Poetry

Beings of light

Posted by

1

“Hi. I am Dr SM. I will be anaesthetising you for your procedure today. Could I ask you to please remove your mask so I can take a quick look at your teeth and airway? Thank you.”

My guess of how their whole face looks is often completely off the mark. They look more beautiful than I imagine especially if they remember to wear their smiles. I have missed smiles exchanged with random strangers walking around random shops and street corners. I have missed hugs from friends even more.

Countless nuclear fissions on the surface of the sun translate into radiation that hits the Earth’s atmosphere and creates an electro-magnetic field, some of which converts to heat and light. The green plants picks it up along with CO2 and through photosynthesis convert the sun’s energy to carbohydrates, proteins and fats. Our food takes these to the mitochondria in our cells. These little power-houses create fuel, energy and warmth through the process of cell-respiration. This solar event carries on within us at a molecular level.

Two of the best things about being human are, smiles and hugs. They bring us into the sunshine of another human being. We are beings of light. Our design makes us heal spontaneously when our energy is high. The two things that deeply damage human energy are – fear and guilt, both of which have been ramped up in myopic and manipulative ways.

This is the time for us to find each other and our state of harmony. To know that we are alive right now and sing it out loud. The present humanity is an unfinished symphony and I feel some of the best bits are yet to be created.

“We have travelled past the longest night.

Now treading into the return of light.

In the stillness of mid-winter, may we dream into existence a magical new world,

most kind and bright.”

Wishing you, me and humanity, many songs, smiles and hugs. xxx

Ref:

Dr Zach Bush: Unlock the creative life-force within

This night.

Posted by

7

He was born when I was 28.

The monsters of pain took him in his 21st.

I was in my 49th.

Today, he would be in his 28th. I am in my 56th.

7 years ago, this night was his last in this house.

I am here tonight. Sleeping in his room.

7 years it takes for all my cells to be replaced.

7 chakras. 7 cycles.

7 colors. 7 musical notes.

7 days clumped into a week.

A bunch of random dates. Time as a thing.

Not straight. A mirage.

Revisiting.

Revolving. Rotating.

An illusion. A thought.

A future forgot.

Grow. Mature. Flower. See.

A constellation upon which I sit as fully me.

Push through the glass wall of Time. Release.

Rise and fall

free.

I hate my shoes.

Posted by

2

(‘A pair of leather clogs’ by Vincent Van Gogh 1853-1890)

“I am wearing a pair of shoes.

They are ugly shoes.

Uncomfortable Shoes.

I hate my shoes.

Each day I wear them, and each day I wish I had another pair.

Some days my shoes hurt so bad that I do not think I can take another step.

Yet, I continue to wear them.

I get funny looks wearing these shoes.

They are looks of sympathy.

I can tell in others eyes that they are glad they are my shoes and not theirs.

They never talk about my shoes.

To learn how awful my shoes are might make them uncomfortable.

To truly understand these shoes you must walk in them.

But, once you put them on, you can never take them off.

I now realize that I am not the only one who wears these shoes.

There are many pairs in the world.

Some women are like me and ache daily as they try and walk in them.

Some have learned how to walk in them so they don’t hurt quite as much.

Some have had to wear the shoes so long that days will go by before they think of how much they hurt.

No woman deserves to wear these shoes.

Yet, because of the shoes I am a stronger women.

These shoes have given me the strength to face anything.

They have made me who I am.

I will forever walk in the shoes of a woman who has lost a child.”

  • Author unknown.

One death by suicide is one too many. On World Suicide Prevention Day, today, let us start by

  1. believing that suicides are preventable.
  2. knowing that we all play a part, however small, by being aware, educated and resourceful.
  3. being kind and courageous enough to ask the ‘S’ question, listen and respond.

One moment on a Friday morning.

Posted by

1

Time is a scaffolding. Not the real thing. A construct. A transactional entity. An illusion. A convenience. A cage.

The Time is always Now.

Right now I hear Si pottering in the kitchen downstairs.

Michael, his friend is waiting in his car outside the front door. The engine is whirring, parked slightly to the left of the middle of the road with just enough space for passing cars to slide past.

My second cup of tea is waiting. Steaming.

The sunshine had penetrated many curtains to reach the park across the road.

The wind is gently encouraging the trees to wake up and dance.

The indoor plants watered this morning are feeling fresh. A large green Poinsettia (from last Christmas) on my left and a pink orchid on my right.

The ‘to-do’ list is staring at me from the far side of my table, feeling left-out. My Mind is pulling hard at me, trying to get me out of writing, into ‘doing stuff’. I am watching it. It looks like a toddler yanking at her Mum’s dupatta pleading for attention.

Black and green bins are lined up in tidy rows on the pavement along both sides of our street, waiting to be emptied. Five years ago, when the bin-collection day changed from Tuesday to Friday, I immediately thought I must tell Saagar. Then I remembered. Now, I think of him when I see the bins. I recall us putting the bins out together. In the Now. I feel that memory become a twinge in my chest. Sometimes, it becomes a cloud in both my eyes.

Now, I hold him in my heart on Fridays and every other day. He lives in me. Speaks through me. Sees the world and keeps me calm.

The neighbour’s son’s school bus stops at the same spot every day. He boards it wearing his yellow anorak every day. He sits at the same seat every day – by the window on the left, second row from behind.

The world goes on and I go on with it, carrying you in me. Loving you. Keeping you alive.

Twenty-seven

Posted by

2

Dear Saagar,

It was your 27th birthday, last Thursday. You would have been 27 years old. You were 27. You are 27. Which one is it? None of the above? All the above?

You were a Presence eons before you were born as Saagar and you will be one for ever more. You are Awareness, beyond form and name. I am the same. There is no separation between us – both ageless, placeless and traceless. Untouchable. Unknowable.

Didn’t take that day off work this year. Woke up and thanked the blessed day for you, your life. On the beautiful bike ride to work, the heart overflowed with love and gratitude. Had a full productive day at work and another lovely bike ride home. Sat on your bench in the evening under the circle of trees bathed in the slanting rays of the setting sun. Felt the love.

Thank you for bringing me the true experience of love.

Yours,

Mamma.

“When love beckons to you, follow him,

Though his ways are hard and steep.

And when his wings enfold you yield to him,

Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you.

And when he speaks to you believe in him,

Though his voice may shatter your dreams

as the north wind lays waste the garden.

For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you. Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning.

… Like sheaves of corn he gathers you unto himself.

He threshes you to make you naked.

He sifts you to free you from your husks.

He grinds you to whiteness.

He kneads you until you are pliant;

And then he assigns you to his sacred fire, that you may become sacred bread for God’s sacred feast.”

  • Khalil Gibran

PS: Please like and retweet the link below if you can. That will give a media presence to this short documentary film, ‘1000 days’, which is based on this blog and has been made with the intention of bringing us all closer together in love, kindness and understanding so that no one reaches a point where they can’t find a way to live another day. You will be able to see the film in late summer, once it has done the rounds of a few film festivals across the globe. Thank you very much.