Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Soul Cafe
"cantare amantis est... Singing belongs to one who loves" Music brewed for the soul. All are invited to Soul Cafe. 29th Of June, 6:00pm-8:00pm Avenue Centre, Panampilly Nagar. Ernakulam.
Saturday, June 6, 2009
Writing is a balm
To be able to write is an act of mercy God bestows on us. For some days now i have been able to write...grace was overflowing. And grace often took the form of special people and tiny inspirations. One day it was an SMS on my mobile early in the morning. Another day it was a good laugh with a friend over the phone. Still another day it was a sad moment. Tonight it was a late night realisation that life is a gift...that beckons me at this odd hour to write.
(I can never claim to be a good writer. For that matter not even a thinker.But i wish to believe that some good can come out of me as well. After all God did create me.And for some crazy reason i have chosen this path of writing.)
The gift of life, always leads us into varied experiences. Tonight I experience excruciating pain in my soul.But for some unknown reason, the pain is accompanied by a balm. The balm being: By making a choice, i just might have let the bird free...., I might have just saved a life...I just might have returned to someone what was never mine.
And being able to write about it is like a balm that soothes my insides. Therefore tonight i have decided to smile at my pain and accept it. There is no conflict here. Just sheer joy of writing about my excruciating pain.
While Christ experienced pain knowing he was to die this terrible death, the conviction that His death can save mankind must've floated like fragrance among the rocks of Gathesmane.
(I can never claim to be a good writer. For that matter not even a thinker.But i wish to believe that some good can come out of me as well. After all God did create me.And for some crazy reason i have chosen this path of writing.)
The gift of life, always leads us into varied experiences. Tonight I experience excruciating pain in my soul.But for some unknown reason, the pain is accompanied by a balm. The balm being: By making a choice, i just might have let the bird free...., I might have just saved a life...I just might have returned to someone what was never mine.
And being able to write about it is like a balm that soothes my insides. Therefore tonight i have decided to smile at my pain and accept it. There is no conflict here. Just sheer joy of writing about my excruciating pain.
While Christ experienced pain knowing he was to die this terrible death, the conviction that His death can save mankind must've floated like fragrance among the rocks of Gathesmane.
What a world!
The world we live in is construed as such a bad place so often. The times we live in even worse. Have you noticed there is hardly any cheering good news in the papers these days? I don’t know if it’s because good news doesn’t sell papers...now that’s a whole different issue....altogether. Even if it means bad news sells, it does expose the morbid psych of the society. Our children grow up to believe that optimism, good cheer and beauty are merely illusions. Fantasies we weave. They truly believe that pragmatism means to be dark, cynical and calculating. That life is really a string of deceptions and there is nothing in the world that is for real. You start with the myth of Santa Claus. Prince and Princess living happily ever after are just fairy tales. Teachers are not really interested in you just their pay cheque. The discovery does not stop there. Then they grow up to realise success is all about knowing the right people and nothing to do with your talent. And that money buys everything. Even when the best things in life come free, you would rather pay for it. Like, you would prefer to pay a fat dowry and get married than fall in love and marry soul mates.
No wonder children laugh a lot less now. No wonder they rather watch Power Rangers than listen to Snow White and the seven dwarfs. They are born prematurely wise. They already know there are no roses, just guns. They know that there are no smiles just smirks. They know that are is no childhood just hopeless adult life.
Pity, don’t you think? We adults have sketched such a sorry image.
No wonder children laugh a lot less now. No wonder they rather watch Power Rangers than listen to Snow White and the seven dwarfs. They are born prematurely wise. They already know there are no roses, just guns. They know that there are no smiles just smirks. They know that are is no childhood just hopeless adult life.
Pity, don’t you think? We adults have sketched such a sorry image.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Love in Action
In my last post I pondered about love....but today I know what it is.
Maybe someday I will acquire the skill to write about it. But today I am humbled, overwhelmed, teary eyed most of all, finally at peace. For today I understood what it is to love and be loved. Today I know that it is humanly possible. Today i know that when Jesus died on the cross and said it was for love, and you can too..He meant it. Because today I saw somebody dying so that the one he loves can live. So fortunate for her to be loved like that. For fortunate for us, for Christ loves us thus. So fortunate for me that I understood finally what it means to love.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
If love makes the world go round, what could it be?
I was sitting with friends for a brainstorming of a website the other day as usual in between business, everyday- life- conversations seeped in. And my friend, an elderly lady, was talking about someone whom she had a problem with. Her voice filled with emotion blurted out suddenly, “I shall love her, but don’t ask me to like her.” For a moment I thought the statement was absurd. But after giving it some thought, I was struck by its depth......
Love is a much misunderstood concept, I realised. But the Greek philosophers and the post reformation theologist say that there are different kinds of love.....But, now I don’t wish delve into those high thinking. I just want to try and understand this concept like a regular person.
What is love? Is love a feeling? An emotion? An expression? A person? A thing? Perhaps even a synonym for beauty? I continue to shrug my shoulder with every one of these questions. I simply don’t have an answer.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
To My Writer Friends....
I’ve been moved to write. Sometimes these moments come and if I ignore it. I would lose it forever. So here goes....
What got the wheel turning or the thinking started was when I wrote in my previous blog about the limiting quality of words...I, for some bizarre reason thought words were so limiting. The language of the tongue, so to speak, is so restrictive.
But then I realised it’s also probably because of my lack of dexterity with words. I can’t seem to twist and turn them. To stretch and compress them. To make pudding and sand castles at the same time, with words.
I have seen some do it. Of course! A lot of them do it. All those Dead Poets did it. All the Dead Writers did it. Not to mention the living and the known. All the names on our libraries and bookshelves have all done it.
But I am curiously inspired by them, the lesser known ones. The aspirants. The teachers who never won. The fiercely insecure and utterly brilliant. The passionate and the driven. The procrastinators and the lily-livered geniuses.
I know some such. And one is an old friend who just completed the first draft of a novel. Of which I am reading chapter by chapter. The more I read the more I am convinced this is a narcissistic exercise for me because the pleasure I derive is that of the author himself. Complete with the sense of achievement but sans the insecurity and defensiveness. For some outrageous reason I feel a part of the process of creating this masterpiece. I am bulging with pride for being that reader who is privileged for being the first one to be reading, what could be a remarkable piece of prose, which just wouldn’t be ignored.
But then that is what every insignificant stay-at-home mom would feel when entrusted with a task such as this. Firstly she’s so taken aback for having been chosen from among the multitude to read the work. (She allows herself the luxury to imagine that it is because of some merit of hers...which, what and how, she can’t remember. But she is hoping against hope that there is some such reason.)
Dear Writer friends,
You have all enriched my life just being a part of it. It just moves me to tears, to think that I have all of you in my phone list and to have been able to rub shoulders with you. What more to have you as friends. My deepest hope and prayer for you all is that, you never abandon this path you have chosen for yourself. You are destined to spin yarns, weave poetry, expel your shadows and shun the ghosts that haunt you.
Like a good friend once told me you need to be either ecstatically happy or miserably sad to be able to write. Therefore I wish you much misery and senseless joy. I wish you madness and discipline. I wish you devotion and detachment. If that’s what it takes for you to set the pen moving. This could be your path to salvation. Therefore I wish you a good journey. God speed!
What got the wheel turning or the thinking started was when I wrote in my previous blog about the limiting quality of words...I, for some bizarre reason thought words were so limiting. The language of the tongue, so to speak, is so restrictive.
But then I realised it’s also probably because of my lack of dexterity with words. I can’t seem to twist and turn them. To stretch and compress them. To make pudding and sand castles at the same time, with words.
I have seen some do it. Of course! A lot of them do it. All those Dead Poets did it. All the Dead Writers did it. Not to mention the living and the known. All the names on our libraries and bookshelves have all done it.
But I am curiously inspired by them, the lesser known ones. The aspirants. The teachers who never won. The fiercely insecure and utterly brilliant. The passionate and the driven. The procrastinators and the lily-livered geniuses.
I know some such. And one is an old friend who just completed the first draft of a novel. Of which I am reading chapter by chapter. The more I read the more I am convinced this is a narcissistic exercise for me because the pleasure I derive is that of the author himself. Complete with the sense of achievement but sans the insecurity and defensiveness. For some outrageous reason I feel a part of the process of creating this masterpiece. I am bulging with pride for being that reader who is privileged for being the first one to be reading, what could be a remarkable piece of prose, which just wouldn’t be ignored.
But then that is what every insignificant stay-at-home mom would feel when entrusted with a task such as this. Firstly she’s so taken aback for having been chosen from among the multitude to read the work. (She allows herself the luxury to imagine that it is because of some merit of hers...which, what and how, she can’t remember. But she is hoping against hope that there is some such reason.)
Dear Writer friends,
You have all enriched my life just being a part of it. It just moves me to tears, to think that I have all of you in my phone list and to have been able to rub shoulders with you. What more to have you as friends. My deepest hope and prayer for you all is that, you never abandon this path you have chosen for yourself. You are destined to spin yarns, weave poetry, expel your shadows and shun the ghosts that haunt you.
Like a good friend once told me you need to be either ecstatically happy or miserably sad to be able to write. Therefore I wish you much misery and senseless joy. I wish you madness and discipline. I wish you devotion and detachment. If that’s what it takes for you to set the pen moving. This could be your path to salvation. Therefore I wish you a good journey. God speed!
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Trance-ending
I am in trance right now. Everything appears so strange at this point . Defying logic and reason. I see it every day in my life and in yours. You could be so full of wisdom, ideas. The pillar of strength and the banyan tree for souls. At same time so vulnerable and insecure. Then I wonder how the same person can be both at the same time. Then I see I am too. And that they are too.
Right now I am writing this blog listening to some old songs, which is transporting me to a different state of mind. I am somewhere between nostalgia and that strange feeling that creeps in before one begins to feel alone. But the truth it is I am lonely and so are you. We know that. We see that every day in each other’s lives, yet we continue, not doing anything about it.
Then it dawns on me. That everyone is lonely for there is never a perfect understanding between people. That is when the lacking becomes obvious. But the lacking is a blessing. That which helps us seek and find our own truths. Perhaps it is this search that takes us to that higher plane. I think I have managed to put my finger on what my ‘higher plane’ is. For me it’s pretty much my search for God.
To seek His Holy face. I am very sure that when I manage to look at His face finally I shall be fulfilled. Therefore I stand in gratitude every day that I am never satisfied. That I am always wanting. This makes me look beyond my limited sphere, and understand that there is always so much more to see, to learn... and so much of love all around. The possibilities born out of loving unconditionally like the Almighty...the possibilities that come from the knowledge about our nothingness...
Right about here my trance ends. I feel transcended! ;-)
Right now I am writing this blog listening to some old songs, which is transporting me to a different state of mind. I am somewhere between nostalgia and that strange feeling that creeps in before one begins to feel alone. But the truth it is I am lonely and so are you. We know that. We see that every day in each other’s lives, yet we continue, not doing anything about it.
Then it dawns on me. That everyone is lonely for there is never a perfect understanding between people. That is when the lacking becomes obvious. But the lacking is a blessing. That which helps us seek and find our own truths. Perhaps it is this search that takes us to that higher plane. I think I have managed to put my finger on what my ‘higher plane’ is. For me it’s pretty much my search for God.
To seek His Holy face. I am very sure that when I manage to look at His face finally I shall be fulfilled. Therefore I stand in gratitude every day that I am never satisfied. That I am always wanting. This makes me look beyond my limited sphere, and understand that there is always so much more to see, to learn... and so much of love all around. The possibilities born out of loving unconditionally like the Almighty...the possibilities that come from the knowledge about our nothingness...
Right about here my trance ends. I feel transcended! ;-)
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