Vipassana, once again

Yesterday I had a major work deadline, for which I had been slogging 18+ hr days for over a week now. It is typical, life of a small business woman. We have staff to help, but often we have to do every little bit of the work, be it cleaning up after a coffee spill to making presentations on the national stage. So, on last Saturday morning, at 7am, while having my second coffee, I started writing this post. A friend had asked me a question about Vipassana and I wrote her a long reply on email. Then I thought, I should share the same with you all. Why not?

From tomorrow I start my sixth Vipassana course and I am very excited about it. This time I will be serving the course, and my father will be sitting the course. I feel very fortunate that my mother sat a course the year before she passed away, and this year my father is sitting. In Indian culture, there is this belief that it is very hard for children to repay the debt of their parents - to have given them birth and afforded them an opportunity to experience the human world. I am told that this is very opposite to the philosophy in Western culture, where the child owes nothing to the parents. The parents had sex, so the child was born, linked to the "original sin". Here I am, living in the West for almost two decades, with an ingrained Indian philosophy, that is my reality! Here's how I look at it, I have done as much as I can possibly do for my parents. They did/do not lack for money or any major existential comfort, of course they could have flaunted/enjoyed their money a bit more, but they did not, it was/is their choice. When my mother was sick, I left everything in "my world" here in the US, that is my own family, my work, my fledgling business, my home, and spent three months caring for her and my father. Since then, I have looked after my family, the best I way I possibly could with repeated visits and communication. No, I did not carry them on my shoulders, I don't think I needed to. The Indian philosophy on children's duty goes this way - to repay your parents' debt, there are few ways -
if they are uncomfortable, make them comfortable; 
if they are not established in morality, help them get established in morality and virtue; 
if they are not established in sharing and caring, help them to get established in generosity; 
if they are not established in insight and understanding of the world, help them get established in the same.
So, with my father doing this course next week, I feel I will have made my little effort to help him establish in insight. I take the horse to the water, if it drinks or not, it is the horse's choice.

Ready to "open my heart" and let insight come in

Vipassana is about self-observation and learning from that. It is the technique to “see the reality as it is”, and if practiced the right way, it can get us out of misery. All around me I see a lot of misery, people are sad or agitated, or frustrated. There is so much intolerance, anxiety, violence, and fear. We just have to turn on the news and it is full of hyperbole of what is going wrong in the the world, bomb blasts and war. Yes, the common man is also taking vacations to exotic places, babies are being born, there is joy in many aspects, often doused in alcohol and drugs. I may have a very pessimistic view at the moment. And it may be colored by my ability to see the pain in existence. I find most of us constantly trying to hold still in a changing world and finding it difficult. Disease and death is hurting too. As I work with my hospice patients, I notice the pain in the eyes of the caregivers how the anticipation of separation hurts them, and some are just tired fighting the disease.

When I look at my life, and the incessant challenges I had to face especially in the last five years, I feel that Vipassana has been a tremendous tool for me to help me make sense of it all, and often allow me to see various points of view, and grow to accept my life as it is, and not just tolerate it. Last five years have been a constant barrage of storms in my personal life - car accident, sick parents, death, divorce, major surgeries, home buy/sell, moving, building a business, hiring, etc. - and I survived. And this is still a work in progress. That is why I practice, that is why I do two retreats a year, and that is also why I often wish I had the exposure 30 years back and maybe not have to suffer so much. I have had a few people question the value, for they find me more perceptive than I was in the past and hence feel I may be suffering more. But I don't think so. You see, I feel I now have a tool to take temperature as the heat rises and also a pressure relief valve should I need it from time to time. That is good, methinks.

We are all very ancient creatures, with eons of tendencies ingrained in us – the good and the bad. Our cloth is quite dirty, and Vipassana helps us launder it. Leading a life of morality, meditative practice and discipline, with a curious investigative mind that penetrates into insight, I feel, is a good way to live. Hence I practice. Each one of us start at a different place based on our life experiences. The teachers/ assistant teachers at the centers we practice are not enlightened beings, they are normal people like us who have done a few more courses than us. They do not claim to be any different or superior. And they do not have all the answers to the miseries of life, and there is no "guru-dom" going on. What makes this all work for me is that there is no religion involved, that it is pure technique. There is no hypnosis, or any other kind of feel-good mumbo-jumbo. There is no guru, or rituals, or monetary shenanigans, etc. You take the technique and use it in your life the best way you can, depending on the depth of your understanding.

In India, we believe that there are four paths to enlightenment – Karma Yoga, Raj Yoga, Bhakti Yoga, and Jnana Yoga. Every human is suited for/predisposed to one or a mix of these four. No two people are alike because of the different life experiences and tendencies we have. Vipassana is a tool in the Jnana yoga path, just one tool of many. People who are inclined and resonate more with Jnana yoga will find Vipassana helpful, others won’t. So I am not at all surprised that everyone does not get the benefit as I did. Each person should be free to find his/her own path to wisdom, and use the method and means that work best for them.

For some, chanting matras or singing praise of a god or goddess with unlimited love in their heart creates a cleansing situation and their mind becomes pure and beautiful, they attain enlightenment. There have been many saints like that, does not matter which religion/god they follow.
For some, it is selfless service. They let themselves melt away in relentless service for others. They attain a higher state that way. We all can cite a few such examples as well.
For people like me, with an extremely inquisitive and discerning mind, Jnana Yog is the path, because I need insight, I need to understand, I need to experience to believe. I cannot simply trust other people's words, I need experience the wisdom first hand.  Hence Vipassana works for me.
For some people, it is a mix of all the three above, Raj Yoga. That is what the Vedanta Centers all over the world talk about. They urge people to not waste a moment of this precious life and spend every minute in one of the three practices – Karma, Bhakti, or Samadhi (meditation); and because you are busy with spiritual work, there is no way other “stuff” can come into your psyche, so your mind will get cleaned over time and you will attain enlightenment.

Where I am right now, Vipassana works for me. Five/ ten years from now, who knows? I am changing every day. I may have to follow another path later in life. I am very fluid.
So, for people who ask me, all I can say is that – have an open mind.
Vipassana is a technique, it cannot be learned or be understood by reading books or by discussing. One has to do a course, at the very least, a course. It cannot hurt you if you follow it with an open mind. If you go with a judging mind, it will only multiply your doubt, fear, and anxiety and will do no good.

I lead a very intense life, especially at work. And right now I am looking forward to the course, just one more sleep to go when I can let the pressure relief go off! Makes me happy. Very.

Krishno-Koli, my interpretation

কৃষ্ণকলি আমি তারেই বলি,   কালো তারে বলে গাঁয়ের লোক।
মেঘলা দিনে দেখেছিলেম মাঠে   কালো মেঘের কালো হরিণ-চোখ।
ঘোমটা মাথায় ছিল না তার মোটে,   মুক্তবেণী পিঠের 'পরে লোটে।
কালো? তা সে যতই কালো হোক,   দেখেছি তার কালো হরিণ-চোখ।
    
ঘন মেঘে আঁধার হল দেখে   ডাকতেছিল শ্যামল দুটি গাই,
শ্যামা মেয়ে ব্যস্ত ব্যাকুল পদে   কুটির হতে ত্রস্ত এল তাই।
আকাশ-পানে হানি যুগল ভুরু   শুনলে বারেক মেঘের গুরুগুরু।
কালো? তা সে যতই কালো হোক,   দেখেছি তার কালো হরিণ-চোখ।
    
পূবে বাতাস এল হঠাৎ ধেয়ে,   ধানের ক্ষেতে খেলিয়ে গেল ঢেউ।
আলের ধারে দাঁড়িয়েছিলেম একা,   মাঠের মাঝে আর ছিল না কেউ।
আমার পানে দেখলে কি না চেয়ে   আমি জানি আর জানে সেই মেয়ে।
কালো? তা সে যতই কালো হোক,   দেখেছি তার কালো হরিণ-চোখ।
    
এমনি করে কালো কাজল মেঘ   জ্যৈষ্ঠ মাসে আসে ঈশান কোণে।
এমনি করে কালো কোমল ছায়া   আষাঢ় মাসে নামে তমাল-বনে।
এমনি করে শ্রাবণ-রজনীতে   হঠাৎ খুশি ঘনিয়ে আসে চিতে।
কালো? তা সে যতই কালো হোক,   দেখেছি তার কালো হরিণ-চোখ।
    
কৃষ্ণকলি আমি তারেই বলি,   আর যা বলে বলুক অন্য লোক।
দেখেছিলেম ময়নাপাড়ার মাঠে   কালো মেয়ের কালো হরিণ-চোখ।
মাথার 'পরে দেয় নি তুলে বাস,   লজ্জা পাবার পায় নি অবকাশ।
কালো? তা সে যতই কালো হোক,   দেখেছি তার কালো হরিণ-চোখ॥

Ever since I had heard this song, Krishnokoli Aami Taare Boli, when I was a little girl, I had this image in my mind. Finally this morning, I garnered the courage to render it with pastels. I know not what Tagore had seen on that dark and stormy evening, but every time I hear this song my romantic heart feels pulled into the picture he so eloquently draws with words and and every time I fall in love with the black lily of his dreams, the one with doe eyes. Inspired by the vivid description, and the hooked to the mood it creates, I have spent countless hours with the sensation of melancholic love and longing, lost in the imagined world - The east wind creating waves in the full green rice fields, while dark storm clouds are gathering, and we see this beautiful nonchalant young lady, dark and mesmerizing.

This drawing of mine is an interpretation of the following - 

"Pube batas elo hathat dheye, dhaner khete kheliye galo dheu

Aler dhare dariyechilem aka, mather majhe ar chilo na keu
Amar pane dekhle k na cheye, ami jani ar jane sei meye
Kalo? Ta se jatoi kalo hok, dekhechi tar kalo harin chokh"
I translate it as -
A wind suddenly blew from the east, and it created waves on the rice fields. I was just standing by the lane, and there was no one in the fields. She looked at me. Whether she saw me or not, only she knows (and I know too). They call her dark, that might be so, but I saw her dark doe eyes.

KrishnoKoli Ami Taare Boli

Listen to the song here:

We are lucky that he translated the lovely song himself -  

"Her neighbors call her dark in the village - but she is a lily to my heart, yes, a lily though not fair. Light came muffled with clouds, when first I saw her in the field; her head was bare, her veil was off, her braided hair hanging loose on her neck. 

She may be dark as they say in the village, but I have seen her black eyes and am glad. 

The pulse of the air boded storm. She rushed out of the hut, when she heard her dappled cow low in dismay. For a moment she turned her large eyes to the clouds, and felt a stir of the coming rain in the sky. 

I stood at the corner of the rice field, - if she noticed me, it was known only to her (and perhaps I know it). She is dark as the message of shower in summer, dark as the shade of flowering woodland; she is dark as the longing for unknown love in the wistful night of May." ~ KrishnoKoli Ami Taare Boli by Rabindranath Tagore

Of Pandas and Friends with Ladders

This weekend was a treat. I went to Los Angeles to spend time with a new friend. Though she is 30 years older than me and I only met her in February for the first time, I feel that I have known her for lifetimes. She makes me feel safe, loved, and cared for, which is very special. This weekend I spent a whole day touring the museums where she volunteers, thereafter lots of chatting over dinner, followed by a lovely foot massage before calling it a night. And then today was all about waking up late, having a picnic on this magical retreat in the hills of Rancho Palos Verdes, followed by meditation and talks, and authentic home-cooked Korean dinner with her family. She knew exactly how to make me happy, and how little it takes to bring me to tears - a steaming cup of coffee in bed as I am waking up. My heart is filled with immense gratitude, that I have such beautiful people in my life.

On my drive back, I was, as usual, in a reflective mood. Thinking about life and friendships and how everything works. So here are my musings.

Our life is like this video below - we have the job to clean up the den of dried leaves that just keep falling in. It is the nature of such leaves to fall into our lives, and it is our job to clean them up from time to time, so that there is less chaos and less mess. The den does not have to be perfectly clean, but just enough to feel comfortable. And we all have these cute little pandas in our lives that keep adding to the mess. Their messes irritate us, but we also love them too much, so it is okay most of the time. We accept the irritation, and find it funny even.

Jokes aside, let's talk about friendship now.

As we go through life, our path has potholes and as we hit them, our car feels the bump, sometimes a loud one. Every time we hit a pothole, be it a promotion hassle at work, or an unknown charge on the credit card, we get a bit out of alignment. We still keep driving, and then one day we notice that the tires are all worn out. When we go to replace the tires, we also get an alignment. It is good for the car's longevity, we should do that. So, how do you get your's fixed? A yearly vacation, or a big family gathering, or long hiking or biking or running programs maybe; for me it is silent meditation retreats twice a year. 

But in life, have you ever fallen into pits? Here you were, running along the path, and accidentally you fall into a pit. May be you saw it but could not avert it due to your speed, or maybe it was hidden under those dry leaves and you did not see it. Doesn't matter how you fell in, I am sure sometime in your life you have fallen in. Maybe even sprained an ankle. Some pits are shallow, and you limp out and head home with a bad memory. Some pits, however, are deep and dark, and when you fall you get really hurt. You cry in pain. And you also try to figure out ways to get out and often you don't have tools and are so hurt that it is very difficult to climb out by yourself. That is when friends (and family) show up to help. 

I think there are three kinds of helpers. Type 1 are people who come to the edge of the pit and look at the damage. They feel sorry for you, after all they are your friends (and family), they mean well. But they don't do much, they stand on the edge and pontificate - I told you that you will fall in there someday, you did not care to listen to me. You should have been more careful. Being such an intelligent person and so much in control of your life, how did you fall in? And on top of that you also sprained your ankle? What were you thinking? Getting yourself in such a mess is really a shame. You know what you should do? When you get out, you should start getting stronger and also buy a headlight, so that you don't do this silly thing again, ever. You can't let people make such fun of you! Your reputation as a smart person is really in jeopardy here. Now, let me help you. Why don't you try to see if you have a long stick or something down there. Maybe you can cut grooves on the wall and then climb out. You got yourself into this mess, you have to put effort in getting out. This will build character, it will build resilience. By the way, no matter how much it hurts, stop crying, you fool! You need to show the world how strong you are! Get up and do something with your life!

Type 2 are friends who will come to the edge and finding you in pain and distressed will get very genuinely affected. They will stand there, review the situation, and while giving you comforting words and motivating assurances, they will start thinking of a plan of how to get you out. Once they find you are somewhat calmed down, they will leave you and run about to find a ladder. Typically they don't have one about and have to spend a bit of time looking for one. But they will find it for sure. They will carry it to the pit and lower it down to you. Then, they will encourage you to slowly make your way up, one rung at a time. From the edge of the pit, sometimes lying flat on the ground, they will keep giving you words of reassurance, so that you gain the mental strength to get up, in spite of the pain in your ankle, to get on the ladder, using the last bit of strength you have. Once you are up on the surface, they will get you to the doctor, and look after you as you heal. 

Type 3 friends are very adept. When they find you in the pit, they will in a split second realize the seriousness of the issue. They too will sit by the edge and reassure you, but they have the ladder right nearby in their garage, ready for such situations, and a first-aid kit too. So, they will run home and within a minute be back with the first-aid box and the ladder, lower it down the pit and climb down to you. Then, at the bottom, they will bandage your wound, for they know exactly how bad it is, and then after making you a bit peaceful and secure, they will gently urge you to start climbing. They will not carry you on their shoulders, for there is a danger of both of you falling back into the pit, so you will have to do the climbing by yourself. However, they will be right behind you, with their words of encouragement and assurance, making you believe that you are worth the effort, building your confidence that you can indeed make it up the ladder to safety.

What kind of friends and family do you have? And how many of each kind? If you are lucky, you probably have quite a few Type 2 friends. Type 1 are not bad, but the problem is that they are so restricted in their view (and wisdom) that they don't know what is appropriate. In their heart, they really want you to be better. But their world view is monochromatic and dominated by their own color. It is just how they are, not developed in compassion. Type 3, on the other hand, are very rare. They are very special. It is because they have experiential wisdom. They have been there before, they have fallen in the pit before, probably many times, and know very well how deep it is and how dark. They also know how hurt you can get having fallen in there themselves. And because they somehow survived, they know how to get out, and out of immense compassion in their hearts, they keep the tools ready. But such people are rare, there are not too many out there. To have been through the pain and experienced it, is hard, a very difficult growth process, and not everyone who faces it survives either. They did not just read about the pain and the pit in big fat books, they have been there; they know what the first aid is and keep the ladder ready for such rescue missions.

If you have a handful of Type 2 friends, and are lucky to have even one Type 3, consider yourself very fortunate. You will be able to run through life and not have to be scared. By the way, do not expect Type 3 behavior from your Type 2 friends, they will not be able to get down in the pit. They are scared, they have not fallen there enough times to build resilience. They are afraid that they do not have the strength to go down there and then get up again. It is okay. They are still your friend, they brought you the ladder, and encouraged you to climb up. It is good enough. Be very thankful!

It is also very good if we can also reflect on how we are when our friends have fallen in the pit. Are we Type 1, Type 2, or Type 3?

The last five years, since 2011, my life has thrown me in one pit after another. For five years, each year has been a new life-wrecking crisis. When 2016 came along, I just sat down and said to myself - will I be able to take another year like the last five? I don't think I have any bone left unbroken, I am so tired! At times I have felt I am like a trapeze artist, barely hanging from the ropes of life, and a deep dark scary abyss below, no safety net of any kind to break the fall, just darkness. And I hung on, as tightly I could, to survive, while being in extreme pain. But then, on days like this, when I am showered with so much love and care, when I am made feel worthy of attention and affection, I thank my stars and the powers that be, I feel I am very blessed with few Type 2s in my life. They have held my hand through the trauma, spoken words of encouragement, put the ladder down into my deep dark pits over and over again, and helped me resurface each year. Yes, my life is not perfectly clean, there is still a mess of dry leaves here, there and everywhere. I will never be able to get it all sparkly clean, and I don't care. Life is too short and precious to spend all the time cleaning, I want to play with the pandas too!!

A Glass of Water

I have heard scores of talks by Ajahn Brahm over the last two years. In a few of them he talks about "A Glass of Water", referring to how people hold on to stress and why they need to learn the art of pause. While I understand it intellectually and it also seeped into my consciousness over time, I have not been able to effectively practise pause. Then, this Sunday, on my four hour walk on the beautiful Torrey Pines beach, I had my own aha-moment. Such realizations are very personal, and I am not sure if I can effectively put in words, but I'll try. I know these essays are extremely intimate and raw, and sometimes it brings about strong emotions in people. I am very sorry. I write for two reasons - one, to express and share the development of my understanding of how the world works, just maybe someone else may benefit; and two, it seems that there are a small group of people who seem to wait for these essays, which I find very odd but I oblige anyway.

Through the mist, where the land, sea, and air meet, there is an understanding that penetrates

When we hold up a glass of water for five to ten seconds, it is fine. It does not hurt, it is just fine. If we try holding it for more than two minutes, the arm starts to hurt, we need to prop it up with the other hand for support. If we try holding it for more than five minutes, even with both arms, it starts to hurt. Try holding it up for over fifteen minutes, and someone will have to call the medics! And you will be named a raving mad person to have tried to do so, fit for the asylum. But, in reality, many of us do this all the time - hold the tasks we need to do and relentlessly keep doing non-stop, without a breather or rest - and it makes us sick, stressed, tired, and creates a lot of issues - emotional and physical. So, we should put down the glass from time to time, let the arm heal, gain its strength back, and then lift the glass again. The glass is going nowhere!!

"Holding a glass of water" analogy is kind of accurate in a little different sense for me. When I told a new friend about my childhood and adult life and the struggles, she said - "Soma, it seems like you were carrying the world on your shoulders like Atlas. You know you did not need to do that!!" That is right! I did not need to do that. I could have chosen not to even lift up the world, to refuse, to walk away. But I did not. And for forty years, I carried it on my shoulders, bent over and tired. When I look back, I feel very stupid, very ignorant, and very naive. I had complete and total disregard for my own well-being and it was pathological neglect of self. We can go into deep analysis of why it was so - there was this desire to be acknowledged by the people I loved who withheld love as a means to get what they wanted, then there was this intense need for affirmation coupled with having low self-worth, and the list is long. All these years I thought that "there is something wrong with me, I need to fix it". And as a result, I have been leading a very intense life. To the outside world, I seem to have done quite well. For example, I came to the US with only $800 and two suitcases, and today I am quite okay financially. I have lived in four continents, and move 21 times in my lifetime. By my mid thirties, I was capable of leading a $300+ million program of works with five teams working round the clock in four continents, and I played it like an expert orchestra conductor and I thrived on it. Today I run a growing engineering consulting business that has its own challenges. Even my hobbies, i.e. cooking, I do remarkably well because I am passionate about it. I used throw parties that had expertly crafted near-perfect entrees that my guests said gave them "foodgasms"! Yet, I have this strong inner judge that was invisible to everyone but myself - and she is merciless, relentless, driving me to exhaustion, anxiousness, and depression. This feeling of being not okay goes in perfect stride with deep loneliness. No matter if I am with family or friends or in the middle of a big conference of my professional world, deep inside I feel that I do not belong. There has been this deep undercurrent of personal deficiency. That is the glass of water that I have been holding up for all these years.

Last five years have been very difficult, I went through a series of shockers, one almost every year. First I had a near death experience in a car crash; then my mother passed away after a short painful battle with cancer that I witnessed from her bedside everyday for three months; then came the realization that my marriage had been indeed failing for decades but I was not prepared to let go, and which eventually led to our divorce after an anguished and frantic struggle; and with that came a cancer scare from a large watermelon sized tumor in my uterus which led to two major surgeries. It was hard, it was intense. But then, it was like this for almost all my life, really. When circumstances did not create hurdles that required Herculean effort, I created them for myself. For example, in late 2005, my immune system broke down and I was going blind as my eyes were being "rejected" by my body. After managing to baffle five top doctors in North Carolina, it was decided that I be put on strong immune suppressant drugs, like the ones they give to kidney transplant patients, with the hope that it will work. And what did I do? I trained and ran the Chicago Marathon in 2006, just to prove to myself that I can beat everything that comes my way. Yes, it might seem a commendable achievement to run a marathon while being sick, but truly, it was not required. It was as if I have been living in a trance, enveloped by this toxic gas that was constantly wanting me to strive for more as the status-quo was never good enough, and despising myself for not trying harder every time. And while I was striving hard, a part of me wanted to put the glass down. I watched others doing it, and envied them, wishing I could do the same. But I dared not. What will happen if I put the glass down? I didn't know. I didn't want to find out. It was scary. I feared the silence, the quietness. What will I do with all this energy? For me putting the glass down meant losing control. What if I do not have control on my life? Then there was this thick layer of self-imposed responsibility - to make my parents happy, to make my husband happy. I told myself the same story over and over again, that thought process kept conditioning me. If I become an engineer, my parents will be happy. If I came to the US, my parents will be proud. If I got a job, I could buy my husband all the cool gadgets and cars he likes, and afford for him the lifestyle he so desires. If I stay in my jobs I'll secure the green card, and my husband's career will take off. And on and on it went. I lived for the next thing that was just outside my reach and strove towards it with all my might, with the relentless effort I was so very capable of. I lived to make others happy, and too scared to allow myself or my needs to even surface. I had suppressed my desires so much that I didn't even know what they are or could be.

Today on long walks on the beach, I reflect. I see the futility of the incessant running without a break. I realize how important taking a break is. To rest. But how does one do it? I did not know how to rest!! I never stopped to find out! Even when sitting still, my mind is running million miles an hour - into the past and into the future, it can't seem to pause, it is afraid of pausing. The conditioning since childhood is strong, very strong. I have been swimming against the current all my life, letting go and letting the current take me along is very hard. To rest, to put the glass down, and tell myself that it is okay, is not easy at all. My mind is still addicted to the speed - what next hurdle to cross, what next mountain to climb, how to draw the better picture, more colors, more vibrant, etc. While my body is also so used to being exhausted, wading through molasses, it does not know how to rest either. Restlessness comes up like a bed of a thousand scorpions.

That is why I am learning to meditate. That is why I go to "self induced prison" twice a year, ten days of Vipassana boot-camp. To sit quiet for almost twelve hours a day, with no speech, no interaction, complete shut down of all external stimulation except the bare minimum that is required to live, and focus all my attention internally. I watch what is arising, and I slowly train my mind not to get scared, to feel comfortable and at peace with every sensation that arises. Learn to see the fine line between tolerance and acceptance. In meditation, I have seen extremes come up from deep inside - sadness, grief, passion, lust, restlessness, bliss, ecstasy,  jealousy, desire, greed, envy, pride, tiredness, pain, fatigue, the list is long. I have so much bundled inside! We all do. Who needs entertainment from outside?! Look within, and it is better than any soap opera/reality tv show you can ever imagine or any sports arena or exotic vacation or race! You only have to learn to pause and watch as it plays out. This has been the most fascinating journey of my life thus far, and I know I have barely scratched the surface - it is to learn to watch my mind, to see the epics it spins. When a deep rooted sensation pops up, I can now sometimes watch my mind pick it up and create an avalanche, complete with a palpable juicy story-line that is so very irresistible. My extremely logical and analytical brain finds the story and its arguments so convincing that it builds even bigger mountains of it, and together we roll in it for hours, sometimes days and weeks; and then one day it pops. Woof! Gone. I get up and start again.

I got exposed to this technique in 2010, but my understanding and appreciation of the benefits of this practise did not hit home till about 2014 when I was in the thoes of personal loss, and since then I am learning this skill, at snail pace. It is not a pursuit of bliss, not even make-believe resting like a vacation, this is "real" resting. Learning to let go, put the glass down, effectively, allow everything to stop and learn to be comfortable with it. And over these years, my awareness has grown quite a bit, my equanimity is developing too, very slowly. On the cushion, or off the cushion, the clarity is developing and it is really a treat to watch the change. Mindfulness is developing too. It is like deep scrubbing, it hurts, but it peels off and new supple cells come up, fresh and young.

And to all this, one wise friend said - "Why hold up the glass of water, silly! Drink it!"

My Sketchbook of Life

Every year I go on retreats. I realized few years back that if I do not forcefully separate myself from the daily life, I cannot truly relax and reflect. Owning a small business, I often work 12 to 16 hour days and also on weekends. So to take a break that I truly deserve, I usually do a ten-day silent meditation retreat couple times a year, and then squeeze in few three-day retreats in between to decompress and get my footing in the present moment. This month instead of a silent retreat, I went to serve on a Pali workshop where I cooked to my heart's content for the students. It was a great experience, I got to live in a luxurious ranch in Temecula, cook in a very modern and efficient kitchen, had couple helpers slicing, dicing, washing and cleaning after me, and most importantly, I was surrounded by kind, generous, and loving people who genuinely cared for me and everyone around me. It was a soothing balm for my heart and soul. I met some very wise women, we talked a lot, about life and everything else, and I also had quite a bit of time to reflect.

My Sketchbook Of Life

My life thus far can be divided distinctly into two phases, each lasting about twenty years. For the first twenty years, it was a very rigid discipline with no room for improvisation. I grew all right, because you cannot stop growth, but it was within very strict restrictive boundaries. There were no gaps what so ever. Ever seen a square watermelon? The next twenty years were different, yet same in many ways. When an elephant is shackled for most of its childhood, it grows up to believe that it cannot break the chain. That was kind of my case too, I was molded in a specific form and I did not know any different even when I had the opportunity. This is very hard for people to understand, so during this little time-off last week, I thought of an analogy. 

When we are little, we have often worked with sketchbooks. These come with pre-drawn pictures with color codes; 1= red, 2=blue, 3=green, etc. Kids are asked to color within the lines using the key, as precisely as possible. I too was given this sketchbook and box of colors. The sketchbook came from my environment - my family, my school, my culture, my society, etc., each drawing a picture of what is expected of me. And the box of colors, I might say, was my inherent talent and qualities, the specialties I was born with. They come in various colors indeed, there is anger, there is love, there is perseverance, there is effort, there is frustration, there is excitement; the list is long and varied. Each color has many shades too. In those first twenty years, however, the sketchbook was very rigid with specific scenarios drawn in each page with thick black lines. There was no allowance for experimentation. Everything was prescribed and not subject to change or negotiation - my career, my role as daughter/sister/student, my friends, my daily routine. Not only was the picture pre-drawn with clear dark lines, the intensity of the color in each space was also specified with a number. Each page was a year in my life, distinctly pre-configured. My only task was to read the legend and follow the rules, color within the lines and to the specified intensity. No trying out different colors other than listed, no mixing of colors allowed, not even accidental bleeding of color outside the lines. Any transgression from the rules had serious consequences - both physical and emotional, with plenty of tears in its wake. So over time, I learned not to rebel or go astray, mostly because of self preservation. It was too painful to flex a color that was not in the schedule. And because I did the same thing over and over, following the instructions so well, my sketchbook was really pretty. It showed exactly the picture as it was intended, perfect hues, no mistakes. Towards the end of the first twenty years, I started to see the beauty in the perfection, and slowly developed a resigned appreciation of the situation. Everyone admired the perfect pictures in my sketchbook, so it must be worth something. I wanted to test out a little, but the skill and training was in coloring to the key, so there was little confidence or courage to do anything else than the prescription. And I also learned to successfully suppress any such desire to experiment as well.

In the next twenty years, my sketchbook had pre-drawn pictures as before too. But I had somewhat of a choice in selecting that sketchbook - it had the pictures I thought I wanted. A beautiful home with a garden on an island with happy birds flying over it, a conference room with important people making important decisions, a relaxing bench on a hill overlooking the cityscape, wilderbeast migrating on the Serengeti, an elaborate feast set on the dining table, and so on. The drawings were beautiful, intricate, and very well defined with dark lines and fine lines.There was no color key, I could use any of the colors I wanted. There was no one there to monitor the intensity of the colors, that I was free to choose the shades and apply them to the intensity I desired! And I was ignorantly happy. I thought that this sketchbook was totally original, just because I could color it the way I wanted. Never mind that it was pre-drawn, I was just happy about that little freedom I had to choose the colors. And I had plenty of practice coloring and doing it right, so I did well. I colored with all my might, with all my passion, such that every picture was big and vibrant. Every line was clear and visible, every color was intense and bright. Anyone who would have to review the sketchbook would admire the perfect job I did, not a color gone astray, not a smudge anywhere, everything within lines, just as it should be. And there was a lot of praise on how good I was in choosing the right color for each box in the picture. There were many pats on my back and words of commendation. It did make me feel very accomplished and successful.

Today I stand at the edge of the next twenty years. And circumstances are such that this time the sketchbook has no pre-drawn pictures. It is blank, with clean white pages. There is not even an impression from the last forty years that remain on this sketchbook. It sits on my lap, pristine and clear. As I look at my color box, due to the heavy upheaval and intense agitation in the last five years in particular, many colors are bruised. They have been used with great vigor in the last two books, so some are spent. Some of the colors have gotten mixed up with the others and have lost their purity, they are smudged. Some colors are broken into bits, some are blunt and don't have their sharp edges anymore. They are all mingled in the box and no longer aligned clearly in neat rows segregated by their hues as they used to. But the box is still mine, and they are still my colors. I can take a neat cloth and clean them up. I can spend the time to align them according to their grades, should I choose to do so. All that is not hard, it will take time to do, but it is not impossible and can be done. Whatever is left, long or short, dark or light, the colors can be sorted and cleaned up. What is daunting for me is the blank sketchbook. I am being told that I can draw anything I wish, it does not matter what the drawing is, and I can go crazy with the sketches. There is no right or wrong way, or even a right or wrong picture. Each picture I draw will be just fine, as it is. There will be no one checking for proportions or content or match. I can draw a little house in Tasmania, or the Torrey Pines seascape, or a stadium full of people cheering. It is my choice. And, as I sit here with the blank book on my lap, I am not sure what my pencil will sketch. I am scared, apprehensive, not confident, and somewhat clueless. For forty years I have lived with this intense training to color within the lines, to mold to the pre-drawn pictures and do so with perfection; and now when faced with a blank page I am feeling as if I have been pushed onto the stage to get up and speak and all the bright light is on me and the eyes of the audience too, and I don't know what to do! My improv training tells me to just stand up an say the first thing that comes to mind, trust my "gut" and it will weave a new story-line. There is no expectation to worry about, no voice to listen to but my own. But there is doubt, and there is fear. There are ideas breezing through my head, yet it is also very blank. What do I want to draw? What do I have to say?

Our collective existence

This morning at about 1:06AM my bed shook, pictures rattled. There was a 5.2 earthquake in Borrego Springs, some 90 miles away. It was a shallow quake and the waves took a whole minute to arrive. The rattling came first, then came the rolling waves. We lay in our beds and felt the earth and our world shake and roll. Then we all got on social media and chatted for a while about the quake. It was funny, we southern California residents are used to such shakes, we constantly hear "The Big One" is coming, so each minor quake we go through, we joke about it.

When the quake came, I was sleeping. And in my sleep I dreamed that my Ozzie was just doing his body shake before he got down from the bed to drink water, which he often does in the middle of the night. Ozzie and I share a pillow and read together before sleeping. My other baby, Freo, nestles at my belly. He doesn't move all night, and sleeps in perfect button formation, like a warm pillow for my tummy. Having these two by me at night is a great pleasure. But I don't have that privilege every night. They live with my ex, and when he's out of town, they come to stay with me. I love having them over, and absorb the happiness with my heart's content. Lately, I had them for two long weeks and was just getting used to having them around when they went back. Which is fine! So when the earthquake hit, my first thought was of Ozzie, even before I was awake and realized that it was an earthquake. Then, after it was over, I texted their dad asking how they fared during the "event". So you see I am very attached to them. I have motherly instincts towards them, a very strong bond. Yes, they are dogs and technically they might not qualify for the human motherly affection I bestow on them, and in the eyes of some of my friends and family, I might be going overboard loving them so much. And I often wonder, if I had human kids, would I have felt anything more for them? I don't know. I will never have any, so I will never know. But isn't it all about how much we let our heart to get attached to a thing, or person or, as in this case, couple dogs? I really do not know.

Ozzie and me, at bedtime, reading...

The earthquake did wake me up in the middle of the night, but it did not shake me. I thought about my babies, and then went back to sleep. What shook me this morning was this video (see below), which I watched early morning at work while sipping coffee. I sat there just stunned for a while.
Will I feel like this lady, who held her son's corpse and walked around not accepting that he is dead. Will I mourn like these two brothers? In their case it is very harsh. They were playing, innocently, when the bomb dropped. It was not supposed to happen. But it did. It was sudden and shocking. It is impossible for me to fathom the abrupt change in their life - one moment they were playing and the next moment their brother is wounded and then dies. I am yet to experience the loss of a child. I know very well that my Ozzie and Freo will die. And in all probability, I will be alive then and I will have to hold them in my arms, dying or dead. It will be hard. I have seen few of my friends go through that pain. I will face that too. One day.

But after watching this video, we start thinking, did that little boy have to die? Why? What did he do? Where is justice? The two brothers might just get so shocked by this incident that they might pick up arms and blow themselves up in a few years? Can we blame them then? Where is the end to this? Who is doing this? Why don't we stop?
But you know what, we will not stop. For this violence is not new. Ever since we have walked this planet, we have been killing each other. The vices are not in a particular group, righteous or otherwise, it is in each of us. On one hand, we form a human chain to save a dog from drowning in a canal, and on the other hand we drop a bomb on a little kid. The good and the bad sits right side by side in our heart, and we all are responsible for them to flare up. And we have done both for the eons we have lived and walked on this earth, and will keep doing so. Each generation's actions is a bit different but their quality remains the same. Whether we kill by swords and arrows or by gas and gunpowder, does it make a difference? We have killed before and we will do so again. Today it is Syria and Nigeria, yesterday it was native Americans and Aboriginals, and tomorrow we will find another reason and another group of people to kill.

This particular video reminded me of the stories my mother told me of the Partition of India. When the British left in the late 40s, they split the Indian subcontinent into three pieces and till this day we are suffering the consequences; almost similar to Israel and Palestine. My grandparents had to leave a very prosperous business and family home back in East Pakistan (now Bangladesh). They traveled to India, just as the Syrian refugees are doing today, with not even a box full of clothes. In the fear of young girls being abducted and raped, these people had their daughters packed as goods in trunks as they crossed the borders. At border crossings, there were gangs of mad people who were thirsty for blood and would butcher entire caravans at one go. These killers and the killed spoke the same language, and may have been very happy neighbors once. In peaceful times, they would have joined hands and saved a dog from drowning. But not when anger and revenge took over their brains. They became ruthless killers. Trains came from Pakistan to India with every passenger killed, butchered, the trains bathed in blood. And when trains left India for Pakistan, the relatives of the passengers from the butchered train, would in turn kill the ones that were leaving. This went on and on for weeks and months. Was that any different from what is happening in Israel and Palestine today, or in Iraq, or in Syria, or in Lebanon, Paris, Nigeria, and everywhere else in the world?

I am not pessimistic. I am just trying to see the truth as it is, that this tendency to be violent exists in each of us. And we do not have control on our hearts and mind as much as we think we do. I am only just getting to realize that the only way out of this is self realization. I cannot change the world, all I can do is make sure that best to my ability I do not mess it up any more. Will there be a better future where we do not kill others anymore, I don't know. I really can't say that there will be. I don't even hope for it. There was rape, incest, homicide, prejudice, incarceration, and all such actions - physical and emotional - in the past for millennia, and I don't think it will change. The wrapper will change with every generation and it will evolve into a new form. As long as hated, anger, lust, craving, fear, anxiety, jealousy, etc. exist in the human condition, we will be committing these actions. This is how it is, the brutal reality.

And in the midst of it all, I also have the obnoxiously smelly licks from Freo and Ozzie, the wag of their tails, the excitement in their eyes when they see me, the nudge from their wet noses, and the warmth of their body against mine. I take that in as a brutal reality too. Residing side by side with the vices. Here I have compassion, patience, kindness, wish for others' well being, sympathetic joy with others' successes, caring, etc. It is also an equal part of the human condition as I have come to realize and recognize.

So, I don't hope for anything anymore, or at least practice not to. Much to the agony of several of my friends, I have a note on my refrigerator "ABANDON HOPE", that constantly reminds me of the reality as it is. If there is joy at this moment, it is just so, not good, not bad, just so. And if there is anger in this moment, even righteous anger, it is also just so, not good, not bad, just as it is. They exist side by side in reality. These days I train myself to look at fear and hope in the same vein, both have the same expectation. Fear anticipates a negative outcome in the future, and hope anticipates a positive outcome. Both are not happy with the present. If I have to be at peace, the only way is to abandon both - fear and hope. In our society, we are trained and applauded to be brave, to conquer fear. And we are taught to hope, because we are told that the present is not good enough and something has to be better than this. Why? Why should we live in dissatisfaction? And when that good time comes, one that we are hoping for, it does not last, we spend all that "good" time fearing for the bad time that will soon be upon us. What good is that? This constant pendulum of hope and fear? Since fear and hope are inseparable, I cannot let go of fear and hold on to hope. This is my understanding at the moment. I have had a lot of practice over coming fear, life gave me that opportunity and I am grateful, I am strong and brave, they say. Hence, my practice these days is to abandon hope!!

Friendship

Friendship

You come to me, You say you need me

You cry for me, You say you can't live without me

I see the intensity in your eyes

I see you sizzle with passion

I see the wanton desire

I see the careless craving

You want to move mountains

You want to build castles

You want to clear the seas

You want to lay the roads

All that, you implore, is to make me the Queen

It feels great to be loved,

To be cherished and cared for

But, my love, my friend, in life there is more

You can share my essence

But you can't have it all

For it is not yours to take

Just as it is not mine to give

Let me tell you this little life secret

Today I am the space between your words,

Tomorrow you will get busy,

and I'll become the comma in your sentences,

Though few in number, maybe you'll pause longer

That day is not too far, we both know deep inside,

there will be a time for the full stop.

Mindfulness

There is a lot of talk these days about mindfulness. There are many books and school/college courses being dedicated to this theme, and it is becoming a marketable product from the East, like yoga, and gaining many western flavors along the way. Being of Indian decent and that I practice meditation, I have so many people asking me about it these days. So I thought I will write my perspectives down.

First off, I will say that this is what I feel today, given my limited understanding of the concept. Tomorrow I will have changed and this perspective will have evolved into something different.

I am a traditionalist, at least to the extent possible to be one in this modern world. I think that mindfulness in its true form can only happen by training the mind with meditation. Hence, I will recommend that one does meditation (especially Samatha and/or Vipassana meditation), two hours a day, one hour in the morning before the day begins and the other in the evening when the day ends. These bookend meditations are to train and clean the mind. At the beginning of the day, when we meditate, we bring the mind to stillness and to the deep understanding of the impermanence of everything around us. It clears the canvas of the mind and makes it sharp and focused on whatever we have to accomplish during the day. It helps us keep calm and grounded throughout the day. Then, at the end of the day, when we sit in meditation again, it helps launder all the creases and dirt we have collected over the days' work. It helps us connect with self again. An evening meditation usually yields a very peaceful sleep, even if it is short sometimes. This has been my experience.

Most people say that they do not have time to do two full hours of meditation, they want the short "to-go" version. You see, if you do the two hours a day practice, the "to-go" version comes naturally, it is buy-two-get-the-rest-of-the-day-free. But what to do, people only want the "momentary mindfulness" version. So, here is what I think may work:

The Foundation. To develop do mindfulness as a practice there are three essential qualities one needs to have in oneself: (a) Morality, (b) Generosity, and (c) Letting go. These qualities we usually preach, but find very hard to practice. But it is essential to start recognizing them as qualities to develop, then gradually find ways to work them into your life. Morality is defined as thinking and doing the right thing, according to the conscience deep inside. It knows, and you know it knows. We just have to develop the courage to listen to it and then follow the compass. Generosity is to  understand that there is nothing to lose in this world and therefore offer help, be kind with your material wealth and more importantly with your emotions. Letting go is to constantly be aware of what you really need, and gently dissociating from everything that is excess. Development of these qualities are not zero and one, it takes time and patience. But these qualities are very important for true mindfulness to develop.

Mindfulness, the practice

How To. Mindfulness is nothing but paying attention to self. Full attention, unbiased. Usually we are so preoccupied during our daily routines and chores, that even during our sleep we have dreams of everything that we have done or will do soon. Mindfulness cuts through this careless and compulsive tendencies and helps open the mind. That we all understand, but what we do find difficult is to figure out what "unbiased" means. This is looking without judgement. That is something we have to work on.

Find gaps in your day. Ten second intervals. When the alarm rings, and you are in bed, lie there awake. 10 seconds. During your morning routine, again find 10 seconds. Before breakfast / coffee, 10 seconds. When you get in the car. Wait, 10 seconds. Stuck in traffic, 10 seconds. Turn on computer at work, sit for 10 seconds. Waiting in line, 10 seconds. Like that, catch yourself in "gaps" 10 seconds at a time. This is STEP ONE. Just to get in the habit of catching yourself, 10 seconds at a time. See if you can do this 20 times a day. It will be great just to be able to catch yourself in the "gaps".

In these "gaps", start looking at yourself. Where are you? Bring your attention to the six senses - touch, smell, taste, sight, sound, mind. Feel your body from head to toe and sense the touch of the ground, fabric, air, etc. on your skin. Notice the pattern of your breath - shallow or deep, fast or slow. Where is your tongue in your mouth? What is the brightness around you - very dark or very sunny? What are the sounds around - loud ones, soft buzz, etc.? How is your mind - excited, depressed, eager, etc.? Remember, just be an observer for 10 seconds, as if you are outside your self and seeing passively. There is no judgement - not what it should be or what it is not. Just see what it is, at the moment, in real time. Take a reading, that is all. Nothing more. Nothing less. Ten seconds is not too long. By the time you have asked these questions and taken a reading, you have to move on with whatever you were doing. So, become the doer again. This is STEP TWO. It takes time to develop this faculty of observer. Spend time on it. No judgement, just looking. There is no good or bad, no looking into the future.  Just pause and see. Take a selfie!!

Once you get good at taking these pauses, and looking at the as-is state, you then add a little time, say additional three to five seconds to the pause, and ask about feelings. This is a bit more involved than just observing the state of mind (as described in Step 2), for here we reflect on the cause-effect, though still maintaining a nonjudgmental mind. What happens here is that you catch the flow of the mind, and observe the next level, its tendencies. This is where many people say that they have mini-aha moments. For example, you are sitting in traffic on the freeway, and you remember Step 1, and take 10 seconds out. In Step 2 you find that your butt is touching the car seat, the back is slightly bent, your breath is fast and shallow, your skin is flushed and warm, your tongue is pressed against the teeth, and your mind is impatient. What happens is that you suddenly realize that you are in the flow of anger developing. You start noticing the mood. And you find yourself having a momentary choice, following that mood to a full blown bristle, or suppressing it, or advising it. And at that moment, as you develop this faculty to observe the mood, you will notice that you can do something about it. In this STEP THREE, we are actually gauging the intensity of the feelings as they arise. Again, as an observer, like a scientist with a pen and clipboard, you objectively give a value - anger is arising, it is at level 2 out of 10; or, lust is arising, it is at level 6 out of 10. Then, with your mind, gently advise, not scold or encourage, gently advise the feeling that has arisen - "Be careful, be patient, this is a passing phase." That is all. Do this VERY gently. And if the feelings do not listen, it is okay. Go do what you are doing, do not stop. Over time, this practice will work wonders. It takes a lot of time, years and even an entire lifetime to work this out. But this is the real stress-buster. The real deal!

Word of caution, there is a tendency to skip the Step 2 practice and go directly to Step 3. DO NOT do this. Step 2 is the most important step, if you do not develop this faculty of choice-less observation of sensations in the moment, this whole mindfulness exercise will be useless.

That's it. This is all there is to mindfulness. As you practice and practice, it becomes a second nature. Life becomes easy and less stressful by the day. When the day ends, your body is tired, but your mind will be still strong and fast. There is no one checking your progress, you are your own trainer and master. You practice you get benefit. There is no magic. Practice skillfully. Also remember, you are not a robot, you cannot be perfect all the time. So be kind to yourself.

These days we give a lot of importance to health, we try to eat right and exercise to stay fit. We monitor everything we eat, how many steps we walked, etc. Are we getting healthier? If we do it diligently, we know we will. And results will speak for themselves. Personally, I am quite behind on this health bit. I am currently 30 pounds overweight, I know it. I do not track my intake and I do not workout enough either. I have started wearing a step-tracker and I am trying to get 10,000 steps a day, but some days I can and some days I slip. I am not perfect, far from it. But one thing I will say, I do not beat myself up for it anymore. I am kind and gentle to myself these days, much more than I used to be five years back. As for mental health, through meditation, I am very vigilant about it. I believe that if I can get my mind fit and clean, everything else will follow. Mind will automatically train my body, eventually. So, I spend a lot of effort in training my mind, and I cannot even begin to say how much benefit I get from this practice everyday. I notice myself changing everyday, and it is a delight to be able to observe that. My patience has improved, I can handle/ lift more each day. Resilience has significantly improved. I am like these roly-poly toys with low center of gravity, the forces of life blow and punch me flat, but I stand up again. I bounce back faster these days. Has my life become a calm still pool, not yet. But I seem to have developed enough mindfulness to see the ripples and it feels great. I have long ways to go to have the perfectly still mind, probably lifetimes. But the peace and calm will be benefits I reap in this lifetime. And this journey sure is fun!

Learning to Live Anew

I started my fifth decade this past week. It was my birthday, the 40th. I am feeling overwhelmed by the online messages, texts, and phone calls; and they are still pouring in. There is so much love coming my way. I had not expected this much affection. It has been truly unbelievable! I feel very lucky right now. Thank you so much!!

No, I had not done anything special. Some people throw big parties, or jump out of airplanes, or go on exotic vacations, etc. Honestly, I didn't really care, it felt like just another day for me. So after a full day (which is like 12 hours these days) of work, I bought some Chinese take-out from my favorite restaurant in the neighborhood, snuggled up with with my babies on the couch, and watched some silly movie on Netflix that I do not even remember now. It was really good. Just another day, well lived. And if there is anyone out there that really has the magic powers to grant wishes, I would wish that the rest of my days go just like this - satisfied and peaceful.

As usual, all this milestone talk puts me in a very reflective mood. Today I feel there is still a lot of learning  left to do. And top on that list is developing my ability to accept love. I find it very hard to do. It is a strange thing. On one hand, I crave for love and affection, and have been doing so since I was a little girl. I am a sucker for romantic movies, and poems, and feelings. Love - that sensation of softness in the heart when when you care deeply for another. I see that in the eyes of a father, then he observes his daughter singing in her sweet voice "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star". It does not matter if she does not get the words right or the tune, the eyes of the father is moist, there is pure joy in his heart, and nothing else in that moment. That beautiful feeling exists all around us, we just have to learn to connect to it. And this week I have not thought of anything else but that I need to learn to accept love.

Let me give you an example. Couple Sundays back, it was raining in San Diego. I decided to walk to my morning meditation venue, which is two miles away. So armed with an umbrella I started on my way. It was a fantastic walk, the drizzle did not feel cold, the shops were starting to open, smell of coffee all about, the air was clean and clear, the music on my phone played the old Bollywood rain songs. It was fabulous! Now, on reaching the venue, I left my sneakers out on the steps as I entered the meditation room, and an hour later when I got out, they were soaking wet. As I stood there contemplating the sloshy two-mile walk home in them, the mother of the friend whose house we have these gatherings, saw me and started insisting that I wear her shoes. She pulled me inside the house and put four pairs in front of me, and vehemently insisted that I take a pair for good. I felt very embarrassed, and for almost ten long minutes kept saying no. Then, something in me stirred, what would I have done in her place? I would have offered the same without a second thought, wouldn't I? So why am I refusing her kindness and love? I should allow her that satisfaction to have helped someone. By not accepting the gift, I am, in a way, disrespecting her affection! So, I accepted with overwhelming gratitude in my heart. And the walk back home in the rain boots was fabulous too! I felt good, this time being not on the donor side, but on the receiving side, my heart was soft and full of joy, having felt the moment of love.

Why is this such a big deal for me? It is very strange indeed. You see, all my life, for one reason or the other I have been on the forefront, at the edge, always taking charge of a situation, fixing what needs to be fixed, taking care of whatever needed to be taken care of. Not only have I been independent, like being able to tie my shoelaces since I was two years old, I have been mothering and nurturing most people around me - at home, with friends, at work, everywhere. Deep inside I have wanted to be at the receiving end of affection and care, but there was never an opportunity or maybe I never allowed an opportunity to present itself. For example, I can't remember a single time in my 23-year relationship with my ex that he ever opened a door for me. I was so independent (or feminist, or egotist, whatever you call it) that I used to walk straight up to the door, and open it for him!

The Singing Butler - Jack Vettriano

The Singing Butler by Jack Vettriano used to be my favorite painting. It was emblematic of my adult life. I was leading the dance of life, and often against the grain of society, and in inclement weather. No matter what, I felt I had to take the charge. In a way because I was impatient and restless, and also because I put so much emphasis on high quality that I had to do it myself to get it right. A part of me did not want to trouble other people for my convenience. And a part of me used to be afraid that there will be no one to do it if I did not get it done. I wanted to make the world most comfortable and cozy for everyone, doing do gave meaning to my life. So, I took charge in every situation and pressed on, and I did very good, usually excelled. But I also felt the burden of being always at the front-lines. I got beat up and tired, I felt that there was no respite. Secretly inside I wished I could just rest, may be someone else will take charge and lead the dance for a change.

The funny thing is that Bansky just did a take on my favorite painting. I love it !! As I cross this milestone of a birthday, I am having an intense "Aha!" moment. Bansky's interpretation is such a true representation of what I feel right now. All that is out there is, and has always been, hazardous waste spilling out of some wreck or another. Even though it needs to be cleaned up, I don't need to lead the charge all the time. I just need to learn to let go! All the traumatic incidents in my life for the last five years have been pointing straight to this fact, I didn't have the eyes to see it. And now, it seems so clear to me. I'm going to put down the heavy shackles of responsibility I have been so foolishly carrying about all these years. I have been burdening myself for no reason, trying to climb this mountain of expectations with no fuel to sustain myself. It was foolish of me, sheer ignorance! Everything is constantly changing around me, I actually have no control, I never had! So today, I accept that I have no control and let myself float like a feather in the air currents and enjoy the feeling of being free for a change, and not try route the wind. With sincerity and compassion in my heart, soft like the feather, I am sure I will not hurt anyone in my floating. There is nothing left to prove, not even to myself!

 I have only now started learned how to actually live! Oh, I will keep dancing all right, but today I will dance to this new song in my heart! I am already having fun! Cheers!!

Bansky's The Singing Butler

May I be free from ill will

May I be free from cruelty

May I be free from anger

May I keep myself at peace.

May all beings, all those in states of woe

be free from ill will, free from cruelty, free from anger

May they keep themselves at peace.

May all beings be happy

May they all be secure.

May they all see good fortune

May no evil befall them,

May no suffering befall them

May no sorrow befall them.

 - This is my only wish.

Your Pure Heart

Why do I love you?
Why do I care for you?
It is your pure heart I see, I love, I care
The peel does not matter, it will erode with time
Nor does the sweet juicy citrus that defines you
It is the tiny bitter seed you know not you have
The jewel within you
One day it will fall on fertile soil
And I will watch it grow
Beautiful flowers, Sweet fruits of your effort
And many more seeds will spread in the world
It will be my joy to watch
It will be my priviledge
That is why I love you, my friend
That is why I care
It is your pure heart I see, I love, I care