Morning Moods II

It has been two weeks since our return from Kyoto - the misty forested hills are far away, so are the red Toris at shrines, extravagant traditional festival days , the still silence of hidden Zen temples, and most of all, the rapidly flowing Kamo river, the life line through this imperial city.

I now sit, looking at moods, on paper, that I tried to capture every morning there. And I recall the precious moments. I share these with you -my attempts at haiku in Kyoto.

Shinryoo aki no koe ( new coolness, autumn rains)
forests wrapped in wreaths of mists
pine and cedar fragrance                                  16/10/17

Wondering, I lie
what is profound and profane
in hinoki tub                                                      17/10/17

grey skies, ginkgo gold,
Kamo tranquil, transparent,
nature of my mind                                              18/10/17

green drips off from trees,
revealing crimson and gold
kindled forest flames                                          

cold winds, constant rains
birds sing; grass, trees sway and dance.
End in sight, Will I??                                          

Tall, frail pampas grass
white feathery stalks of silk
wind gusts, flowers fly!                                         19/10/17

Solitary walk; deep forests, narrow winding path; cicadas chorus              

Already past noon,
wrapped in his arms, New Year Day
stringing new Haikus.                                           20/10/17

Cold clouds loom too low
trees blush in their ripened age
vagaries of heart.                                                  

Fires burn at all age
Ginko adorns herself in Gold,
Winters touch, she sheds                                        21/10/17

cold day, flat grey sky
rain sounds, puddles on ground,
warm in bed, I watch.                                              22/10/17

Raging typhoon all night,
clear silent dawn,  calm, bright,
rain drops, diamond sparks                                      23/10/17

Kamo overflows
teal-jade; pink-red hints on trees
Grey stork in Zazen                                                   24/10/17

Morning Moods

I am a big fan of many things Japanese.  And, Haiku - a poetic form of 5-7-5 syllables which 'captures' moments-moods, embedded within seasons, nature, and space, with a briefest rhythm of words, tops my charts as quintessentially the best in Japanese Zen expression. Of course, the language itself lends naturally to the emergence of this poetic form with their enormous mood-vocabulary expressed in briefest inter-connected mono-syllables.

For my month in Kyoto, I promised myself an attempt to do at least one haiku every day. Most days, I sit immediately after my morning coffee, looking out into forests that roll steeply down hill and try to think of words that express the moment. Morning Moods compiles this attempt so far, to express a mood-moments without complying to a strict rigor on the syllable rhythm - challenging to do in English. I have used Japanese seasons words, as a guide, where I could.

Summer departs,
mists descends down hills, forests,
wrapping my new day.                                              

momiji-gari (display of autumn leaves)
fiery colors ablaze within-
my autumn age.

Awaiting Koyo (display of autumn leaves)
no sign of Kitsusuki (woodpecker - autumn signature)
restless in Kyoto                                                                                      --3/10/17

Transparent cool days
Hints of fire in green forests
will I miss Koyo?

Golden harvest moon,
shibori clouds on indigo-
Kumano Jinja Mae ( a temple)                                                              --4/10/17


Hatsu Akashi (first autumn storm)
in reverence, trees bow low
rain drenched earth.                                                                                --6/10/17

Rain gusts billow mists
swathe tall cedars in pashminas
silence is now fragrant.                                                                                   --7/10/17

Watery sunshine
mists rise amongst Hinoki (Japanese cedar)
Earth lights incense to day                                                                             --8/10/17

Eye-doors shut; I dream,
play, sing, and dance - all within;
bird songs from afar.                                                                            

Warm, and sunny days
Koyo in Kyoto distant,
clear heart, I still smile                                                                         --9/10/17

Doors open, butterfly
flew inside, and cicada
chirped under my bed.

Aki-no-ame (autumn rain)
scraps of sky litter the ground,
suns ablaze all around.                                                                       --10/10/17

In bed, wondering
to read, to paint or to sing
days pass, seasons change.

A fall fly flies in,
finds food, warmth, my nose to perch,
who will move first?                                                                         --11/10/17

Still a week away,
Kurama himatsuri (fire festival in Kurama),
Forest flames kindle.

night rains, morning mists,
lonely birdcall from forests
I sit still, aware                                                                                 --12/10/17

Aki-no-sora (intense blue autumn sky)
washed over by red-gold dusk,
Geese fly south over Kamo(river)      

Incessant misty rains,
dark clouds blanket the forests
- a piercing shika scream (mating call of small deer in autumn)     --13/10/17

watercolor dawn,
softly washed land and sky
birds chorus in song.

waning harvest moon
dark Sumi nights, I sit, (Sumi = charcoal ink)
within my Enso.

Two inter-twined lives
irrelevant chains in space-time
part of cosmic mandala.                                                               --14/10/17

Dark green forest-hills
loom over golden paddy
feast days for sparrows.                                                               --15/10/17

aki-no-koe shinryoo( autumn rains, new cool)
forests wrapped in wreathes of mists
pine and cedar's fragrance.                                                          --16/10/17

Kyoto Days

I sit in silence
gleaning wisdom in small, slow measures
from subdued voices, that hum within,
of trees, sky, wind, rain and fire,
of distant ancestors unknown, unheard, but still whispering,
of poets and myths inherited or eavesdropped,
of humanity's songs, laughter, struggles,
for life, justice, peace - valued for itself and in respect of all dreams.

I sink even deeper beneath the layers of voices -
that move in currents of light and goodness-
to the still and rich ocean floor of the nothing,
unknown and unexplored,
knowing that I have finally arrived at my anchor
to that depth where all roots merge to
feed the trunk of our cosmic existence.

Reflections On A Retreat in Ladakh

I returned on Sept 1, after 11 months of retreat in Ladakh. I was mostly silent and alone during this period. This was hand written on 29/8/2017:

My period of retreat is coming to an end in Ladakh. I sit in the cold of the early morning light looking at the magnificent Stok range, blue and gold with still a little on the icy caps, in sharp focus, and spreading across the horizon. The Indus valley in foreground is dry, barren and dusty brown with splotches of village greens. I sit amidst such dense greens of poplars and willows, dancing to the slightest breeze, and I reflect, on days, weeks, months flown by - most of it already in haze, some lit up like crystal moments, bright and illuminated like gems, in my treasury of memories.

I realise now that I am a collector, of all things bright and beautiful. This is neither a conscious decision, nor a deliberate choice - only a recent recognition. It allows me to face the ahead with an eager anticipation for discoveries yet to be made, moments yet to be captured and savoured. I therefore gaze in attention, and sharp focus, that precious details not escape my Now, the Present. My time in Ladakh has harvested a small bounty that will colour my days and flavour my experiences with who I have now become.

I wandered the bustling market places, alive, boisterous, spilling - with produce from the land - fertile, green and abundantly bountiful in the brief of transparent summer days. Land and soil, rich and fertile from generations of tilling, turning, seeding, harvesting and returning it all - back to the soil - in balance and harmony between man and his natural world. Apricots, milk, greens in all shades, crisp and fresh off the earth. Also, there are jewellers with turquoise and corals, gold and silver; carpenters, ironsmiths, tailors making Gonchas of thick wool and brass buttons, dyers with dye vats in shades of deep maroons and finally Kashmiris - with their beautiful faces and alluring invitation to just step inside " to Look - not Buy"- into shops fragrant with saffron and spice, finest Pashminas, silk carpets fit for royalty, old silver and gemstones unearthed from lost worlds and always stories. One knows that to pause, is to be lost, and yet, one halts outside, entranced, and beguiled, to descend hypnotised to wafts of Kahwa into their mysterious Alladin's caves.

I have wandered amongst many lives, and listened - for each has had a story to tell. And my treasury of stories has grown, feeding and nourishing my life with a connectedness by a common human thread, coloured with dreams, aspirations, a need for loving and to be loved. And I have learnt of their myths - that source spring that connects us to the Divine, that mysterious, unknown, omnipotent, omnipresent, and omniscient to whom we reach out, by closing our eyes.

I have wandered through seasons amongst hills and valleys on such gigantic scale that one is physically hit with one's insignificance - constantly; where rivers flow serenely turquoise, jade, in winters but become deep, thick earth brown, powerful and swirling-enraged in late summer. I have walked days along shores of mystical lakes that change their colour and hue in an eye blink and under lapis starlit skies that guided my steps. And all this colour, light and immense grandeur is imprinted upon my spirit - to be recalled later - when heart gets parched. The immense cobalt sky has cracked me open and seeped within into a pool that is growing deeper in silence and stillness - for me to carry back - wherever I go, whatever I do.

And finally I have learnt to turn my gaze inwards - face the turbulent dark currents of cares that had me drowned, blocking off all light. I realised that all my answers lie within and I would be led by this inner gaze. Slowly and gently my spirit revived, nurtured in nature by silence and beauty, till I was healed and whole, transparent and light. I was insignificant, yet became indispensable and integral to the cosmic vastness that surrounded me with mystery which opened my days and filled my nights with star songs.

And, I learnt, to let-go; that human caring need not only be a burden, and to walk a solitary path is never in vain. My wavering faith in myself grew strong - like the mountains; and like them I shrugged off accumulated scree till my slopes were cleared - for pristine snows to clad it in silence, for grass to grow, flowers to bloom and streams to meander their laughing course. I am now these mountains - strong, resolute, poised and uplifted; balanced between earth and sky. I am now - me.