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

How do I love thee

How Do I Love Thee?

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of every day's
Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
I love with a passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints, -- I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life! -- and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death. 

Elizabeth Barrett Browning

She walks in Beauty

She Walks In Beauty

She walks in Beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellowed to that tender light
Which Heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impaired the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o'er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express,
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.

And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent! 

George Gordon Lord Byron

Love Leviathan

When the intractable love leviathan attacks,

Upending that fine art of mindfulness,

Tearing away that joyful, soulful balance,  

Give it a good look; give it a fine thought.

Give it your days; give it your nights,

Watch in despair as it consumes your soul.

But if you can stand still, and not give up yet,

If you can fight, and your head is unbowed yet,

One day, one moment,

You shall stumble upon your old gold mine,

Muddied, yet faithfully guarding all your golden rays

That rush back home, to fill your mind, and your thoughts

To chase the leviathans away, slash them, burn them

Lightness fills the heart; cheer spreads the body,

Dark clouds lift, the glow that becomes the face.

Thus returns that wondrous laugh, from the depths of your heart

The sunshine and the lightness of spirit, so truly yours,

That same lightness that no leviathans can assail.  

I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud

I wandered lonely as a Cloud

I wandered lonely as a Cloud
That floats on high o'er Vales and Hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd
A host of dancing Daffodils;
Along the Lake, beneath the trees,
Ten thousand dancing in the breeze.

The waves beside them danced, but they
Outdid the sparkling waves in glee: -
A poet could not but be gay
In such a laughing company:
I gaz'd - and gaz'd - but little thought
What wealth the shew to me had brought:

For oft when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude,
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the Daffodils.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Daffodils, which is the more commonly known name of this poem is William Wordsworth's (1770-1850) most famous poem. He was a major English Romantic poet who, with Samuel Taylor Coleridge, helped to launch the Romantic Age in English literature with the 1798 joint publication Lyrical Ballads.

 If you want to listen to the poem, here is Jeremy Irons reading it.

And, here is a picture of a single daffodil, with a cloud - if you want Wordsworth too to be in the picture.

Trivia: Daffodil the plant is known as Narcissus, and it is believed that the plant grew where the Greek God Narcissus died.

Commentary: (From SparkNotes)
This simple poem, one of the loveliest and most famous in the Wordsworth canon, revisits the familiar subjects of nature and memory, this time with a particularly (simple) spare, musical eloquence. The plot is extremely simple, depicting the poet’s wandering and his discovery of a field of daffodils by a lake, the memory of which pleases him and comforts him when he is lonely, bored, or restless.
The characterization of the sudden occurrence of a memory—the daffodils “flash upon the inward eye / Which is the bliss of solitude”—is psychologically acute, but the poem’s main brilliance lies in the reverse personification of its early stanzas. The speaker is metaphorically compared to a natural object, a cloud—“I wandered lonely as a cloud / That floats on high...”, and the daffodils are continually personified as human beings, dancing and “tossing their heads” in “a crowd, a host.”
This technique implies an inherent unity between man and nature, making it one of Wordsworth’s most basic and effective methods for instilling in the reader the feeling the poet so often describes himself as experiencing.

He composed this is 1804, inspired by a walk he took with his sister in 1802 and later by reading her journal entry. In fact the best two lines in the poem were contributed by his wife Mary. This is his sister Dorothy Wordsworth's original journal entry:

"When we were in the woods beyond Gowbarrow park we saw a few daffodils close to the water side, we fancied that the lake had floated the seed ashore & that the little colony had so sprung up - But as we went along there were more & yet more & at last under the boughs of the trees, we saw that there was a long belt of them along the shore, about the breadth of a country turnpike road. I never saw daffodils so beautiful they grew among the mossy stones about & about them, some rested their heads upon these stones as on a pillow for weariness & the rest tossed and reeled and danced & seemed as if they verily laughed with the wind that blew upon them over the Lake, they looked so gay ever dancing ever changing. This wind blew directly over the lake to them. There was here & there a little knot & a few stragglers a few yards higher up but they were so few as not to disturb the simplicity & unity & life of that one busy highway - We rested again & again. The Bays were stormy & we heard the waves at different distances & in the middle of the water like the Sea"

Our new visitors

Oriental Magpie Robin, Red whiskered bulbul, Red vented bulbul, sparrows, scarlet sun bird and drongo. :)

Raindrops keep falling on my head. They keep falling.

No, I do not intend to write romantically about the rain.
It is raining. It is such a beautiful time to be.
Hooked to Baroque music, since the rains began.
And of all the four seasons, Spring is the best, Mr. Vivaldi.
 :)

Being helpless.

“What would the world be, once bereft
Of wet and wildness? Let them be left,
Oh let them be left, wildness and wet;
Long live the weeds and the wilderness yet.”
― Gerard Manley Hopkins 

Being helpless is the most terrible experience in this world. So I lived for three days last week, when I watched one of my favourite trees in the world go down to the axes of ruthless humans.

Well, that beautiful old tree that stood oh-so-majestically in my neighbourhood property, is no more. Will miss all the grandeur and all the joy that I associated with the tree, will miss watching the thousands of animals and birds who had made that big, strong tree their home.

That grand old tree is gone. Forever.
Like many other grand old trees.
Bye bye trees, hellow climate change!
:\

Home isnt home anymore, without the comforting presence of that tree there! :(

Blues.

PS: I begin with a PS, which in this case stands for pre-script.
PS: When you cant write prose, you write poetry; but when you cant bring yourself to learn what you need to, you sit and write prose.
PS: PS is over. Over to AS aka actual script:


I have a blue suit. It has brown frills. It has flowers on it.
I wore it to a wedding today.
I think it looked dressy.
It made me feel surreal.
I felt glad to get out of it.
Blue suits with brown frills and flowers = not my idea of sartorial elegance.

PS: There is no post script. :)

Phenomenal Women

Phenomenal Women

Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.
I'm not cute or built to suit a fashion model's size
But when I start to tell them,
They think I'm telling lies.
I say,
It's in the reach of my arms
The span of my hips,
The stride of my step,
The curl of my lips.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please,
And to a man,
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees.
Then they swarm around me,
A hive of honey bees.
I say,
It's the fire in my eyes,
And the flash of my teeth,
The swing in my waist,
And the joy in my feet.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me.
They try so much
But they can't touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them
They say they still can't see.
I say,
It's in the arch of my back,
The sun of my smile,
The ride of my breasts,
The grace of my style.
I'm a woman

Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

Now you understand
Just why my head's not bowed.
I don't shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud.
When you see me passing
It ought to make you proud.
I say,
It's in the click of my heels,
The bend of my hair,
the palm of my hand,
The need of my care,
'Cause I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

By Maya Angelou

Ah! What a beauty! Such richness and elegance. Phenomenal. 

Have you ever noticed that the most beautiful things and the most beautiful feelings in the world are all disarmingly simple. 

To listen to Dr. Angelou herself reciting the poem, go to:

http://www.oprah.com/own-super-soul-sunday/Listen-Dr-Maya-Angelou-Recites-Her-Poem-Phenomenal-Woman-Video 

The Angel

I dreamt a dream!  What can it mean?
And that I was a maiden Queen
Guarded by an Angel mild:
Witless woe was ne'er beguiled!

And I wept both night and day,
And he wiped my tears away;
And I wept both day and night,
And hid from him my heart's delight.

So he took his wings, and fled;
Then the morn blushed rosy red.
I dried my tears, and armed my fears
With ten thousand shields and spears.

Soon my Angel came again;
I was armed, he came in vain;
For the time of youth was fled,
And grey hairs were on my head.

Here's the reading: 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yXU3SakigGQ

It's true of most of us. Before I armed my fears with ten thousand shields and spears, I was also the maiden Queen guarded by Angel mild.
Point noted.
Action to be taken noted.
Action shall be taken.

Looked back! And saw!

Really, non-serious blogging is healthy. I chanced upon my own old blog, created from a different account, recalled the old days of senseless blogging (not that my posts now make any sense either), but yes absolutely relished reading them posts :)

What more, I made this new blog account a co-author of the old account. Hahaha! The travails of a multi blog owner :D

Half a day

Red wine. White wine. Rain. Pepper mint tea. Brownie Shake. French fries. Hugs. Chicago. Life. Another day gone by. Gems.

If you forget me.

Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.

If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.

Neruda bug again. ;)
PS: I think I've already published this once. :)

Learning.

Is learning that cribbing is not a solution.
That it is not an option even.
Is learning that fears are meant to be faced, straight and square.
That sharing them doesnt make them go away.
Is learning that your fears are yours alone.
To each, his own.

Is learning that an island of serenity can exist amid an ocean of turbulence.
That it is a splendour that cant fade.

In the meanwhile, I have stocked upon books and novels, to keep myself amused.  Classics included.

Profound. Poignant.

So the all important interview is up in three days. But, without having anything to do with the interview, it is a profoundly emotional time for me right now.

My father retired from service yesterday. Three decades of judicial service. Born in very humble surroundings, he is a self made man, who worked all his way up from scratch. Thankfully by then school education was allowed for all children, a privilege his own dad did not have! He studied in a government school, learned his lessons at home without the benefit of an electric lamp, ran a tutorial college for funding his own college studies, became a lawyer, started with Rs.10 as his fees, and rose upto the Highest Court in the State, a Constitutional authority, all by himself - without any so called god fathers anywhere in the field.

Delivering his farewell speech yesterday, taking this trip down his memory lane, he was overcome by emotion, so was I.

You are my true hero, Dad. Always. Forever.

Status quo

Happy. Sad. Normal. Abnormal. Optimistic. Apprehensive. Hopeful. Confused. Lazy. Hopeful. Positive. Anxious. Irritable. Irritated. Happy. Green tea. Yellow covers. Speed posts. Mails and texts that dont come. Chats. Google hang outs. Court rooms. Corridors. Long talks. Yoga. Yoga mats. Moisturizers. Sarees. Cotton white sarees. Hating it. Loving it. Music. Airplanes. Paper planes. Flight. Fright. Fight. Misunderstandings. Communication gaps. Prizes. Third prizes. Globalisation. Mocking. Eating. Cooking. Growing. Farming. Writing. Reading. Staying happy. Shutting up. Making others shut up. Contemplating. Arguing. Learning to speak less. Speaking more. Gaining traction. Tractioning gains. Blogging. Sleepyheads. Off to sleep. Love you world. Eternally happy to be here!

A Vignette

At Kaira, over lunch:

G: Oh! I think the name "Carnation" is pretty cool a name for a car workshop. So creative. A similarly cool one is "being human". I mean I never thought one could just reverse human being and ask people to just "be human" and run philanthropy under that name. Yes people, please be human. That is so on the dot!

N: Duh. I thought it was just the right name for a brand of clothing. Only humans wear clothes no? How more appropriate can it get?

The Niki!!!
I know you're not the mushy type, but *teary eyed* I LOU you, for being crude and primitive and original, and hence inimitable!

PS: I must confess here that I hardly know anything about "being human" or its activities, except that Salman Khan is associated with it.

Ishmael

Ishmael may give you several refreshing ideas, you may not entirely agree. But I just had a heady combination of Ishmael + Life and Times of Michael K! Leaves one bewildered and ashamed of being human.

A Burthday and A Girlfriend and A Boyfriend!

Alibi is the flavour of the season, definitely seems like it!
So while senior political leaders are brandishing alibis to proclaim they werent there at the spot of crime, my student wants me to prop up an alibi before his parents and convince them I am taking class for him whilst he's off celebrating his girlfriend's 21st!

A weighty thoughty!

This is just in:
My body weight is directly proportional to my propensity to cook.
I cook and I cross the half century mark.
I stop and I return to normal!

Err. I really must learn to cook properly, without throwing people into the world of cholesterol and diabetes and obesity!

I am calling. Where are you?

I am sure you all remember Smirnoff's hugely successful tagline: "Life is calling. Where are you?"
My "smirk"-off remark: Dear life, I am calling. Where are you?!
I know it doesnt sound good or wise or prudent when I say I am investing my whole energy into a particular gamble of an exam, but that does look like what I have done.
Discretion is the better part of valour. Let me just go do the necessary groundwork for putting in place a Plan B as well, just in case Plan A decides to abandon me.

Salad Bowl.

Life is a salad bowl. Or salad?
Anyhow, I am mastering the art of salad making. Lettuce is what makes life look so green and fresh! (Life is code for salad ;)) From the plain fresh veg salad yesterday, today I graduated to Fruits and Vegetables Cheese Salad, garnished with a generous dose of soft boiled eggs. 
The point is to throw in all you can, and to savour it.
As in salad, so in life.
Oh that delicious ambiguity called life! :)

Blwittering.

Since yours truly has a feeling she might get addicted to twitter if she joins twitter, she has decided to microblogise her blog and thereby make it blwitter and blweet stuff, as frequent as possible.
That is blwitter for you, minus the twitter addiction.
 ;)

Contemplating life from a calm vantage point

Yours truly is reading Vikram Seth's "A suitable boy", one of the longest novels in English. And has absolutely no idea when she is going to ever finish it, considering how her daily life now resembles that of  the road runner. Anyhow, she was particularly riveted by the following lines, where Pran Kapoor a Minister's son goes into a pensive mood and observes what his father has to deal with, being a public figure: "The headaches, the overwork, the responsibility, the lack of control over one's own time, the complete absence of opportunity to contemplate the world from a calm vantage point: these mattered little to him"

While she is extremely thankful she does not have to deal with the first item on the list (viz. headache), she does seem to be having a lot of the remaining. Except that:
1. The items in the said list matter EVERYTHING to her.
2. She is not a public figure. Not even close, not even a little bit.

It gives her 1the shivers, when she tries to contemplate if this is the life in wait for her. Well, since she is also suffering from the "complete absence of opportunity to contemplate the world from a calm vantage point" [which, incidentally happens to be her fav line], she shall now return to drafting a regular second appeal, for someone whose property has been sorta taken over by his neighbours.

Bye bye her problems, hello problems of the world.
  

The invasion of the pen and the paper!

Aha! You heard it right. It's a new year, and I have a new diary.
So we're courting now.
If ever the romance gets soured and strained, you will be here no, my rebound guy,
So long, my blog!
Ciao.