One Single Human Here

The suffering on this planet –
it is one single pain
What are you fighting against

one
One Single Human Here

The suffering on this planet –
it is one single pain
What are you fighting against
What are you defending against
In your homes
In your offices
In seats of governments
On the streets

Really really feel your pain
Every sliver, texture
And you shall know
There is no my pain your pain
Man, are we connected!

Out of frantic “thinking” heads
Feel
feel

Feel in your body
Feel that black ink
Feel it shifting

feel
experience it
observe it
inside

and you will find

a vast open space
and you will find

power
for you will find

pain is a sensation
pain cannot kill you
and you will find

freedom from pain
and you will find

we are one.

there is
one single human here.


the story of a hug

In Boston a few years back, I was spending Thanksgiving Break with the a beautiful friend of mine. …

In Boston a few years back, I was spending Thanksgiving Break with the a beautiful friend of mine. Isn’t it amazing how all my friends are so beautiful? It really is (amazing). A beautiful good fortune of mine. Talking of good fortunes, here’s another one: my friend took me along to an eclectic Thanksgiving potluck dinner.

Yes, the evening was eclectic. The food spread and the people spread. Much like world music where the beats of Africa mingle with Jazz mingle with strands of Indian Classical mingle with the song of the Chinese Moon mingle with the sounds from Scandinavia … You get the picture.

Having filled my plate, I was sitting at the corner of a large table, having dinner with lots of lovely people. There was a man sitting at the other edge of the same corner. I did not know anyone there. Ditto was his case. So we shared a conversation as we ate.

He was not fluent with his English and I do not remember which country he was from. Ukraine maybe? I don’t know. Soon in the conversation it emerged that he is out of work and in a financially uncertain state. The worry, tension, loneliness he was going through was clearly apparent. It was not there in his facial expression, nor explicitly there in his voice, but it was there. Being a foreigner in USA myself, it was easy to feel. The combination of being a foreigner in USA and work being a question mark, results in tension hanging over the head like holly all the time. Or is it mistletoe?

While he shared his data, (where from, doing what), and I shared mine, what was apparent from his face was actually only gratitude. He was glad someone was talking to him and talking so nicely. He said so too. I have often received this gratitude when talking normally and humanly to people who are feeling unsure about their English. I have experienced it in conversations in India too.

In his effort to express that gratitude, the way he was looking at me, smiling at me – frankly it became somewhat discomforting. I looked away and tried to interest myself in the conversations at the rest of the table. But I knew fully well that he was not trying to flirt with me. It is just that when we are culturally somewhat misplaced, we end up behaving and expressing ourselves at times in a manner that seems awkward to the other person. I did return to him too, time to time.

Soon people had eaten up their food and everyone was standing around in the hall, at the gate to part, wishing each other goodbye, thanking each other for the evening. That man came out and gave a big hug to one of the hosts of the evening (much to the alarm of the man receiving the hug!).

I piled into the car with my friend, the host who had been hugged and a few others. Comments were laughingly exchanged about how craaazy, wierrrd that person was, who had hugged. What was he trying to do?!

I did not say anything.

I wish I had –
That man was very very scared. And he was lonely. Maybe he was filled with the dread of having to go back to spending time with his worries alone, as he was about to step out of the gathering. And he was grateful. Very grateful, for the oasis of togetherness that the evening had given him, in the desert of his loneliness. That is what he was conveying via his hug.

And I wanted to say –
It is perfectly ok, and natural, and human, (and wise) for a man to hug. There is absolutely nothing wierd about a man who hugs goodbye.

And it is perfectly ok, and natural, and human for a man to feel really really scared.

I am grateful that despite being alarmed the host received the hug gracefully.


write such

instructions from my Self to me on how to write …

write such

write such that it may touch
the hearts of many, much
like it is their own voice.
write such that they rejoice
and feel they have a choice
to live life in the light.
to flow, and not to fight.
write gentle, yet write strong.
write your true inside song.
fly in the sky with wings
that self-expression brings.
fly with exquisite grace
o eagle! and embrace
that all-pervading force.
sing deep –
sing to your source.


a gift to myself

There is a beautiful green meadow. Lush green rolling hills.

A mountain stream is gurgling by. Crystal clear water. Interspersed here and there are stones on which the water rises and falls and makes beautiful music. The water is so lovingly sharp to touch and elixir to the throat.

I am dancing, roaming on those hills, wearing a beautiful, very generously frilly white dress with large purple flowers.

My arms are spread out, head raised. I fill my lungs and my being with the air that is alive. The breeze caresses my cheek, then runs away, like a rabbit. Then it gets naughty. Entering my dress from underneath, it fluffs up my dress and tickles my legs. I laugh out loud and push my dress down and then dance around.

There, near the stream are soft yellow flowers. I sit beside them and gaze for long at the texture of their petals, caressing them with my eyes. The wind is playing music too. The clouds embrace the top of the hills.

I lie on my back and look at the blue ceiling above. Infinite in expanse. Infinite in depth. Two small bird friends fly by chattering, high up above.

My body is on the grass, my heart is in the sky and I am in every fiber of the hills, every blade of grass, the earth, the water, the stones, the flowers, the clouds, the birds, the air, the infinite expanse – dancing and invisible.

~ vani murarka

jigsaw

crossword, scrabble, or sudoku?
no, those i do not like to do.
a jigsaw that my heart does woo
oh that is what i love to do.

jigsaws they speak to me of life,
each piece of life a joy or strife.
each thought each moment and each act
they come together so intact.

crossword, scrabble, or sudoku?
no, those i do not like to do.
a jigsaw that my heart does woo
oh that is what i love to do.

the “bond of union”, black and white
is m. c. escher’s art, that’s right.
a 1000 pieces, years ago
i put together zactly so.

its only black and white and grey
exciting challenge i must say!
to do jigsaws why i so love
revealed to me a loving dove –

interconnectedness of things
to me that is fascinating.
that law of physics fits i see
to change in any entity.

a person or a company
or country or the society.
software design is similar
to oil painting, i do figure.

mathematics, geography
they all give clues how life to see.
patterns and similarity
that is what i so love to see.

just now the feeling that i felt
is same as what i then had felt –
then that becomes a clue for me,
that’s how i do research. that’s me.

so yet another jigsaw came
peaceful, serene, indigo dame.
her beauty did speak to me of
my inner-beauty. no show-off.

grace and peace in her expression
image of my aspiration.
her silken robes reminded me
of mumma’s winter silk saree.

as i put pieces together
honored me also my mother.
but more than that it honored Her.
this painting through and through is Her.

the more the jigsaw time i spent
closer to Her i truly felt.
Her grace, compassion, confidence
rising from chaos in guidance.

i did this jigsaw differently.
reference picture i did not see
for clue where a piece may belong.
hence ecstasy even more strong.

an intimacy with the art
and with Her glowed inside my heart.
the rapture that music can bring
is possible from a painting!

when you do touch its every line
each subtle shade and color fine.
a bow to the unknown artist
to weave something so exquisite.

jigsaws they speak to me of life,
each piece of life a joy or strife.
each thought each moment and each act
they come together so intact.

observe each piece so minutely
see the texture, shade, line do see.
observing tells intuitively
where from that piece did come to be.

the parts we work on separately
they join others ultimately.
an integrated being must see
the parts with whole in synergy.

personal, professional and hobby
relations, health, all else there be
they merge together seamlessly –
oh see them not as separately.

reference picture we cannot see
yet faith can guide us easily.
He, She, with Love make our jigsaw –
see silently, oh see with awe.

~ vani murarka