Refresh.

Hi friends, I'm finally closing the chapter on this blog. * Sad face * . We've been such good pals through all of my US life. But now, I'm back in India and it's time for a fresh start. I hope you join me on my new stories and adventures at https://dreamingmoksha.wordpress.com/

Hope to see you there!

PS: Don't be surprised if you still see some repeat stories from here. These are some of my most favorite life moments and will always remain close to my heart :) 

It's OK. Really.

It's ok. Really.
We'll get used to it, like we usually do,
You see I thought this through,
Decided what's right for me,
And chose what's good for you.

Oh this was nothing divine,
No completing each other's sentences,
No "I was just thinking of you",
This was way too simple a connection,
A random conversation or few.

I looked at you like the rainbows,
A giant teddy bear,
Leaves in spring, like new,
Being touched by music or grace,
A peaceful point of view.

We've always known it would end,
We spoke about it too.
But I'm so happy our paths crossed,
Though they stormed around the bend,
For this, the universe chose us two.

And as we go on with our dreary lives,
And get reduced to "someone you knew",
Remember, it was heartfelt and real.

Even now I close my eyes and think,
I'm so glad these feelings, chose you.

New Radical

"It's been a while, where should we begin. Feels like forever. Within my heart are memories, Of perfect love that you gave to me. Oh, I remember."

You know how in the movies, there are these "interlude" scenes, that actually make the story. Scenes where musicians; artists; athletes; lovers "find themselves" and with it the courage to move on and make something brilliant happen. It usually comes in the form of a quiet contemplation, or a moment of absolute despair, which slowly turns into an awakening, a realization and inspiration to continue. The music picks up and suddenly you're enthralled by the progress. Everything is dramatic. You get the goosebumps, chills (you name it) and for those measly two minutes you actually are completely convinced that life is brilliant. You even come home and look up the soundtrack. What was that song again, that song that played in that moment? You want to hear it again, and again. Probably in the hope of feeling a semblance of how you felt. Those measly two minutes.  

Well. This summer, I didn't wait for that moment. I woke up one morning and skipped the thought process entirely. Very mindlessly and recklessly,  I decided to live a little. Completely robotic. No music, no drama, nothing. I waited a long time for it to come. It never did. 

What resulted was a phase of complete abandon that entirely blew my mind. "When was the last time you did something for the first time?" Here's my response. 

Traveled to the west coast of the United States. (View on drive to Big Sur)

Visited Washington DC.

Explored the Newport mansions in Rhode Island (View below, from the balcony of The Breakers mansion).

Experienced a Vermont fall.

 

Swooned all over Justin Vernon as he performed with his new band, Volcano Choir :)

(Somewhat) enthusiastically witnessed the Red Sox play baseball (My mind racing with cricket comparisons! :))

Sang at the top of my lungs with Eddie Vedder and a packed DCU Center, as Pearl Jam ROCKED the stage.

Ventured to New York for my first Broadway play, Kinky Boots. 

Watched Roger Federer play tennis (undoubtedly one of the greatest in the history of the game :))

And watched the man from "Down Under", Colin Hay in concert. Cried a little when he sang "I just don't think I'll ever get over you".

I now think back to last year, this time. A hospital bed, a wheelchair, a walker. That fracture, f-in changed my life. That break, put everything in place. Just the way I always intended it to be. Perhaps writing this post is my "interlude". My greatest moment of reflection. I mean what could be better than realizing that the shittiest experience of your life, in fact, saved your ass ;)  

  

The park bench

I wish you were sitting on that park bench
As I look out my window
Unaware as ever, you'd probably observe the passersby
While trying to make sense of a song and your life.

I wish you all the beauty and joy
I feel, looking at you
Unaware as ever, this is probably what you want to experience
But you, like anyone, can only aspire for such feeling.

The grass is greener, in this home of mine. 

 

A dose of reality

Mom has been living with me in my tiny apartment for over three months now. She came to visit me under somewhat unfortunate circumstances, with me being sick and all. I've noticed that she has single-handedly  redefined selflessness with the care and support she has provided.  Really aspirational stuff. Needless to say though, three months is a long time and we're both on the verge of "absolute bananas". So when my friend invited us to visit her beautiful home in Vermont, I leaped (not literally, no) at the opportunity. Desperate for a change of scenery and knowing moms love of nature, I knew this would be perfect for both of us. Besides, I could have my own space and she, hers. Have to admit, was more than mildly excited by that thought. 

We left 'wicked' early on a gloomy Saturday morning, my friend in the driver's seat. The weather forecast declared rain for the entire weekend, a decision I was not happy with *Hullo! Mr. Weatherman*. As we drove through the mild rain and mist, the fall colors commanded our attention. Every nook, turn, long and short stretch of road was laden with the most spectacular sights. Reds, oranges, yellows, light greens, like a palette of English colors was strewn across miles on end. Fields and mountains alike, all beautiful, every leaf in its natural skin, untempered by chlorophyll ;)

Vermont, derived from the French word "les Verts Monts" (meaning the Green Mountains),  is the second least populous of the 50 states that comprise the US of A. Originally, Vermont was inhabited by the Native Americans after which much of it was colonized by the French in the early colonial period and eventually ceded to Britain in 1763 (at this point I have to say, thank you Wikipedia). To experience Vermont though, is something unique. When they say second least populous, they were not kidding. You're sitting in the car literally having an out of body experience. You drive for miles and miles with nothing but mountains around you. The mere sight of a human being is almost odd. Like, * woah * I don't think this thing belongs here.

We reached her home in Hancock, VT by noon. Let me tell you something about this land. She has 40 acres, atop a mountain, surrounded by mountains. This should be a replacement of the 'good, better, best' superlative. By the time we got there, the sun was shining, the skies were the bluest blue and the clouds, were wonderfully white. It felt like nature had overhauled her entire attire, just to greet us. So nice of her really (Probably knows my mom). We left our bags in our bed rooms and had the most pleasant conversation sitting on her deck. I closed my eyes for a few, a heightened awareness, my other senses taking over. I could hear only the sounds of the Texas waterfalls at a distance, a bird chirped from time to time and separately there was an overpowering stillness of silence. I could breathe, really, really breathe! Clean, pure, crisp air charged with energy like no other. 

We took a short car ride to the next town over. My friend spotted a chair she had been wanting to buy in an antique store in the "(still) quieter" part of this town. Time for another surreal experience. Stepping into that antique store was like stepping back in time. The mere smell of it felt 100's of years old. There were the strangest of kitchen utensils and the oldest of hoosier cabinets. The kid who worked there restored old musical instruments, my favorite part of the store :) Unfortunately, the chair was not to be bought as the kid couldn't figure out the price and was momentarily distracted by the fact that there was a "weasel running around in the store". * Just btw *. He actually said "Don't panic if you see something flopping around your feet. It's just a weasel".

Back to the house and much like life, the clarity of the sun-shiny day moment was short-lived. Within a few hours (just like Mr Weatherman predicted) came the big, black ominous looking clouds. Surreal experience # 4 or 5? Oh who knows! We've all seen rainbows, some really fantastic ones, some faint. But I'd never in my life witnessed an entire rainbow. Beginning to end. Actually, I felt like I was at the end and this was my pot of gold. Who can now not believe in something divine. I understand science explains everything. Almost. I wish it would explain this moment and why it chose me to experience it the way I did. Yes, I will file this under "Divine".  

As the clouds dispersed after their tea party, the sun loomed over the mountains gracefully calling it a day. I bade farewell under a blood red sky as it disappeared behind the mountains. I read somewhere that you must witness the sunrise and sunset at least once a year. It seems ridiculous that we can live our lives without realizing these every day miracles.

Along came the night. I love, love, love, black. Probably my most favorite color behind blue. But this black, was something else. With each passing moment after the sun retired for the day the winds howled through the vast expanse of mountains and darkness took over. It was hard to believe just a few hours ago- this was all light! Much after the sun set, we bundled up in our coats, jackets and caps, stepped back onto the deck. The lights were switched off. Darkness engulfed me entirely. It was the most eerie couple of minutes I had ever experienced. Miles and miles of the surrounding mountains are conserved forests. So there was not a light in sight. No lamps, nothing. Absolute darkness. You waved your hand in front of your face, and you couldn't see it. Even now I feel a shiver down my spine. And then, you look up and see stars. Millions of them. Clusters, constellations describe it any which way. Surreal. 

For a city girl like me, my senses were in overdrive with the spectacular display nature put up for me. What I experience every day is unreal. I tarnish my life with layers of ignorance. THIS, is real. It is spectacular, breathtaking and surreal, every single day since the dawn of time. This is grace.

I thank my friend, with absolute sincerity, for giving me the best medicine any doctor could have ever ordered. A dose of reality. :-)

The Long Letter

I wrote myself a letter. An honest one.

You were sitting by a window watching the rainfall, listening to Bon Iver. You were touched by the blanket of pathos that the music weaved around you, and you tugged at it and let it envelope you completely. From the deepest of the deep, came a thought. Am I happy? What followed was a response too dark to handle.

“No”. The rain observed your tears in silence.

An honest conversation. You’re so adept at passing advice, telling others how to live their lives, cautioning them when they deviate from the trodden path and urging them to happiness. Seldom do you have the gut or fortitude to do this for yourself. Face your own demons; forgive yourself for your failures and mistakes. It’s always about “other people”. Sometimes the blame, sometimes the focus. More so, you exhibit fear. You’re scared to want, to dream, to desire and think the unthinkable for yourself.

You chose to have this conversation and for this, I’ll be eternally grateful. Now everything is out in the open. These puzzle pieces. These magical puzzle pieces. You fit them once to create a picture. The beauty is - you can pull them apart, observe them and fit them again to craft a different picture. Magic! Believe in it. Believe me.

A reflection. You are sometimes bold and fearless. Somewhere in your mind you know you are accomplished and different from everyone. Your thoughts are unique and special. Sometimes you feel like someone should make a movie about your life. And then you laugh at the arrogance of it all and brush it away thinking everyone is special and everyone is unique. We have that in common, it’s all one.

If someone told you at the beginning of this year, that you would be virtually immobile and handicapped for some of it, you would have said – “I don’t have the time for this! ;)”. And yet, it happened. You had a goal and vision but more importantly, you always had the “never say die” attitude. And yet you did, in a way. It came at the strangest time. You were walking down a staircase thinking a million thoughts and as you put your foot down with three steps to go, your hip broke. You stood on the step, your body shaking in shock and on the verge of blacking out. Someone came in the nick of time to rescue you from a state of absolute collapse. The rest is history.

Each of those three remaining steps became monumental. You forgave them, all three of them. You forgave yourself. If you were a self-help guru, you would have constructed “The 3 pillars to a better life”. “The 3 step process to curing insanity” (my personal favorite). “The 3 noble truths to the real you”. But let’s refrain. Talk less, understand and do more.

It took something painful to remind you of how numb you’ve become. There is no greater pain than feeling nothing. Now, if you felt joy no matter what the circumstance, probably Buddha might have been proud of you. Your struggles the past few months have been endless. The questions, the reactions, the outbursts and the solitude of it all. My favorite ones - the “Why me’s?” I absolutely LOVE the why me questions. I love how they beautifully shift the focus away from the real issues that need to be resolved. The mind provides all the raw materials to support the manufacture of “Why me’s”. They are so thoughtless and mundane requiring minimal effort, so the cost of producing a single why me is miniscule taking into context the destruction it’s able to cause. Quite a nuclear bomb quality, really. Thank you for closing down this factory. Congratulations. You’re one step closer to peace.

A conclusion. This hardship wasn’t really one of high quality to be honest. There will be several others, far worse. So don’t get too dramatic about your accomplishment of surviving it. Your real struggles –physical, mental and emotional begin now. Your three “steps” are in fact three mountains to climb. Learn yourself, to be tough, to be still and balanced. Learn what makes you happy. Learn that the heart is a good place to reside. But more than anything - learn in humility, to be inspired by your own story.

The A-ha station

My brother won't ever let me forget how I broke the train set when I was a baby. HIS train set. I apparently grabbed the tracks and made tiny pieces of them. He always reminds me of this awful act at every opportunity. Every little family gathering he tells the tale of how I "DESTROYED" the tracks. In jest of course.

To put an end to this track-trash talk, my sister-in-law and I decided I would buy my 2 year old nephew a train set for Christmas. My sweet, darling nephew. You may remember him from this post. Let me tell you something about this kid, he teaches me life's lessons in unique ways. He likes to enjoy simple things, be affectionate, be crazy, be quirky, make people laugh, ask them "are you ok?" if they look sad or anxious. He is magical, fascinated by almost everything, and asked his first "why" question this past weekend. He recognizes Monet paintings, Beethoven's symphonies, Egyptian Pharaohs. This is no ordinary kid. He knows planets, show him a picture of Mt Rushmore and he points to the extreme right and says "Lincoln". And his "Ok"s are always "Okie Dokie donk". (No one has a clue where the "donk" comes from).

So we head to Toy's R Us, which is like heaven on earth for young mother's and kids and we pick the largest, awesomest train set we see. 500-piece, imaginarium train set:D It took a total of 2 adults, one teenage kid working at the store and one hyper baby to get that box into the car. By this moment I am delirious and can't wait to see the expression on my brother's face. Rehearsing my various opening lines "HA! Take thattt" seemed most appropriate. What ensued was a complete antithesis.

We opened the box and realized 500 pieces, they were not kidding:O Everything had to be assembled. Planks of wood, nails, tools, and boxes and boxes of countless little things. Nothing was "playable" without the assembly. Completely disheartened, I went downstairs and asked my brother to help me. Of course I got a "HA! this is a 3-day project. Are you crazy! There is no way I can do this now!". Damn, serves me for getting so carried away at my so called conquest of a life-long problem :) And then I decided I'm going to do it. I'm going to build this thing on my own. I took the tool box from the garage and locked my self in the room. I realized that I didn't feel so driven to take on something and complete it in a long, long time. I just wanted to see my nephews expression, it was as simple as that. I wanted to see the look of amazement on his face when he saw this thing. This massive structure of fascinating objects that moved, climbed mountains, went through bridges, through train and gas stations, moved cargo, and made their way home to the roundhouse assembly.

I built the table, I built drawers, used tools I never had even seen before. Learned about different types of nails, screwdrivers, wood and symmetry. It was absolutely joyful. And I kept going, kept going. Then finally I put the plank on the table and started to build the various stations, the assembly line, the bridges. Once all the pieces were built, I started laying down the tracks. They were of 7 different sizes and had to be laid out in a certain order. My sister-in-law joined me on this final lap and we looked at the map and started laying down the tracks.

Finally, after approximately 8 hours of sweat, toil, incredible learning and hard-work later, we sat back and watched the magic unfold. It is hard to explain in a few words (or even in plenty of words) what the look on my nephew's face was. He held the trains and moved them along the tracks. He recognized that they stuck to each other and tried to understand why. There were small circular magnets that allowed trains to stick together and form a trail. He recognized that this similar circular object was atop the cargo boxes and used the crane to lift them and unload them on the train. He let the trains speed up down the mountains and slowed down near the station. His small hands tried to collect as many trains as possible and line them on the tracks. His tiny feet moved quickly alongside the table to keep up with the train. All this, while we just stood back and watched him grow by the minute. I felt like we had brought a whole new meaning to his little life :)

Of course, my other a-ha moment came when my brother saw the fruit of my labor and said "WOW! Now that's how you give a gift :D May be you were so driven because...YOU BROKE MY TRAIN SET"!!! :O Sigh! I guess, some things will never change. While other things will change us forever. :)

Knowing Me

Today, my friend Lynn tore a few pages of a writing pad and gave them to me. Each page had this image.

A few lines that meant so much Lynn. Thank you.

:)

Release

When I was 5, my dad was given the special opportunity to go and do a 6-month program at the University of Cardiff. I didn't realize the prestige of being invited to something like that until recently. Back then, in my eyes he had "fair-skinned friends" and it felt fascinating. I distinctly remember one professor at the university. He took a liking to my ever-so studious father and when he made a visit to India, he came over for dinner one night. I remember my mother opening the doors of the balcony as he stood and stared at the view. I remember his words "Murdy, you have a millionaire's view, you have a millionaire's view."

That line somehow remained in my head for the longest time. I took a picture I had of the "millionaire's view" and put it on my desktop at work. A colleague passed by and gasped "Where is thatt!". Would you believe if I said Mumbai? The non-slum, snake charmers and elephants, part.

The millionaire's view had tiny boats filled with fresh fish. Every morning these boats would come into the harbor after spending three days at sea. Every morning at 6am people would throng to the water’s edge and stand on a protruding stretch of land that over-looked the boats. I always thought that they would fall down into them and then I would hear the sirens going off declaring a state of emergency. But it never happened. The fishermen would take baskets of fish and fling them upwards to the keen, standing buyers. I always thought those baskets would suddenly burst open and the fish would fall all over the place instead of making their way into the hands of their master. But that never happened either. The movements were made with precision and incredible timing. If they played sports, the fishermen would make incredible bowlers or pitchers ;) As the day went by, while the masters enjoyed their seafood meals, the fishermen began their journey into the sea again. It would be nice to one day talk "emotions" with the Mumbai fisherman. Like Bach did about flying, did he enjoy the waters, the adventure of fishing, did he find passion in his profession, was it beautiful? Isolating and lonely?

Beyond this precision, timing and fun activity was a very old mill. It just lay, aging and groany. Once in a way it was all spruced up when some big-wig producer in the Bollywood film-industry wanted a place near the water to film a low-budget song. We would spend months on end listening to same lines repeating and repeating, like a stuck record. It didn't help that some of the actors were terrible dancers. And then suddenly, after 4-5 months you would see it on television. And say "of my god, that's my house there at the back!". And then you would hear it in the rickshaws and think the same thought. The song held little meaning without "my house there at the back!"

The millionaire's view also held the breathtaking backwaters of the Arabian sea. We faced the east, the sun rose and the waters glistened like gold. Kind-off like the Grand Canyon in McKenna’s Gold. Always reminded me of that. The few times I woke up really early to witness this miracle of the sunrise, my mother would come into the balcony and do a quick prayer to the sun god, and even if she didn't, I knew she was praying in her mind. I would smell tea with ginger, yes, morning had arrived. On full moon night's, the water's had a different kind-off glisten. Calming, like a smooth black velvetty calm. The fisherman would have enjoyed this night I used to think. And the lighthouse would hum light, dark, light, dark.

There was a giant old tree to the far right, a magnificent, majestic creature. It bowed gracefully and let the wind pass through. It always seemed perfectly harmonious with its surroundings. I sometimes wish I was like that tree. At the foot of the tree was an old heritage home, built by the British when they were seriously messed up and thought they could rule the world forever. I meant to ask the Cardiff professor that, what were you thinking, really. Outside the house was a small seating area under the tree, which had a small glass cupboard and an idol of a god. I always thought someone would break that glass down one day while playing cricket in front of the house. It never happened. Or maybe someone one day would steal the idol. That didn't happen either.

It's all coming back to me today. Just a simple minimizing the screen on the work laptop and I am transported into another time, another place. A picture is worth a thousand words, but a single memory...that's an unending story.

Twenty Ten

And a new year beckons. Just like that, in a moment of wonder, and endless planning, task, milestone and goal setting. What have I achieved, what have I yet to achieve, resolutions, promises and all that.

Life needs to be more simple. Someday I will break down these walls that I built around me, systematically, step by step, brick by brick. Or maybe one day when I wake up the wall will cease to exist. My mind will destroy it simply, by the click of a button. Or even better, I will acquire supernatural powers to just walk through it without feeling any hurt or pain, without feeling anything at all, very numbly, in a centered way.

Life needs to be more balanced. Someday I will multitask to perfection, have everything complete well in time. Beautifully and satisfactorily. Lists will cease to exist momentarily. Someday I will rest after my tasks are complete and not feel the angst to begin creating new tasks for myself as the old ones draw to an end. Or maybe I will learn quickly to oscillate perfectly between routine and rest, between escaping and facing, between running and living.

Someday things will change for the better on new year's day.

The Man In The Arena

It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.

- Theodore Roosevelt, April 23, 1910.

The Crush

I was walking today, two steps behind you
And you wore my favorite shirt
Did you know
The checks on it spelt out the world
And I felt a little at home

And then you stood by the door
Let it open
You gave me my escape
And let me breathe, hoping
I could breathe in a smile and poem

And someday these moments
Will turn to memories
And someday you wont
Have that swagger in your stride
And someday you won't
Give me that slight smile
From that beautiful corner of your eye.
And it's alright, it's alright

The sky, like my heart is
Shamelessly naked and genuine
Someday maybe we could
Mend these piece by piece
Over coffee?

The One Who Left

I often wonder if you think of me. I know it is insane to even think it though. That would make you a loser which you never were.

I happened to stumble, on an old conversation. How smoothly the words swayed too and fro like leaves floating in the breeze. There was a certain simplicity, enveloped in the complex relationship that we were.

And if we were together, we would have been half dead, the glass half empty and our facebook relationship status "It's complicated". Because that is what "we" symbolized. The complete death of our individual spirits. Only to experience one-ness. The complete anarchy of thoughts which was our only order.

Then may be those words were not smooth afterall. They were placed strategically and moves were made with tact, always rationally. Like in a game of chess. Maybe those conversations were trials given the garb of smoothness and our escape from unpleasant realities or pleasant ones that were temporary. Those smiles, efforts, that went to waste.

Whatever it was, it remains a distant, but familiar memory. Neither a happy nor a sad one. It just exists and has stopped trying to find meaning. Like most things in life.

One Art

One Art
by Elizabeth Bishop

The art of losing isn’t hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn’t hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother’s watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn’t hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn’t a disaster.

—Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan’t have lied. It’s evident
the art of losing’s not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.

One Giant Leap

I graduated.
From strawberry to chocolate
From blue to red
From flats to heels
From frocks to skirts
From fast food to gourmet meals
From foolhardy to brave
From take to give
From dumbbells to long walks
From raincoats to umbrellas
From Nsync to Dylan
From pre-paid to billin'
From pubs to plays
From nights to days
From deo’s to perfumes
From tapes to itunes
From sad to philosophical
From happy to happier
I graduated.

Why I Sing The Blues

He took his cane. And tried to climb uphill. His tired legs searched for a stop. His leather jacket had many stories to tell. His army boots had made many stops. And aged much like him.

With incredible grace. His long hair looked like it kept, Braided in it, several verse and song

He looked like an old Vedder...

I was getting back from work, late this evening, with a million things on my mind. And as I hurried along the sidewalk, I was forced to slow down because of this man. He looked like a former rock n roller :) He would stop every few steps, to catch his breath. I slowed down my pace behind him, thinking it would be too rude to pass him and didn't want to get too close or he may have felt pressurized to walk faster. So here I am, with my psycho-analysis, when he just stopped all of a sudden. And exclaimed, "God I just want to get home, please let me get home."

Frightened by how frail and faint he sounded I ran up to him and asked if he was ok. I was amazed at how strong and frail this man looked, all at once. He said, "My dear, could you walk with me till my house? I just want to get home. I was downtown, shootin' some pool, you know...with some old buddies o' mine. I didn't realise how difficult this climb uphill was"

I accompanied him to his house and he held my hand by the door. He said "You're a sweetheart. I have something for you."

A million eerie * shudder * thoughts ran through my head, and I thought "oh my god, why did I do this, mom was right I should never talk to strangers, oh my god, is he going to do something terribly disturbing to me, like maybe kill me? I think I can take him on, he seems frail", blah blah blah. And I could hear his voice in constant conversation with me "You know, I was born in this house? I came back here, after 6 decades..."

He came back to the door (where I ACTUALLY waited diligently) and gave me a Cd. He said "This man, this man changed my life...and we share the same name. His music will teach you several lessons for life. This is for you, take this...listen. I think you will love it."

I thanked him profusely, and strode back home, much happier than I was when I left work. Doped, dazed, or just old, I have a feeling Mr. B. B. King is going to be my friend :D

Home, that imaginary place...

A lot has happened since I wrote my last post. It is hard to summarize, put on display, the emotions, feelings and moments experienced. But I will try.

I found a home for Christmas.

On Christmas Eve, my neighbours invited me home. We had a wonderful Indian dinner. 7 Americans, to 2 Indians. But the meal was enjoyed by all. I always imagined Christmas Eve like this. There was a light flurry of snow. And at one point I stood outside, and watched my new found 'family' through the bay windows. The lights from the tree kept the house warm, along with the love that filled the atmosphere. And it touched my heart that I didn't have to pass by that very scene and walk in to an empty house as I had done on the past two Christmas's. I spent the night there, on their couch. Books, gifts and DVDs were spread on the floor right before bed time. 'Gifts from Santa' for their 2 year old son. I spent almost the entire night staring at the tree and the angel that looked down on me.

When I awoke the next morning, I could feel the 2 year olds excitement from the upstairs floor, I could hear his voice 'is Santa here?' and when he came down the stairs, the joy in his eyes was beautiful. He ran toward the gifts and one the first ones he opened was a cute little saxophone. His father was a former jazz artist. And being the wonderful sax player he is, it was a moment of sheer amazement to see father watch son play his first little note on the saxophone.

Tears welled up in my eyes as I felt so grateful to be included in a moment as intimate as this.

India

I remember sitting in a pub with Jo, a good colleague of mine. Constantly abused, and mentally traumatized by her dad since the age of 3. And I had a verbal diarrhea of 'family' and 'home' and 'relationships'. And she had a blank expression on her face and she said, 'I don't get it when people say, I am going 'home', I miss my family'.'I am my family. I AM home'.

And here we were, two women with completely contrasting concepts on relationships. But having a perfectly harmonious conversation.

When I packed my bags, there as a lot of anticipation, a lot of nervous tension and excitement. It took me two months to plan, order, buy each person’s gift. But every moment was precious.

And as the plane flew over India, I felt my heart racing. I kept checking the map in my little screen. Ok, now we are over Pakistan, ok now Ahmedabad. And now here, here is my first glimpse of Mumbai...the precious jewels scattered on the ground, lit up homes of family and friends. Heart racing still faster...Touchdown.

You know how when you wait for something that long, and something you really want so very badly, that you can feel your insides tearing and soul screaming. Like when you’re about to fall in love. And you're at that crucial moment, where you don't know if you should give in, or be your skeptical, cautious self. And then you fall, like the red carpet was pulled off, from under your feet. It felt like that. Coming home, felt like that.

When I awoke in the morning, to children screaming in the school opposite my apartment, a marriage procession on the streets, I felt like I had never left. And I was ok with never going back...

Meeting family and friends felt like swallowing sunshine, after years of cold, dreary winter. My trip has made me think a lot about relationships these days. How some blossomed, how some were beautiful while they lasted, how some were painful, full of work and effort, some you couldn't do without, how some slowly died, how some were nipped in the bud and others with the 'what if' questions, that never have answers...I wouldn't change a thing, I wouldn't change a single thing :)

Back Home

The flight back flew through Amsterdam, and I saw the sun rise over France, and then Prague, and then I saw it rise in Amsterdam...three sunrises.

There is so much more to do, so much more to see and experience. I am not done. I need to wander some more. I don't have hopes of 'finding myself' anymore. I want to lose myself. And take a diversion from the trodden path.

Home is now the view from my window. The white picket fence, and the first signs of grass, with spring waiting to be found, a light breeze blowing and the grass tops dipping their heads lightly, enjoying being pampered after long. This is the United States I had imagined I would experience. This very view, from this very window.

I can hear Dylan playing in the background as I crawl back under my cozy sheets.

The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind, The answer is blowin' in the wind.

Sunlight

My parents visiting my home was no ordinary event.

Within a few minutes, a cold, harsh lonely room was transformed into the protective warmth and comfort I have longed for.

Within a few words, memories were awakened, dreams rekindled, and roots re-strengthened.

Within a few gestures, feelings of the purest kind were conveyed, energies of the highest order were exchanged.

Within a few steps, lifetimes were retraced, tears of happiness were shed.

Within a few heartbeats, peace prevailed, unconditional love experienced.

As I said, my parents visiting my home was no ordinary event...

It was divinely extraordinary.

Making Peace

The walk is always tough
When it comes with random thought
And I ask my mind
Often, to calm down
When I sometimes need
To calmly accept
That my thoughts can never be tamed
My feelings will always
Be kept, unkempt

Sometimes the calm of acceptance
Is everything that you need

Chelsea Morning

These words bring the inanimate to life ...

Woke up,

it was a chelsea morning,

and the first thing that I heard

Was a song outside my window,

and the traffic wrote the words

It came a-reeling up like christmas bells,

and rapping up like pipes and drums

Oh, wont you stay

Well put on the day

And well wear it till the night comes

Woke up, it was a chelsea morning,

and the first thing that I saw

Was the sun through yellow curtains,

and a rainbow on the wall

Blue, red, green and gold to welcome you,

crimson crystal beads to beckon

Oh, wont you stay

Well put on the day

Theres a sun show every second

Now the curtain opens on a portrait of today

And the streets are paved with passersby

And pigeons fly

And papers lie

Waiting to blow away

Woke up, it was a chelsea morning,

and the first thing that I knew

There was milk and toast and honey

and a bowl of oranges, too

And the sun poured in like butterscotch

and stuck to all my senses

Oh, wont you stay

Well put on the day

And well talk in present tenses

When the curtain closes

and the rainbow runs away

I will bring you incense owls by night

By candlelight

By jewel-light

If only you will stay

Pretty baby, wont you

Wake up, its a chelsea morning...

-- Joni Mitchell

Fuzz, Thank you for this CD, it's beautiful :)