Thursday, December 3, 2015

Dewdrop

Been in despair...
stuck and sucked
in life's quicksand
of weary care.

Groped for help
here and there,
on internet, books,
with strangers to share.

Sat wretched at a door
when my gaze spied,
a dewdrop on a leaf
was in sight.

Tiny, ephemeral,
suspended and slight,
contained, complete
and lit from inside.

Wings unfolded,
my heart took to flight,
soared far and high
till I was out of sight.






Wednesday, September 23, 2015

Sitting in Silence

Today I wandered through my garden and sat in a corner, in silence.

I heard:
A chorus of the morning birds
A distant cry of peacock
A faint rustle of cool breeze again the coconut fronds.

I heard:
The rhythm of my breath, against
the percussion of pulsing blood, and
a deep silence singing in my ears.

I heard:
Flap of butterfly wings
Sunbird alighting on a passion vine
morning dew rolling off lotus pads
gutteral calls of a hundred micro-frogs.

I heard:
wind scatter rose pollen in golden dust
jasmine nectar intertwine with wafts from yang-ylang
guppies frolicking in the ponds
dragonflies alighting on grass tips
crickets rubbing their wings in glee.

I heard:
Sun waves lap warm against my face
a waning moon come tumbling down
invisible crystal stars swirl heavens in an eternal sufi dance
and... the stillness of ether.

Today I sat in my garden in silence and I became alive.



Saturday, February 14, 2015

Fresh Canvas

I have a bunch of fresh canvas sitting in my loft/landing - a space upstairs that I like to think of as my art studio. Their presence there fills me with a sense of hardly contained excitement - an endless joy of possibilities - awaiting me. I move about my life, my duties, my daily chores in awareness of the fresh canvas - which are mine.

I also have an empty garden - that I have started filling up. Very much like the fresh canvas upstairs, an empty piece of land beckons, filling me with Gauguin gardens - tropical, wild, exuberant gardens of flowers, fruits, birds, bees. In sheer delight I cave in, digging, planting, playing in mud - drenched in fragrances of jasmine, neroli, damask rose already blossoming in my head.

And so it is with life. I am busy erasing history, past, habits - wiping my slate clean. This act of erasing, of walking away, of starting with a fresh canvas is already reviving, renewing, life-affirming, filled full with the joy of possibilities of 'what next?' How shall I paint my life, my day, this moment? The choice is endless. For the moment, I just hold my breath, waiting, before I choose.