Digging

The legendary Irish poet Seamus Heaney passed away.
Let's read a few of his poems. And let's begin with what he is perhaps best known for "Digging" (with his pen).

Between my finger and my thumb   

The squat pen rests; snug as a gun.

Under my window, a clean rasping sound   

When the spade sinks into gravelly ground:   

My father, digging. I look down

Till his straining rump among the flowerbeds   

Bends low, comes up twenty years away   

Stooping in rhythm through potato drills   

Where he was digging.

The coarse boot nestled on the lug, the shaft   

Against the inside knee was levered firmly.

He rooted out tall tops, buried the bright edge deep

To scatter new potatoes that we picked,

Loving their cool hardness in our hands.

By God, the old man could handle a spade.   

Just like his old man.

My grandfather cut more turf in a day

Than any other man on Toner’s bog.

Once I carried him milk in a bottle

Corked sloppily with paper. He straightened up

To drink it, then fell to right away

Nicking and slicing neatly, heaving sods

Over his shoulder, going down and down

For the good turf. Digging.

The cold smell of potato mould, the squelch and slap

Of soggy peat, the curt cuts of an edge

Through living roots awaken in my head.

But I’ve no spade to follow men like them.

Between my finger and my thumb

The squat pen rests.

I’ll dig with it.

To listen to him read it: 

Digging 

The Caterpillar and the Butterfly

The Caterpillar And The Butterfly

-Enid Blyton

A caterpillar green and fat
Upon a juicy cabbage sat,
Eating all day through;
And when a dazzling butterfly,
Creamy-white, came sailing by,
They both said, "How d'ye do?"

"I hope you like my powdered wings,
They're just the very latest things,"
Said Butterfly, in glee.
"And see my tongue, so long and curled,
The finest one in all the world,
A treat for you to see."

"Poor caterpillar! You can't sip
The nectar from a flower's lip,
Nor fly the summer through!"

The caterpillar raised his head,
"Don;t pity me!" he rudely said,
"I'm better off than you!"

"I eat all day, I sit and stare,
I want no flying through the air,
I like to creep and crawl.
A butterfly I'd hate to be,
It's best to be a grub like me,
A caterpillar small!"

Then all the elves who listened near
Laughed like anything to hear
The quarrel 'twixt the two'
But neither the grub nor butterfly
Could ever guess, the reason why-
I know it though! Do you?

Yoga

I have never talked (yes, when I say talk, I mean write) about one of my greatest passions these days - Yoga. It started off about four years back, when I signed up for classes at a nearby studio, and dragged Amma too for company. Though she was unsure at first, it did rub off on her and she enjoyed the daily evening sessions. But work caught up with both of us, and we ditched the lessons after six months. And then I went back to my world of work (err, working towards work) and didnt realise I could easily push off one hour per day, even in the middle of hectic work schedules.

After last year's mains exams, I went back to the wondrous world of Yoga and this time, went deeper, farther and better. And the results are showing! I have kind of become addicted to the feeling of happiness and glow that pervades your body after each amazing yoga session. I bought myself a couple of Yoga DVDs that I practice with at home - (for a long time, my self practice sessions simply consisted of Shavasan from beginning till the end) - with the coming of the DVDs, it has all changed, and I do wholesome Yoga sessions - beginning, intermediate and advanced, at uniform intervals.

Anyhow, just to share a thought I found across in one of the Yoga websites - this is one feeling I identify with. Read the following carefully and see if you can imbibe it yourself. It's one of the lightest and most wonderful feelings on earth:

"Thought for today:

Once you've begun the work of identifying your spiritual core, you're ready to get started with a spiritual, ethical, and emotional workout. Take a few moments to meditate on your best self, on the part of you that's bigger than insecurity, jealousy, judgment, or smallness. (We all have those parts, but we need not let them define us.) Think about the times when you feel most generous, most whole, most balanced, most aligned with your true nature—most you. Or as Coral Brown says, your most evolved Self. As you practice these asanas, see if you can remain grounded in that spirit."

Yes, embrace Yoga (or even otherwise) and evolve above parts of you that are bigger than insecurity, jealousy, judgment or smallness!!! 

Nirvana

To listen to Tom Waits read it, go to: Hear Nirvana on youtube

not much chance,

completely cut loose from purpose,

he was a young man riding a bus

through North Carolina

on the wat to somewhere

and it began to snow

and the bus stopped

at a little cafe in the hills

and the passengers  entered.

he sat at the counter

with the others,

he ordered and the

food arived.

the meal was

particularly good

and the coffee.

the waitress was

unlike the women

he had known.

she was unaffected,

there was a natural

humor which came from her.

the fry cook said crazy things.

the dishwasher.

in back, laughed,

a good clean pleasant laugh.

the young man watched

the snow through the windows.

he wanted to stay in that cafe

forever.

the curious feeling

swam through him

that everything

was beautiful there,

that it would always

stay beautiful there.

then the bus driver

told the passengers

that it was time

to board.

the young man

thought, I'll just sit

here, I'll just stay

here.

but then

he rose and followed

the others into the

bus.

he found his seat

and looked at the cafe

through the bus

window.

then the bus moved

off, down a curve,

downward, out of

the hills.

the young man

looked straight forward.

he heard the other

passengers speaking

of other things,

or they were reading or

attempting to sleep.

they had not

noticed the magic.

the young man

put his head to

one side,

closed his eyes,

pretended to sleep.

there was nothing

else to do-

just to listen to the

sound of the engine,

the sound of the

tires in the snow.

Roll the Dice

This is an inspiring poem, one of my personal favourites.

By Charles Bukowski

If you’re going to try,

go all the way.

otherwise, don’t even start.

This could mean losing girlfriends,

wives, relatives, jobs and

maybe your mind.

It could mean not eating for 3 or 4 days.

it could mean freezing on a

park bench.

it could mean jail,

it could mean derision,

it could mean mockery,

isolation.

Isolation is the gift,

all the others are a test

of your endurance,

of how much you really want to

do it.

and you’ll do it

despite rejection and the worst odds

and it will be better than

anything else

you can imagine.

If you’re going to try,

go all the way.

there is no other feeling like that.

you will be alone with the gods

and the nights will flame with fire.

You will ride life

straight to perfect laughter,

it's the only good fight there is.

Charles Bukowski

Listen in

I carry your heart with me

I carry your heart with me (I carry it in
my heart) I am never without it (anywhere
I go you go,my dear;and whatever is done
by only me is your doing, my darling)

I fear no fate (for you are my fate,my sweet)
I want no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)
and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

Here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart

I carry your heart (I carry it in my heart)

E. E. Cummings 

Listen to Mark Coleman read it

Only Breath

Only Breath

Not Christian or Jew or Muslim, not Hindu
Buddhist, sufi, or zen. Not any religion

or cultural system. I am not from the East
or the West, not out of the ocean or up

from the ground, not natural or ethereal, not
composed of elements at all. I do not exist,

am not an entity in this world or in the next,
did not descend from Adam and Eve or any

origin story. My place is placeless, a trace
of the traceless. Neither body or soul.

I belong to the beloved, have seen the two
worlds as one and that one call to and know,

first, last, outer, inner, only that
breath breathing human being. 

Mewlana Jalaluddin Rumi

To listen to the poem, click here