leaving. Letting go. Impermanence. Detachment. Being in the moment. Missing. Loving. Longing. Again.

Packing. Lists. Hair bobbles. Slippers. Tooth brush. Weight. Zips. Last minute shopping – pens, refills, stationery, spices. Last day catch-up phone calls. Savouring every morsel of mum’s food – aloo-methi, stuffed bhindi, whole masoor daal and the best carrot halwa in the world. Horse-shoe shaped bean cushions. Chipping nails.

Passports. Flying. Queuing. Security. Sitting. Turbulence. Films. Food. Writing. Reading. Crying babies. Unsettling. Elbows. Water. More sitting. Napping. Tiring. Gaining half a pointless day. Messy hair.

Express train. Tube. Over-ground train. Uphill walk. Home. Blue door. Letters. Disable alarm. Freezing! Cats. Tea. Plants. Watering. Mowing. Unpacking tooth-brush. Slippers. Pens. Laundry.

Sitting on a cold brown leather sofa. Living. Dreaming. Slipping from one moment to the next. Breathing. Being. Loving. Missing. Longing. Again.

 

 

 

Day 774

People exchange notes

All over the country, money is the hot topic. A month ago, the Prime Minister of India implemented a plan with the aim to remove black money from circulation. He declared two major cash denominations invalid – the 500 rupee bill and the 1000 rupee bill. These two are also commonly used in everyday lives of most people. The public has been given time till the end of December to deposit these bills in a bank , up to a certain limit and withdraw valid currency of 100 and 2000 rupee bills instead.

This has inconvenienced and caused damage to thousands of simple hard working people, farmers and businesses as the timing and execution of the plan has been appallingly poor. Yet, people have coped so far as they believe they are now participating in a cause that is for the greater good in the long run. As a by-product some people have realised that they don’t need as much as they think they do. Houses of worship and orphanages have been inundated with huge anonymous donations in the soon-to-be-invalid bills. Perfect strangers have helped each other out in various ways to help them tide over this crisis. Ingenious systems of barter are springing up in the face of this financial famine. There are horror stories, funny, sad and angry stories and people are talking to each other a lot more.

The most amazing thing to watch is the masses form queues outside banks. Orderly queues stretched over long distances on to main roads, around blocks of shops and on to open grounds. In all my life of knowing India, this is a first. Personal space may not be understood and respected by all but patiently forming and maintaining queues for many days and hours is an inadvertent gift of demonetisation.

 

Day 773

All the light we cannot see,
All the might we cannot be.

All the grace that comes to flow,
All the time we cannot hold.

All the gifts that bless our souls,
All the stories left untold.

All heavenly spirits divine,
All that ether yours and mine.

All the love that holds the world,
All those rose petals unfurled.

All the things that make us smile,
All the purple lilies of the Nile.

All that glitters and is gold,
All the new that doesn’t get old.

All the lovely birds and beasts ,
All the feathers, tails and teeth,
All the mornings, noons and nights,
All the roaring soaring heights,
All the springs and valleys green,
All the perfection of the scene.

All the light we cannot see,
All the light we cannot be.