Come October.

Such slashing-sloshing wetness that the roads can’t take it. Such a dense grey blanket overhead that the light-switch needs to be flicked on before brushing my teeth, early in the morning. So windy that the umbrellas are bending and twisting into funky shapes, not fit for purpose. This has happened before.

Leaves starting to morph into colourful blades, beginning the descent of their curtains from clean pristine branches high up in the air down to the messy wet Earth, departing the very same points from where, not so long ago, they had sprung. This has happened before.

Some globules of rain clinging to the outside of the window pane, a crescent of heaviness at their lower edges. Quite still. Others making a dash down to the ground with quick wiggly lines disappearing behind them. The glass pane, an alive fashionable frosted sheet of artistic dots and lines, dancing. This has happened before.

This planet, tilted to perfection on its axis, keeping precisely to its orbit in accordance with the laws of creation. Doing what it was made to do. Billions of clumps of matter scattered all over the limitless expanse of space, each on its own path, own trajectory, appearing out of nothingness and then sparkling out of existence, unnoticed. This has happened many times before.

The tenth month is here again, at the cusp of two seasons. A climate of colours and shadows. Its steep, slanting sheets of light illuminating the trees in their sheer nakedness, foreshadowing the arrival of the dark. This too has happened before.

Bubble of one.

Posted by kidsaregifts20

They said you can travel within the UK. I did. Took a few days off and invited myself to a friend’s place in Aberarth, Wales. Excitedly booked a ticket from London Euston to Aberystwyth via Birmingham and back.

I’ve never had so much space travelling from anywhere to anywhere, ever. It was like moving from one fake film set to another. A story where nothing happens. No one meets anyone. Nothing is exchanged. No conversations are overheard. Even my tickets were not checked. I was truly in a bubble of one. The announcements were made by invisible human voices. Welcome to … but there was no one there. No shoulders brushed. No smiles. No queues at the solitary coffee shop at Euston.

Finding a window seat was no problem as there were at least 30 to pick from. As my train sped out of London, land and sky were revealed. Every now and then I got a glimpse of little streams of water holding a string of multi-coloured narrow boats along their edges. The sun glistened the patchwork of fields. The horizon was a long horizontal line interrupted only by thickets and vertical carpets of green.

Townships appeared with colourful children’s play-areas crying out for children. Don’t know why I tried to log on to the Train Wi-Fi but they wanted me to agree to a multitude of things which was the perfect excuse to put the laptop away and simply enjoy the ride. Branches burgeoning with white, pink and yellowish-green life, embellished the pliable black skeletons of trees, dancing to the tune of spring. Spring, the upward thrust of sap through roots and trunks to the fulsome tips of cold branches.

Nowhere to buy a bottle of water at the normally chaotic Birmingham International Airport Station. No noise other than the oh-too-loud announcements. Toilets, the cleanest they’ve ever been, on and off the train. From one desolate platform to another, I changed to a country train with 2 carriages meandering through gentle hills and fields towards the sea, stopping at places I’d never heard of before – Y Trallwng, Drenewydd and so on. I felt my fists loosen to receive this new freshness.

The next 3 hours were a dream. Ewes tailed by their cute little lambs scattered on both sides of the rail track. Lamb ears sticking out of their heads at a jaunty angle and their tails wiggling with joy! Clear waters mirrored the dance of life all around. Green slopes rose and fell in a soft rhythm. And I was here. My eyes were dry and my heart open. I clearly witnessed the fresh air and bright sun work their magic.

A few years back I had believed the season would never change. It would forever be autumn. But it has changed. It really has.

Being a Rose

Posted by kidsaregifts20

Scent as soft as

feathers touching

the skin on the tip

of my nose.

Subtle. Almost invisible.

Gentle. Like a fine drizzle.

Smell? No.

Fragrance. The colour of orangey-peach petals.

A rose is nothing but non-rose.

It is the cloud that sent rain.

The sun. The soil. The seed.

The gardener’s sweat.

A conspiracy of the cosmos.

The rose

Cannot be herself alone.

It must inter-be.

With molecules of minerals and

Little particles of me.

All this, I touch

when my fingers hold

the tender stem.

I touch reality.

The non-self-ness of the rose.

Seeing real close-

A rose no longer rose.

A river no longer river.

A mountain no longer mountain.

The ocean and me.

Posted by kidsaregifts20

That was the winter of 2014-15. This is the winter of 2019-20.

This was the beach in Goa where I sat paralysed for weeks. Some days I didn’t walk or talk. For days, I peered into my laptop, trying to figure out the ugly intruder who had broken into our house and taken my everything, my son. I swam in the whys and hows of this tragedy that had befallen us. The fact that my life continued while his had ended baffled me. I struggled with how that could be and what was the meaning and purpose of what was left. What now? What now? The question marks sprang up incessantly.

Si was with me then as he is today.

In this time, life has revealed that there is no one answer, no single destination, nowhere to go, nothing to do. All there is, is unfolding. The Universe endlessly expressing itself through this beach, the moon, the sand, the pain and me.

After dark, the wave fronts approach the shore shimmering like sword edges of the cavalry, roaring towards me and then breaking apart into a playful white surf and disappearing into the sandy slope. Again and again. Same but different. In the navy blue of the night it appears as though the special effects team has spent hours to make it look like this.

The lukewarm sand between my toes. The dancing waterline swirling around my feet. My hand tenderly held in Si’s. The rhythmic breathing of the ocean. The ins and out of my breath. The moon, an oval light overhead. The sea breeze ruffling my hair. The hint of salt in the air. The humidity, same as that in my eyes.

A pause. A break. A blank.

A moment holding everything within. It’s all here.

Three friends

Posted by kidsaregifts20

This is an approximate transcript of a presentation I made at a TCF (The Compassionate Friends) gathering of bereaved parents earlier this month. The topic was “Finding Hope after Catastrophe”. I hope you find it useful in some way.

“Hello. My name is Sangeeta. I am an Anaesthetist by profession and it’s my job to put people to sleep. Thank you TCF, for having me here this evening.

My son is called Saagar Naresh. I could often hear his cackles emanating from his room. I am pretty sure he’s watching cat videos again. He loves to laugh and make other people laugh. He’s as bright as they come, astutely picking up languages, accents and mannerisms of people around him. He would go shopping with his best friend Hugo to Oxford street and they would pretend to be South African tourists all day.

We loved cooking together. It involved chopping of onions. He got tired of his eyes stinging and watering and found a way out – he would wear his swimming goggles whilst chopping onions. It worked brilliantly!

He was an excellent cricketer. A fast bowler to be precise. He also played the drums in a band. He loved to go to the gym. Most of all, he had a heart of gold and even when he was a teenager, he loved cuddles. He spoke French and German fluently and chose to study Arabic from scratch at University as he wanted to challenge himself.

After his second year at Durham University, he came home for the summer holiday and was diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder. He was unable to go back to pursue his studies as his depression started to deepen. We saw a doctor on the 14^th of October 2014. He told us that Saagar would have to wait till his medications kicked in, that he was on the right medicines but they would take time to work. On the 16^th of October, Saagar ended his own life.

That was like a bomb going off in our lives. Losing him suddenly, out of the blue was our catastrophe.

Finding hope …

The Oxford dictionary defines Hope as “a feeling of expectation and desire for a certain thing to happen”.

For me, Hope is the belief that it is possible that some of the best days in my life are yet to come.

Soon after Saagar passed away, just getting through the day was an achievement. The time ‘yet to come’ was a huge burden. I had nothing left to offer to the world and the one thing I wanted, the world could not offer me. My own mortality stared me squarely in my face and it was strangely seductive.

What was I left with? My logical mind had been turned into an emotional pulp as there was no logic to this. The more I tried to make sense of it, the more I suffered. It was like banging my head against a brick wall. It did not make any sense. Period. Deal with it.

What was I left with?

This moment, right NOW
Me, mySELF.
Nature.

NOW

How deep rooted was my belief that Saagar would always be around? How much did I take that for granted?

What am I taking for granted right now?

My breath.

My parents.

My partner.

My job.

My health.

Let death be your teacher. ‘Right now’ is all I have left. Like a bird trapped in a cage. The door is open but the bird is unable to fly away. The cage is where he/she belongs. In the ‘now’, I could only sit and watch the door, knowing that it was open. I could breathe in, take a pause, breathe out, pause, breathe in and repeat… I could fully acknowledge and feel the dark hollow that was my chest and hear the echoes of my sobs returning from the black hole within. Connecting fully with the present moment was the only way past it. There was no short-cut. No secret escape route. One moment at a time. Now, I am walking upstairs. Now, I am halving cherry tomatoes. Now, I am watching the steam rise from my cup of tea and so on… My refuge lay in this moment, right here. Right now. The future is a story. The past exists in our thoughts. Yet, our mind is in one or the other. What is real is this moment.

I had a patient once who had a black ‘Gratitude’ tattoo on her left forearm in a big bold decorative font. I asked her the story behind it. She said, ”I work with kids with learning disabilities. By the time I’ve brushed my teeth in the morning, I’ve achieved more than they can. So, I am grateful every moment.”

SELF

I was lucky to have so much support at that impossible time. My mum and brother came over from India to be with me. My friends, Saagar’s friends, their parents, my work colleagues. Everyone stood by me with love and compassion but ultimately it was up to me to live with this utter devastation. I was filled with so many questions, so much guilt and grief that I felt like I was drowning.

It took 2-3 years but slowly I taught myself to be kind to myself. I am still teaching and reminding myself that our everyday reality is made up of stuff that is unthinkable for most people. We live the life that is other’s worst nightmare. Many can’t even imagine what it’s like to be in our shoes.

So, we need to honour ourselves for carrying on living with as much grace and dignity as possible after having absorbed the impact of such a huge catastrophe. To know that the harsh inner critic will continue to chatter but we need to witness its mumbling, recognise the pointlessness of it and let it go.

We need to have compassion for ourselves. Compassion being not just a gentle kind feeling but small acts of courage. For instance, I used to love dangly ear-rings ‘before’. I would change them every day, to match my clothes. But for 3 years ‘after’ I didn’t change out of the boring old gold studs. One day I decided to change into one of my favourite pair of ear-rings for no particular reason. It was a small shift. It took courage. I cried. But it was an act of kindness towards myself. I needed my own friendship, my own affection. I needed to once again find ways of being at ease with myself. Lord Buddha has said “If your compassion does not include yourself, it is incomplete.”

I am learning that I need to be a ‘compassionate friend’ to myself.

NATURE

That wretched day in the middle of October was cursed but also resplendent with autumn colours. It was a festival of orange, ochre, red, green, yellow and terracotta. These decorative leaves carpeted our street. I stared out of the window watching these leaves gracefully dance their way to the ground. The trees went from being semi-nude to naked. This was the cycle of life. Nature was reminding me and showing me the devastating beauty of life. Cycles upon cycles of change, millions of times over. The impermanence of everything.

Over the next few months, I sat gazing at the Himalayan mountain range, marvelling at its history and all the changes it has undergone. I sat on a beach in Goa, watching the ocean waves change every second. Over time, I started to allow Nature to teach me what I needed to learn and soothe me when I needed to be soothed. I learnt that we humans can carry the utter tyranny of life in one hand while simultaneously carrying the spectacular beauty of it in the other.

I requested everyone to join me in singing this song by ABBA and was delighted by the upward shift of healing energy in the room as everyone sang together. It was a powerfully uplifting evening.

I have a dream, a song to sing
To help me cope with anything
If you see the wonder of a fairy tale
You can take the future even if you fail
I believe in angels
Something good in everything I see
I believe in angels
When I know the time is right for me
I’ll cross the stream, I have a dream

I have a dream, a fantasy
To help me through reality
And my destination makes it worth the while
Pushing through the darkness still another mile
I believe in angels
Something good in everything I see
I believe in angels
When I know the time is right for me
I’ll cross the stream, I have a dream
I’ll cross the stream, I have a dream

I have a dream, a song to sing
To help…”

Opposite of speed

Posted by kidsaregifts20

Breathing with awareness, walking with mindfulness, meditating with heart-fullness and intense silence with loving-kindness.

As if life switched from super-fast to ultraslow. Placing the right bare foot gently on wet grass. Bristly softness tingles. First the heel, then the outer edge of the foot. Some green tips manage to tickle the arch. Then the toes grasp hold of the ground. I am aware of tiny bits of the sole between toes and foot which never come in contact with anything. So cool! The entire sole buzzes like a guitar.

An aeroplane whirrs in the sky. Ears catch the Doppler effect. Fluffy shapes in white, blue and grey traipse the space above. Birds make jest. The wind continues to waltz with trees. Eyes watch life sprouting in seemingly dead places. The Being notices the breath.

The left foot lifts off the ground, preparing itself for the excitement of landing. Toes go first. They rub noses with the green tips before plunging in. The ball of the foot descends and the rest of the foot follows. It feels different. The heel hits the grass abruptly. The ground is uneven, not warm, not cold. It oozes the love of Mother Earth. Dew-drops cushion the impact. The green of the grass is a conglomeration. At least 6 different types of tiny foliage lining the ground, masquerading as one. Yellow flowers standing up on tender green stems dot the lush carpet. Some of them are being visited by bees. This luxurious texture invites the right foot back. It’s moving in slow-motion mid-air, presently at the top of an imaginary semi-circle. I put the breaks on and halt its progress as much as I can without falling over. It follows through the curve and makes contact with the earth one milli-meter at a time.

Flowing eastern movements of ‘Swimming dragons’, ‘Cloud hands’ and ‘Lions playing with a ball’ (Qigong) bring into balance the Yin and Yang. The more I slow down, the deeper I immerse in the ‘Now’. I actively deflect all adjectives. I don’t want to call it good or bad or silly or slow. It’s just walking. The rustle of leaves is just falling into my ears, the cool breeze is just brushing across my face, a few yellowed leaves are just falling off trees like twinkling stars descending from the skies. Everything just is.

Never before have I experienced walking in this way. To think that I have been walking all my life! I feel I could walk all around the world for the rest of my life.

Three years ago, at this time of year Saagar was really ill. For many years before that, autumn was my favourite season. Then it was my least favourite. Now it’s just early autumn. Another roll of the dice of time.

Day 970

Posted by kidsaregifts20

Litha

tumblr_mor44b9HKI1rly3kto1_1280

The longest day of the year. The coming together of light and darkness. The summer solstice. Sun standing still. It reaches its highest point, furthest away from the equator in the northern hemisphere and then rests.

For millennia, this day has been celebrated as a symbol of the earth’s bounty and the sun’s potency. There are temples dotted across India, all along the Tropic of cancer, dedicated to the Sun God. This day is similarly honoured in various European and Middle Eastern countries under different names. Our ancestors recognised it as the first harvest of the year, a time to celebrate warmth and abundance, a time for spiritual awakening and the marriage of heaven and earth.

Bonfires are lit to give more power to the sun. This is an auspicious time for weddings as the feminine and masculine powers of nature are fruitfully aligned. The fire is used to drive away evil forces, to bring fertility and prosperity to men, crops and herds, to prevent disease and misfortune, to purify and strengthen.

This is the time to meditate on the light and darkness around us and within us. To welcome and honour them both. To be grateful for both. To acknowledge that one cannot exist without the other. To harmonise ourselves with our environment. To celebrate and be at peace with what is.

May you have beautiful dreams, fulfilling endeavours and may you find the love you search as you dance with your body, heart and soul.

Day 910

Posted by kidsaregifts20

20170422_181415

Bluebells are the undisputed spring highlight. At their peak, around this time of year, they form an unearthly blue haze through the woodlands. A winding path in the wood passes through swathes of dainty blue flowers. Here, the air is laden with a delicate perfume and birds sing happily in the background. Tall trunks of ancient trees emerge randomly and the light filtering through the canopy gives a different hue to the blue carpet every few minutes.

The perfect way to spend an afternoon with friends, chatting and taking pictures, desperately trying to capture the image of what it feels like to be there, frustratingly aware that it’s impossible.

Half of the world’s population of bluebells are here in the UK.

Bees, hoverflies, butterflies and other insects feed on the nectar of bluebell. Their flowers provide an important early source of nectar. Field of bluebells are intricately woven with fairy enchantments.
The blueness of the bluebells is nearly purple. It reminds me of this poem by Jenny Joseph and my big purple coat.

Warning

When I am an old woman I shall wear purple
With a red hat which doesn’t go, and doesn’t suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandals, and say we’ve no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I’m tired
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
And run my stick along the public railings
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
And pick the flowers in other people’s gardens
And learn to spit.

You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
And eat three pounds of sausages at a go
Or only bread and pickle for a week
And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes.

But now we must have clothes that keep us dry
And pay our rent and not swear in the street
And set a good example for the children.
We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.

But maybe I ought to practise a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.

Day 887

Posted by kidsaregifts20

imgres

Clouds and waves

Mother, the folk who live up in the clouds call out to me-
“We play from the time we wake till the day ends.
We play with the golden dawn, we play with the silver moon.”
I ask, “But how am I to get up to you ?”
They answer, “Come to the edge of the earth, lift up your
hands to the sky, and you will be taken up into the clouds.”
“My mother is waiting for me at home, “I say, “How can I leave
her and come?”
Then they smile and float away.
But I know a nicer game than that, mother.
I shall be the cloud and you the moon.
I shall cover you with both my hands, and our house-top will
be the blue sky.

The folk who live in the waves call out to me-
“We sing from morning till night; on and on we travel and know
not where we pass.”
I ask, “But how am I to join you?”
They tell me, “Come to the edge of the shore and stand with
your eyes tight shut, and you will be carried out upon the waves.”
I say, “My mother always wants me at home in the evening-
how can I leave her and go?”
They smile, dance and pass by.
But I know a better game than that.
I will be the waves and you will be a strange shore.
I shall roll on and on and on, and break upon your lap with
laughter.
And no one in the world will know where we both are.

By Nobel laureate Rabindranath Tagore

Day 882

Posted by kidsaregifts20

Nature has an intelligence of its own.
It knows when what is required.
We are made out of nature and nature is made out of us.
Everything is made up of the same basic 5 elements – air, fire, water, earth and ether.

Silence is healing and so is sound.
Sound energy travels through every cell like a subtle life force. All cultures have been using chanting as a way of uplifting the spirit for thousands of years. It activates energies within that bring peace, oneness and non-duality in the self. Chanting creates harmony and balance between all the elements we are made of.

“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.” – John 1:1

If we replace the word ‘word’ with ‘sound’, we see that it was sound that became manifest. The big bang of the Big Bang Theory is sound.

Birdsongs of dawn, a mother’s lullaby, big fat raindrops hitting the roof and the wind making itself heard through the rustling of leaves – all these vibrations have a particular and distinct effect on each of us.

Each human body has its own unique vibration, which is sacred to that individual. With attention turned inwards I attempt to listen in on my own inner sound. Re-aligning with this sound and the cosmic hum serves to balance my energetic body and brings me closer to re-connecting me with my divine presence. I chant and listen to all sounds with every intention to heal.

Ref:
How to use sound to heal yourself. : http://www.chopra.com/articles/how-to-use-sound-to-heal-yourself#sm.001vy3alt5atekn11ti160re53l74