Archives for the month of: July, 2012

Even a wick that’s wet with oil
Needs to be primed
Before it’s lit.

The fire must taste the tip
Before it can catch
And burn.

You and I, my beloved,
Are like oiled wick
To flame.

I burnt a bit at the tip
Before I caught fire
And glowed,

At your altar,
All through
The night.

In all this time between waking and sleeping, where’s my moment of being with you?
Is it when I write my song, or, when I play upon my two sided drum, or,
Could it be when I’m making us something to eat, from some unknown recipe?
Perhaps it’s while we walk together, round and round the neighbouring park.
Or, it’s while we’re climbing our hill, to feel the expanse that nature brings.
Could it be while we’re watching T.V, some good film, or, just some soap,
Or, spending a moment with our children, now across the globe, upon a screen?
Could it be when we get into bed, all tired from the doings of the day?
Could it be when we sit listening to the very same music, playing upon the stereo?
Could it be when we sit together holding hands, upon the open veranda,
Without a single thought, to break this thread of our togetherness?

I am watching the children play. They are preoccupied with their love for life. Fears and doubts crease their foreheads for all of a few seconds. Moving on is their anthem.

I am stuck, deep in comparison and hurt. Can i complete this never ending need for love and attention? Can i honor, shower accolades on, award, praise, love, soothe my own self? Are we all not life’s longing for itself? Gibran said it was so. Why does life hate itself so?

Stay with it Hema. Cling to that maypole deep inside even as you spin around with misery. Depression and lonliness, those goons who also hounded my friend Elizabeth, sit by me and watch me with their beady eyes. I say to them “shove off”.

Sitting in Zen inside a Zendo, immersed in emptiness, i feel the universe stopping. I bow to it. Immediately i remember that i forgot to say goodbye to Zoya. Thoughts take me to far away places. I go back inside. Again there is peace, again there is not. Wow, exhausting this push and pull from within. I stop resisting.

The kids have created grenades out of Duplo lego. Their war zone is full of dialog, plans, schemes, plays, script, drama and energy. They are helping each other create. Scenes vivid and elaborate are enacted with gusto. They just do. They don’t brood. They just do. Four warriors living, dying, living, dying, again and again. They tell each other its your turn to die, your turn to say “over and out” and so on. The drama never ends. Just living it is enough.

Life is worth living again. I have created. I am.

I have much to do. Why do I forget my love? My path? My bliss? Why did i forget this calm? Ah yes i wanted recognition. Its ok. I recognize my worth, my art, my dreams, my place on this planet and in the larger scheme of things.

Staying with uneasiness and discomfort. Staying with not knowing what to do. Staying with the churning and ceaseless nausea. This piece of prose was to help me. Crumbs. I’m not much better but I’ve written and created and that has made all the difference.

The root of this misery is like steeped tea, dark but clear. The tea leaves settle down and pull me down to the bottom. I will rest with them, now.

I know of a sweet place to die. There are memories of icecream on a cold night with raspberry sauce. With gumption and love I plod on. Her skin is getting softer and crinkled like a raisin. There are no tomorrows, only a very wet today. How many first lines will I write before delving deep into the belly of my thought-whale? Are you refreshed? Do you feel the mint on my breath? How long before I reach the zenith I crave? Is it in this moment already? Ladies and gentlemen, I bring you farm fresh energy with grins pickled in sweetness with a serving of gravity and a drizzle of beauty. We are all equal, truly. If its not true don’t tell me, please. I’d rather die believing it.

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You know it’s going to rain and yet
If you’re walking without an umbrella
It shows you don’t mind, getting wet.

You know it’s going to rain and yet
You’ve left your umbrella by your door
It shows us that you, just forget.

You know it’s going to rain and yet
There isn’t an umbrella to your name.
You’ll be the fish that’s not in the net.

You know it’s going to rain and yet,
If you’ll stay home, to watch it pour,
It could only be a drizzle, barely felt!

You know it’s going to rain and yet
You’ve given away your umbrella,
Cause someone needs it more than you
It shows you’re like the wet wet earth,
Soaking up all the blessings it can get.