Worthy?

I made myself just the right cup of coffee last night and thought of what is happening around me. 

I thought of the denigration of one's self that is taken so lightly to no justifiable end.

A person with any sense of dignity or self-worth will never disregard or intrude upon another's rights ... or be subjected to it.

Only a coward will resort to oppression, for that momentary illusion of power over another's life.

It is not a coincidence that those they victimise are lower down on their socio-economic ladder. Often financial as well.

If we value ourselves, we need to speak up and protect those that are wronged.

Limits? Should it be defining?

Living does not have to be copybook. Limits can open up opportunities that would never have been considered before. Limits bring with it humility, one needs to then get off one’s high horse. Ambitions that were driven by the lack of understanding of ones real abilities and bolstered by a misplaced ego have to be given up because they become too stressful and cause too much anxiety. The mind has a way of coming up with solutions once it has accepted the question.

Over and out

No more time for debates. Pro-Modi, anti-Modi whatever.

Who one supports is no longer of any importance.
BJP with it's Modi mast-head is now truly the flavour of the day, week, month, year and years.
That kind of absolute majority can be dangerous. Just imagine, one party has the entire country at it's mercy!
One party will rule the parliament totally. There will effectively be no opposition.
Wherever, whenever, this is scary. 

Very.

_____________________________

A close friend of mine, Naseem, sweet and kind as always, expressed a very generous sentiment.
He himself does not belong to the Modi cult, but graciously wrote to say, and let me quote him here, "I am happy for you all, because India is not about you and me, India is about us all, and India voted for him. Congratulations once again."
My response was this, "That is exactly it Naseem, India is for all. And the 'all' mostly are literate, but not educated enough to decide for themselves, particularly when the floodgates of the shiny, gaudy tinsels open.
Having said that, given the options, much less show of pomp, splendour and posturing would have brought the same result."
________________________________

Power corrupts. Absolute power corrupts absolutely.
Those who have it, think before you think.
Think before you do.

Holy Smoke!

May 2014,
I thought I'd revive my blog with a cheerful, upbeat piece - the kind of post that is invigorating and uplifting. Empowering is a word I would have considered had it not become a joke in the recent elections held in the largest Democracy in the World'.  
I wanted it be the kind of post that would revive me as also the blog.
But no, life has decided that I have collected too much baggage -
too much and too many of the physical and mental chains that I've always wanted to keep myself free of.
What was I thinking?
What was I not thinking?
The result is the following rant which in its subject has nothing to do with all the baggage, but expresses the frustration and indignant belligerence that makes everyone suggest yoga.
Whatever.
This is not a positive post. 
But hopefully the phoenix will rise from the ashes.

So, now to begin -

I can not understand these 'guru' types.
- Live in the moment -
- "I am happy because I don't mind what happens" -
- Align the mind and the body - 
- Joy is within you. It is for you to have -
- 'Desire' is a bad word -
- Experience deeply -
Etc .. etc ... and many etcs ...

Live in the moment?
I am a farmer, with borrowed money, no rains in the horizon, with none of the widely announced subsidies. My children go to school because the free meal is the only meal they have through the day. My moment is not a moment I want to live in. The only option I have I will try to keep away till the very end because I am supposed to be the provider, the protector.

"I am happy because I don't mind what happens."
Good for you sitting in your freshly laundered clothes, in the pink of health, with doctors treating a little sneeze like devastating tuberculosis.
You have no idea that one can even worry about such mundanities like struggle or poverty. How can you? You are happy. You have found happiness and contentment with the world and its wife prostrating before you, competing, hurting each other to touch your feet, or for just one glance from you? Why should you climb down from that elevated high-ground?

How often have you seen, a human scavenger?
How often have you carried back-breaking pots of putrid human refuse?

How often have you held a child dying in your arms because you can not afford the simplest possible, the cheapest drug, and the govt. hospital is miles away and that anyway is where your unborn child died because you had a complicated delivery. Not only did they not have a bed, they could not even offer some shade, or even a place where you could breath some air that was not stenching from rotting flesh. So much more could be said ... but no, it will hurt your sensibilities.

So please live in the moment with an aligned mind and body, with the joy that you have found within you and no desire because you have no need that has not been fulfilled.
And do experience deeply the luxury that your groveling disciples try to do a 'pahle me' to provide.

Live your life the way you believe your 'karma' has bought you, but until you can at least try and understand the 'karma' of the little people - do them a favour, save your 'vaani's for those who have the leisure to appreciate them.

Yes I am offended.

'have been since I saw a photograph of one of the many His Holyness-es with His Holy Face and His Holy locks of hair, and His holier than thou posturing.

Footnote: one size does not fit all.
There now, everyone gets an way out

When it comes to fabric, I like the touch of hands.

* This was originally written sometime in November orDecember of 2009.
I had forgotten to publish it.

Lately my mind has been quite blank - therefore the silence.

I need to concentrate on a new collection but I am not able to.

I have always been passionate about woven fabric and we have such a magnificent tradition.

Our craftsmanship is also top notch.

But to run a business I am having to compromise big time.

Mill made material is just not appealing to me, no matter how good the quality.

To me they have no life.

That thought is so absolutely wrong.

People make a living out of the production of these fabrics.

Even then.

I personally can never wear them.

Ideally I would only use hand spun and hand woven textile. But although we do have some production of hand spun yarn, it is too expensive to produce commercial volumes. I know. I have tried. And lost money.

Hand woven still works, but not if the quality is how I wish it to be. I want the traditional beauty. And then  it becomes too expensive for most people who have the taste. 

Unfortunately most of those who have the money to patronise such beauty, would rather have the ostentation of easy, loud glamour. And that is not in the nature of hand woven fabric.

Adoption and Self-Knowledge

I have been rather distressed the last two months. And frustrated. October began with Anita Tedaldi’s piece on the N. Y. Times about the why’s and how’s and most impotantly the justifications of terminating the adoption of her ‘Adopted Son’ and the responses that bombarded the Internet.

Then in November with the U.S. marking the National Adoption Month, the issue of adoption became the focus of some, often prickly, discussions. Each day I grew more and more amazed by the sheer intensity and energy of emotions demonstrated by those involved in the adoption process.

In effect I also got caught up in the heat of it all and drafted ideas from all kinds of perspectives. There are now three potential articles saved on my desktop, but each of them reflected the same unpleasantness that while revising I found distasteful.

Like many, I was also disturbed with the story of little ‘D’ - a story of compounding injudicious actions that added further trauma to the life of this unfortunate boy. Although now that he has a good home and understanding parents, he has a chance to heal.

The fact however remains that with some self-knowledge on Tedaldi’s part, together with more sensitivity and responsibility exercised by the social services, the child would have been saved the mindless trauma.

I do hope that her article does not start a copycat trend in disrupted adoptions.

Adoption is a very personal matter.

Adoptee, birth parent and adoptive parent—each has their own perspective. Then the involvement of the coordinating agency adds a whole different angle to an already complicated story.

It is not easy to be objective about relationships that are so essential to our existence, that are so instinctive and natural that we enter them without thinking, and that are burdened by a mythology of superlative ideals and tremendous expectations.

Perhaps as a result of everybody wanting to achieve that ideal, ‘adoption’ now seems to have become a microcosm, a self-contained world with a vocabulary that only communicates at cross-purposes.

I like to smile. I find it easy to smile and I think others find it easy to smile with me too.

But I haven’t been smiling much the last few weeks, because I am an adoptive mother and for the last fifteen years I have also been a post-adoption counselor.

Chanting

When I stopped working full-time, I joined a comparative philosophy class (very convenient, same lecture and discussion three times a week and three units every week. Could be done on the same day all together or spread over a week. Pretty good arrangement, don’t you think for a person with chronic health problems?). I also spent time reading the scriptures of various religions with guidance from the men and women who are qualified to teach their subject and do so as part of their duties at the monasteries and missions. They were wonderful experiences that I will share in another post.

I don’t know what attracted me to the subject because I had spent the first twenty-five years of my life happily indulging in thoughts and activities that even a very indulgent monastic would stop to consider saying, ‘ Ho ... hum!’ to. :)

Anyhow, after about a decade or so of pottering and digging, seeing all kinds of people and visiting all kinds of places, I sort of began to arrive at an idea of the approach to life that suited me personally. Life encompasses times and circumstances that are completely unpredictable and not always pleasant, and to be able to give of oneself with grace through it all one needs the constancy of personal integrity.

The word Personal is very important to me.

No two people can approach life similarly. Emotional and spiritual advancement may be the final goal that we wish to reach, but each of our journeys is different.

So after trying to find my way to a better understanding and expression of myself, I put together a stream of thoughts into a verse that now inspires and carries me from moment to moment.

As this blog is also the reflection of my thoughts I’ll write it down.

I will respect how I am perceived.

I will respect what I perceive.

I will respect what I imbibe.

I will respect my physical being.

I will respect my intellect.

I will respect my spirit and my further advancement into the spiritual world.

I honour the universe.

I honour Energy within myself and within the life around me.

Together the two of you are the Universal Life Force.

Together You are my life.

Together You lead me to You.

You lead me to Integrity.

You lead me to the Truth.

Bless me so I can experience You.

Bless all who teach me of You.

Bless All who speak of You.

Let me find peace within and around.

I chant these verses to myself often - last thing at night and first thing in the morning as a routine and then at all times of special joy, crisis or sadness. Sometimes I chant them just for the contentment they create in me, when I feel the world is just right.

Chanting calms me. I find it soothing and centering.

Like many others, I am not ritualistic. But I can appreciate the appeal and often the beauty of rituals, and I can understand their purpose.

I find that the rhythmic singing of words limited to a set of repetitive notes in one pitch help at once to lift my concentration from the immediate. The familiar words set to a tone in a single pattern frees my mind from the effort of remembering so I can visualize what I speak.

I have found the notes, rhythm and the pitch I am comfortable with. It is based on a particular classical style that I have grown up with and ‘though I never had ever learned or participated in organized chanting before, I found it easy to teach myself and become familiar with in little time.

This method has worked for me the last five or six years. I am alert to other possibilities that may be more fulfilling, but for now this works.