Day 322

A week ago, the preparations for our upcoming holiday were on. Today, we are getting ready to head back home. Time has just gone.

The day my son was born is clear as air in my memory. It wasn’t that long ago. It seems like just the other day….

Its puzzling – this thing called ‘time’. Moments drag on seemingly forever but days and weeks fly past in a jiffy.

“What is time?
What is this thing that goes on without pause?
If it did not pass,
Then where could it have been?
It must have been somewhere.
It has passed.
So where is it now?
It must be somewhere.
Where did it come from? Where did it go?
Where did the process start? Where will it end?
What is time?

These events
Incidents
Conflicts
Every grief
Every joy
Every torment
Every pleasure
Every smile
Every tear
Every song
Every scent,
It may be the pain of a wound
Or the magic of a tender touch,
Or lonely voice or cries around;
Success and failures assailing the mind;
The upheavals of care, the tumult of the heart.
All feelings
All emotions
Are like leaves
Floating on the surface of the water.
As they swim along
Now here, now there,
And now they disappear,
Gone from sight, but
There must be something
Flowing along.
What is this river?
Which mountains has it come from?
To what sea is it going?
What is time?

Sometimes I think
When I see trees from a moving train,
It seems they go in the opposite way.
But in reality the trees are standing still.
So can it be
That all our centuries,
Row upon row, are standing still?
Can it be that time is fixed,
And we alone are in motion?
Can it be that in this one moment
All moments,
All centuries are hidden?
No future
No past.
What has gone by
Is happening now.
I think –
Can it be possible
That this is true,
That we are in motion?
We pass by,
And what we imagine
Is moving
Is really motionless.
Moving, not moving?
Whole or divided?
Is it frozen,
Or is it melting?
Who knows?
Who can guess?
What is time?”

Javed Akhtar

Day 320

sthira

“Find the perfect place between effort and effortlessness and stay there. Breathe”, said the yoga instructor.

The Sanskrit phrase “Sthira Sukham Asanam” was coined by Sage Patanjali in 200BC. He wrote the Yoga Sutras (aphorisms), the foundational texts of yoga.

Sthira translates as strong, steady, and stable.

Sukham means comfortable, happy, and relaxed.

Asanam refers to the physical practice of yoga.

He described that although Sthira and Sukham are opposites, they are equally important qualities to develop in the practice of yoga. Opposites do not have to be mutually exclusive.  A yoga practice should be strong and gentle, steady and joyful. Similarly, harmony is a balance between holding on and letting go.

It made me think of the applicability of the same principle to other areas of life. At work, it would be ideal to have a balance between tasks that are stimulating and challenging (effort) and others that are easily achievable (effortless). In relationships, while some aspects need work, others are comfortable and comforting. 

To be strong, stable, and steady are wonderful qualities but I need to balance that with joy and relaxation. In both yoga and life often there is plenty of Sthira, but not enough Sukham and vice versa.

Presently, in warm weather I derive great pleasure from being able to walk bare foot around the house, to feel the direct connection with Mother Earth and feel the coolness on my soles and my weight being distributed across both feet.

Let me give myself permission to cultivate more Sukham.

Day 303

Today I heard this song by ‘Everything But The Girl’ for the first time and loved it.

“I step off the train
I’m walking down your street again
And past your door, but you don’t live there anymore
It’s years since you’ve been there
Now you’ve disappeared somewhere, like outer space
You’ve found some better place

And I miss you, like the deserts miss the rain

Could you be dead?
You always were two steps ahead, of everyone
We’d walk behind while you would run
I look up at your house
And I can almost hear you shout down to me
Where I always used to be

And I miss you, like the deserts miss the rain

Back on the train, I ask why did I come again?
Can I confess, I’ve been hanging round your old address?
And the years have proved
To offer, nothing since you’ve moved
You’re long gone, but I can’t move on

And I miss you, like the deserts miss the rain”

We went for a long walk with a friend today and had a few good laughs. At the end I gave her a hug and said softly, ”You are sweet.” In response she said with a big smile, ”I am a real bitch.” We both burst out laughing. Comedy was something he really enjoyed, especially stand-up. One of his favourites was Paul Chawdhry, a young British man of Asian origin. We often watched video clips of his shows together. Here is one he mimicked to perfection. I could almost hear him say some of the words and make some of those face expressions. Even though it made me laugh, I missed him like the deserts miss the rain.

Music and humour are known to heal.
It was a good day.

Day 301

Woke up really late this morning, just in time to freshen up in fast-forward and rush out the door. Forgot to bring my phone with me to work. The phone with his picture on it as wall-paper. I get to see it every time I want to know the time or use the phone for any other reason – whatsapp, e-mail, diary, sms, calls, photos. Every few minutes I can see his gentle smiling face.

I realised the phone was at home only after I reached my place of work. After a moment of panic, I felt free and light. I could look at people while listening to what they were saying. I could smile at people while walking down the corridor. I could enjoy the lovely view of the Thames from the window of the coffee room during my break. My scrubs didn’t tilt to the side with the pocket holding the phone.

I could be present a 100% to everything and everyone around me.

However, after about 7 hours I started to miss it, not for any other reason but the picture on it. Although his face is always there in front of my eyes, I missed seeing it. Every time I see it, it evokes great love in me but also a deep sense of loss. His name is on my list of ‘favourites’ and always will be.

At any given moment, it’s nearly impossible for me to know exactly what is going on in my mind. Of all the sounds it makes, some are louder than others, some confusing, some conflicting but all a bit distant and vague. If I can’t even fully understand my own mind, how can I blame myself for not knowing what’s going on in someone else’s? Maybe they don’t understand it themselves. Maybe it is unfathomable. 

Day 296

photo[1]

In the end it’s all about letting go.

Letting go of the past,
Of the pain and loss
Of the guilt and anger
Of the love and longing.

Starting afresh each day.
Every moment, a new beginning.
It hurts to let go.
It hurts more to hold on.
Hold on to what?
To that which doesn’t even exist.

Telling and retelling myself,
Letting go does not mean there is no love.
It doesn’t mean you are weak.
It means you are strong enough.

The tighter the fist full of sand,
The more the sand escapes.
Please help me unfurl my fingers
One by one
And allow for space
To be, to breath, to expand
To reach out to what is right here right now.

There are things I don’t want to happen
But have to accept.
Things I don’t want to know
But have to learn.
And people I can’t live without but have to let go.