The valley of the shadow of Death

After the anticipated (and maybe some unanticipated) fireworks, I have moved at the Isha yoga center. All i wish to share about the last few weeks is that it had made me cry for help. Made me go on my knees and beg for redemption. I had not prayed for anything since college. So this was a new thing for me. Strangely the psalmist of the Psalm 23 shares my predicament.
A Psalm of David.
The LORD is my shepherd,I shall not want.
He makes me lie down in green pastures;
He leads me beside quiet waters.
He restores my soul;
He guides me in the paths of righteousness For His name’s sake.
Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,I fear no evil,
for You are with me;Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me.
You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies;
You have anointed my head with oil;My cup overflows.
Surely goodness and lovingkindness will follow me all the days of my life,
And I will dwell in the house of the LORD forever.
Also these last few weeks, it made me realize the following:
1) Life is taken for granted. I am afraid of death...Oh yes very much so.
2) Physical security is taken for granted unless it is threatened.
3) Sense and Intelligence is taken for granted. I was in one of the 'Christian' retreat in one of the leading Catholic retreat center in the world and during one of the session, I could not help tears in my eyes as i helplessly beheld innocent young men and women being perverted irresponsibly by brash morality and stunningly stupid simplitudes. After going through this nonsense, my resolve to go full-time only increased. This nonsensical S*H*I*T is bloody good manure.

I just realized that the song which accompanies Matt Harding's 2008 video is an adaptation of Rabindranath Tagore's "Stream of Life":

Stream of Life 

The same stream of life that runs through my veins night and day

runs through the world and dances in rhythmic measures. 

It is the same life that shoots in joy through the dust of the earth

in numberless blades of grass

and breaks into tumultuous waves of leaves and flowers. 

It is the same life that is rocked in the ocean-cradle of birth

and of death, in ebb and in flow. 

I feel my limbs are made glorious by the touch of this world of life.

And my pride is from the life-throb of ages dancing in my blood this moment. 

Read the rest of Gitanjali here: http://www.schoolofwisdom.com/gitanjali.html

For the Love of the Retro

For the last few days, I am listening to some great rock music from the early 80’s. The one which got me hooked was “Tunnel of love” by the Dire straits. I first heard their music in the film “An officer and a gentleman”. The outro of this song was used so wonderfully in a scene where two former lovers meet when one of them is going after another person after they break up. This scene particularly interested me so much that I decided to watch it along with the director’s comments. Taylor Hackford mentions that it is one of his proudest scenes ever. Wikipedia describes the outro of “Tunnel of love” as one of the most heartbreaking guitar pieces. I agree whole-heartedly.

It is one of those musical moments which makes your heart ache and makes your being crave for something more than a cursory slice of life. An intense forlorn mood is designedly created by the plaintive guitar that is fierce yet subtle. This is not just this piece, there are a lot of instances where a piece of music has stinged my being to the core. When I look at this, in a way I can say this feeling of desolation is also one of longing. Not longing for anything in particular, Just longing. A frantic passion without a specific object. In fact I have noticed this quality within myself whenever I come in contact with something of an artistic quality, anything of enduring beauty. Some touching phrases of Tagore’s Geetanjali. A Painting by an Impressionist master. A heart-warming movie. All these works definitely evoke such feelings within me. What interests me is somehow the art endears itself to me even when the context of the work is so alien to me. Like in some of the movies that I have relished, I am truly not able to empathize with neither the story nor the characters. But still the empathy is there with the creator of the work. At this point I feel that my ability to express things is kind of stretched if not decapitated.

Any ways I feel like listing down my recent ‘crushes’. I feel the word crush kind of suits the scenario as indeed true art crushes me. It makes you feel helpless and vulnerable. Maybe sad and melancholic. But inevitably beautiful and intense.

1) An Indian violinist arranges a classical piece “Mokshamu” for a western style quartet. I really don’t understand the technicalities of the work but it does not matter. The music speaks to me as clearly as my mother’s voice.

2) A contemporary version of “Samaja Varagamana” featured in the album of the film “Morning Raga”. In the film, the song is picturized using an instrumental version (violin) of the song in the background. Man, that was awesome! After listening to this, even the classical version rocks!

3) Woman Hanging Laundry: Or any painting by Camille Pissarro if accompanied by a commentary!

4) Some random phrases from what I consider as a masterpiece among Tagore’s novels: Gora: "...They were not aware, as they talked on, when the moon descended behind the roofs, and its place was taken by a faint hint of light in the east, like the smile on the face of a sleeping child...."

What to say??!

Water Water everywhere not a drop to drink.
It is all around me. Yet I cannot savor it. Every breath is a sigh. Every act is a desperation. Every persona a desperado.
Stunning scenery feeds the senses. Pathos that could stab the heart. Music that could melt the being. Yet why is it fleeting? Without the ability to grasp life and its dappled experiences, my life looks like one long feverish intercourse without a climax!
Somewhere I have read that "Meditation is the only freedom". As the unrelenting ticks of the clock click away, I can feel the truth of these words in my veins. Indeed Meditation or rather Death is the only freedom.

P.S: I don't expect anyone to understand this post. If you think you feel what I am saying feel free to say something. If you think I am suicidal, well you are wrong. And back off.

Cashback

A heartfelt 'artistic' movie which makes you think. The protagonist is an talented artist who get insomniac after a painful breakup. He works in the night shift of a grocery story to fast forward his sleepless nights. There, he devises a way to stop time and appreciate the beauty that is there in the moment and in its subjects. Amazing use of an cinematic device (freezing time) to make us aware of the beauty that the artist beholds. How everyday objects become profound when you see them frozen in a moment.
Could empathize with the insomniac artist. Both artistic and blatant nudity juxtaposed to achieve stunning effects. British cinema is amazingly unapologetic and I love that!
I loved the closing line of the movie: "Once upon a time,I wanted to know what love was.Love is there,If you want it to be.You just have to see,That it's wrapped in beauty,And hidden away between the seconds of your life.If you don't stop for a minute,You might miss it."

One intoxicating whiff after another

One thing I distinctly realize during the teachers training is that just because you are a volunteer or a teacher in a class that doesn't mean you assume what is being told in the class. You don't even give importance to the fact that at some earlier point what they told you awed you. The most important thing is to be open enough to 'look' at it afresh at that point.
Sometime during the final days of volunteering in Hyderabad, especially when i had to travel very long distances to attend the weekday evening sessions of the Inner Engineering program, I used to taunt myself saying that this time since I am traveling so long, I will try to find some hole in what transpires in the class. This is not a suspicion. Not even an prejudice. Rather an insurance. As I began to walk this path, it dawned upon me that I have to pay a certain price. Not just me. Even people around me had to pay a certain price. And i wanted to be sure of what i am getting into! :D I don't think it is necessary for me to even venture forth whether i was even remotely close to success! ;-)

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I know I can be perceived as cloyingly modest and desperately unemotional when I say that the most important reason for the class to happen is myself. But that is the truth.

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I experienced a certain powerful situation this weekend. I was manning an Isha booth in a telugu event in seattle. We were advertising the upcoming Inner Engineering program. I KNOW that what I was offering in the form of a IE post card is the most sacred thing in my life. I KNOW the chances of even a single person coming for the program because of this booth is slim. I KNOW that people's indifference/prejudice/apathy to the possibility that we were offering stings at the very core of my being. But still I did it. I don't know what it was or why it was that way but those moments where i was doing the simple act of giving the post cards were very powerful. While i was standing at the doorstep I watched a reflection of myself at the glass door. I was impeccably dressed with a belt et al. I could'nt help laughing at that moment. What have I done to myself? Why am i the way i am? It felt awesome to know that i am not in the driving seat of my life. It really didn't make much sense. Even now it doesn't. But I cannot help notice the uncontainable exuberance that comes with being a passenger. The vulnerability of it all is deviously calming. The best part was to consider that the other person who was manning the booth was a recent meditator who did the program because he himself got handed out a post card for the previous Inner engineering program in a similar event.

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Oh what can i say? Oh what can i say?
Just to be here, i am ready to melt away.
I cannot handle it alone, that divine glance.
Come join this simpleton in this insane dance.

Yes! I cannot but share this sweet burden.

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Truth. Truth. Truth. One thing that amazed me when listening to the discourses during the Inner Engineering program is how can Truth be so liberating? Being an engineer, I was so used to this notion that the reality is not okay the way it is. It needs to be fixed, worked upon or engineered to suit man's needs. For most of my waking moments as an engineer, the reality is a Pri 1 bug that needs to be fixed! :D That reality is so obvious that it is not worth considering. What needs to be considered is the end-result of what one wants. The program blew my world inside out. The more I see it the more obvious it is that it is the naked truth that can set me free. The evil part of me is posing this question to myself: Ok. You are a truth seeker because you see that truth liberates you. Would be still be a seeker of truth if truth makes you sad and bitter? I am ROTFL'ing.

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Verbal Diarrhea: The most meaningful phrase! (Sorry Gokri!)

Blight or Blessing

Alexei Jawlensky: Meditation

What bigger tedium can befall anyone?
It’s noon. I am lying in my bed and I am trying to enumerate any possible reason which can nudge me to get up and face the day.

The night passed as a torpid reverie.
Torpidity of the mind and the body.
Lame retorts for a lamer jocularity.
Dragged to incredible lengths is the night.
By the spectacle of weary delusions of a wearier psyche.
One only wants to prolong the night in the hope that first light may never come.
Really, is there anything more hopeless than staying awake dreading the dawn?

The noon stings the eyes with its sizzling diligence.
The ennui is inescapable now.
The routine smirks at the puzzle of Free will.
The same question everyday: What the hell am I doing?

The mind struggles:
Is this sloth? It has to be the wrong vocation.
Why this indifference?
Your bread has to be earned, you know…
The other bank always looks greener…
Its actually tougher there…
He is crazy..She is crazy…That is wrong…This is not true…

Trying to comprehend what is happening.
YOU TOLD ME WHAT IS WRONG. YOU FORGOT TO TELL ME WHAT IS TRUE?
With No crutch to lean on to, am afraid.
Fear is fine. Falsehood is not.
My Contemplation is mocked by my own feeling that the answer is ridiculously obvious and simple.
Want to thrash my own self to the ground in hope of awakening myself.
Am waiting.