From the movie Chasing Amy, one of the most endearing confessions of love -
I love you. And not, not in a friendly way, although I think we're great friends. And not in a misplaced affection, puppy-dog way, although I'm sure that's what you'll call it. I love you. Very, very simple, very truly. You are the epitome of everything I have ever looked for in another human being. And I know that you think of me as just a friend, and crossing that line is the furthest thing from an option you would ever consider. But I had to say it. I just, I can't take this anymore. I can't stand next to you without wanting to hold you. I can't, I can't look into your eyes without feeling that, that longing you only read about in trashy romance novels. I can't talk to you without wanting to express my love for everything you are. And I know this will probably queer our friendship but I had to say it, because I've never felt this way before, and I don't care. I like who I am because of it. And if bringing this to light means we can't hang out anymore, then that hurts me. But God, I just, I couldn't allow another day to go by without just getting it out there, regardless of the outcome, which by the look on your face is to be the inevitable shoot-down. And, you know, I'll accept that. But I know... I know that some part of you is hesitating for a moment, and if there is a moment of hesitation, then that means you feel something too. All I ask, please, is that you just, you just not dismiss that - and try to dwell in it for just ten seconds. Alyssa, there isn't another soul on this fucking planet who has ever made me half the person I am when I'm with you, and I would risk this friendship for the chance to take it to the next plateau. Because it is there between you and me. You can't deny that. Even if, you know, even if we never talk again after tonight, please know that I'm forever changed because of who you are and what you've meant to me
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Thursday, November 19, 2009
Rules of life from the Bees
Life's lessons are the same everywhere - with people, with nature...with the bees. And since there is one law - you can learn life's most profound lessons from some of nature's creations.
I guess I realized this just now...but I sensed it when I watched The Secret Life Of Bees. In one part where August Boatwright is explaining to Lily the Bee Yard etiquette, she says -
See, the world is just one big bee yard...same rules work in both places. Don't be afraid, cause no life-loving bee wants to sting you. But, don't be an idiot, thats why we wear long sleeves and long pants. And don't swat. Don't even think about swatting. Above all, send the bees love. Every little thing wants to be loved.
And May Boatwright talks about people who feel and people who don't feel. She says -
The worker bee weighs less than the flower petal...but she can fly with a load heavier than her. But she only lives four or five weeks. Sometimes not feeling is the only way you can survive.
The most interesting character was May Boatwright. She feels too much. But was most profound sometimes. Whenever she saw a cockroach, she'd make a trail of marshmallows and bread crumbs leading outside...which is the coolest way to get a roach out of the house!!
I guess I realized this just now...but I sensed it when I watched The Secret Life Of Bees. In one part where August Boatwright is explaining to Lily the Bee Yard etiquette, she says -
See, the world is just one big bee yard...same rules work in both places. Don't be afraid, cause no life-loving bee wants to sting you. But, don't be an idiot, thats why we wear long sleeves and long pants. And don't swat. Don't even think about swatting. Above all, send the bees love. Every little thing wants to be loved.
And May Boatwright talks about people who feel and people who don't feel. She says -
The worker bee weighs less than the flower petal...but she can fly with a load heavier than her. But she only lives four or five weeks. Sometimes not feeling is the only way you can survive.
The most interesting character was May Boatwright. She feels too much. But was most profound sometimes. Whenever she saw a cockroach, she'd make a trail of marshmallows and bread crumbs leading outside...which is the coolest way to get a roach out of the house!!
Friday, October 16, 2009
Annie Oakley
I was reading this blog called Isle Dance, when a small quote along the side caught my attention.
Annie Oakley managed to combine both demureness and voluptuousness in her costume... She never showed any skin. Her ankles were never bare. But her costumes were form- fitting. She wore leggings under short skirts so people could see the shape of her legs as she ran out into the arena. She was, in that sense. appealing to the best instints in the men her audience - men who were attracted to her sexuality while still not having to feel guilty about being attracted, because at the same time she was ladylike and she was demure.
She was bold, and yet she was reserved. She was sensual and girlish, but she wasThis was about Annie Oakley written by Paul Fees. Annie Oakley was an unusual feminist who was known for her shooting skills. I copy the whole thing -
never coy ... she projected ... a vitality and freshness ... demureness, that
suggested ... she was in charge of herself and not to be had.
Annie Oakley managed to combine both demureness and voluptuousness in her costume... She never showed any skin. Her ankles were never bare. But her costumes were form- fitting. She wore leggings under short skirts so people could see the shape of her legs as she ran out into the arena. She was, in that sense. appealing to the best instints in the men her audience - men who were attracted to her sexuality while still not having to feel guilty about being attracted, because at the same time she was ladylike and she was demure.
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Hitchhikers Guide
So when a friend passed it on to me, I decided to give it a try. And I can honestly say that it's topped my list. I just copied off the few lines I had remembered to note down...buy the book. It's full of -
This was the gist of the notice. It said “The Guide is definitive. Reality is frequently inaccurate.”
This has led to some interesting consequences. For instance, when the Editors of the Guide were sued by the families of those who had died as a result of taking the entry on the planet Traal literally (it said “Ravenous Bugblatter Beasts often make a very good meal for visiting tourists” instead of “Ravenous Bugblatter often make a very good meal of visiting tourists”), they claimed that the first version of the sentence was the more aesthetically pleasing, summoned a qualified poet to testify under oath that beauty was truth, truth beauty and hoped thereby to prove that the guilty party in this case was Life itself for failing to be either beautiful or true. The judges concurred, and in a moving speech held that Life itself was in contempt of court, and duly confiscated it from all those there present before going off to enjoy a pleasant evening’s ultragolf.
*****
“You see it?”
He saw it.
His mouth started to speak, but his brain decided it hadn’t got anything to say yet and shut it again. His brain then started to contend with the problem of what his eyes told it they were looking at, but in doing so relinquished control of the mouth, which promptly fell open again. Once more gathering up the jaw, his brain lost control of his left hand which then wandered around in an aimless fashion For a second or so the brain tried to catch the left hand without letting go of the mouth and simultaneously tried to think about what was buried in the ice, which is probably why the legs went and Arthur dropped restfully to the ground.
*****
Then he had thought about what his position actually was and the renewed shock had nearly made him spill his drink. He drained it quickly before anything serious happened to it. He then had another quick one to follow the first one down and check that it was alright.
"I can’t cope with freedom,” he said darkly, and sent a third drink down to see why the second hadn’t yet reported on the condition of the first. He poured a drink down his other throat with the plan that it would head the previous one off at the pass, join forces with it, and together they would get the second to pull itself together. Then all three would go off in search of the first, five it a good talking to.
"I can’t cope with freedom,” he said darkly, and sent a third drink down to see why the second hadn’t yet reported on the condition of the first. He poured a drink down his other throat with the plan that it would head the previous one off at the pass, join forces with it, and together they would get the second to pull itself together. Then all three would go off in search of the first, five it a good talking to.
He felt uncertain as to whether the fourth drink had understood all that so he sent down a fifth to explain the plan more fully and a sixth for moral support. They drifted up, spiralling slowly around each other, like sycamore seeds falling from sycamore trees in the autumn, except going the other way.
*****
And as they drifted up, their minds sang with the ecstatic knowledge that either what they were doing was completely and utterly and totally impossible or that physics had a lot of catching up to do. Physics shook its head and, looking the other way, concentrated on keeping the cars going along the Euston Road and out toward the Westway flyover, on keeping the street lights lit and on making sure that when somebody in Baker Street dropped a cheeseburger it went splat upon the ground.
*****
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Beautiful flowers
I have reached a point in my life where I believe I have nothing...nothing that would allow anyone to love me. NOTHING. And I cannot really live all my life..always enduring, always being pushed to the brink of sadness. I don't want a miserable life. I need happiness...really really badly. More badly than I want fame, wealth or anything. Is that too much to ask for everything life has hammered me with?
At such times, I have no consolation. Who knows the future? Maybe life is meant to be difficult and sad for some people. I don't know. I don't want my life if it is going to be just misery and sadness. I found this quote in Mulan and pray that someday I will find happiness.
At such times, I have no consolation. Who knows the future? Maybe life is meant to be difficult and sad for some people. I don't know. I don't want my life if it is going to be just misery and sadness. I found this quote in Mulan and pray that someday I will find happiness.
The flower that blooms in adversity is the most rare and beautiful of all.
My, what beautiful blossoms we have this year. But look, this one's late. But I'll
bet that when it blooms, it will be the most beautiful of all.
Sunday, August 30, 2009
War cry
You know how before an army goes out into battle, the king/prince/leader gives a speech to inspire the crowd...and I am all for inspirational speeches. And since I have not lived from time immemorial, I have had to rely on he movies. Here are a list of my favorite -
Myrmidons! My brothers of the sword! I would rather fight beside you than any army of thousands! Let no man forget how menacing we are! We are lions! Do you know what's there, waiting beyond that beach? Immortality! Take it! It's yours!**Achilles, Troy***
If they ever tell my story, let them say that I walked with giants. Men rise and fall like the winter wheat, but these names will never die. Let them say I lived in the time of Hector, tamer of horses. Let them say I lived in the time of Achilles.***Odysses, Troy**
Sons of Gondor! Of Rohan! My brothers! I see in your eyes the same fear that would take the heart of me! A day may come when the courage of men fails, when we forsake our friends and break all bonds of fellowship. But it is not this day. An hour of wolves and shattered shields when the age of Men comes crashing down! But it is not this day! This day we fight! By all that you hold dear on this good Earth, I bid you stand! Men of the West!**Aragorn, Lord of the Rings***
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Elie Wiesel
I have never appreciated an author for his honesty. Elie Wiesel accuratly describes something so painfully unflattering...and it has probably made me aware of mistakes I never want to make. In NIGHT, he describes his father's death.
“Listen to me, kid. Don’t forget that you are in a concentration camp. In this place, it is every man for himself, and you cannot think of others. Not even your father. In this place, there is no such thing as father, brother, friend. Each of us lives and dies alone. Let me give you good advice: stop giving your ration of bread and soup to your old father. You cannot help him anymore. And you are hurting yourself. In fact, you should be getting his rations…”
I listened to him without interrupting. He was right, I thought deep down, not daring to admit it myself. Too late to save your old father…You could have two rations of bread, two rations of soup…
It was only a fraction of a second, but it left me feeling guilty. I ran to get some soup and brought it to my father. But he did not want it. All he wanted was water.
“Don’t drink water, eat the soup…”
“I’m burning up…Why are you so mean to me, my son?...Water…”
I brought him water. Then I left the block for roll call. But I quickly turned back. I lay down on the upper bunk. The sick were allowed to stay in the block. So I would be sick. I didn’t want to leave my father.
All around me, there was silence now, broken only by moaning. In front of the block, the SS were giving orders. An officer passed between the bunks. My father was pleading:
“My son, water…I’m burning up…My insides…”
“Silence over there!” barked the officer.
“Eliezer,” continued my father, “water…”
The officer came closer and shouted to him to be silent. But my father did not hear. He continued to call me. The officer wielded his club and dealt him a violent blow to the head.
I didn’t move. I was afraid, my body was afraid of another blow, this time to my head.
My father groaned once more, I heard:“Eliezer…”
I could see that he was still breathing – in gasps. I didn’t move.
When I came down from my bunk after roll call, I could see his lips trembling; he was murmuring something. I remained more than an hour leaning over him, looking at him, etching his bloody, broken face into my mind.
Then I had to go sleep. I climbed into my bunk, above my father, who was still alive. The date was January 28, 1945.
No prayers were said over his tomb. No candle lit in his memory. His last word had been my name. He had called out to me and I had not answered.
I did not weep, and it pained me that I could not weep. But I was out of tears. And deep inside me, if I could have searched the recesses of my feeble conscience. I might have found something like: Free at last!....
His next book, DAWN was a fictional account of a Jewish terrorist who was to kill an English major. It describes his ordeal and his transformation from man to murderer. The one thing that made sense to me was this - it is easier to be killed than to kill, because the one who kills will have to bear the name of 'murderer'. It was intense but as a novel I liked only one part -
You mustn’t be afraid of the dark. Night is purer than day; it is better for thinking and loving and dreaming. At night everything is more intense, more true. The echo of words that have been spoken during the day takes on a new and deeper meaning. The tragedy of man is that he doesn’t know how to distinguish between day and night. He says things at night that should only be said by day.
“Listen to me, kid. Don’t forget that you are in a concentration camp. In this place, it is every man for himself, and you cannot think of others. Not even your father. In this place, there is no such thing as father, brother, friend. Each of us lives and dies alone. Let me give you good advice: stop giving your ration of bread and soup to your old father. You cannot help him anymore. And you are hurting yourself. In fact, you should be getting his rations…”
I listened to him without interrupting. He was right, I thought deep down, not daring to admit it myself. Too late to save your old father…You could have two rations of bread, two rations of soup…
It was only a fraction of a second, but it left me feeling guilty. I ran to get some soup and brought it to my father. But he did not want it. All he wanted was water.
“Don’t drink water, eat the soup…”
“I’m burning up…Why are you so mean to me, my son?...Water…”
I brought him water. Then I left the block for roll call. But I quickly turned back. I lay down on the upper bunk. The sick were allowed to stay in the block. So I would be sick. I didn’t want to leave my father.
All around me, there was silence now, broken only by moaning. In front of the block, the SS were giving orders. An officer passed between the bunks. My father was pleading:
“My son, water…I’m burning up…My insides…”
“Silence over there!” barked the officer.
“Eliezer,” continued my father, “water…”
The officer came closer and shouted to him to be silent. But my father did not hear. He continued to call me. The officer wielded his club and dealt him a violent blow to the head.
I didn’t move. I was afraid, my body was afraid of another blow, this time to my head.
My father groaned once more, I heard:“Eliezer…”
I could see that he was still breathing – in gasps. I didn’t move.
When I came down from my bunk after roll call, I could see his lips trembling; he was murmuring something. I remained more than an hour leaning over him, looking at him, etching his bloody, broken face into my mind.
Then I had to go sleep. I climbed into my bunk, above my father, who was still alive. The date was January 28, 1945.
I woke up at dawn on January 29. On my father’s cot there lay another sick person. They must have taken him away before daybreak and taken him to the crematorium. Perhaps he was still breathing…-----------
No prayers were said over his tomb. No candle lit in his memory. His last word had been my name. He had called out to me and I had not answered.
I did not weep, and it pained me that I could not weep. But I was out of tears. And deep inside me, if I could have searched the recesses of my feeble conscience. I might have found something like: Free at last!....
His next book, DAWN was a fictional account of a Jewish terrorist who was to kill an English major. It describes his ordeal and his transformation from man to murderer. The one thing that made sense to me was this - it is easier to be killed than to kill, because the one who kills will have to bear the name of 'murderer'. It was intense but as a novel I liked only one part -
You mustn’t be afraid of the dark. Night is purer than day; it is better for thinking and loving and dreaming. At night everything is more intense, more true. The echo of words that have been spoken during the day takes on a new and deeper meaning. The tragedy of man is that he doesn’t know how to distinguish between day and night. He says things at night that should only be said by day.
Saturday, August 8, 2009
Remember Shakespeare in Love
One of my favorite movies. And one of the saddest endings I have ever heard of. But it ends with the most beautiful lines - lines full of hope and eternity.
My story starts at sea... a perilous voyage to an unknown land... a shipwreck... the wild waters roar and heave... the brave vessel is dashed all to pieces, and all the helpless souls within her drowned... all save one... a lady... whose soul is greater than the ocean... and her spirit stronger than the sea's embrace... not for her a watery end, but a new life beginning on a stranger shore. It will be a love story... for she will be my heroine for all time. And her name... Viola.
My story starts at sea... a perilous voyage to an unknown land... a shipwreck... the wild waters roar and heave... the brave vessel is dashed all to pieces, and all the helpless souls within her drowned... all save one... a lady... whose soul is greater than the ocean... and her spirit stronger than the sea's embrace... not for her a watery end, but a new life beginning on a stranger shore. It will be a love story... for she will be my heroine for all time. And her name... Viola.
*****
Mad About You
This is exactly what I want to be able to say 40 years from now - hopefully married to someone I love.
"...Oh my god, don't ever die. I have so much more to tell you, and I'm not interested in telling it to anyone else. And I'm not saying I'd be helpless. I mean, I'm bright and fairly good with money. I mean, I guess I'm cute, right? You would say, 'What, are you kidding me? You, my little friend, are a perfect example of beautiful.' And so I am. ' Cause I am nothing more or less than what I see in your eyes when you look at me. Do you know how long I waited for you? My mother used to say I was too picky, or afraid of commitment, and that's why I was still unmarried by the age of almost 30. But the truth is, I was just looking for you. Do you know how close I came to being a narrow, cold, mistrustful woman? But you have given me a life so big and full and good... and fun! I don't even know what we do, really, besides clean up and complain and wish we were sleeping, but with you, somehow... fun. And I'll tell you a secret. When we got married, I couldn't imagine still wanting to be with anyone all this time later. But I do. It's a miracle to me. You are a miracle. You've made me happy. Which is something I never, ever thought I'd be. "
"...Oh my god, don't ever die. I have so much more to tell you, and I'm not interested in telling it to anyone else. And I'm not saying I'd be helpless. I mean, I'm bright and fairly good with money. I mean, I guess I'm cute, right? You would say, 'What, are you kidding me? You, my little friend, are a perfect example of beautiful.' And so I am. ' Cause I am nothing more or less than what I see in your eyes when you look at me. Do you know how long I waited for you? My mother used to say I was too picky, or afraid of commitment, and that's why I was still unmarried by the age of almost 30. But the truth is, I was just looking for you. Do you know how close I came to being a narrow, cold, mistrustful woman? But you have given me a life so big and full and good... and fun! I don't even know what we do, really, besides clean up and complain and wish we were sleeping, but with you, somehow... fun. And I'll tell you a secret. When we got married, I couldn't imagine still wanting to be with anyone all this time later. But I do. It's a miracle to me. You are a miracle. You've made me happy. Which is something I never, ever thought I'd be. "
*****
Monday, July 27, 2009
Visthar in the wasteland
We all went for a picnic to this place called Visthar. It was a beautiful place and my favorite part was the conference hall - straw rool and cool marble flooring. We sat on the floor, bright sunshine outside..serene was the word. And while we talked, we were given introductions to the place. And to read such poems in such an environment is calming. I copy -
For that which is boundless in you
Abides in the mansion of the sky;
Whose door is the morning mist,
And whose windows are the songs
And the silence of the night
Kahlil Gibran
We must sleep with open eyes
we must dream with our hands
we must dream the dreams of a river seeking its course,
of the sun dreaming its worlds...
We must dream backward, towards the source...
we must find the lost word dream inwardly and also outwardly
Octavio Paz
To love.
To be loved.
To never forget your own significance.
To never get used to the unspeakable violence and
the vulgar disparity of life around you.
To seek joy in the saddest places.
To pursue beauty to its lair.
To never simplify what is complicated
or complicate what is simple.
To respect strength, never power.
Above all, to watch.
To try and understand.
To never look away.
And never, never to forget.
Arundhati Roy
Saturday, July 18, 2009
Atonement
I have been waxing eloquent about this movie for days now. I saw it first about a month back and it has left a huge mark on me. It's one of those stories that are honest and show you the worst about yourself so you can change.
I never made that journey to Balham. So the scene in which I confess to them is invented, imagined. And, in fact, could never have happened... .because Robbie Turner died of septicaemia at Bray Dunes on the first of June 1940, the last day of the evacuation...and I was never able to put things right with my sister Cecilia....because she was killed on the 15th of October, 1940 by the bomb that destroyed the gas and water mains above Balham tube station. So, my sister and Robbie were never able to have the time together they both so longed for... and deserved. Which ever since I've... ever since I've always felt I prevented. But what sense of hope or satisfaction could a reader derive from an ending like that? So in the book, I wanted to give Robbie and Cecilia what they lost out on in life. I'd like to think this isn't weakness or... evasion... but a final act of kindness. I gave them their happiness.*****
Just do as I have asked of you. Write it all down. Just the truth. No rhymes, no embellishments, no adjectives. And then leave us be.*****
Dearest Cecilia, the story can resume. The one I had been planning on that evening walk. I can become again the man who once crossed the Surrey park at dusk, in my best suit, swaggering on the promise of life. The man who, with the clarity of passion, made love to you in the library. The story can resume. I will return. Find you, love you, marry you and live without shame.*****
*****
DO NOT QUIT
Inspirational. It used to be displayed in my school...somewhere near the toilets. I remember reading it and thinking I had never heard anything that was so inspiring in so few words. I saw this again after 5 years...and I copy -
DON'T QUIT
When things go wrong as they sometimes will.
When the road you're trudging seems all uphill,
When the funds are low and the debts are high,
And you want to smile, but you have to sigh,
When care is pressing you down a bit,
Rest! if you must; but don't you quit.
Life is queer with its twists and turns,
As everyone of us sometimes learns,
And many a failure turns about
When he might have won had he stuck it out;
Don't give up, though the pace seems slow;
You might succeed with another blow.Often the goal is nearer than
It seems to a faint and faltering man
Often the struggler has given up
When he might have captured the victor's cup.
And he learned too late, when the night slipped down,
How close he was to the golden crown.
Success is failure turned inside out;
The silver tints of the clouds of doubt;
And you can never tell how close you are.
It may be near when it seems afar;
So stick to the fight when you're hardest hit;
It's when things seem worst that you mus'nt quit.
Saturday, May 9, 2009
Witch of Portobello 2
My way of approaching Allah has been through calligraphy, and the search for the perfect meaning of each word. A single letter requires us to distill in it all the energy it contains, as if we were carving out its meaning. When sacred texts are written, they contain the soul of the man who served as an instrument to spread them throughout the world. And that doesn’t apply only to sacred texts, but to every mark we place on paper. Because the hand that draws each line reflects the soul of the person making that line.*****
What is a teacher? It isn't someone who teaches something, but someone who inspires the student to give of her best to discover what she already knows.*****
I can combine two things: movement and stillness, joy and concentration.*****
It is done with great technique but with soul as well. For that to happen, the intention of the write must in be in harmony with the word. In this case, the saddest verses cease to be clothes in tragedy and are transformed into simple facts encountered along the way.
You have learnt what you need to learn. Your calligraphy is getting more and more individual and spontaneous. It’s no longer a mere repetition of beauty, but a personal, creative gesture. You have understood what all great painters understand: in order to forget the rules, you must know them and respect them.*****
You no longer need the tools that helped you learn. You no longer need paper, ink or brush, because the path is more important that whatever made you set off along it.
If words are joined together, they wouldn’t make sense, or, at the very least, they’d be extremely hard to decipher. The spaces are crucial. You have to understand the blank spaces.
*****
Her eyes were closed and she seemed no longer to be conscious of who she was or where she was or why she was there; it was as if she were floating and simultaneously summoning up her past, revealing her presenting and predicting her future. She mingled her eroticism with chastity, pornography with revelation, worship of God and nature, all at the same time.
People stopped eating and started watching what was happening. She was no longer following the music, the musicians were trying to keep up with her steps, and that restaurant in the basement of an old building in the city of Sibiu was transformed into an Egyptian temple, where the worshippers of Isis used to gather for their fertility rites. The smell of roast meat and wine was transmuted into an incense that drew us all into the same trance-like state into the same experience of leaving the world and entering an unknown dimension.
The string and wind instruments had given up, only the percussion played on. Athena was dancing as if she were no longer there, with sweat running down her face, her bare feet beating on the wooden floor. A woman got up and very gently tied a scarf around her neck and breasts, because her blouse kept threatening to slip off her shoulders. Athena, however, appeared not to notice; she was inhabiting other spheres, experiencing the frontiers of worlds that almost touch ours, but never reveal themselves.
The other people in the restaurant started clapping in time to the music, and Athena was dancing every faster, feeding on that energy, and spinning round and round, balancing in the void, snatching up everything that we, poor mortals, wanted to offer to the supreme divinity.
We don’t posses the Earth, the Earth possesses us. We used to travel constantly, and everything around us was ours: the plants, the water, the landscapes through which our caravans passed. Our laws were nature’s laws: the strong survived, and we, the weak, the eternal exiles, learned to hide our strength and to use it only when necessary. We don’t believe that God made the universe. We believe tht God is the universe and that we are contained in Him, and He in us. Although in my opinion we should call “Him” “Goddess” or “mother” - like the woman in all of us, who protects us when we are in danger. She will always be with us while we perform our daily tasks with love and job, understanding that nothing is suffering, that everything is a way of praising Creation.*****
Our ritual – we sit around a fire that has just been lit; we play instruments, we sing, we dance, we tell stories.
Worshipping someone means placing that person outside our world. We are not worshipping anyone or anything; we are simply communing with creation.
The only thing that unites gypsies in religious terms is the worship of St. Sarah and making a pilgrimage, at least once in our lifetime to visit her tomb in Saintes-Maries-de-la-Mer. Some tribes call her Kali Sarah, Black Sarah. Or the Virgin of the Gypsies, as she’s known in Lourdes.
*****
Thursday, May 7, 2009
The Witch of Portobello
Paulo Coelho as always was so profound - not in a truthful kind of way, but more in a mystic kind of way. I believe he propagates 'developing into more of oneself'. Becoming more of yourself. After this book, I see nature differently...and a small thing like calligraphy - how beautifully it has been described.
The Virgin (and I’m not speaking here of a sexual virgin) is the one whose search springs from her complete independence, and everything she learns is the fruit of her ability to face challenges alone.
The Martyr finds her way to self-knowledge through pain, surrender and suffering.
The Saint finds her true reason for living in unconditional love and in her ability to give without asking anything in return.
Finally, the Witch justifies her existence by going in search of complete and limitless pleasure.
Normally, a woman has to choose from one of these traditional feminine archetypes, but Athena was all four at once.
She was a supermarket checkout girl, a bank employee, a property dealer, and in each of these positions she always revealed the priestess within. I lived with her for eight years, and I owed her this: to recover her memory, her identity.
The most difficult in collecting together these statements was persuading people to let me use their real names. Some said they didn’t was to be involved in this kind of story; other tried to conceal their opinions and feelings. I explained that my real intention was to help all those involved to understand her better, and that no reader would believe in anonymous statements.
They finally agreed because they all believed that they knew the unique and definitive version of any event, however significant. During the recordings, I saw that things are never absolute; they depend on each individual’s perceptions. And the best way to know who we are is often to find out how others see us.
This doesn’t mean that we should do what other expect us to do, but it helps us to understand ourselves better. I owed it to Athena to recover her story, to write her myth.
But, at the same time, we feel afraid. Surrendering completely to love, be it human or divine, means giving up everything, including our own well-being or our ability to make decisions. It means loving in the deepest sense of the word.
..Love arrives, moves in and starts directing everything. Only very strong souls allow themselves to be swept along, and Athena was a strong soul.
As I watched Athena dance during her pregnancy and listened to her play the guitar to calm the baby and make him feel loved, I began to allow her way of seeing the world to affect my life too.
Vertex is the top most angle of a triangle. In life too, it’s the culminating point, the goal of all those who, like everyone else, make mistakes, but who, even in their darkest moments, never loose sight of the light emanating from their hearts. The vertex is hidden inside us, and we can reach it if we accept it and recognize the light.
“Dance to the point of exhaustion, as if you were a mountaineer climbing a hill, a sacred mountain. Dance until you are so out of breath that your organism is forced to obtain oxygen some other way, and it is that, in the end, which will cause you to lose your identity and your relationship with space and time. Dance only to the sound of percussion; repeat the process everyday; know that, at a certain moment, your eyes will, quite naturally, close, and you will begin to see a light that comes from within, a light that answers your questions and develops yours hidden powers"
Ecstasy means ‘to stand outside yourself’. Spending the whole day outside yourself is asking too much of body and soul.
Do you know what I learnt? That although ecstasy is the ability to stand outside yourself, dance is a way of rising up into space, of discovering new dimensions while still remaining in touch with your body. When you dance, the spiritual world and the real world manage to coexist quite happily. I think classical dancers dance on pointes because they’re simultaneously touching the earth and reaching up to the skies.
During any dance to which we surrender with joy, the brain loses its controlling power, and the heart takes up the reins of the body. Only at that moment does the Vertex appear. As long as we believe in it of course.
We women, when we‘re searching for a meaning to our lives or for the path of knowledge, always identify with one or four classic archetypes.*****
The Virgin (and I’m not speaking here of a sexual virgin) is the one whose search springs from her complete independence, and everything she learns is the fruit of her ability to face challenges alone.
The Martyr finds her way to self-knowledge through pain, surrender and suffering.
The Saint finds her true reason for living in unconditional love and in her ability to give without asking anything in return.
Finally, the Witch justifies her existence by going in search of complete and limitless pleasure.
Normally, a woman has to choose from one of these traditional feminine archetypes, but Athena was all four at once.
What did Athena do? She did a little of everything, but, if I had to summarize her life, I’d say: she was a priestess who understood the forces of nature. Or, rather, she was someone who, by the simple facts of having little to lose or to hope for in life, took greater risks than other people and ended up being transformed into the forces she thought she has mastered.*****
She was a supermarket checkout girl, a bank employee, a property dealer, and in each of these positions she always revealed the priestess within. I lived with her for eight years, and I owed her this: to recover her memory, her identity.
The most difficult in collecting together these statements was persuading people to let me use their real names. Some said they didn’t was to be involved in this kind of story; other tried to conceal their opinions and feelings. I explained that my real intention was to help all those involved to understand her better, and that no reader would believe in anonymous statements.
They finally agreed because they all believed that they knew the unique and definitive version of any event, however significant. During the recordings, I saw that things are never absolute; they depend on each individual’s perceptions. And the best way to know who we are is often to find out how others see us.
This doesn’t mean that we should do what other expect us to do, but it helps us to understand ourselves better. I owed it to Athena to recover her story, to write her myth.
But the fact is that, to a greater or lesser extent, all creative human beings have such experiences, which are known as ‘possession by the sacred’. Suddenly, for a fraction of a second, we feel as if our whole life is justified, our sins forgiven, and that love is still the strongest force, one that can transform us forever.*****
But, at the same time, we feel afraid. Surrendering completely to love, be it human or divine, means giving up everything, including our own well-being or our ability to make decisions. It means loving in the deepest sense of the word.
..Love arrives, moves in and starts directing everything. Only very strong souls allow themselves to be swept along, and Athena was a strong soul.
As I later learned, music is as old as human beings. Music isn’t just something that comforts or distracts us, it goes beyond that – it’s an ideology. You can judge people by the kind of music they listen to.*****
As I watched Athena dance during her pregnancy and listened to her play the guitar to calm the baby and make him feel loved, I began to allow her way of seeing the world to affect my life too.
A saint is someone who lives his or her life with dignity. All we have to do is understand that we’re all here for a reason and to commit ourselves to that. Then we can laugh at our sufferings, large and small, and walk fearlessly, aware that each step has meaning. We can let ourselves be guided by the light emanating from the Vertex.*****
Vertex is the top most angle of a triangle. In life too, it’s the culminating point, the goal of all those who, like everyone else, make mistakes, but who, even in their darkest moments, never loose sight of the light emanating from their hearts. The vertex is hidden inside us, and we can reach it if we accept it and recognize the light.
There was a sect who believed that they found the remedy for all ills through a particular form of dance, because the dance brought the dancer into contact with the light from the Vertex.*****
“Dance to the point of exhaustion, as if you were a mountaineer climbing a hill, a sacred mountain. Dance until you are so out of breath that your organism is forced to obtain oxygen some other way, and it is that, in the end, which will cause you to lose your identity and your relationship with space and time. Dance only to the sound of percussion; repeat the process everyday; know that, at a certain moment, your eyes will, quite naturally, close, and you will begin to see a light that comes from within, a light that answers your questions and develops yours hidden powers"
Although I get tired when I’m dancing, when I stop, I seem to be in a state of grace, of profound ecstasy. I want that ecstasy to last throughout the day and for it to help me find what I lack; the love of a man. I ca see the heart of that man while I’m dancing, but not his face. I sense that he’s close by, which is why I need to remain alert. I need to dance in the morning so that I can spend the rest of the day paying attention to everything that’s going on around me.*****
Ecstasy means ‘to stand outside yourself’. Spending the whole day outside yourself is asking too much of body and soul.
Do you know what I learnt? That although ecstasy is the ability to stand outside yourself, dance is a way of rising up into space, of discovering new dimensions while still remaining in touch with your body. When you dance, the spiritual world and the real world manage to coexist quite happily. I think classical dancers dance on pointes because they’re simultaneously touching the earth and reaching up to the skies.
During any dance to which we surrender with joy, the brain loses its controlling power, and the heart takes up the reins of the body. Only at that moment does the Vertex appear. As long as we believe in it of course.
*****
Sunday, April 12, 2009
George Matheson's hymn
It's Easter and I as usual was reading a book in church. I felt the need for God so strongly, this poem seemed beautiful to me. I've copied it from Recapture the Wonder.
O Love that wilt not let me go,
I rest my weary soul in thee;
I give thee back the life I owe,
That in thine ocean depths its flow
May richer, fuller be.
O joy that seekest me through pain,
I cannot close my heart to thee;
I trace the rainbow through the rain,
And feel the promise is not in vain
That morn shall tearless be.
O Love that wilt not let me go,
I rest my weary soul in thee;
I give thee back the life I owe,
That in thine ocean depths its flow
May richer, fuller be.
O joy that seekest me through pain,
I cannot close my heart to thee;
I trace the rainbow through the rain,
And feel the promise is not in vain
That morn shall tearless be.
Friday, April 10, 2009
Recapture the wonder
In 1996, Oscar-winning actor Haing Ngor was tragically murdered in Los Angeles. Ngor was not a household name but he became known and respected by those who saw the movie The Killing Fields. Dr. Ngor was actually a physician turned actor who feld his native country of Cambodia after he had lost every member of his family to the murderous Khmer Rouge. This man had lived on wild roots in the jungle, hiding from his tormentors. He had been tortured and imprisoned by the Communists. When he escaped Cambodia, he left with one precious possession: a gold locket that had belonged to his wife, from whose loss he was never able to recover. He wore that locket around his neck, with a lock of her hair placed inside it.
Arriving in the United States, he worked as a counsellor in his own commuity and did an enormous amount of humanitarian work. He became an accomplished actor and was well loved by all who knew him. One night, a band of young thugs cornered him and demanded everything he had. He parted with everything but the locked and explained why. It was all he had left of his wife's personal memory and he pleaded with themm to not take it from him. They would have nothing of such reasoning and because they had no imagination for such treasures of the heart. Instead, they mercilessly killed him in order to wrench the locket away from him. As the age of forty-six, Ngor died clinging to the locket bespeaking a value that those murderers did not understand.
To ascribe value to monetary things is to reduce one's own value to the same level. To lift the value of something beyond the monetary is to make it immeasurable. The one possessing the wealth must know its real value if the possession is to bring wonder.
Arriving in the United States, he worked as a counsellor in his own commuity and did an enormous amount of humanitarian work. He became an accomplished actor and was well loved by all who knew him. One night, a band of young thugs cornered him and demanded everything he had. He parted with everything but the locked and explained why. It was all he had left of his wife's personal memory and he pleaded with themm to not take it from him. They would have nothing of such reasoning and because they had no imagination for such treasures of the heart. Instead, they mercilessly killed him in order to wrench the locket away from him. As the age of forty-six, Ngor died clinging to the locket bespeaking a value that those murderers did not understand.
To ascribe value to monetary things is to reduce one's own value to the same level. To lift the value of something beyond the monetary is to make it immeasurable. The one possessing the wealth must know its real value if the possession is to bring wonder.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Dude, Where's my Country?
I bought this Micheal Moore Book at an exhibition. It was interesting - my favorite part was Chapter 6...most of which I have copied here -
Hi. God here. I hope you don't mind if I interrupt Mike's book with a few words from Me, your Almighty Creator, but hey, I'm God - who's going to stop Me?
.
.
Believe Me, when I get to do it over again( after you all have blown up the world), I'll get to do it right. But, for now, what do I do about this Bush fellow? I keep hearing him say that he is "acting' on My "behalf". Let's get one thing straight: This guy does NOT speak for Me or anyone else up here. I do My own talking, or when I', tired, I send down a prophet or two to do the yammering for Me. Once I sent My Son, but that just stirred up a shitstorm which still hasn't died down. Things didn't go too well for Him and frankly, Our relationship is still a little strained over it. He's told Me in no uncertain terns that He is never going back to Earth, Second Coming or no Second Coming. " Send Gabriel," is all He ever says to Me when I broach the subject.
I'd hate to have to come down there Myself to straighten things out because, when I show up, it ain't a pretty sight. George W. Bush was not sent by Me on any kind of mission whatsoever. He was not sent to remove Saddam, he was not sent to fight some axis of evil, and he was not supposed to be president. I have no clue how that one even happened. First, I answered all your prayers and removed his father from the presidency. Then, when his son showed up eight years later, I again answered your prayers and that guy Gore got the most votes. Like you, I did not count on the interference of other supreme beings or supreme courts.
Well, that's what happened to this particular party boy. Before I could whip up a plague of locusts, W. was off the divine plan. I tried to make his life as miserable as possible. I saw to it that every one of his business ventures failed. I made sure that his baseball team sucked beyond belief. I even appeared to him in a dream and convinved him to trade away Sammy Sosa, and then, just to rub it in, I made Sosa a home-run king when he went to his new team.
.
.
But it didn't faze George at all, and he found ways to use it for his benefit. Before I knew it, he was governor of Texas and he was deciding when people would die. THAT's MY JOB.
.
.
So, for the few of you who still hold some faith in Me, let Me assure you of the following:
1. I am the Lord they God and HE is the Son of George, not the Son of God. I will hae him spending eternity parking cars in Hell's VIP lot as soon as I get my hands on him.
2. I did not order Bush to invade any countries. It is still wrong to kill other human beings unless they have a really big knife at your throat and all pleas for mercy and a warning shot have gone unheeded. Killing humans is My job, and boy, do I love it. You've all gotten Me so pissed off, I may just ax another 10000 of you tonight.
3.I do not want school kids praying to me in a classroom. Save it for the church and before bedtime - that's enough for the little tykes. You keep forcing then to pray to Me, they are going to hate My ass. Stop it!
4. An embryo is an embryo, a fetus is a fetus and a baby is a baby. That's the way I set it up. When it is a baby, then it becomes a human being. You humans are difficult enough, I don't need more of you around any sooner than necessary. And while we're on the subject, I really don't care about your sex lives, as long as they're consenting and adult. Just keep it to yourselves, okay?
5. One more thing on the subject of creation: Let Me state once and for all that I did not invent and do not endorse "creationism." It's a completely bogus concept, right up there with the New Hampshire primary and non-alcoholic beer. I'm an evolution guy, despite what the neanderthals claim in My name. Who do you think created science? Only a Higher Power could come up with something so complex and miraculous.
6. I do not approve of plaques and monuments with the Ten Commandments and other religious material being displayed in public buildings. My little-know Eleventh Commandment? Keep your religious convictions to your own damn selves.
7. As far as those other religions go, two points of clarification. One, there are never going to be seventy-two virgins waiting for you up here. We haven't had a virgin up here since Jesus' mother, and you're not getting anywhere near her. So save yourself the dynamite and blow-to-bits body parts because you aren't ever getting a room in My joint. And, two, there is no "Promised Land". There big truck-load of sand I dumped in that horrid strip between the Mediterranean and the River Jordan? NOBODY was supposed to live on it, let alone fight over it to the point where it may results in the end of the world. I did not give that land to the Isrealites, I did not give that land to Mohamed, and if everyone keeps using Me as the landlord I'm going to settle the dispute once and for all, so knock it off.
.
.
.
You want to get rid of some evil? Why not start with eliminating a bit of the evil you've created. Allowing millions of your children to go hungry, that is evil. Watching endless hours of reality television when you could be having really raunchy sex with someone you love, that is evil.
Hi. God here. I hope you don't mind if I interrupt Mike's book with a few words from Me, your Almighty Creator, but hey, I'm God - who's going to stop Me?
.
.
Believe Me, when I get to do it over again( after you all have blown up the world), I'll get to do it right. But, for now, what do I do about this Bush fellow? I keep hearing him say that he is "acting' on My "behalf". Let's get one thing straight: This guy does NOT speak for Me or anyone else up here. I do My own talking, or when I', tired, I send down a prophet or two to do the yammering for Me. Once I sent My Son, but that just stirred up a shitstorm which still hasn't died down. Things didn't go too well for Him and frankly, Our relationship is still a little strained over it. He's told Me in no uncertain terns that He is never going back to Earth, Second Coming or no Second Coming. " Send Gabriel," is all He ever says to Me when I broach the subject.
I'd hate to have to come down there Myself to straighten things out because, when I show up, it ain't a pretty sight. George W. Bush was not sent by Me on any kind of mission whatsoever. He was not sent to remove Saddam, he was not sent to fight some axis of evil, and he was not supposed to be president. I have no clue how that one even happened. First, I answered all your prayers and removed his father from the presidency. Then, when his son showed up eight years later, I again answered your prayers and that guy Gore got the most votes. Like you, I did not count on the interference of other supreme beings or supreme courts.
Well, that's what happened to this particular party boy. Before I could whip up a plague of locusts, W. was off the divine plan. I tried to make his life as miserable as possible. I saw to it that every one of his business ventures failed. I made sure that his baseball team sucked beyond belief. I even appeared to him in a dream and convinved him to trade away Sammy Sosa, and then, just to rub it in, I made Sosa a home-run king when he went to his new team.
.
.
But it didn't faze George at all, and he found ways to use it for his benefit. Before I knew it, he was governor of Texas and he was deciding when people would die. THAT's MY JOB.
.
.
So, for the few of you who still hold some faith in Me, let Me assure you of the following:
1. I am the Lord they God and HE is the Son of George, not the Son of God. I will hae him spending eternity parking cars in Hell's VIP lot as soon as I get my hands on him.
2. I did not order Bush to invade any countries. It is still wrong to kill other human beings unless they have a really big knife at your throat and all pleas for mercy and a warning shot have gone unheeded. Killing humans is My job, and boy, do I love it. You've all gotten Me so pissed off, I may just ax another 10000 of you tonight.
3.I do not want school kids praying to me in a classroom. Save it for the church and before bedtime - that's enough for the little tykes. You keep forcing then to pray to Me, they are going to hate My ass. Stop it!
4. An embryo is an embryo, a fetus is a fetus and a baby is a baby. That's the way I set it up. When it is a baby, then it becomes a human being. You humans are difficult enough, I don't need more of you around any sooner than necessary. And while we're on the subject, I really don't care about your sex lives, as long as they're consenting and adult. Just keep it to yourselves, okay?
5. One more thing on the subject of creation: Let Me state once and for all that I did not invent and do not endorse "creationism." It's a completely bogus concept, right up there with the New Hampshire primary and non-alcoholic beer. I'm an evolution guy, despite what the neanderthals claim in My name. Who do you think created science? Only a Higher Power could come up with something so complex and miraculous.
6. I do not approve of plaques and monuments with the Ten Commandments and other religious material being displayed in public buildings. My little-know Eleventh Commandment? Keep your religious convictions to your own damn selves.
7. As far as those other religions go, two points of clarification. One, there are never going to be seventy-two virgins waiting for you up here. We haven't had a virgin up here since Jesus' mother, and you're not getting anywhere near her. So save yourself the dynamite and blow-to-bits body parts because you aren't ever getting a room in My joint. And, two, there is no "Promised Land". There big truck-load of sand I dumped in that horrid strip between the Mediterranean and the River Jordan? NOBODY was supposed to live on it, let alone fight over it to the point where it may results in the end of the world. I did not give that land to the Isrealites, I did not give that land to Mohamed, and if everyone keeps using Me as the landlord I'm going to settle the dispute once and for all, so knock it off.
.
.
.
You want to get rid of some evil? Why not start with eliminating a bit of the evil you've created. Allowing millions of your children to go hungry, that is evil. Watching endless hours of reality television when you could be having really raunchy sex with someone you love, that is evil.
Friday, February 27, 2009
On the pulse of Morning
"The Pulse of Morning"
- Maya Angelou
A Rock, A River, A Tree
Hosts to species long since departed,
Marked the mastodon.
The dinosaur, who left dry tokens
Of their sojourn here
On our planet floor,
Any broad alarm of their hastening doom
Is lost in the gloom of dust and ages.
But today, the Rock cries out to us, clearly, forcefully,
Come, you may stand upon my
Back and face your distant destiny,
But seek no haven in my shadow.
I will give you no more hiding place down here.
You, created only a little lower than
The angels, have crouched too long in
The bruising darkness,
Have lain too long
Face down in ignorance.
Your mouths spilling words
Armed for slaughter.
The Rock cries out today, you may stand on me,
But do not hide your face.
Across the wall of the world,
A River sings a beautiful song,
Come rest here by my side.
Each of you a bordered country,
Delicate and strangely made proud,
Yet thrusting perpetually under siege.
Your armed struggles for profit
Have left collars of waste upon
My shore, currents of debris upon my breast.
Yet, today I call you to my riverside,
If you will study war no more. Come,
Clad in peace and I will sing the songs
The Creator gave to me when I and the
Tree and the stone were one.
Before cynicism was a bloody sear across your
Brow and when you yet knew you still
Knew nothing.
The River sings and sings on.
There is a true yearning to respond to
The singing River and the wise Rock.
So say the Asian, the Hispanic, the Jew
The African and Native American, the Sioux,
The Catholic, the Muslim, the French, the Greek
The Irish, the Rabbi, the Priest, the Sheikh,
The Gay, the Straight, the Preacher,
The privileged, the homeless, the Teacher.
They hear. They all hear
The speaking of the Tree.
Today, the first and last of every Tree
Speaks to humankind. Come to me, here beside the River.
Plant yourself beside me, here beside the River.
Each of you, descendant of some passed
On traveller, has been paid for.
You, who gave me my first name, you
Pawnee, Apache and Seneca, you
Cherokee Nation, who rested with me, then
Forced on bloody feet, left me to the employment of
Other seekers--desperate for gain,
Starving for gold.
You, the Turk, the Swede, the German, the Scot
You the Ashanti, the Yoruba, the Kru, bought
Sold, stolen, arriving on a nightmare
Praying for a dream.
Here, root yourselves beside me.
I am the Tree planted by the River,
Which will not be moved.
I, the Rock, I the River, I the Tree
I am yours--your Passages have been paid.
Lift up your faces, you have a piercing need
For this bright morning dawning for you.
History, despite its wrenching pain,
Cannot be unlived, and if faced
With courage, need not be lived again.
Lift up your eyes upon
The day breaking for you.
Give birth again
To the dream.
Women, children, men,
Take it into the palms of your hands.
Mold it into the shape of your most
Private need. Sculpt it into
The image of your most public self.
Lift up your hearts
Each new hour holds new chances
For new beginnings.
Do not be wedded forever
To fear, yoked eternally
To brutishness.
The horizon leans forward,
Offering you space to place new steps of change.
Here, on the pulse of this fine day
You may have the courage
To look up and out upon me, the
Rock, the River, the Tree, your country.
No less to Midas than the mendicant.
No less to you now than the mastodon then.
Here on the pulse of this new day
You may have the grace to look up and out
And into your sister's eyes, into
Your brother's face, your country
And say simply
Very simply
With hope
Good morning
To me, the poet's life is more interesting than the poem. Maya Angelou recited the above poem at the inauguration of Bill Clinton's presidential term. This is one interesting story of her life that I found in the book, Searching for God know what -
In the interview she(Maya Angelou) talked about the time, as only an eight-year-old girl, that she was raped by her mother's boyfriend. She spoke about having to heal from the crime, but also about how she told on the man, and how he had gone to prison and, shortly after being released, was beaten to death by men in the community. Angelou believes she was the one who caused the man's death because she told about the rape...after the beating, the terrified young child didn't speak for years. It was much later, during a walk with her mother, that she would find the source of her life of freedom, beauty, and creativity. Walking down a street near their home, Angelou said her mother stopped, turned, and spoke to her:
"Baby," she said, looking the young woman in the eye. "You know something? I think you are the greatest woman I have ever met. Yes. Mary McLeod Bethune, Eleanor Roosevelt, my mother, and you - and you are the greatest." Maya Angelou said in the interview that she boarded a streetcar with tears flowing down her cheeks, stared into the wood paneling of the car and thought to herself, Suppose I really am somebody?
Her first autobiography, I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings, was nominated for a National Book Award and her collection of poetry, Just Give Me a Cool Drink of Water 'Fore I Diie was nominated for the Pulitzer Prize.
- Maya Angelou
A Rock, A River, A Tree
Hosts to species long since departed,
Marked the mastodon.
The dinosaur, who left dry tokens
Of their sojourn here
On our planet floor,
Any broad alarm of their hastening doom
Is lost in the gloom of dust and ages.
But today, the Rock cries out to us, clearly, forcefully,
Come, you may stand upon my
Back and face your distant destiny,
But seek no haven in my shadow.
I will give you no more hiding place down here.
You, created only a little lower than
The angels, have crouched too long in
The bruising darkness,
Have lain too long
Face down in ignorance.
Your mouths spilling words
Armed for slaughter.
The Rock cries out today, you may stand on me,
But do not hide your face.
Across the wall of the world,
A River sings a beautiful song,
Come rest here by my side.
Each of you a bordered country,
Delicate and strangely made proud,
Yet thrusting perpetually under siege.
Your armed struggles for profit
Have left collars of waste upon
My shore, currents of debris upon my breast.
Yet, today I call you to my riverside,
If you will study war no more. Come,
Clad in peace and I will sing the songs
The Creator gave to me when I and the
Tree and the stone were one.
Before cynicism was a bloody sear across your
Brow and when you yet knew you still
Knew nothing.
The River sings and sings on.
There is a true yearning to respond to
The singing River and the wise Rock.
So say the Asian, the Hispanic, the Jew
The African and Native American, the Sioux,
The Catholic, the Muslim, the French, the Greek
The Irish, the Rabbi, the Priest, the Sheikh,
The Gay, the Straight, the Preacher,
The privileged, the homeless, the Teacher.
They hear. They all hear
The speaking of the Tree.
Today, the first and last of every Tree
Speaks to humankind. Come to me, here beside the River.
Plant yourself beside me, here beside the River.
Each of you, descendant of some passed
On traveller, has been paid for.
You, who gave me my first name, you
Pawnee, Apache and Seneca, you
Cherokee Nation, who rested with me, then
Forced on bloody feet, left me to the employment of
Other seekers--desperate for gain,
Starving for gold.
You, the Turk, the Swede, the German, the Scot
You the Ashanti, the Yoruba, the Kru, bought
Sold, stolen, arriving on a nightmare
Praying for a dream.
Here, root yourselves beside me.
I am the Tree planted by the River,
Which will not be moved.
I, the Rock, I the River, I the Tree
I am yours--your Passages have been paid.
Lift up your faces, you have a piercing need
For this bright morning dawning for you.
History, despite its wrenching pain,
Cannot be unlived, and if faced
With courage, need not be lived again.
Lift up your eyes upon
The day breaking for you.
Give birth again
To the dream.
Women, children, men,
Take it into the palms of your hands.
Mold it into the shape of your most
Private need. Sculpt it into
The image of your most public self.
Lift up your hearts
Each new hour holds new chances
For new beginnings.
Do not be wedded forever
To fear, yoked eternally
To brutishness.
The horizon leans forward,
Offering you space to place new steps of change.
Here, on the pulse of this fine day
You may have the courage
To look up and out upon me, the
Rock, the River, the Tree, your country.
No less to Midas than the mendicant.
No less to you now than the mastodon then.
Here on the pulse of this new day
You may have the grace to look up and out
And into your sister's eyes, into
Your brother's face, your country
And say simply
Very simply
With hope
Good morning
To me, the poet's life is more interesting than the poem. Maya Angelou recited the above poem at the inauguration of Bill Clinton's presidential term. This is one interesting story of her life that I found in the book, Searching for God know what -
In the interview she(Maya Angelou) talked about the time, as only an eight-year-old girl, that she was raped by her mother's boyfriend. She spoke about having to heal from the crime, but also about how she told on the man, and how he had gone to prison and, shortly after being released, was beaten to death by men in the community. Angelou believes she was the one who caused the man's death because she told about the rape...after the beating, the terrified young child didn't speak for years. It was much later, during a walk with her mother, that she would find the source of her life of freedom, beauty, and creativity. Walking down a street near their home, Angelou said her mother stopped, turned, and spoke to her:
"Baby," she said, looking the young woman in the eye. "You know something? I think you are the greatest woman I have ever met. Yes. Mary McLeod Bethune, Eleanor Roosevelt, my mother, and you - and you are the greatest." Maya Angelou said in the interview that she boarded a streetcar with tears flowing down her cheeks, stared into the wood paneling of the car and thought to herself, Suppose I really am somebody?
Her first autobiography, I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings, was nominated for a National Book Award and her collection of poetry, Just Give Me a Cool Drink of Water 'Fore I Diie was nominated for the Pulitzer Prize.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Laws of Lifetime Personal Growth
At what age did you stop growing taller? The average age when the human body stops getting taller is debatable, but it's generally between the agesof 16 and 21. I often wonder at what age most leaders stop growing.Unfortunately, most people settle into average by the end of their 20's. Rarely will you find a person committed to a comprehensive personal growth plan into their 30's, 40's, or beyond.
As children we grew year after year, sometimes in spurts, sometimes imperceptibly, but our bodies were always growing. The growth of a leader can be similar. At times, it may feel like the wheels are spinning and no headway is being made. In other seasons, new break throughs and victories are clear indicators of a growth spurt. To grow consistently, the key is to manage your daily agenda. I wish I could pass along an easier solution or secret formula for leadership growth, but daily discipline makes all the difference between growth and stagnation.I would like to pass along a few growth principles to guide you in your daily journey of leadership growth.
Law #1 – Always Make Your Future Bigger Than Your Past.
"The past is useful because it is rich with experiences that are worth thinking about in new ways-and all of these valuable experiences can become raw material for creating an even bigger future. Approach your past with this attitude, and you will have an insatiable desire for even better, more enjoyable experiences. Use your past to continually create a bigger future,and you will separate yourself from situations, relationships, and activities that can trap you there."- Sullivan & Nomura
Thoughts about the Future:
Abraham Lincoln said, "The best thing about the future is that it comes only one day at a time." The secret of your success is determined by your daily agenda. We spend each day either repairing the past or preparing forthe future. We can try to fix our past, but we can't rewrite it; we can only author our future.The future is that time when you'll wish you had done what you aren't doing now. Don't fear failure so much that you refuse new things. The saddest
summary of a life contains three descriptions: could have, might have, and should have.
Law #2 – Always Make Your Contribution Bigger Than Your Reward.
"As you become more successful, numerous rewards will come your way: greater income, praise, recognition, reputation, status, capabilities, resources, and opportunities. These are all desirable things, but they can be growth stoppers. They may tempt you to become fixated on just the rewards, rather than focus on making still greater contributions. The way to guarantee that rewards will continually increase is to not think too much about them. Instead, continue making an even more significant contribution."- Sullivan & Nomura
Thoughts on Contribution
To make your contribution bigger than your reward, adopt an anti-entitlement attitude. Believe you must give before you receive. Expect to serve before feeling like you deserve a reward. Determine success by the seeds you sow rather than the harvest you reap. Each morning, I ask myself, "Who can I add value to and how can I do it?" It's amazing how much I've been able to contribute by answering this simple question each day and following through to help a friend or colleague.
Law #3 Always Make Your Performance Greater Than Your Applause.
"The greatest performers in all fields are those who always strive to get
better. No matter how much acclaim they receive, they keep working to improve their performance. Continually work to surpass everything you've done so far, and your performance will always be greater than your applause."- Sullivan & Nomura
Thoughts on Performance
To make sure your performance stays a step ahead or your applause, be growth-driven instead of goal-driven. I'm not criticizing goals, but if we aren't careful, they can limit our growth. If we set them too high, they de-motivate us. If we set them too low, we are tempted to relax when we hit them rather than pushing for our best performance. Growth is a long and consistent process. No substitutions can be made or short cuts taken which avoid the day-to-day process of growth.
Law #4 – Always Make Your Gratitude Greater Than Your Success.
"Only a small percentage of people are continually successful over the longrun. These outstanding few recognize that every success comes through the assistance of many other people – and they are continually grateful for this support."–Sullivan & Nomura
Thoughts on Gratitude: We see the value in people and things through proactive gratitude. Once we see this value, we naturally treat these people and things with greater respect. People and resources are drawn to where they are valued most. The world responds to gratitude by making more of everything we appreciate available to us. To adopt an attitude of thankfulness, Oprah Winfrey keeps a gratitude journal. She recommends her habit to others: "Every night, list five things that happened this day that you are grateful for. What it will begin to do is change your perspective of your day and your life. If you can learn to focus on what you have, you will always see that the universe is abundant; you will have more. If you concentrate on what you don't have, you will never have enough."
As children we grew year after year, sometimes in spurts, sometimes imperceptibly, but our bodies were always growing. The growth of a leader can be similar. At times, it may feel like the wheels are spinning and no headway is being made. In other seasons, new break throughs and victories are clear indicators of a growth spurt. To grow consistently, the key is to manage your daily agenda. I wish I could pass along an easier solution or secret formula for leadership growth, but daily discipline makes all the difference between growth and stagnation.I would like to pass along a few growth principles to guide you in your daily journey of leadership growth.
Law #1 – Always Make Your Future Bigger Than Your Past.
"The past is useful because it is rich with experiences that are worth thinking about in new ways-and all of these valuable experiences can become raw material for creating an even bigger future. Approach your past with this attitude, and you will have an insatiable desire for even better, more enjoyable experiences. Use your past to continually create a bigger future,and you will separate yourself from situations, relationships, and activities that can trap you there."- Sullivan & Nomura
Thoughts about the Future:
Abraham Lincoln said, "The best thing about the future is that it comes only one day at a time." The secret of your success is determined by your daily agenda. We spend each day either repairing the past or preparing forthe future. We can try to fix our past, but we can't rewrite it; we can only author our future.The future is that time when you'll wish you had done what you aren't doing now. Don't fear failure so much that you refuse new things. The saddest
summary of a life contains three descriptions: could have, might have, and should have.
Law #2 – Always Make Your Contribution Bigger Than Your Reward.
"As you become more successful, numerous rewards will come your way: greater income, praise, recognition, reputation, status, capabilities, resources, and opportunities. These are all desirable things, but they can be growth stoppers. They may tempt you to become fixated on just the rewards, rather than focus on making still greater contributions. The way to guarantee that rewards will continually increase is to not think too much about them. Instead, continue making an even more significant contribution."- Sullivan & Nomura
Thoughts on Contribution
To make your contribution bigger than your reward, adopt an anti-entitlement attitude. Believe you must give before you receive. Expect to serve before feeling like you deserve a reward. Determine success by the seeds you sow rather than the harvest you reap. Each morning, I ask myself, "Who can I add value to and how can I do it?" It's amazing how much I've been able to contribute by answering this simple question each day and following through to help a friend or colleague.
Law #3 Always Make Your Performance Greater Than Your Applause.
"The greatest performers in all fields are those who always strive to get
better. No matter how much acclaim they receive, they keep working to improve their performance. Continually work to surpass everything you've done so far, and your performance will always be greater than your applause."- Sullivan & Nomura
Thoughts on Performance
To make sure your performance stays a step ahead or your applause, be growth-driven instead of goal-driven. I'm not criticizing goals, but if we aren't careful, they can limit our growth. If we set them too high, they de-motivate us. If we set them too low, we are tempted to relax when we hit them rather than pushing for our best performance. Growth is a long and consistent process. No substitutions can be made or short cuts taken which avoid the day-to-day process of growth.
Law #4 – Always Make Your Gratitude Greater Than Your Success.
"Only a small percentage of people are continually successful over the longrun. These outstanding few recognize that every success comes through the assistance of many other people – and they are continually grateful for this support."–Sullivan & Nomura
Thoughts on Gratitude: We see the value in people and things through proactive gratitude. Once we see this value, we naturally treat these people and things with greater respect. People and resources are drawn to where they are valued most. The world responds to gratitude by making more of everything we appreciate available to us. To adopt an attitude of thankfulness, Oprah Winfrey keeps a gratitude journal. She recommends her habit to others: "Every night, list five things that happened this day that you are grateful for. What it will begin to do is change your perspective of your day and your life. If you can learn to focus on what you have, you will always see that the universe is abundant; you will have more. If you concentrate on what you don't have, you will never have enough."
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Searching For God Knows what 1
This is here to stay - I'm currently reading this book which though, very informally written makes a lot of sense. Here's a couple of issues(& funnies) I found -
'' My friend Penny's dad says he thinks God was angry for a while after the Fall, then got over it, sent His Son, and now is pretty well adjusted and forgiving...John pointed out that it takes God hundreds of years to finally get angry enough to lay any sort of punishment on His enemies. He's like France in that way."
The author continues about how people try to create God in their image..and try to define him..he talks of one conservative acquaintance...
'His Jesus was just an invention of his imagination, someone who more or less justified his position concerning a lot of different political opinions. Sitting there listening to him made me feel tired. People like that should have an island.'
'' My friend Penny's dad says he thinks God was angry for a while after the Fall, then got over it, sent His Son, and now is pretty well adjusted and forgiving...John pointed out that it takes God hundreds of years to finally get angry enough to lay any sort of punishment on His enemies. He's like France in that way."
The author continues about how people try to create God in their image..and try to define him..he talks of one conservative acquaintance...
'His Jesus was just an invention of his imagination, someone who more or less justified his position concerning a lot of different political opinions. Sitting there listening to him made me feel tired. People like that should have an island.'
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Week 2, February 2009
Okay, so the book I'm reading now is 'Searching for God know what' by Donald Miller. Strangest writing I have ever seen though. The quality I don't know about, but the style is like a written version of me talking - too casual for a publication. Then again, what do I know about writing...and who am I to complain when he makes sense and when I enjoy the read.
Here's one I lol.ed at.
'I had terrific ideas; I really did. I was going to write a story about a nun who takes over small third-world countries by causing their evil dictators to fall in love with her, leaving a trail of megachurches and democracy in her wake. The book was going to be called Sister Democracy, Show some Leg!'
Here's one I lol.ed at.
'I had terrific ideas; I really did. I was going to write a story about a nun who takes over small third-world countries by causing their evil dictators to fall in love with her, leaving a trail of megachurches and democracy in her wake. The book was going to be called Sister Democracy, Show some Leg!'
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
First German Film
This was to go in my journal blog but, when I accidentally clicked on this dashboard, I realised this was more appropriate. Anyway, film is also part of literature and learning right?
The Goethe-Institut, Max Mueller Bhavan on CMH Road conducted an exhibition+film screening session on Werner Herzog - The German Filmmaker between January 23,2009 and February 7, 2009. Since I wanted to do something different with Puii...and she's the kind that loves these kind of things - we paid a visit on January 4th, Saturday, 6:30 p.m.
They had scheduled the screening of Signs of Life (Lebenszeichen). The film roll was corrupted, so they stopped it inbetween and by popular demand switched to 'Aguirre, the wrath of God' (1972). This was about a group of Spanish Conquerers who travel down the Alps into the forests in search of the legendary El Dorado, the land of gold. They travel armed with weaponry and food. As they wander for days, a small group of soldiers break away to continue their search for El Dorado. After loosing many men (to the Indians along the Peru border), the leader Pedro de Ursua decides to turn back. However a non-comissioned officer, Lope de Aguirre, in his obsession to become a second Cortez, incites the remaining men to mutiny. Fearing that the men do not really trust him, Aguirre appoints Don Fernando de Guzman as "Emperor of El Dorado", declaring the Spanish King deposed. Ursua is granted a farcical trial where is charged with treason and sentenced to die, however Guzman shows 'clemency' and Ursua is kept prisoner. Guzmen is killed and Aguirre takes charge. He orders Ursua hung and kills all those that oppose him. Soon the group is reduced to a group of men (and two women) who are exhausted, feverish and hallucinating aboard a raft floating along the river.
Eventually in the last attack by the Indians, all are killed (including his daughter) except Aguirre. As he stands alone... in his hallucination, he talks of forming a 'pure' dynasty with his daughter.
Don Lope de Aguirre: I am the wrath of God. Who else is with me?
It was a sensual movie...with Klaus Kinski doing a brilliant job as Aguirre, although his voice was slightly turning off. I could feel the maddness, the terror, the power of Aguirre...though given the period in which it was made, the cinematography was decent.
The Goethe-Institut, Max Mueller Bhavan on CMH Road conducted an exhibition+film screening session on Werner Herzog - The German Filmmaker between January 23,2009 and February 7, 2009. Since I wanted to do something different with Puii...and she's the kind that loves these kind of things - we paid a visit on January 4th, Saturday, 6:30 p.m.
They had scheduled the screening of Signs of Life (Lebenszeichen). The film roll was corrupted, so they stopped it inbetween and by popular demand switched to 'Aguirre, the wrath of God' (1972). This was about a group of Spanish Conquerers who travel down the Alps into the forests in search of the legendary El Dorado, the land of gold. They travel armed with weaponry and food. As they wander for days, a small group of soldiers break away to continue their search for El Dorado. After loosing many men (to the Indians along the Peru border), the leader Pedro de Ursua decides to turn back. However a non-comissioned officer, Lope de Aguirre, in his obsession to become a second Cortez, incites the remaining men to mutiny. Fearing that the men do not really trust him, Aguirre appoints Don Fernando de Guzman as "Emperor of El Dorado", declaring the Spanish King deposed. Ursua is granted a farcical trial where is charged with treason and sentenced to die, however Guzman shows 'clemency' and Ursua is kept prisoner. Guzmen is killed and Aguirre takes charge. He orders Ursua hung and kills all those that oppose him. Soon the group is reduced to a group of men (and two women) who are exhausted, feverish and hallucinating aboard a raft floating along the river.
Eventually in the last attack by the Indians, all are killed (including his daughter) except Aguirre. As he stands alone... in his hallucination, he talks of forming a 'pure' dynasty with his daughter.
Don Lope de Aguirre: I am the wrath of God. Who else is with me?
It was a sensual movie...with Klaus Kinski doing a brilliant job as Aguirre, although his voice was slightly turning off. I could feel the maddness, the terror, the power of Aguirre...though given the period in which it was made, the cinematography was decent.
As a footnote -
1. Herzog's relationship with Kinski was highly interesting. I copy off Wikipedia -
Herzog's first choice for the role of Aguirre was actor Klaus Kinski. The two had met many years before when the then-struggling young actor rented a room in Herzog’s family apartment, and the boarder’s often terrifying and deranged antics during the three months he lived there left a lasting impression on the director. Years later, Herzog remembered the volatile actor and knew that he was the only possible man who could play the mad Aguirre, and he sent Kinski a copy of the screenplay. "Between three and four in the morning, the phone rang," Herzog recalled. "It took me at least a couple of minutes before I realized that it was Kinski who was the source of this inarticulate screaming. And after an hour of this, it dawned on me that he found it the most fascinating screenplay and wanted to be Aguirre."
From the beginning of the production, Herzog and Kinski argued about the proper manner to portray Aguirre. Kinski wanted to play a "wild, ranting madman", but Herzog wanted something "quieter, more menacing". In order to get the performance he desired, before each shot Herzog would deliberately infuriate Kinski. After waiting for the hot-tempered actor's inevitable tantrum to "burn itself out", Herzog would then roll the camera.
On one occasion, irritated by the noise from a hut where cast and crew were playing cards, the explosive Kinski fired three gunshots at it, blowing the top joint off one extra's finger.Subsequently, Kinski started leaving the jungle location (over Herzog's refusal to fire a sound assistant), only changing his mind after Herzog threatened to shoot first Kinski and then himself. The latter incident has given rise to the legend that Herzog made Kinski act for him at gunpoint. However, Herzog has repeatedly debunked the claim during interviews, explaining he only verbally threatened Kinski in the heat of the moment, in a desperate attempt to keep him from leaving the set.
2. And there was Herzog himself -
To obtain the monkeys utilized in the climactic sequence, Herzog paid several locals to trap 400 monkeys; he paid them half in advance and was to pay the other half upon receipt. The trappers sold the monkeys to someone in Los Angeles or Miami, and Herzog came to the airport just as the monkeys were being loaded to be shipped out of the country. He pretended to be a veterinarian and claimed that the monkeys needed vaccinations before leaving the country. Abashedly, the handlers unloaded the monkeys, and Herzog loaded them into his jeep and drove away, used them in the shot they were required for, and released them afterwards into the jungle
Friday, January 23, 2009
Mona's smile, a teachers song
Writing that piece of Eulogy (i.e, copying and pasting) just reminded me of another quote from Mona Lisa Smile (the movie) that was exhilarating when I first heard it. Presenting - again, copied off IMDb - the teacher.
My teacher, Katherine Watson, lived by her own definition, and would not compromise that. Not even for Wellesley. I dedicate this, my last editorial, to an extraordinary woman who lived by example and compelled us all to see the world through new eyes. By the time you read this, she'll be sailing to Europe, where I know she'll find new walls to break down and new ideas to replace them with. I've heard her called a quitter for leaving, an aimless wanderer. But not all who wander are aimless. Especially not those who seek truth beyond tradition; beyond definition; beyond the image.
My teacher, Katherine Watson, lived by her own definition, and would not compromise that. Not even for Wellesley. I dedicate this, my last editorial, to an extraordinary woman who lived by example and compelled us all to see the world through new eyes. By the time you read this, she'll be sailing to Europe, where I know she'll find new walls to break down and new ideas to replace them with. I've heard her called a quitter for leaving, an aimless wanderer. But not all who wander are aimless. Especially not those who seek truth beyond tradition; beyond definition; beyond the image.
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
The Eulogy
Officially this site is dead. But I'd like to say I have 3 blogs and hence the need to write posts atleast once a year. Anyway, this site is great to collect quotes in. Yesterday, I watched Four Weddings and a Funeral and enjoyed it. I mean, it was a movie I really enjoyed - except for Rowan-Mr.Bean ruining it with some gibberish. So I have copied from IMDb, Matthews eulogy for Gareth and hope someone will say it at mine. Classic piece by Auden though -
Gareth used to prefer funerals to weddings. He said it was easier to get enthusiastic about a ceremony one had an outside chance of eventually being involved in. In order to prepare this speech, I rang a few people, to get a general picture of how Gareth was regarded by those who met him. Fat seems to have been a word people most connected with him. Terribly rude also rang a lot of bells. So very fat and very rude seems to have been a stranger's viewpoint. On the other hand, some of you have been kind enough to ring me and let me know that you loved him, which I know he would have been thrilled to hear. You remember his fabulous hospitality, his strange experimental cooking. The recipe for "Duck à la Banana" fortunately goes with him to his grave. Most of all, you tell me of his enormous capacity for joy. When joyful, when joyful for highly vocal drunkenness. But I hope joyful is how you will remember him. Not stuck in a box in a church. Pick your favourite of his waistcoats and remember him that way. The most splendid, replete, big-hearted, weak-hearted as it turned out, and jolly bugger most of us ever met. As for me, you may ask how I will remember him, what I thought of him. Unfortunately there I run out of words. Perhaps you will forgive me if I turn from my own feelings to the words of another splendid bugger: W.H. Auden. This is actually what I want to say:
"Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.
Let the aeroplanes circle, moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message 'He is Dead'.
Put crepe bows 'round the white necks of the public doves,
Let traffic policemen wear black, cotton gloves.
He was my North, my South, my East, and West.
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.
The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun,
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood;
For nothing now can ever come to any good."
Gareth used to prefer funerals to weddings. He said it was easier to get enthusiastic about a ceremony one had an outside chance of eventually being involved in. In order to prepare this speech, I rang a few people, to get a general picture of how Gareth was regarded by those who met him. Fat seems to have been a word people most connected with him. Terribly rude also rang a lot of bells. So very fat and very rude seems to have been a stranger's viewpoint. On the other hand, some of you have been kind enough to ring me and let me know that you loved him, which I know he would have been thrilled to hear. You remember his fabulous hospitality, his strange experimental cooking. The recipe for "Duck à la Banana" fortunately goes with him to his grave. Most of all, you tell me of his enormous capacity for joy. When joyful, when joyful for highly vocal drunkenness. But I hope joyful is how you will remember him. Not stuck in a box in a church. Pick your favourite of his waistcoats and remember him that way. The most splendid, replete, big-hearted, weak-hearted as it turned out, and jolly bugger most of us ever met. As for me, you may ask how I will remember him, what I thought of him. Unfortunately there I run out of words. Perhaps you will forgive me if I turn from my own feelings to the words of another splendid bugger: W.H. Auden. This is actually what I want to say:
"Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.
Let the aeroplanes circle, moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message 'He is Dead'.
Put crepe bows 'round the white necks of the public doves,
Let traffic policemen wear black, cotton gloves.
He was my North, my South, my East, and West.
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.
The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun,
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood;
For nothing now can ever come to any good."
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