Tag: Discover Prompts

What happens when people pray

The day my mother walked out of her skin, she breathed once twice then her hand in mine grew cold, that day Eternity walked close in my narrow space. Was it co-incidence that rays streamed from a room ventilator to where she lay, her last breath so unlike death?

I wanted to grieve, but light stared down thru that ventilator and all I could do hear was the peace of our father, in heaven. My ma was not finished, she had just begun, this amazing woman I saw pray-

when I was little and prayed long prayers. people were afraid to ask me to pray. I trusted God with every detail. We had no secrets. No privacies. I remember them all choking with laughter as I asked the God of Abraham and Isaac and Jacob to walk thru our little house by the sea and bless bless everything… from packets of chicklet chewies sent by aunt Rosie from Bahrain &, asking Him to bless all of us even our panties, I said in fervent prayer on my 3 year old knees ..

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It is funny how a child can walk thru that wall between God and humanity, without shadows of doubts, but as I grew I was afraid- of those shadows, they – became a kind of god. Those shadows in the valley of defeat. They are neat I’m telling you- they are sweet- they are cool chill and teach us to be afraid. I was a child and now am grown. And I have seen us die everyday in all kinds of rooms. We have seen us pray all kinds of prayers.

Tenderly guide us‘ my mother would sing after she prayed -her voice quivering. I wondered why her voice did that quiver- every single time she prayed? Was she scared of Yahweh- was it something He said? Sometimes she’d go quiet as if listening in the silence to her God, as if He were saying secrets in her ears and she’d weep these tears…..they shone her face. she was crying not sad- these were tears you tear when theres things you cannot recover from.

These days when I pray I have no sensible words to ask . The wall between Him and me is a lesser mask, theres no stiff jaw rule no regulation but as the moment begins, I’m searching heaven ……in the quiet/ that begins when I open my soul there’s a silence. The silence of heaven- and something begins I have no words for but I will try… something asking me if I truly love him.

I say yes and He God of heaven, says if have love, then I will pray not for bags of rice and health of my children but for my 1.20 billion…..

yes! I tremble in reply but He isn’t stopping. In the silence He weeps and the sound of that is an ocean on its knees, in Gethesemane, for humanity. Come closer, He says. I look and see, calvary. I cannot move but He reaches within me/

His feet flowing crimson past nailed sins… ” it’s all for free-& hard to believe … I’ve paid your price; not just an Indian 1.20 billion but a planet full . Death has no victory nor the grave. Why are you all so afraid?” He asks, His eyes full of the tears- of heaven: Tears you tear when theres things you cannot recover from.

And I see what I never understood before –what happens when you pray. Like that time with my Ma…when

when heaven walked close in my narrow space. And light stares down in the face, of our valley of the shadow of doubt shhhl

in the silence screaming in our ear; not life nor disease nor hunger nor fear can stand

the most sacred request of all: the God of heaven asking us to pray for All His children…for each other. What can separate us from that kind of love? We can..

we who will not stop to pray for each other/ But Eternity walks close in these walls between us …..a space growing closer than e’er before. And I hear its deafening silence in my ear, won’t you stay awhile with me and pray?

It is a question I cannot recover from/ it is, a voice from heaven. My human selfish dark could ne’er produce that light streaming in from windows of heaven/ like that day my mother walked with Him who now looks in, at our lives -He’s asking in a silence we may be in….

Won’t you step out of your own skin & pray for another? Not in the distant future but Today….

Earth Buds.

To all new moms and babes unborn

To the new dads and pulse of pitter-patter running thru’ your heart already.

To spaces in you owned by scans in your lives, in these uncertain days, ah the joy of that beat-beat-beat in the wombs of life,

Dedication to my darling Samanths & A.

***

In the swelling toes of our Dance, in the tender belly of our Song that throbs in the placenta of Divine Touch,

Aye we are Watched o’er, we are grown everyday, we are Babes ourself in these Rooms as we wait: Rest. Receive days of Grace.

They said the world would end yesterday?

Never mind. Mayan calendar, Julian’s calender. Dec2012, and another earthlike planet rearing to have crashed here: though after all we’ve gone through recently, anything feels plausible! I did fervently look at sky now and then.

And maybe ‘they’ were right. The world as I knew it has ended. If there’s a day left, perhaps we should consider giving voice to people who wait to be heard; our arms and feet for the thing God birthed us for.

I wonder what your day is like.

Shalom. Oil painting RN

Monday seems chilly, overcast here in a city multiplying its Covid count. Deep within is a hearth that whispers ‘All is well’; the trees outside look the same with more birds in them than I ever saw: green winged red heads, who are they? Brown feathered white spotted falcon family bird flying down at squirrel.

I haven’t been able to blog last week, and mayn’t be able to till I finish interviews then manuscript for a book on burns’ survivors- their past tragic, now, stunning amazing, post-reconstructive surgery and counsel by some fantastic humans here in Bangalore, India.

Unsplash, thankyou!

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So I will be away a bit; cannot say more here. It is going to be risky traveling in and out of lanes now being triple watched for ‘community – transmuting virus..’ : venturing out is something! I saw people with no smiles because of masks, saw a young man completely drunk on a Hero Honda and he revving that bike like a maniac, eyes and mouth working deliriously.

The worse life gets the more we value its worth. I’m grateful for every bit of sun and work still left to do among a mass of humanity still beautiful.

(Will be @ comments section, so do write in. Apologies for times I’ve taken off there)

FMF Writers

Happy Fathers Day

To all the dads everywhere and here: have a beautiful meaningful one.

And this ones for you my very own Daddy Robert David:

pics taken by my sis.

( photo below)

Silly banter it went on and on. With only you I could go that way, with decades between us, you were the little brother I never had, or the big brother, but thru it all you were and are and will always be that block I am the chip of: my father my dad my bestest Friend.

At this restaurant, we were exchanging all of each others rings. …
Food took so long to arrive, we exchanged story after story. For the life of me I cant remember what we were talking here. But we were hungry. I was in a sari so it must’ve been somebody’s event
You ended up with all the rings that lunch, love you forever and ever my Dad
Our last bonfire together? I cant look at beautiful things without thinking of you. I cant go thru ugly things without remembering you. Nor go through Fathers Day without saying thank you for never leaving me alone. You’re with me and our lives. That’s so you. Your music and voice. You’re laughter and tears. Your joy and strength they meet me everyday in different ways. I miss you like crazy but somehow you’re with me. What a guy to have forever as my Dad. My dad.
Our last pic together, taken by my husband Jeff. Dad was not talking much, was very ill; wanted a ride.

Miss you terribly Dad today. Where you are, can you see this? We talked about heaven and how we’d love there forever. You asked if I’d know you? I said ofcourse I’d know you. You said we’d be ‘Ray’ and ‘Robbie’ … but would I be your daughter? I laughed and said how nice it’d be to have you as my brother …. haha! You weren’t amused as much as I was; and I realised a daughter was something too precious to exchange, or a father. And I want to hug you close and say … God who gave you to me as my Dad wouldn’t take that from me/ us. And that in heaven our tears will be sweeter our love richer for the presence of God who brought us closer.

I love you, love love you my Dad.

Where now?

Just park. Lay your handles in the wall, stay in. It’s not impossible to do. It’s the way it is now. How do we do this:

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The park and Lizac stores, they’re half open. Garim Mall and Ooga’s kitchen, Lily House plants and Maya’s Stop for groceries, they’re all there. No one’s left. They’re quiet. Raghu the frig repair man called to say his Ma disappeared yesterday. Then he called now to say she still hadn’t returned.

My throat feels sore, hmm. Quarantine my heart Lord God, let me get off my highways a bit and lean in on You.

***

FMF WRITERS

My daughter a grandmother at 20!

Yes, our second daughter. Sits stunned Cross legged in bed, her entire person shocked, electrified; every ten minutes she goes,”Ma, how do I come to terms with this?”

We’re stunned too. Ivory, our daughter’s daughter hadn’t shown. Last week when we met at the gate, her shaggy white ears and tail all waggly with joy, she didn’t show! Though Kitsy says she did. I couldnt tell. Now what… I’m a great grandma??

My daughter and her grand daughter. Life is beautiful.
oh this is K’s daughter a few months ago. A gorgeous stray darling that followed Kitsy and stole our hearts. After a prolonged meeting we named her Ivory Gabriella. That last name for the angel she was, is to our little one who adores all animals. Now she says God heard her prayer cuz she asked Him to let Ivory have puppies! She had 3 this evening. Shaggy headed little 4 legged scamps with wet noses and tremble paws. No way they’re getting in my heart. The last time I melted and we had six fat paws growing by the second all over our sitting room, with neighbours kids taking turns to feed them and pet! Sigh. We are an urban farm. Lockdown very esp has turned my four here into serious birdwatchers, squirrel feeders, cloud watchers, sun set watchers. They also read the news and weather. They eat, pray, venture out a bit, then eat and sleep and encourage the animal kingdom.

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Borrowing my human daughters words, “I must come to terms with all this!”

While our world battles fresh batches of this and that, life goes on.

What dyou do. You want to growl but cuteness overload here caves my heart in. Thankyou Lord for days that can still delight us in ways we might not ask for, but here they are, new every evening. Bless our earth dearest Father, with health and safety and peace.

“Heart sick…yet hopeful..”

I had to haul in ๐Ÿ‘†above title and a quote below from Frank Bruni (of New York Times) article that stopped me mid-sentence in my random thoughts on the world at large.

…. inย a lovely articleย that connected acts of kindness during the Spanish flu of 1918 to acts of kindness during the current coronavirus pandemic, Jim Dwyer, The Timesโ€™s New York columnist, wrote: โ€œIn times to come, when we are all gone, people not yet born will walk in the sunshine of their own days because of what women and men did at this hour to feed the sick, to heal and to comfort.โ€… for more on this by Frank Bruni, a must read. New York Times.

Was the famous Spanish flu also tailed by Migrant Crises and other havoc; why are we different from other Pandemics? Aren’t we more educated, aware, empowered? Yes and maybe that’s both the problem and the solution. My grandma could not have had the same support I as an Indian woman have today, or the same voice, or capacity to hope. We’ve seen good. We’ve received good. Bad as this century might be, we’ve seen some incredible goodness. The more bitter the pill, the sweeter the poem.

If Society ever had it’s own support system it could count on, its now. Yes we have our baddies but they far underwhelm the rest; though a bullet is a bullet, each bullet or act of dis-service reaps a harvest of righteous indignation. Each act of hate weakens itself. Each strike of violence wakens the conscience of Global communities: we shoot neck out of our rabbit holes like meercats. Look at us, we are more than nations, we are slowly morphing into one dialect: the sounds I’m hearing now are not hate but more brotherhood: the kind that would try raise an Abel back from the dead.

Elsewhere and in my own country, there are people praying for each other like never before. We are afraid but we love like never before. We are speechless at poverty and hunger, at homelessness and at new sins with names you and I mayn’t know how to spell. How little we become in the face of global illness, terminal intolerance. And yet, we are prisoners of hope. We are at our worst and at our best.

This lifts my heart,

Stay precious, stay blest.

‘Do not let your Blog post be your Journal…?’

We had an anniversary, a triple cake treat by the kids, renewed vows solemnized again by our 3 who said they missed being there….

With Kitsys triple delight!
***

There was food like I’ve never cooked, (courtesy Kitsys Culinaries!) rings bought with their little earnings, gifts of card and music, prayers, photographs were taken;

I’m here thinking again on Blog advice (title) given by some Bloggers, and how the times have re-arranged us. Uncertainty hinges everything, one feels the need to celebrate heart on your sleeve, unabashed. Celebrate in the simplest ways, the complex matrix of Love and Life as is; thank the ones who deserve gratitude, bless those who may not, pray for all; ignore ignorance, hate hatred, use fear well, stay safe, honour all. Esp God.

That feeling… all over again, yesterday.
***

Our wedding was an unforgettable event with white bougainvillea falling off trees, poinsettia in the hedges all the way to the chapel with a bell and a young priest who stammered for nervousness; it was surreal. We were 6000 ft above sea level, Mercara before tourism took its routes. That morning, families of clouds breezed through as the bridal march played. We’d never seen anything like that. The elements had come in to play among the pews.

Madikere
***

I cannot help but think Life is a Marriage of Soul and Existence. We’re here like Clouds going through Chapters that turn with Winds of Change. We are way more than victims of ease or disease. We are citizens of kingdoms within and without. The questions we ask are between these kingdoms. The things we feel and write about or do not share are between these kingdoms.

What can I say; there’s rain and hail out side as I wrap this. Lockdown eases, fruit vendor wails for attention at 7 am. You dont want to yell him down, you’re thinking he has no money for rent, or his kids need lunch. It hurts, and it’s going wild in an insane way. It hurts to have cake, it hurts to not be at peace:

we are headed for answers to questions we asked long ago; only who knew these answers would question us. Answers about the meaning of life, and about things more valuable than ‘luxuries’.

Newspaper accounts are chilling. We are getting more introspective than ever. How long will C19 take, 10 years? By which time the Fashion industry, Entertainment and Industry would’ve morphed into Poetry of a greater kind, I’m telling you.

Also Bloggers. We will write about newer things? We mayn’t just skim surfaces of teacups & heart: we may be less shy, less afraid of Fear,Love,Joy,Peace. Words may turn out to be journals. Essential words, documenting Life as is. So yes, no! We may want to Blog-Journal, for the Times that will follow. For Posterity to know what 2020 felt like. For our own selves.

Old words will give birth to new ones: distance for instance. Who knows what will be when it comes to be?

But people of words, will find skills in their head and finger bones like they never thought possible. That and emotion. E’en Faith. And Fear, or the opposite of it. And Love. And the Face of the Invisible.

More than one way to go forward

Little Anish, a tiny 9 year old autistic boy I met in the art room of his school…. well he’d walk backwards to go forward.

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What the idea was I’ll never know but Anish did well to keep his eyes on us, and back into the sun. What lessons are in this one I can only try imagine; I remembered him today with this Story Prompt from FMF Writers. There was another thing Anish did: he never cried. When it hurt he sang, that was his crying- a high wordless tune that was rich and sweet.

I never got over him, his cherubic face and wide dark eyes that did not look worried. His world seemed locked in somewhere deep within, he was independent and did not talk much except in monosyllables to his mother.

My thoughts go to Anish now, wondering what he is doing these days: does he still back into the next step,

still sing in that unusual voice that makes me think of angels?

FMF WRITERS

Supersonic Ka-Boom!

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***

I’m with ears pinned back,

my high frequency senses free-falling:

yesterday this time it* went through parts of Bangalore city, it rattled panes, shook houses; 10+ hours earlier they heard it in Canberra….

a ‘*Supersonic Boom that our Ground & Air forces here in India are puzzled at. It felt like an earthquake in the air around and deep within…. it’s bass explosive rumble was not like any Jet, not like anything I’ve ever heard, “….no it is Cyclone Amphan air pressure impact; no no we do not know...”

My ‘Shalom’
(Peace) for Shil.W.
***

As a Race all of a sudden, we do not know much except mutual questions. The life we knew will not return, but things that offended do not seem to offend now. We as Humans are looking deeper; Prayers are welcomed. Safe is where? Peace is an Essential Commodity like never before. Kabooms are even neighbourly. Tonight if some of us see Clouds throbbing in Neon (actually have seen these from our terrace 5years ago; thought it was local Rock Concert laser beams going hyper high) we may shrug it off as yet another 2020 event. As a Cluster of Survivors we are gaining immunity to bad news, Shock absorbers all kicking in.

What’d Hitler have done; or any of those big boys of war? This is the Grandma of War, and she is Villain non parallel and yet Kah-boom!- she has changed us into Hermits for Peace like never before in the History of the human race.

Neighbours begin to nod at each others neighbours; old ‘enemies’ send you WhatsApp forwards, they appreciate your potted plants seen in Instagram Story. Songs are sung by people with no vocal gifting, it’s even beautiful, meaningful. We are losing our Shy. We do not mind being photographed without our glasses. We still care about appearances though, we give us new haircuts. We yearn to not hesitate to shake hands, hug. That’ll be rare. That’ll be rare. But we will go on. We will wash our hands and feet and face relentlessly-relentlessly wash veggies, sanitize phones and c.cards …. but we will go on. We will look up at the sky and expect comets meteors and flares. If there are more Boom booms we will just not panic like we used to about exams and traffic jams. We are tougher than we are shocked, we are now closer to the Unknown than we’ve ever been. No, no. We are not caterpillars nor monkeys. We live we die we experience positivity, patient endurance and peace mid chaos. We work it. We tell our kids & friends on phone and in market places or between days of the week… be strong we say. We mean it. We wake up early to stare at the sky…. how its’ Light kills Virus. Our babies ask Existential Questions we no longer shush. We wonder too. Where are we from? Where do we go next…

There are no alternative activities to these Askings. We ask on. We understand each others’ questions better. We go quiet- no one thinks that odd. Not if we wear a wrinkly scarf, uncombed hair. You’re friendlier if.

All these things. We’ve changed so hard we can not go back. We are freer than we’ve ever been as a mass of individuals. Yes we die, we are afraid, we cry. But we are sweeter, nicer, kinder, tenderer. We share the Highest Common Factor- Human Frailty. This mutes Snobs. We are all Untouchables. How that looks if you draw us all is we are these Masked Breathers. We are changed into Changelings in the Twinkling of an Eye; it arrived like a Thief in the night. It took our Breathe-Easy days and Ka-Boom! Its turned our 7 billion into 2 alpabets: Us, however divided, in the face of Existence. We are Unstoppable Seekers of the Peace of God.

Dr. RAVI ZACHARIAS

Shalom: Peace, nothing missing, nothing broken.

I lost this … ‘Capiophobia’

We had to go out, we got our permit complete with ID card. This was going to be alright I said. Jeff isnt the worrying kind so he says nothing. I hate this mask, it feels like I’m dying in it. Never mind. Once inside car, who’s going to be harmed just in case we are Carriers? And who is going to infect us anyway? Raise glass, seat belt on. Jeff grins hard. He knows how terrified I am of this… not Covid but the fact that we’re driving across the city, and will meet Blockades and Security Officers. In any case we weren’t ‘willing carriers of Illness‘; we had no recent record of foreign travel, we hadn’t harvested forest animals, there wasn’t even a hint of sniffle between us, not a purr in lung…. nothing. We would not willingly trip into Containment Red Zones. What’s to worry. Though, there’s been incidents of incurring Security ill will…

We take a turn we shouldn’t have taken, we see the back of a Cop, oh no.

We take a detour, another, and get in a lane where we’re now driving straight at the Cop whose back we fled from. He’s waiting for us with ATTITUDE, with Traffic Offender- Catcher- Sass… Aha. There you are the two of you!

I sit straight, fix mask, reach for ID and Papers. Jeff casually drives closer, the Cop is not moving, his gaze steady. Closer. Please God, not in a mood for this? My heart whams in my ears. Closer still. The Cop isnt wearing mask? His glassy stare looks through us. Jeff lets out a contained roar of laughter. You don’t say! It’s not a real Cop, it’s a Dummy.

We laughed so hard that evening, when we were finally stopped two hours later on our way back, and another Cop asked me to please go in the back seat ma’am we need a certain distance between two….. that was so funny too. I gave him my best smile, mask and all. He glared at my cheer: what’s with her? We’re in a Pandemic. Silly woman wants to be happy.

This season I’ve lost my fear of Cops.

Wish we’d taken a real pic,
this ones from Bangalore Net
***

Capiophobia.. fear of Cops. Whyyyyyy even have it ๐Ÿ˜…

Hold on.

A beautiful thing it can be to see
my foot prints in unread sands, in places angels might dread and eagles fear…. ah that, where the Love of God leads… you got to hold on though
, to that invisible Hand that made the sands….

(From conversations with my friend Eva who can teach a camel a lesson or two about the desert).

Pic Credit :Unsplash

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The Power of Joy

the Angel will not speak literally but I get these from the Book He points at …

oh the peace that is yours and you do not know it..?” He wakes me morning by morning. And not just @ my address but an entire earth’s though some mayn’t believe what cannot be seen.

Ach Joy a twin of Peace. Like a river it live-streams images for the day. Errands. Jobs to do, finish, be fulfilled at. Nothing changes its power.

Its power that enables the attitude of gratitude against all odds.

Yeah though I trip through the valley of Sag Spirit I fear no evil for You are with me, Your Joy and Comfort they hold me in Your attitude of gratitude; You are with me….
Photo: Unsplash.

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Have a great day.
๐Ÿ˜ƒ

Did you hear that

just another broken sound between words, like someone saying something unheard, deep within the skies of nowhere here…?

was your angel singing…waiting for you to listen

for you to look listen touch breathe ‘neath the surface of things ‘neath silenced words like the Voice of a Listening….

to your Unheard.

Pic Credit Unsplash.

I chose this one because
it made me think of the Voice
of the Unheard communities

among us o’er whom
Angels sing.
***

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When God Prays

Come on over, the sands are ripe for your heart. Yes it’s hard. But I Am with you. In every grain of sand, I AM for you. Watch this:

Thankful.
Unsplash.
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there is a season turn turn, a time for every purpose under heaven. Come on over, the times are ripe for your tears that smile- they rinse the earth and grow your fields, watch how it needs you:

how I need you turn turn come on, winter & summer rain – nothing goes away, ‘except in My Hand. Permit a healing, beloved. My darling, in every grain of sand, all that you are, I AM.

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The beauty of a broken heart

It breaks boundaries. Watch this heartessentialist!

You heal differently. You disregard the material: unslave Self from clutching life. Mask & Glove are off. You touch stone and raw earth. You sit in the floor. You don’t need much. This begins a dangerous freedom. Your friends maynt like your new self: your peace with God. Is odd. You don’t mind being odd. You don’t need comfort bars. This isn’t grief, it is awareness of the Other Life here on earth. Why are we afraid of it. I never understood that. I don’t understand it more now; and love that we were born to experience all this. We hurt, and that’s a gift. A Narnia peek into Shelves of Another life….

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Perspective

The ones looking at the painting, they are the Work of Art.

The Window turns about looking at Us. ๐Ÿ‘‡
PiCredits Unsplash
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We are the Clay, our hands made by Hands that made the clay we do not originate.
Who are we? The little girl asks her mother in The New York Times: existential questions that needed to be asked long ago.
We are best when looking within, looking with some amount of discomfort. When Humans ever did something of value to the personal or global community, was when we bowed deep.
***

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Elixir

There was no ‘magic’ in Penja’s bowl, nothing but her basic steamed rice in turmeric & garlic fried curries.

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If we were fortunate we were treated to stir fried onion rings, tomato pickles and home made breads.

When Penja served you her glass of water it was in copper tumbler scoured clean with tamarind. She didnot own one store bought masala tin or even toothpaste. When you had her rice cooked in earthen ware, you smelt the rice field it had grown in; you were made to think of the farmer’s ride to the grain bazaars …of hands that bore that rice sack to the city all the way to Penjas store room next to her mango tree and coconut stack.

All this made you feel well. It cured Dantri’s asthma, and Shom’s colic. We didn’t talk of it but we knew. If anyone saw Penja whispering in her pot as she cooked, no one said anything about that. We just knew it worked.

She had no visible gods and goddesses in her rooms or in her compound where she lived alone with her mint garden and pomegranate. Oh she served pomegranate in juices, in salads, in curd, with dessert, or by itself. Oneday she told us how we had everything to live well, and how to thank God for the workers who brought them to us. It was confusing at that time. Like we were responsible for causing that much work to farmers. Or God. But Penja, our neighborhood friendly aunt lived grateful. So everything she touched spilled with that emotion. I’m thinking it’s a cure all by itself: gratitude to mankind, the planet and God for all favours received, and for necessary or unnecessary hardships. It all clung together somehow, all of us going round and round the sun in a merry go round of events that made sense or none, but it was like algebra. It worked itself out if you were patient and waited for itself to settle. Somethings didn’t settle fast. Like trigonometry for me, or tonsillitis. Not till after the surgery, and after my throat stopped feeling like a thousand cuts, after which there were food restrictions and no icecreams till later. Penja felt kind especially during those times. She made illness and pain feel important and celebrated. I got a eucalyptus throat wrap and inhaled sweet camphor under our guava tree, the one with tiny anthill and crumbly sand. It all was gold washed in sunset or early noon. You let the sun fall on you, it made you feel altogether and not odd. You picked that up from Penja if you lived nearby or stopped over on the way back from school.

Penja had a ritual of sitting a few moments every now and then to be still. We were too young to know the depth of that. But it felt good to watch when we could. It was like the sky and earth met up somewhere between her ears and gave her joy. This was more than Peace. She had been a young widow, now she was silver white like her cotton saris and ragged hymn book. Oh a golding white, like ripe corn in a setting sun….her hymn book, her prayer sheets and hands – as if they were rinsed in Light. That’s all I could think even back then. Even her low voice singing words hard to decipher, my guess is they each were thankyou words, she loved God like that. Like a personal Person. She was too much a home body to go out to a chapel but it was all in her heart someplace shining out her eyes.

She died recently and left me a legacy I’m trying to pursue in these days of Essential Existence ~ in the art of tomato chutney seasoned with curry leaf or roasted red chillie/ cumin seed. Yeah, all those chillie farms and onion braids in bazaars ripe with God’s own aromas of life.

Oh and her pomegranate juices, they made you think differently of ordinary events like after -school messy socks and trails of homework, ugh. Sigh yes! Like an Elixir.

Penja, wherever you are out there in His Courtyards, I love you for making me think of all that now.

My Earth-Day song

Shhhlisten to me pace

You my celebrated Earth, my Jewel of Heav’n: your hills are my Psalms,

Elijah O’Donnell. Unsplash.
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your rain ~ my answered Prayer, rinsed by day by night, by silver crested twilight;

Om Prakash Sethia,Unsplash.
***

they are hoarse with saying : “...there is more,

Olivier Miche. Unsplash
***

there is more than rational 365, 24×7 glory & gore; shhhlisten

to what summer screams in winter’s core..

Tim Barrett.Unsplash
***

ashes & dust try bury humans, but they and stars and all Earth neighbours e’en

know that we are more than mortal tree and sod, we are the little Footstool of understanding, at the Feet of God…'”

Tim Barrett. Unsplash.
***

Ay. We Gravity’s babes too may ignore what Mars & all Earth’s neighbours do so know,

Jacqueline Day. Unsplash.
***

that we are the Resting place of the Steps of God, Ssshhlook-

listen.

E. DONELL Unsplash.

“…away from men and towns, to the silent wilderness, where the soul need not repress its music.โ€ P. B. Shelley

EARTHSONG.

P.S.

Hopefully by now you know that any Ads. seen here are not my brand, nor my endorsement for any gain, except that I use WordPressFreeblog, a Site I bless for its otherwise perfect Web in a time like this where Essentials too do not always deliver. Thankyou all. Have a great EarthDay, everyday.

40 wink Covid cure

In my dream just now, giant lemon rinds chased us down with mint sprig, down ginger spiced soda, home-made like they used to make them,

Street angle, Unsplash
***

& in the dream This could cure disease, even Covid- could it, could it be, the cure of deadly disease that feeds our machine, could it be,

that the cure of Larger distress…is in the Little un-noticed things: not just lemon drops in ginger-sprigged minty ices,

could it be: the Elixir of Life is in often ignored Instruments of Peace?

***

P.S.

You’re seeing Ads here? Apologies, they’re not mine and will never be, unless they endorse privacy. (I support WordPress but not the policy to go Premium in order to avoid adverts here). Thankyou for turning blind eye to Said Pop ups ๐Ÿค”

Where eagles fear, and angels dare…

Like tens of thousands of Doctors -my sis Li, (and Nurses, Care givers), what can one say but thankyou. Thankyou for going out to work every day, for the strength with which you live your life.

My fabulous sis Doc Li.
Pic taken four months ago.

We talk of survival and essentials; she works, while I sit worrying about tomorrows food supply. I hope you’re wearing your mask and gloves Li? I ask.

She laughs,Oh we always do.” She’s an Eye Surgeon few hours away from Bangalore, in a growing township- border to three of India’s large South Indian states. 45 patients yesterday for eye care alone. Isn’t an Eye Doc at risk too? She won’t listen to my worry. She is like our dad, a warrior with twinkle in eye. Has built a life serving others, to the dwindle of her own finances, her own health. I’m praying she will be safe and well and cared for at a time when health is not restricted to one faculty; remembering tens of thousands like Li, all over the world caring 24×7 for humanity as it reels under the deadly grip of Covid.

If there was ever the sound of Music that heals, it’s the sound of people helping each other breathe.

Response to above Post just in:

๐Ÿ‘๐Ÿ‘๐Ÿ‘๐Ÿ‘๐Ÿ‘๐Ÿ‘๐Ÿ‘๐Ÿ‘๐Ÿ‘Dr.Prema Dhanraj

“Salute to her & all the doctors and nurses.”๐Ÿ™๐Ÿ™๐Ÿ‘๐Ÿป๐Ÿ‘๐Ÿป๐Ÿ‘๐Ÿป๐Ÿฅฐ๐Ÿฅฐ๐Ÿฅฐ๐Ÿ˜Š๐Ÿ˜Š๐Ÿ˜Š (Krishnaveni, Muscat, Oman).

So nice, Doctor’s and caregivers are our heroes of the day.” Yasmin, Ex-Baldwinian.

Such invaluable service“๐Ÿ™. Esther Khatri, Baldwinian, Bangalore.

ReNEW

These days the Light does not fall thru’ open doors, but finds new ways in chinks and window pane, curtain sleeve and on plates and chair and floor, on leaves of page and street places I’ve been before, miles of acres of Light walking all over, unstopped, untouched by yesterday’s dying beams.

PiCredit Denny Mรนller, Unsplash

***

P.S.

Any adverts you may see here are without my consent or premium. I chose FreeBlogging, hence!๐Ÿ˜ inconvenience regretted.

Warm regards,

@raylarn

“Far from where?” he asked..

Every once in a while, people need to be in the presence of things that are really far away.Ian Frazier, Staffer @ The New Yorker.

WordPress #Discover Prompt- Distance.

I had 2 planes to reach Amsterdam, it felt far, very far from home. I was still young enough to be that scared. This is a strange story, but here it is. It was a work assignment, I was newly married, my insides were a knot of king-sized butterflies. Jeff said,“Go Ray, but come back soon!” He was (is) never one to stop me from something that needed to be done.

Nareeta Martin, Unsplash
***

My Ma had opened her Corrie Ten Boom daily Devotions, “Let’s see what it says,” she gave me her serious bright-eyed look, which dared me to go against ‘God’s plan’. And what did her reading say? “When God asks you to take a flight to another country, do not disobey…

Startled, dazed, I had tried arguing (lamely) about not having enough warm wear, that I hated airplanes, heights, that all this was so far away…..

Far from where???” Dad asked.

I still flounder at that question.

Which is the Centre of our existence? A place called home is what we are….where?

I took that flight: KLM from Delhi to Schiphol airport and the Rai Centre where 180+ country delegates met for a Billy Graham Conference. No, I have no nice picture with the legendary preacher, but I bumped into him without warning one morning on my way to the media centre. He peered down at my badge (& skinny, short-haired self, ‘pint-sized‘ some called me affectionately), and grinned, “You beautiful person from India… welcome!”

I stammered and tried to hug him back, those big butterflies in my tummy were in my ears. To this day I do not remember much about that encounter except his kind smile and a sense of the divine all around his humble daddy- eyes glowing with joy. It got me. I lost nervousness, the tummy cramp vanished, got talking to the wonderful people there, it changed me, still changes me to know there is no distance too far on earth: that the one environment that matters is what’s in on the inside. I needed to go that far to get familiar with my Core, that unshakable kingdom within.

It still changes me constantly

to realise that Change is one Certainty we best come to terms with, and that we were born better than every other Species alive, hence we are engineered to cope. We are better than we know, because the centre of the Universe is within, via a providentially structured mind.

Now and then a certain Separation/ Distancing reminds us: here is nothing (except us) that can dare separate us from the purpose for which we were brought this far; and that it might take a few mountains to know we are trekkers. Take a few oceans to know we love the deep …. take a bit of hell to know there is heaven…

  1. There is little we cannot really adapt to.

2. There is nothing as powered as the human spirit that knows the Love of God.

3. WHAT LIES between the things we once knew and what we can become no matter the odds?

We’ve been through the Ugh and Other moments. Did we think a virus could make us stronger? Yes, it has! Vulnerable? Yes. And that’s a good place to look within. Ask me how I know.

Don’t you think we are made for more than the Familiar:

distancing….from what?

My time in the Netherlands stoked this appetite for challenges, it made me peer within to find a spirit that responded best to the joy of knowing God as my one Anchor, against all odds. I would meet Christ in so many different ways and all of them weren’t ‘happy’ places: thankyou Lord!

Me in sari (ofcourse!:), with Indian delegation,
last day, banquet. Amsterdam.