Tag: Windows

“No, blood does not matter anymore”

We have had tea together a thousand times in these cane chairs facing her curry leaf tree and windows hung with old silk curtains.

Pic Ayaneshu Bhardwaj

Sia is a good woman with friends and folks who love her; why wouldn’t they, she is not just strikingly entertaining, she is one of the loveliest persons I have ever met. Dark long classic almond eyes in a determined oval shaped face set in wheat gold skin you want to paint! ( I’ve tried painting Sia and will try again; she is a hundred stories and I must wait to capture all their colours, oh she’s generous with comment and has booked a canvas from my battered easel). I was saying though, beneath that nice surface is soft steel, easier to break than I suspected possible.

“I should not insist on being loved by my only sibling, but uhm, who said blood is thicker than anything else? It is a liquid and it can dry up like a forgotten river.”

Sia talks that way between better days, so I’m not all surprised, and yet today the moment simmers like her eyes: they brim with aloneness.

Pic Niranjan

One should know they are not needed or loved anymore, but I still hang on, I follow my sister, I wait for her to come home, I remember our childhood too much, now…it changes? Because...?”

I have not one nice warm thing to say. Her gold lemon tea with mint leaf waits in white ceramic; I cannot breathe, her hurt has to ebb. It doesn’t.

..is alright,” she continues as if she heard me. “Let’s have that mint from my herbal pot, hehe!”

Just when I was settling into her sorrow she turns into the rising sun.

“You know, Ray. I do not feel bitter anymore?! They do not want me, that is fine. We fight for those we need to keep. Once that is not there anymore, what is the fight? How is the painting coming up?

What painting?!” I ask without thinking and her face blows up in laughter. Without warning, Sia Mayben is a skyful of crackers!

This is what I love best about you, girl. You are not picking problems, you do not care, you walk in a Light that is not the sun.”

I do?

“…and there’s a God and He loves you, loves me. My entire life I hate Him, but He never leaves. Never. Nah….Yem! ” She says that for ‘yes’ occasionally, it’s her unusual upbringing; I will never know where she totally grew up in. She sounds like ghettos sometimes- raw, dismembered, and then she is a fountain of healing.

Today for some reason I’m the cause of her healing? I said / did nothing, but the woman isn’t listening. At 80+ she’s earned that right. She talks about her dead sis like she’s there in the next room, then she turns into the Psalmist.

I promise to finish her painting as soons I get more time between comforting Kitsy our second daughter whose Crayfish ate up her beloved Molly– I didn’t dare tell her ‘I told you so’,

Oh but I did tell her,

that, and our youngest fantastic blind 21 year old declaring hatred for his walking cane-

Pic Umaong Mirip

yes, must paint Sia. She is the color of an earth poised to smile: the blood in her runs deep as a river that never forgets. Did her sister really not love her? I’ll never know – Alzheimer’s is a deadly treasure trove.

Though, it makes Sia all the more a mystery to peer through – at a world aching for rest.

Blood doesn’t matter …” Is a sentence laced heavy with truth. I know at least 2 adopted human beings whose love is not enarmoured by genetics.

Weaving my way back home between Bipolar auto rickshaws and pre- monsoon showers pelting the sidewalk, I can’t help feeling Sia’s feelings. Yem. There’s more that matters, than just blood.

netpic.

Bouquet from the King

The room gasps: outside our window beneath a hunch of trees, it’s there. In a rush of light & stillness … a Bouquet from the King, in a fuss of forest early evening mist. “For you.” He whispers;

I fling my mind down and lunge to where we get a closer angle: this pic doesn’t do justice to what real-time iris sees in 360 panoramic degrees of an October going to November, in the wake of ..

PiCourtesy Vihan

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.. of Year 2020 tip toeing on all our nerves. I’m certain 2020 feels bad by now, and we aren’t breathing easy yet, not me. Woke up this morning feeling like I’m on Mt.Everest and scared to look down….

then He sends us a Bouquet among 295+ shades of green tender/ savage noon light.

Heart slamming our ribs we stare at His bouquet staring at us in equal devotion: every curl, petal and sepal, a startling testament of Him, His unshakeable Kingdom around our little planet.

I look up at Light filtering through nearby trees and see another Bouquet closer: its orange blossom flushed with rain. These trees were always here, now they are no longer just trees,

they are Messengers from the Creator: His voice in startling tones I never really thought were specific convo with me, in this here tiny moment no one else might even notice. Vihan, my daughter grins and says, “Yeah Ma, you’d catch this! Now pl Blog post it? “

The picture we managed here, barely captures what really was, pulsing with His 7D Presence! I needed to share it with you this eve of November: a Bouquet for you from the King.

Photograph : Vihan

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May you too be startled by wild insane Events in corners just waiting for you to notice Him-

notice His Messages of Unblinking Love, no matter the forecast. Nothing mortal compares with His presence- NOTHING.

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 ..

Unsplash

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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, there’s 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 I 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 there’s 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 stared down in the face, of our valley of the shadow of doubt shhhhh

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….

Perspective

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

The Window turns about looking at Us. 👇
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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P.S.

You’re seeing Ads here? They are not sponsored by me, except that I chose FreeWordpress which duh also cannot kill Ads. So. Apologies dear blogfriend.

What you see, sees you

Streets, people, trees, blossoms, faces, places, time, family,

What you see, sees you-

quieting thought that I can effect change, mood, laughter, peace…I am the music of my words, the harbinger of joy, yeah I can re arrange the furniture, heal, reveal a Well Spring of things and streams you & I own deep within, do we know, do I know

how wide I am created, to…..

Gaze.
DigiArt, RN
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…to bring all these gifts to a day like this…. do I, do we know.

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HERE For Heal, music.

HERE For Daily Devotional.

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Stay precious, stay blest.

@raylarn.