I could say the same thing I’ve been saying for the past umpteenth months - that’s it’s been a hell of a few weeks. But I won’t.
I lost a friend. But I also made another and I am beginning to learn togetherness and aloneness.
The problems staying asleep have started up again and at one point my arm got so bad that I had to take painkillers several times when what I really wanted to do was get really stoned and unwind. Thank god Miyako decided to punish me by sticking needles in me. Just 2 hours and a glorious massage later, I was as good as new. Acupuncture certainly rocks.
Of course I still haven’t been able to treat the problem at the root so the pain’s coming back slowly and I’m still having problems sleeping but I’m beginning to realize that no matter what, ultimately we each have to deal with our own issues. Of course we could talk to someone, but only to put our own thoughts and feelings in perspective. Never look for an answer, because it’s not going to come from outside. This little truth has set me on fire.
Now I am able to find pleasure in the simple things, like dancing by myself in my room, the feel of a hot wash cloth against my skin while taking a wash standing up in my little bathroom, the curve of a tiny pink cloud in a grey evening sky, the beauty of wild grass flowers along the walk and the way the sound of the crickets stills everything and enters your body as you walk through a small wood.
The elephant is perfectly beautiful.
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Sunday, May 08, 2011
“Why? Why? Why? Why?”
“Why? Why? Why? Why?”
She has been crying for almost a day now, walking around and around the building, crying at every door. If she’s lucky, they just shoo her away… If not, she gets kicked for her insolence.
“Why? Why? Why? Why?...”
Their ears, accustomed to their own blaring din of loud laughter, talk and more talk, music and ringing phone, are hurt by her insistent pleas… “Why? Why? Why? Why?...”
They can’t even pause in their rush of eating more, using more, taking more to clean up the “mess” that they say she makes, leave alone feel her pain… “Why? Why? Why? Why?...”
She barely cares for food and slept restlessly for a while in the late afternoon. But even as she slept she moaned “Why? Why? Why? Why?...”
There’s no place for her in this haven…
“Why? Why? Why? Why?”
She’s just a stray…
“Why? Why? Why? Why?”
So they dumped her kittens in the garbage…
She has been crying for almost a day now, walking around and around the building, crying at every door. If she’s lucky, they just shoo her away… If not, she gets kicked for her insolence.
“Why? Why? Why? Why?...”
Their ears, accustomed to their own blaring din of loud laughter, talk and more talk, music and ringing phone, are hurt by her insistent pleas… “Why? Why? Why? Why?...”
They can’t even pause in their rush of eating more, using more, taking more to clean up the “mess” that they say she makes, leave alone feel her pain… “Why? Why? Why? Why?...”
She barely cares for food and slept restlessly for a while in the late afternoon. But even as she slept she moaned “Why? Why? Why? Why?...”
There’s no place for her in this haven…
“Why? Why? Why? Why?”
She’s just a stray…
“Why? Why? Why? Why?”
So they dumped her kittens in the garbage…
Tuesday, May 03, 2011
Tuesday, May 3, 2011 (9.27am)
At the risk of intellectualizing everything and preventing my essence shine through, I must say that I am continually amazed at these people who are able to follow like cattle. Truly amazed. For example, when the attendance is taken at the first class of the day, when the instructor calls out the names, if someone answers “present”, he/she is told to say “Om” instead. Why? Because that’s how it is. Then at the end of the day, when we sit for the most glaring waste of time of ages – Yoga, Science & Consciousness, a subject which could be truly interesting if it wasn’t taught by a garrulous old fart who thinks he is the authority on everything and so uses the most disparaging tone to tell us how uninformed and doomed we are – where we are told that we should not move or turn are head or twiddle our pencils. Why? Because if we did, apparently, we would never be chosen at an interview for a management position!
Of course I have beaten to death the urge to tell the old fart that I’ve never failed at a single interview and I quit my job in a management position to drop off the face of the earth in the vain hope of never having to deal with garrulous old farts like him!
I realize I am being very rude, maybe even “violent”. But I honestly feel like it’s the least I can do to shake myself up from the stupor that threatens to engulf me here. Of course the reward for my pains is the tiny bald patch which seems to have sprung up out of nowhere above my left temple. But you know what? I would give all my hair to be bald and beautiful me rather than any of these fuzzes.
Sure they think I’m crazy the way I get all excited when someone tells me to do something that makes no sense and try to make them see the pointlessness of following such illogic (probably because they also think me a little odd seeing that I don’t clutter my room with cheap east Asian plastics or hideous Indian stainless steel vessels. But I live a fairly hand to mouth existence here and don’t see the point of hoarding so much that my already conservative room turns into a walk-in closet. But I am happy as hell and I intend to remain that way.
Today one of my classmates (the most sober of the lot and so I thought, the most sensible with the exception of Jin of course) returned a book I had lent him last week. It was Aravind Adiga’s The White Tiger which is a truly remarkable book which very realistically portrays the life of the poor in India and their view of her development. He had found it too “violent” and therefore did not want to read it.
Now considering that he was one of those peppy Indian boys who is ordained by his proud parents to become a lawyer/doctor/(software) engineer and does so with all zest, I had hoped that he was not entirely lost since he had after all quit his job and taken up the study of yoga. But when he termed the book too violent, I just saw him as absurd as an ostrich. Well he can stick his head anywhere he likes. Violence is very much the reality of life, especially the life of the blindly growing Indian empire. And God save us all if this is not to the “taste” of this pretty excuse for a human being.
Of course I have beaten to death the urge to tell the old fart that I’ve never failed at a single interview and I quit my job in a management position to drop off the face of the earth in the vain hope of never having to deal with garrulous old farts like him!
I realize I am being very rude, maybe even “violent”. But I honestly feel like it’s the least I can do to shake myself up from the stupor that threatens to engulf me here. Of course the reward for my pains is the tiny bald patch which seems to have sprung up out of nowhere above my left temple. But you know what? I would give all my hair to be bald and beautiful me rather than any of these fuzzes.
Sure they think I’m crazy the way I get all excited when someone tells me to do something that makes no sense and try to make them see the pointlessness of following such illogic (probably because they also think me a little odd seeing that I don’t clutter my room with cheap east Asian plastics or hideous Indian stainless steel vessels. But I live a fairly hand to mouth existence here and don’t see the point of hoarding so much that my already conservative room turns into a walk-in closet. But I am happy as hell and I intend to remain that way.
Today one of my classmates (the most sober of the lot and so I thought, the most sensible with the exception of Jin of course) returned a book I had lent him last week. It was Aravind Adiga’s The White Tiger which is a truly remarkable book which very realistically portrays the life of the poor in India and their view of her development. He had found it too “violent” and therefore did not want to read it.
Now considering that he was one of those peppy Indian boys who is ordained by his proud parents to become a lawyer/doctor/(software) engineer and does so with all zest, I had hoped that he was not entirely lost since he had after all quit his job and taken up the study of yoga. But when he termed the book too violent, I just saw him as absurd as an ostrich. Well he can stick his head anywhere he likes. Violence is very much the reality of life, especially the life of the blindly growing Indian empire. And God save us all if this is not to the “taste” of this pretty excuse for a human being.
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