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 As the first blog entry got exhausted. My second book |
| Evolution of Love Part 2 |
| Prompt: "There is always a butt in this imperfect world." Anne Bronte Write about this quote in your Blog entry today. During my School days, After getting the first beating on my hands from the teacher, I used to wipe my hands on my trousers and then only take the second one ....!* I was very particular about cleanliness.😛 All my teachers used to stand and take the classes... You know the reason? Respect.... They respected me so much....Nothing else During my school days, my teachers used to often request me to bring my father as they were afraid of telling me anything, lest they offend me 😋 My teachers were very fond of reading what I had written... In fact they would make me write it a hundred times so that they can read it again and again...😅 Many times the teachers have thrown their valuable chalks to me without me asking for it.😊 Many times my teachers have made me stand outside the class to ensure 'Z' category security while they were teaching.🤷♂️ How many times I have been honoured/elevated by asking me to stand up on the bench with all others looking up to me .... 💺 How many times I have been given a break from class to enjoy the sunshine & fresh air, when most others were sweating/choking inside the classroom .... 🌳🌞 As I knew everything, the teachers used to appreciate my knowledge and have told me many times.....*Why do you come to school? Why can't you do something else instead*💪🏽 Hmmmm ..... Those were golden young days.. *It's how you look at it that matters ... 😇🤔😷🙄* or "There is always a butt in this imperfect world." Anne Bronte... |
| Prompt: Understanding One's Own Self Which kinds of people can help others to understand themselves the most? And is or was there such a person in your life who has helped you understand yourself better? One of the hardest goodbyes is when we love someone and at the same time see that it is impossible to build a healthy relationship with them. Such person has helped me understand myself better. Staying means to continue waiting for changes that won't come, TOLERATING actions that hurt us, accepting the bare minimum and losing ourselves in the process.We know *walking away will hurt,* but it is the road to healing, staying will continue to open the wounds more and more. Sometimes you choose to leave, not because of lack of love towards this person, but because you realize the *lack of love you’ve been giving yourself.* Remember, it is your own love that makes you take care of yourself, and with this love you leave and never look back. |
| Make a list of common objects that you might like to write about because of their appearance or personal association. Write comparisons to these objects anything--everything you can think of about the objects. Now take all this information you've gathered and write a story or a poem about what you've discovered with your list. Have fun. Another Mathew Sweeney and John Hartley Williams exercise in case you're wondering. I would like to write about my latest excursion in Lyon and it's favorite location, festivals specially in November and all the things that are very close to my heart. Lyon on the confluence of Rhône and Soane river is a beautiful city that really lights up just as the twilight falls on the city . To many , specially food lovers across the world it’s the epicenter of gastronomy. If you are in this city and want to explore your taste buds you must have a taste of the typical Lyonnaise cuisine that is served in the Bouchon restaurants. These restaurants are known for their friendly vibes and the menus are always based on regional ingredients using recipes from generations past! To talk of this beautiful city that the guidebooks don’t tell you .. the best way is to explore on foot . Pack a good shoe and see the hidden gems like the hidden passages called the Traboules that connects old historic buildings from one to another ! The old city of Lyon is really very interesting and puppet museum .. unfortunately I cudnt have look see as they were closed during their afternoon hours .. but like we .. one must take the funicular train up to see the Basilica of Notre Dame of Fourviere , dedicated to the patron Saint of Lyon . The terrace of the Basilica if you are not afraid to brave the winds offers an excellent view of the city below . One is almost sploit for choices where to take a picture that best captures it beauty ! Once down the funicular as you leave the historic part of the city for the new Lyon one must see the magnificent Wall of Silk Weavers . These magnificent works of art are painted in the trompe -l’oeil style is truly remarkable with its hyper realistic depiction of the day to day of its La Croix - Rousse neighborhood and its tales . Trust me .. it’s a must see .. as the art with blur your senses with what is real and what is not ! Two things that I did in Lyon that demands a separate post are my silk printing classes and cooking classes . But the journey to Lyon doesn’t end here .. Lyon know for Lumiere festival the stunning festival where the whole city is bathed a a light show that happens in November drawing crowds from all over the world . I was sad to have missed it but the Universe made alternate plans . Our hotel to commemorate the month of October which is a Breast Cancer Awareness month globally had a lumiere show on its Dome ! Truly spectacular I could only imagine what the real show would have been but well .. some things .. are left best for another visit , perhaps ! |
| The hidden mind is far more potent than the superficial mind, however well educated and capable of adjustment; and it is not something very mysterious. The hidden or unconscious mind is the repository of racial memories. Religion, superstition, symbol, peculiar traditions of a particular race, the influence of literature both sacred and profane, of aspirations, frustrations, mannerisms, and varieties of food - all these are rooted in the unconscious. The open and secret desires with their motivations, hopes and fears, their sorrows and pleasures, and the beliefs which are sustained through the urge for security translating itself in various ways - these things also are contained in the hidden mind, which not only has this extraordinary capacity to hold the residual past, but also the capacity to influence the future. Intimations of all this are given to the superficial mind through dreams and in various other ways when it is not wholly occupied with everyday events. The hidden mind is nothing sacred and nothing to be frightened of, nor does it demand a specialist to expose it to the superficial mind. But because of the hidden mind's enormous potency, the superficial mind cannot deal with it as it would wish. The superficial mind is to a great extent impotent in relation to its own hidden part. However much it may try to dominate, shape, control the hidden, because of its immediate social demands and pursuits, the superficial can only scratch the surface of the hidden; and so there is a cleavage or contradiction between the two. We try to bridge this chasm through discipline, through various practices sanctions and so on; but it cannot so be bridged. The conscious mind is occupied with the immediate, the limited present, whereas the unconscious is under the weight of centuries, and cannot be stemmed or turned aside by an immediate necessity. The unconscious has the quality of deep time, and the conscious mind, with its recent culture, cannot deal with it according to its passing urgencies. To eradicate self-contradiction, the superficial mind must understand this fact and be quiescent - which does not mean giving scope to the innumerable urges of the hidden. When there is no resistance between the open and the hidden, then the hidden, because it has the patience of time, will not violate the immediate. The hidden, unexplored and un-understood mind, with its superficial part which has been `educated', comes into contact with the challenges and demands of the immediate present. The superficial may respond to the challenge adequately; but because there is a contradiction between the superficial and the hidden, any experience of the superficial only increases the conflict between itself and the hidden. This brings about still further experience, again widening the chasm between the present and the past. The superficial mind, experiencing the outer without understanding the inner, the hidden, only produces deeper and wider conflict. Experience does not liberate or enrich the mind, as we generally think it does. As long as experience strengthens the experiencer, there must be conflict. In having experiences, a conditioned mind only strengthens its conditioning, and so perpetuates contradiction and misery. Only for the mind that is capable of understanding the total ways of itself, can experiencing be a liberating factor. Once there is perception and understanding of the power and capacities of the many layers of the hidden, then the details can be looked into wisely and intelligently. What is important is the understanding of the hidden, and not the mere education of the superficial mind to acquire knowledge, however necessary. This understanding of the hidden frees the total mind from conflict, and only then is there intelligence. We must awaken the full capacity of the superficial mind that lives in everyday activity, and also understand the hidden. In understanding the hidden there is a total living in which self-contradiction, with its alternating sorrow and happiness, ceases. It is essential to be acquainted with the hidden mind and aware of its workings; but it is equally important not to be occupied with it or give it undue significance. It is only when the mind understands the superficial and the hidden that it can go beyond its own limitations and discover that bliss which is not of time. Hence patience in observing and waiting for the right time is the key. |
| Broader than space, and deeper and clearer than the ocean, the round sun in our hearts rises high to shed its light on the universe. The noble world spreads out before us: a castle of glittering gold appears, and the earth is covered with white jade. Mystically beautiful flowers bloom, and the precious birds and beasts dance in joy. All worlds are adorned with peace and freedom. There is no suffering, and these worlds are filled with happiness. Paradise and heaven lose their sparkle, and the Buddha is left speechless by such a sight. Both including and transcending time and space, everyone is eternal and everything is infinite and equal. Yet it is difficult to describe this mysterious world: steep cliffs flee as a red column of fire shoots up from blue waves, and the wooden roadside totems sing joyfully. What a marvelous sight! Such terms as "saints" and "devils" are insignificant in this world: Confucius and Tao-ch'il clasp hands as they bless the age of peace and prosperity. These are not wild fantasies, but the true reality of the oneness of everything. To those of you who close your eyes only to bemoan the fact that it's dark, please listen: The door to the Great Light is always open. In this world overflowing with peace, there are no dualities, there are no conflicts. So let's raise our eyes, look at this world, precious and few and praise it all together! |
It's 8.30am The maid has not arrived. The breakfast is not ready, And I have tiffins to fill. The laundry heap increases, The groceries need refill. The elder one has homework, The younger one's still sleeping. There's no bread in the fridge, The milk just spills over. I have a conference today, My shirt needs ironing. There's a workshop in the school, I don't know how to manage. My mother in law is here, To ask medicines for backache. A call from the bathroom “I’ve forgotten the towel ” The cat mews, the birds chirp, The plants need watering. The phone beeps To remind me of a case (procedure). The receptionist calls, Full appointments overall. My shoulders aches, I have noone to tell. My eyes are heavy, With last night's on call. I don't remember the last time, I had been to the parlor. My nails are brittle, My hair needs a color. My clothes have lost the sheen, I need a wardrobe makeover. But before that I've to pick up, The toys that are scattered. I think it was last year, When I spoke to my sister. Can't recollect the moment, When I chatted with my mother. I'm no feminist, I'm no atheist, I know not what I'm, More than a housekeeper, a mother and a doctor. I may be an orator, A painter, an artist, A singer, a poetess, A traveller, a cyclist, A writer, a musician, A craftsman, philanthropist. The last time I tried, To find out my ability, My child scored badly, And you know what followed exactly. So next time she got a gold medal, They praised her father's genes, I remembered my trophies, Which no one had seen. I know not what my daughter, Will do after growing up. But I'm sure these responsibilities Will never stop to follow her. Marriages are made in heaven, Love is a fairly tale. I'm sure every working woman, Has a different story to tell. So, whenever you look, At a house that's tidy, A child who is happy, Intelligent and healthy, Remember, it's the woman behind, Who sacrificed her sleep, her degrees, her passion, her ambitions and needs. Give her a pat, a word of praise, a ear to listen, *_a helping hand_* It's always a woman, who makes the house a home. But it's everyone's duty, To make her feel at home. |
For a fleeting moment, amidst a blaze of lights, you seem to be whirled around the stellar system, separate from the body. A delirious moment of bliss. A moment you would like to recreate and replicate, but can’t. It is not time for erasure. The body will heal in due course. I am not sure about the beating the mind has taken, I think for the better. Had a role in the rat race was temporarily read passed into oblivion, buried in journal archives |
| Do you think a leaf that falls to the ground is afraid of death? Do you think a bird lives in fear of dying? It meets death when death comes; but it is not concerned about death, it is much too occupied with living, with catching insects, building a nest, singing a song, flying for the very joy of flying. Have you ever watched birds soaring high up in the air without a beat of their wings, being carried along by the wind? How endlessly they seem to enjoy themselves! They are not concerned about death. If death comes, it is all right, they are finished. There is no concern about what is going to happen; they are living from moment to moment, are they not? It is we human beings who are always concerned about death - because we are not living. That is the trouble: we are dying, we are not living. The old people are near the grave, and the young ones are not far behind. You see, there is this preoccupation with death because we are afraid to lose the known, the things that we have gathered. We are afraid to lose a wife or husband, a child or a friend; we are afraid to lose what we have learnt, accumulated. If we could carry over all the things that we have gathered - our friends our possessions, our virtues, our character - then we would not be afraid of death, would we? That is why we invent theories about death and the hereafter. But the fact is that death is an ending, and most of us are unwilling to face this fact. We don't want to leave the known; so it is our clinging to the known that creates fear in us, not the unknown. The unknown cannot be perceived by the known. But the mind, being made up of the known, says, "I am going to end", and therefore it is frightened. Now, if you can live from moment to moment and not be concerned about the future, if you can live without the thought of tomorrow - which does not mean the superficiality of merely being occupied with today; if, being aware of the whole process of the known, you can, relinquish the known, let it go completely, then you will find that an astonishing thing takes place. Try it for a day - put aside everything you know, forget it, and just see what happens. Don't carry over your worries from day to day, from hour to hour, from moment to moment; let them all go, and you will see that out of this freedom there comes an extraordinary life that includes both living and dying. Death is only the ending of something, and in that very ending there is a renewing. So messenger of Death is an appropriate word for We are the things that other fear. |
| Joan of Arc and Rouen : Rouen a vibrant port city on the banks of the river Seine is the capital of the northern region of Normandy . Rouen, has a pretty intense checkered history since the medieval times .. the gothic church and Roman ruins bear witnesses to those times . It was here in the Rouen cathedral the entombed heart of Richard the Lion Heart finds its final resting place …. What intrigued me to visit Rouen was my impression of Joan of Arc ! I think , I was in school when I read about her , her courage her fortitude … Joan who claimed to get divine visions led the French army to gain a momentous victory against the English in the Hundred year war . She was falsely accused on 70 counts on heresy , witchcraft , wearing men’s clothes and mercilessly dragged in the middle of the market square where she was burnt at the stake in front of a screaming mob ! Where her body rose into flames , 600 years later .. stands a cathedral in her honor a tall cross almost reaching the sky … the market stands still today where one can get the freshest of produce , cheese , fish , flowers .. you name it ! My appetite was quite dull as I thought back on the horror of the day when a young girl of only 19 , was so brutally put to her end . Not even the beauty of the Rouen cathedral could lift my senses … as we well know how even in present time the balance between justice and injustice still hangs dry ! The Witch is back and there's hell to pay." Is so very appropriate here.. |
| And I would have gotten away with it too, if it weren’t for you meddling kids!” As the dream of most parents I had acquired a degree in Engineering and joined a company based in USA, the land of braves and opportunity. When I arrived in the USA, it was as if a dream had come true. Here at last I was in the place where I want to be. I decided I would be staying in this country for about Five years in which time I would have earned enough money to settle down in India. My father was a government employee and after his retirement, the only asset he could acquire was a decent one bedroom flat. I wanted to do something more than him. I started feeling homesick and lonely as the time passed. I used to call home and speak to my parents every week using cheap international phone cards. Two years passed, two years of Burgers at McDonald's and pizzas and discos and 2 years watching the foreign exchange rate getting happy whenever the Rupee value went down. Finally I decided to get married. Told my parents that I have only 10 days of holidays and everything must be done within these 10 days. I got my ticket booked in the cheapest flight. Was jubilant and was actually enjoying hopping for gifts for all my friends back home. If I miss anyone then there will be talks. After reaching home I spent home one week going through all the photographs of girls and as the time was getting shorter I was forced to select one candidate. In-laws told me, to my surprise, that I would have to get married in 2-3 days, as I will not get anymore holidays. After the marriage, it was time to return to USA, after giving some money to my parents and telling the neighbours to look after them, we returned to USA. My wife enjoyed this country for about two months and then she started feeling lonely. The frequency of calling India increased to twice in a week sometimes 3 times a week. Our savings started diminishing. After two more years we started to have kids. Two lovely kids, a boy and a girl, were gifted to us by the almighty. Every time I spoke to my parents, they asked me to come to India so that they can see their grand-children. Every year I decide to go to India,but part work part monetary conditions prevented it. Years went by and visiting India was a distant dream. Then suddenly one day I got a message that my parents were seriously sick. I tried but I couldn't get any holidays and thus could not go to India ... The next message I got was my parents had passed away and as there was no one to do the last rites the society members had done whatever they could. I was depressed. My parents had passed away without seeing their grand children. After couple more years passed away, much to my children's dislike and my wife's joy we returned to India to settle down. I started to look for a suitable property, but to my dismay my savings were short and the property prices had gone up during all these years. I had to return to the USA... My wife refused to come back with me and my children refused to stay in India... My two children and I returned to USA after promising my wife I would be back for good after two years. Time passed by, my daughter decided to get married to an American and my son was happy living in USA... I decided that I had enough and wound-up everything and returned to India... I had just enough money to buy a decent 02 bedroom flat in a well-developed locality. Now I am 60 years old and the only time I go out of the flat is for the routine visit to the nearby temple. My faithful wife has also left me and gone to the holy abode. Sometimes I wondered was it worth all this? My father, even after staying in India, Had a house to his name and I too have the same nothing more. I lost my parents and children for just ONE EXTRA BEDROOM. Looking out from the window I see a lot of children dancing. This damned cable TV has spoiled our new generation and these children are losing their values and culture because of it. I get occasional cards from my children asking I am alright. Well at least they remember me. Now perhaps after I die it will be the neighbors again who will be performing my last rights, God Bless them. But the question still remains 'was all this worth it?' I am still searching for an answer.................!!! START THINKING IS IT JUST FOR ONE EXTRA BEDROOM??? LIFE IS BEYOND THIS ..DON'T JUST LEAVE YOUR LIFE .. START LIVING IT . LIVE IT AS YOU WANT IT TO BE, EVEN WITH MEDDLING KIDS.. |
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