A stranger's grace

It is yet another work day. The day stretches ahead of me and I look for some inspiration to carry me forward. Then there it is at the edge of my hearing..a man whistling away while most likely attending to his construction work on top of a nearby roof. I can’t see him though I tried to poke my head out of the window. And so the spell of mundane-ness was broken, thanks to a complete stranger.

Isolation

Isn't it ironic how much loneliness there is in this world even with so much online connection?

Stagnant

Sometimes the days are dreary even when the sun light is plentiful. Today is one of those days. Actually, the last few days have been. Sometimes, every idea we have is a bad one, every song we hear is a sad one and life is out of sync and every step is an uphill battle. No amount of effort is enough to make that blessed break through. It would have been fine if we had all the time in the world to sit it out. To wait patiently till it all fell into place.  But time as we know it is forever passing us by.

Nothing seems comforting on a day like this.  My mind has already rejected any hope of seeing the light. All I can do is wait and put an end to this futile struggle.

Days that nothing gets done

Yesterday I watched the rain drops splash ever so lightly on the windowpane while it rained half halfheartedly. The raindrops merged with the glass softly and rolled downwards to embrace the earth. A few drops hung precariously on the metal door handle till they grew too large to bear their own weight.

We watched ‘August Rush’ and I read books till I fell asleep and ate the last piece of the yummy chocolate cake; an achievement in a house full of seven grownups and two cats, one of which has a sweet tooth. We also played a version of Chinese whispers but with and addition of a long hollow tube. No one could tell what the other said but it was fun and I felt like I was a child again back in the day going to school in uncle Sena’s school van where we played these silly games.

Then night came and I tried to study and make some progress. But it didn’t work and I ended up listening to wedding songs with D and B and ate lots of junk food.

I love lazy Sundays like yesterday, those that you stay indoors all day and never set foot outdoors. In fact, today only feels like an extension of Sunday.  Though I made an attempt to be organised and plan for the week, the day has nearly passed and I have been shamefully unproductive. In my defence, I will only say that things have not at all gone my way. So far, I’ve had no luck with finding any of the material I set out to find in the library and my research has stalled. I spent the morning walking, kneeling and crawling between library shelves in the serials section in two libraries and made myself disoriented with library catalogue numbers and non-existent foreign journals.

Despite these minor setbacks, I’m enjoying the quieter-than-usual office and gloomy weather and the chill in the wind. It just makes me want to sleep.

Thoughts on Aroha

At 6.45am while brushing teeth, I think about ‘Love’. Why do we love the people we love? Where does love come from? What is it in other people that we love? Here, I’m thinking of love that tends towards a higher form of love, love that does not possess, that does not have to be returned, basically love that is much more than romantic love. I feel that love manifests in our hearts out of awareness. Love is always within us, around us and in everything in this world. When we are truly aware of this, we see the source of it in other people. Now to have fulfilling relationships of any sort, these other people will need to be also aware this awareness to recognise love and share it with you. So, without awareness love cannot be recognised (and therefore shared) and it may feel as though love does not exist....although it exists in its purest form in everything you can think of. Then, why is it that we do not strive towards a higher awareness? Wouldn’t this satisfy the deepest yearnings of our hearts?

Stillness in Places

I’m forty five minutes early for the yoga class. Naturally there is no one around. Not even the yoga teacher.  It is cold and quiet here. The kind old man who opened the ashram door for me, left into the night bidding me good night. He chatted with me while tying his shoe laces. The typical questions, ‘where am I from?’ then, ‘whether I’m Sinhalese?’ It turned out that he had visited Sri Lanka, back when it was still referred to as ‘Ceylon’. Beautiful place it was he said.  I smiled and nodded. We parted.

I had forgotten to bring any reading material. But there are plenty of books here. There is a shelf full of books on spirituality, which I browse at random. My eyes land on ‘Siddhartha’ by Herman Hesse. Here is a book I’ve been meaning to find for a while. It is a tiny book with very little pages, I notice.  For some reason, I’m not in the mood to read more than a page. The words flow and sound poetic, but they flow past me. I am restless. I put it aside and decide to sift through my thoughts instead.

This restless-ness is like the noisy street outside, with its incessant noises from by passing vehicles. But just like the pauses in between vehicles, I feel the stillness inside of me. I listen for footsteps. Like the thoughts that swirl in my head, they are fleeting; making me strain to hear, to understand.

There is something about this Silence. It is different to the stillness in other places. You know, like how tap water tastes different in different countries? The Stillness here is rich and beautiful. It is calm and is seeping into my insides. This stillness makes me feel like I’m part of it.

For no apparent reason

I feel happy........