Leap of faith

Walk lightly, tread softly...
As I open the doors
Of my heart to you.

What does the future hold?
I am apprehensive
Just as you are unsure.

Yet life is meant
For living, for loving,
For leaps of faith.

So I open the doors
Of my heart to you.
Walk lightly, tread softly...

Grey Day

Walking down this road
These roads look all the same
There's a grey pall over the sky
The colours seem rather dim.

Passing through the crowds
The minutes stretch out long
There's still more work to do today
Your smile starts to wear thin.

Suspended in mid-air
Hanging from a trapeze
It looked like fun when you leaped off
Now see the heaviness grow.

You know that you'll hang on
Until you have to let go
Your vision doesn't go far enough
To sight the net below.

A rhyme

You call and I hear...
Birds at sunrise
Restless seas
Bells at Christmas
Summer breeze
Lilting laughter
Bubbling wine...
And I wonder -
Are you mine?

Wandering

Walking the streets wondering where
That something may be...
Looking in the mirror wondering what
That emptiness may be...
The laughter that lights up your days
Hides the silences that drench my nights.
You ask me for life?
Ask me what I have to give.
Walking, running, jumping --
Closed in, protecting;
Words churning, eyes burning,
Walking the streets
Wandering, wondering.

Monsoon afternoon

It’s nearing the end of summer, the beginning of the monsoon season. Time for the withering heat to give way to the relief of rain. It’s late afternoon, almost evening. I’m sitting at the window of an old house, on the wide window sill. The window has wooden shutters, which should be pulled closed in the rain. But I have them open because I want to look out at the rain. I’m heedless of water droplets spattering the flowered curtains in the desire to feel them on my palm. The rain started softly, gently, and then grew into a thunderous downpour. Luke-warm water, which would be utter sensual pleasure to feel on my sweat-stained body. But I don’t go out in it. I just let the monsoon wind blow in at me. I feel it toss my hair about.

The world inside is quiet – everyone is deep in sleep. The world outside is quiet too. The occasional rickshaw goes by, its clanking sound muted in the heavy raindrops. I’m in a world of my own, shut away from the rest of humanity in the curtain of white noise. Me and my thoughts. I hug to myself the secrets that are so out of touch with reality that I never speak them out loud. I hardly speak them to myself, except in moments like these, when even my thoughts are muted in the sound of the water. Just as the lowering clouds wipe out the line between earth and sky, they wipe out the line between reality and dreams. Just as I can peer barely a few feet through the sheets of rain, I can peer but a few feet into my thoughts. There is vision enough only for acceptance, not for analysis. Thoughts of loss and longing are suddenly made safe, no more startling than the gooseberry pips and salt grains lying on the plate next to me.

Soon, I know, the world will stir, and I’ll be pulled back into its hustle and bustle. But for now, I treasure this moment for myself, this moment outside of time.

The Invitation

by Oriah Mountain Dreamer
____________________________
It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living.
I want to know what you ache for,
And if you dare to dream of meeting your heart’s longing.

It doesn’t interest me how old you are.
I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love,
For your dreams,
For the adventure of being alive.

It doesn’t interest me what planets are squaring your moon.
I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow,
If you have been opened by life’s betrayals
Or have become shriveled and closed from fear of future pain.

I want to know if you can sit with pain,
Mine or your own,
Without moving to hide it or fade it or fix it.

I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own;
If you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you
To the tips of your fingers and toes
Without cautioning us to be careful, be realistic,
To remember the limitations of being human.

It doesn’t interest me if the story you’re telling me is true.
I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself;
If you can bear the accusation of betrayal
And not betray your own soul.

I want to know if you can be faithful
And therefore be trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see beauty
Even when it is not pretty every day,
And if you can source your life from its presence.

I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine,
And still stand on the edge of a lake
And shout to the silver of the moon, “Yes!”

It doesn’t interest me to know where you live
Or how much money you have.
I want to know if you can get up after a night of grief and despair,
Weary and bruised to the bone,
And do what needs to be done.

It doesn’t interest me who you are, how you came to be here.
I want to know if you will stand in the center of the fire with me
And not shrink back.

It doesn’t interest me where or what or with whom you have studied.
I want to know what sustains you from the inside
When all else falls away.
I want to know if you can be alone with yourself,
And if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.

Slugs and snails and puppy dog tails

A friend of my heart had a baby on November 22nd. Ujaan. A bouncing baby boy, three and a half kilos, tall and slender, with dark hair, wide-open eyes, clenched fist and assertive voice. When I heard the news, I was so excited! I hadn't quite realised beforehand how it would hit me.

Today I heard his voice for the first time... my goodness. I wonder how it will be to see him. I can't wait.

From David Levithan's "Realm of Possibility"

In a book that affects me profoundly each time I read it, here are three sets of lines that jumped out at me this time:

Every time you love someone, you put not just
your faith in them, but your faith in everything
to the test.

I wasn't thinking of forever, just reveling in now.
We don't know yet how long we're meant to be --
there are so many obstacles down the road.
But there is also possibility.

'All I want is you'
is not entirely true.
I want so much more,
and with you I think
I can get it.

Spin around

(Dear Anonymous -- Thank you for your request for the rest of my fairy-tale. The rest of this post talks about why it hasn't been born yet. Please bear with me for now.)

Once again, it has been a long time. Why? Because the words flowing from my pen (yes, I have written on paper in the interim) have been ones too explicit to share. Too personal to speak, even in the relative anonymity of cyber-space.

I guess one difference between a professional writer and an amateur rambler is the discipline of writing. The former would be productive, regardless. (Right? Makes sense, I think.) The latter is at the mercy of what jumps to her pen (or her typing finger-tips, as the case may be).

In this rambler's case -- so many of my thoughts have been about you, that I don't know what to write when I cast about for words on any alternate topic. How do I push you out of my mind?

There isn't an answer to that question because I still don't want to push you out of my mind. I liked having you there. Not too long ago, you were my source of joy and light. You lit up my whole life, all the corners of my mind. Thoughts of you touched and painted in rainbow colours all of my words. There was room for the whole world in my mind, and everything was possible.

And then, things started clouding. I don't know how or when or why. (Some day, I should end my love affair with prepositions, right? Isn't happening today, though.) The turbulent skies spread and filled the corners of my mind and pushed the world out. They pushed me on to this merry-go-round of trying to understand us. I am not having fun on this ride. I'm merely getting nauseated.

Yesterday, I thought I had sorted it out to our mutual satisfaction. I was so ready to jump off the stupid merry-go-round. I was so happy to see sunny skies again. But, no... the background has changed, but I'm still spinning.

The changing of seasons

The leaves are done turning their spectacular colours. One by one, they fall, as the snow starts flirting with the warm earth. It is a time for endings. It is a time for beginnings.

There are so many ways of saying goodbye. The child off to her first day of school, in a brand new uniform. The high schooler headed to college, her life packed in brand new suitcases. The graduate stepping into working world, wearing a brand new attitude. The bride walking out of her childhood home, with brand new red-lined feet. The adult creating her life anew, living in her brand new way of being. Goodbyes to family. Goodbyes to friends. Tears and fears and feeling proud.

There are so many ways to say hello. Hello to new friends and old. Hello to those you just met, and those you have known forever. And those that you just didn't know you've known forever. Hello to a whole new world, to the trapeze act in the limelight and the shoulders squared in the dark. Hello to love and joy and possibility, wherever you find them.

The magic of a book and the magic of life is -- if you turn the page, a new chapter begins.

Ode to you #2

You came into my life when I thought I had no need for you. I could see your need for me, and I responded. That, supposedly, was the basis of our relationship. What hubris!

I look back over the years, and you have been my bulwark. My rock in stormy seas. My hand to hold when I knew not where to go. You have been my strength and my affirmation. You have loved me unconditionally. If there is anything I can bet my life on, it would be that you will keep loving me in just that way until your dying breath. You have refused to ever see me as anything less than the most extraordinary self I could be. And it takes an extraordinary person to do that. In hindsight, I know, I always saw that you are extraordinary. That is what my soul responded to. That mutual recognition is what has bound us for life. That is why I have loved you. That is why I love you today.

For years, we followed the same roads. In different places, perhaps, but our steps would always rhyme. Along the way, you've climbed hills of success. I know there are further heights to reach, but what a pretty plateau you're standing on today! And you're embarking on this grand adventure that I've barely seen as a vision in someone's eyes. I am so proud of you. I am so proud to love and be loved by you.

So... here's a toast (of words, rather than wine) to you. To all the possibilities that you are. To the amazing life of untold adventure stretching ahead of you.

I will always love you. I will always be there for you.

Yes, I'm sorry...

... to have disappeared for this length of time from your life, faithful reader. Thank you thank you thank you for still being around. I am touched.

The story goes, I've been busy. Not that it's any excuse. Clearly, if I had a good sense of priorities, sustaining this conversation with you would be high on my list. And it is, it is. As a good friend, I ask you to forgive the temporary lapse. I promise that I shall be more faithful henceforth, posting at least twice a week.

My life, as I said, has been very full. I've been remaking it, so to say. Recreating myself, and not necessarily in my own image. (It is a very freeing process -- try it sometime!) I'm not going to talk details here, because the last thing this blog is about is facts in our very unreal reality, and I like to keep it that way. Besides, the possibilities are endless, and I know your mind will create more fascinating stories than any I could write here.

Much love to you... as always.

Smoke

Smoke and mirrors
Smoke draped in strands
Across the sky
White lines rushing by
Smoke assaulting my throat
A flat grey sky
With dark blue strands
Cool air
Not quite pleasant
The sunset behind me
And the darkness in front
Trees on fire
With fiery colours
An onion on a stalk
Sticking into the sky

Written by the roadside on the back of an envelope

Spinning wheel
Spinning dreams
Blue in one light
Green in another
Shot silk
Wearing cobwebs of dreams
Trying to stay
Grounded
Clear
Listen to the head
Snip wings and... soar.
I accept
It does not matter
What you deny
Or how long it takes.

Cheer Up

I have a new favourite song. It is called "Cheer Up", and it is so happy and beautiful! I have been listening to it on repeat this morning, and am under its spell. Some eternal lines, and music that opens up a whole new realm of possibility. It is so whole and complete that it completes you too.

Think of your best friend -- the one who you see standing by you as far as you can look into the past and the future, the one who has unshakeable love for you through good times and bad, the one whose faith in you never wavers even when your own does. The experience of this song is like being handed a bouquet of joy by that friend.

If I get permission, I will delight in sharing the song with you on this blog.

Words

I write
Sequences of words,
Meaningless,
And vest them with
As much meaning
As life.

Moments

Moments -- untold, indescribable.
Moments written in the whisper of the wind.
Moments seen in the fading half-light of stormy skies.
Moments sketched in power, in love.
Moments shouted from mountain tops.
Moments born in reality, in unfolding destiny.
Moments frail as spider webs glistening with morning dew.
Moments strong as tempered steel.

Moments slipping through my fingers.
Moments drowning in the inky blackness of expectations.
Moments burning low, flickering out into dust and ashes.
Moments trapped in a cage of needs and wants.
Moments gone quiet, echoes dying out.
Moments retreating from the onslaught.
Moments smothering under the weight of tomorrow.
Moments waiting to re-emerge.

Always asking, never knowing.
Always careful, never showing -- anything at all.
Denying, resisting, persisting and never accepting.
What world taught us to douse fairy-lights?
I capture the body of a moment in words,
Like catching a butterfly and pinning it down.
But its soul? Its soul flits away with an inscrutable smile...
Elusive, unfathomable, indestructible.

Fire can burn and fire can warm.
Fire can witness vows made outside time and space.
Fire hides in the breast of the wind,
In the salt of the sea, and the grains of the earth.
Fire flows in our veins and leaps from our eyes.
Mountains grew in fire, and webs, and steel.
Moments forged in fire will always gleam true.
These moments will always be.

Thank you for the gift

"You look like a star -- you have a radiant sort of personality shining through you -- your proper habitat should be the evening sky just after sunset -- or the morning sky just before sunrise. Yes. I think I shall call you Star."
"Do you mean you think I'm pretty?", she asked directly.
"Why, it hadn't occured to me to wonder whether you were pretty or not. Do you think a star should be pretty?"
She reflected.
"No", she said finally, "the word doesn't suit a star."
"I perceive you are an artist in words. Of course it doesn't. Stars are prismatic -- palpitating -- elusive. It is not often that we find one made in flesh and blood."

.......................................................
The above is from "Emily of the New Moon". I was re-reading it for the hundredth time, perhaps, and suddenly paused on those words. They took me back to words that someone had whispered in the soft darkness of a train coach a long time ago. I should have given those words some thought. How strange that I spent all these years asking a pointless question.

Sweet dreams

It's the middle of the night, and I am way way overdue for going to bed. Looking at life through the blur of sleepy eyes, I almost feel the "flash" that so thrilled Montgomery's Emily. Poised on the brink of the future. It's time for 'adieu's and time for 'hello's, for tears and for laughter, for letting go and holding on. And for tonight, it's time to sleep.

Good night. I love you.

A fairytale - Part 1

Once upon a time, long, long ago, in a magic kingdom far, far away, there lived a king. The kingdom was in a vast forest -- the most beautiful forest you can imagine. There were rolling hills and shimmering lakes in this forest. There were trees reaching to the heavens, and little paths under the canopies of leaves. Mushrooms peeked out from under the shade of burdock leaves. Frogs hopped, birds called, dragonflies flitted, and coyotes howled at night. All the inhabitants of this kingdom lived in harmony. The king's castle was right in the centre of this forest, on top of the prettiest of all the hills. In the castle's backyard was the lake with the highest magic of all.

In this kingdom, there was utter joy. But the king wanted to spread joy outside his lands as well. He would travel in disguise through the world on this mission. Every so often, he would return to his castle to gather his strength, before setting off again.

Far away from this kingdom, lived an enchantress. The enchantress lived in a crystal palace on top of a flaming rock in the middle of the ocean.The winds roared and the waves broke all around in wild beauty and light. Yet the enchantress could not stay at home. The world was full of dragons to be conquered, and she would keep going from place to place in search of them.

The enchantress's dominion stretched over the unearthly... fire, water, air. And souls.

One day, in course of their travels, the king and the enchantress met each other. Despite their disguises, they knew each other instantly. The king, being very generous, invited the enchantress to visit his kingdom. And the enchantress thought, so what if the kingdom was outside her dominion? There was nothing she would like better than to be a visitor there, to leave her quests aside for a day or two.

So, they traveled to the king's land. For the first time ever, the enchantress was traveling without hope or agenda. For there is only need for hope when there is something wrong. And what agenda could one have in the complete unknown?

They reached the outskirts of the forest, and started walking towards the castle. The king kept introducing his subjects, his friends, and the enchantress was welcomed by them all. She was enchanted by the loving harmony in this world of earth and trees more lovely than her unearthly one. After walking for many days and many nights, the pair finally reached the castle.

To be continued...

Dear reader from Queensland, Brisbane, Australia...

... I see on my stat-counter that you have read a fair amount of my blog. I would love it if you'd leave a comment, since I have no idea who you are. Thank you for visiting!

Shades of the sea

The sea was the home of her soul. As a little girl, she would wait every year for the precious few days that they'd spend by the sea. The long train ride. The dusty road and clean white house. And finally... the sea. The reunion of old loves. Through the scorching sand in the white heat of summer, she’d run for her first glimpse... and then run again, straight into the arms of the water. Unstoppable, a force of nature herself, running into the sea until the waves surrounded her and embraced her. Then she'd pause, laughing with the sheer joy of living, before plunging forward to be fully in the world she shared with the sea. The sea recognised her; named her for who she was; completed her.

The colours changed, and so did the moods, in that eternal sea with its unchanging power. So many shades of the sea, and not one she didn't love. Blue, green, grey. Sometimes limpid, sometimes deep... sometimes boisterous, sometimes calm… the waves rising and falling and always calling. A primal call she could never resist, and would never want to. The waves that kissed and leaped and pulled her under. The salt in her face, the sand in her pores. On bright blue days, or under lowering monsoon clouds. She recognized the sea, named it for what it was. She could have stayed in it forever.

Then would come the time for goodbyes. The time for wrenching hearts and learning not to cry. And she was back in the world, with the strength she needed tucked away in her chest. She was too alive to ever stand by marking time, and she lived life with all the lusty exuberance of her passionate nature. But somewhere inside, she’d keep waiting…

She used to swear to herself, “When I grow up, I’ll live by the sea.” But life gets in the way, and adult women tend to dismiss little girl fantasies. So she didn’t. She chose, instead, to live in a nice city, in a pretty house, with everything one would want. She loved the winds around her house, all soft and sweet, and she smiled in their gentleness. She forgot her longing for the smell of salt. She loved that her house stood on solid bedrock – it made so much more sense than shifting sands. She loved the sunsets and the stars, and it seemed immaterial that they were not reflecting off breaking waves. Of course, she could always visit the sea. There were never any recriminations, only the healing sense of wholeness. And so it was a happy life.

And yet… the sea, the sea, the call of the sea. The tumultuous sounds and sensations in blue and green, drowning out truths she thought she knew and choices she thought she’d made. That strange longing from deep within and long ago…

Tell Me Your Dreams

Note: This is the first "real" song for which I've written lyrics. I was in a friend's basement, listening to a musician (who I had just met) create music. I was really listening -- like I had never listened to music before. And the guitar spoke to me. I jotted down the words just as they had to be... so I haven't really written these lyrics. I just heard and articulated them.
..........................................................................

Tell me your dreams,
Angel blue --
Midnight streams.
Tell me your dreams.

Open my eyes...
Open my eyes... (sexy babe)

Sinful thoughts, I dare to scream.
Don't you tell me it's how it seems;
Push and pull and truth and lies...
It's all a dream.

Climb the skies where seagulls soar,
Crickets call -- I want some more!
Eyes closed: my heart cries,
"It's not a dream."

Racing pulses sigh and slow;
Was that the end? I don't know.
Am I a fool, or am I wise?
Was it a dream?

No no no...
Don't ask me to let go...
No no no...

Tell me your dreams,
Angel blue --
Wrap us up
In indigo.
................................................................

Anika

You found me so that you could teach me perseverance and patience and unconditional love, didn't you? You kept trying, undaunted by many many failures, until you found out how to jump on to every surface in our home, until you could get into every cupboard. I saw you today, squeezing your way into my office, desperate to get near me, not believing in the limitation of not having opposable thumbs. You would never ever think, "I can't".

And when your daily round of naughtiness is done, you climb into my lap, not doubting for a moment that I will love you. And why should you doubt it? Didn't you spend all day teaching me the most important things I could learn? And as you lay and purr and drool your happiness on me, I know that I will always love you. Thank you for finding me.

Yes, we care

Today is an extraordinary day. Today is a step on the road to a world where we all actually care about the environment and what happens to it. I may have come a tiny way on this road not knowing where I was going, but it's my first deliberate step.

I am nervous. No, I'm powerful. Completely charged. I can do it. I promise.

Note to self on last post: please don't play with creating new worlds when you're only half-charged. It turns out to be an uninspiring waste of time.

Rambling some more

If you could create the world anew, what sort of world would you create? Yes, it would have me and you. But would it have, for example, Bush and cohorts? Uhhh... that's a hard one for me to grapple with. Does my new-found love for humanity only stretch so far? Could I see the human side of Jack the Ripper? For that matter, should I?

Ouch. I don't think I'll address this question tonight. I think I'd rather address the pressing issue of recording how many hours (all of which have since, apparently, fled from my mind) I've spent working on which project since May. I'm more likely to have success there.

The difference is in the listening

I just got through an office conference call of the usual kind. Prior to that, fielded several other work-related calls this morning. It's amazing how happy everyone sounds. I mean, we don't work for Mother Teresa. Merely for a Fortune 100 consumer goods company. I can swear they didn't sound this happy last week.

It's all around for us to see -- I promise. Okay, give this a shot. The next time you're in the middle of a pedestrian crossing and a car cuts you off, give the driver a smile instead of the finger. Maybe, the next time around, pedestrians will move out of his blind spot. Or maybe he won't notice you. Either way, you've made a difference in the world.

Remember the story where time travelers step on a butterfly? It is just as real as the screen on which you read this.

Ode to you - Part 1

You are so beautiful. The last time I talked to you, I tried to tell you how beautiful you are. Beautiful and strong. I can picture opening baby eyes and looking into your face. Tell me, did I do that the very first time I opened my eyes? I do not remember. I do remember I did so the second time I opened my eyes. Eyes a little sadder, more confused, less wise than little baby eyes. You were there in front of me. Just like you've always been there for me. Always loving, always trusting. I need you. The world needs you.

I know you, perhaps more than anyone else. I know the littlest stories of your life, your past. You don't have a bigger fan of your past than me. But it's your future that fills me with awe. Will you move mountains? Or raise oceans? You were made for huge things. To fill vast spaces with your quietest word. You are immortal. Please open your eyes and see your power.

I love you without beginning or end.

Resistance is useless!

In memory of Douglas Adams -- you have brought us so much delight.

I was sitting at my work desk, in the midst of essential (but perhaps not quite enticing) activities, thinking "I can't do this. I don't want to do this." And who should pop into my head but the miserable Vogon guard, yelling "Resistance is useless!" I bet nobody has ever been so glad to see a Vogon :-).

Back to work. Ta-da.

Random thoughts at night

There is an inevitable cosmic reason why we met. (Ah, the liberation of creating reality!) Yes, we have always been traveling companions. But there is some secret beyond that, just at the corner of my vision, where it disappears when I turn to look at it. I cast about for it. I consider the possibility that I am a writer and you are my muse. I consider creating it. I pause. And listen in the hush to the throbbing hearts of billions. I listen for the whisper of the wind. For the sighing of the sea. The conversations of the leaves. The harmony of the stars. The indescribable concert of the cosmos.

Someone asked me yesterday if I had got religion. It took me aback and it made me smile. In my life, I had seen few people as virulently anti-religion as myself. And I replied, "Perhaps I have. But not in the way you mean."

Rationale and reasonableness. Science and logic. I have worshipped at your altar for years. How could I ever break faith? But surely I can consider that the rituals of worship are not cast in stone. Aha.

How many hours have I spent talking through big, weighty questions? With friends and foes, in determination and in anguish. Somewhere inside me, I feel quiet today.

I speak the possibility and make it real.