On the nature of doubts

Till there is a mind, there will be doubts. For the mind is unreal, it is an illusion, a mirage. The world that we perceive in our minds, is created by the mind – and therefore unreal. So, when we try to analyse the world to any great depth, we run into absurdities that hard to manage. The absolute-ness of time, of matter, of energy, of the divine purpose have all been convincingly questioned. But there is a self-effulgent truth in whose light shines the sun, and when we reach there, all doubts vanish, all sorrows die, of All we become aware, and supremely blissful.

An eyeful of fireworks

I spent the New Years Eve, this year, looking at the fireworks in Sydney. They are quite magnificent, and no matter where you are, there is something special about the view from that very spot. In other words, you cannot see all of it, no matter where you are. They disappear before you know it, or rather before you get to see an eye-full. So, having done this only the second time in my life, I have decided, looking at fireworks is my least favourite way of spending the New Years Eve. They simply accentuate the sense that time passes before you get to do anything, before you manage to even see an eyeful. Given the crowd and the rush and the hype, it leaves me with a feeling that someone else is richer, luckier, prettier, and that someone has just got a better view than i do. And the irritation that you feel for the 3 strange heads that block the view of the sky and the sea, is unfortunately, beyond reason!!

But magnificence in real life is steadier, for the sky is always full of mysterious and far more awe inspiring stars. the sea has been around for longer than our civilisations, our species, and will stay longer than any of us, it will contain more life and more change, and it will reflect the various moods of the moon and all else that moves above it. and the variety in life and light around me – will be ever new, ever unique and ever present.

It is, after all, only the 21st day of the new year, and there is, perhaps, a natural pressure to assess the past year and wonder about the next one. Considering however, that the last year was too bizarre and the new year doesn't promise to be anything predictable either, we'll leave the dates alone.

On the other hand, I haven't really had any time to read anything, nor have I managed to watch anything particularly exciting (tho, Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy should be good); I am having a comfortable and happy but quite uneventful time with family, and work is just what it always promised to be - in all there is no fodder for a blog-post!

But, there is quite an excellent writing I can point you to, about life and death, and so here it is.

Have a wonderful new year!

Humbug the journey

I am feeling a little bit blue, my return to the blog, unfortunately for you guys, is when I am feeling a bit blue. (Tho, Shakespeare might disagree - “O, how bitter a thing it is to look into happiness through another man’s eyes,” - but we can correct Shakespeare a bit here – not bitter at all a thing to look into happiness ALSO thru another woman’s eyes!) I am feeling manage-ably blue tho, that is the advantage of a feeling blue on a long weekend – but what a terrible terrible waste of the long weekend! Of spring! Sigh!

So, the thing is I don’t really know where I am going? If i am going anywhere at all?

 Yes, that’s it.

this is a title

I am my parent’s daughter, at least in all that is good about me*. But the most indulgent extravagant talent, that has most miserly slipped into my genes, is my mother’s talent for art!

When my brain is partly switched off, involuntarily, somehow the pictures in my head seem to appear on the paper in long broad strokes of the pen, where one stroke means very little by itself, but only adds to the bigger picture. This is a very very poor man’s version of my mum’s style of art.

I remember nearly dying of stress, when as a little girl, I saw her draw – nothing she was doing was making sense, and it was only adding to the mess on the page – till she finished it, and I realised** that this wasn’t something you could learn – somehow it was a communication of the hand and the eye, with the brain switching off in the middle.


*Most of the times when I find there is this really good habit in me, that I seem to just have got naturally – I can trace it down to something my parents have done or said. Between the two of them, my parents are perfect… (I do suspect that is true of most parents, that between the two (or three or four) of them, they would be perfect…) My imperfections, I seem to have got them all by myself... no, really!
** maybe erroneously

Confessions of a recently 30!

(Look here for some more)

sleepless on a week night

One evening i was walking down the road when i suddenly saw a wolf of a problem. I turned into a rabbit and burrowed a hole and hid in the dark, i shut my ears and closed my eyes and waited for the wolf to go away. When i opened my eyes I saw i was actually a tomato being hurled towards a rock wall, so i quickly turned into a river and became so big and massive that the wall got blasted out of my way like a little toy lego block, then i thought i found a cozy canyon to flow thru, but as i went on, the walls of the canyon kept going higher and higher and no sun could reach me, and i was like a little silver black snake at the bottom, when suddenly the rocks stopped and i jumped of the cliff with a roaring laugh and shone and sparkled in the sun as i did so.

Then one day i was walking down the road, and there came a dark fog...