no longer am I free.
When I remember that I'm here,
to do His work,
then again I am free.
Thursday, 22 January 2015
Friday, 16 January 2015
Love is a Power!
and it lives within you.
It has the strength to pull tides
and it pulls God to you.
With God by your side
and your focus within.
Nothing can harm you,
for you see all, as your kin.
Wednesday, 14 January 2015
The Same Source.
between an echo,
a reflection
and a shadow?
They're all reminders,
that we're all vibrations,
of the same energy,
that's emanating,
from the same source.
A Life We Care For.
The distance between,
our possibilities
and our reality is covered,
when we are committed,
to creating a life we care for!!!!
Follow Through
and pretty much forever is,
'follow through.'
Knowledge isn't worth a cent,
if you don't give life 100%.
Cafe Paradiso-chapter 1 Gowri Residence
The taxi pulled into the courtyard of the hotel and he smiled as he looked around at the beat up, old colonial residence. Gowri Residence (gowri is slang for white person) had been converted into a homestay, half a century ago. The gardens were a lush, mossy, green from the current monsoon season. Banyan trees and fig trees twisted this way and that, shading the bungalows, from the blazing heat.
His Dad came here almost 20 years ago and he'd grown up with the stories. He'd hoped to come here with him one day, the old man had promised, but now he was gone. All too suddenly he had gone.
About a year after Dane's father had passed away he decided to make the trip on his own. And after a lot of planning and saving, he was here. He'd flown in the day before to Cochin and got a taxi to Allepey. He arrived just as the sun was slipping slowly into the Arabian Sea.
He checked into Gowri Residence unpacked his deeply creased clothes. The place was dank and dusty and as he lay half naked beneath the whirring fan and dusty mosquito net, he felt a little trepidation. But he pushed it aside and fell into a deep and restlful sleep.
When he woke in the morning, he was excited. He was totally alone, in a town he'd never been to, let alone country he'd only heard stories about, so many stories. When he woke this morning he felt so close to the old man. He hadn't felt this close to his father, since his sudden passing away early last year.
He jumped into a cold shower, did some yoga, then meditated. This has been a ritual since his teens. Something he'd shared with his Dad, like being a vegetarian. Which he'd been since he was 9.
He got changed and made his way down to the dining room who he'd wound its way around the reception desk. The dining room stepped down to the courtyard where he'd pulled up to last night. In the centre of the courtyard was a huge Banyan Tree that arched over the residence, and across the bustling main road, out front.
Under the Banyan Tree hung a swing which two children were taking it in turns to push each other on. Squealing and giggling, they urged each other to push harder and higher and fought over whose turn it was.
As he sat waiting for his breakfast and sipping on strong instant coffee, served in a chipped and tannin stained tea cup, he wrote in his diary. A smile spread across his face for no reason and became a grin. He sat there looking like a crazy person. The dusty bric a brac around him, couldn't vie for his attention. He was lost in a mish mash of memories and stories, that were now entwined with the reality of his surroundings.
He didn't quite know what to make of it all, but he was happy and swept up in his imaginings. He was lost to his day dreams of where destiny might take him.
Friday, 9 January 2015
Sunday, 4 January 2015
Needs
and feed.
Our greediness,
only grow weeds.
In the garden,
of our good character.
We need to grow,
what feeds.
Who
and less on how, why, where,
when and what.
We'll be able to be,
more compassionate
and less judgmental.
Sai Saileshwara
You fly high above the mountains,
on a mission from Ram himself.
You are the dispeller of our darkness,
you herald our cries for help.
you herald our cries for help.
Your hair is long and curly,
your skin, a golden brown.
Your dress is always splendid
and your sweetness has no bounds.
You're both valiant and you're brave
and you've helped us find our way.
Your both valiant and your brave
and it's our souls,
you've come to save.
Your heart is filled with Rama,
our Sita and Lakshmana.
Your heart is devoid of Karma
and your mind,
isn't ruined by drama.
In many years to come,
many, will sing your glories.
So how can this mere poet,
put a shine,
on your mesmerising stories.
Your life is our very breath
and our oxygen,
till our death.
Your devotion
is beyond birth
and death.
and death.
I pray I die,
with your name,
with your name,
on my breath.
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