A little Zen practice

The shifting stage of life. The biggest truth about life: change, impermanence. From 7 AM last morning to 7 AM this morning. 24 hours of change. From armful to fistful...from coquettish smile to crumbling grimace...from the skies to the ground...from running to rest...a very simple Zen technique I use every morning to stamp home the biggest truth which we tend to forget while we boast, fret, fume and stomp on the stage of life. So as the grains of time's sand slip through your fist, be happy, enjoy, smile, love and care for those around, so that when you look back from your mound of dust you find it meaningful.

A smile's life on cobwebbed lease

Sometimes existential support, as slim as an almost invisible single strand of spiderweb, sees you smiling well beyond your expected time. It's 4:30 PM the next afternoon. The pair, a souvenir of a lovely, cool, dewy night, still hangs almost in full life. These are night blooming jasmine flowers. They bloom under dewy starlight at night, and tumble down happily at the dawn, pulled by mother nature's call for cyclical transformation. But then some chance innings outfox the routine cast of apparent reality to carry further on to reach some milestone. These couple of flowers saw the youthful charm of full bloom at cool October night. Thousands around them toppled down at the day's onset through a slightly misty morning and are almost recycled to dust in the ground. But mischievous destiny lends out a strand of web, and here they are swirling and swaying to gentle breeze of these balmy early winter days. Little ounce of beauty and fragrance hanging like chandelier signifying the imperishable aesthetics of love, peace and harmony.

The Night-smile and day-time vestiges

He smiles through the dewy night, the night blooming jasmine, Har Singar. As the day opens its eyes, I find the vestiges of fragrant night scattered under the tree. The first thing I do these days is to collect the tree's offerings and keep it as a fragrant trophy on my desk. It makes my day. Keeps it smiling and fragrant. Thanks brother tree! I just put some water around you, and here you are with a shower of unconditional love, life, beauty and fragrance. The weather has turned amazing and your gift makes every day better than the previous one.

Refurbishing an old nest and the story of birdie care

Well, not all abandoned nests go unnoticed. While the rains lashed in August and September, a scaly-brested Munia pair (spice finch or nutmeg mannikin) set up an irregular, globular, oval nest of grass, straw lined with feathers and strands of cotton wool. The cycle completed and the hatchlings flew to take their chance on life on the tightrope of creation and destruction. The parents however are known to use the dormatiry off and on while on the way in their birdie sorties. So I have seen them a few times sneaking in for a restful night. The nest stands jolted after more than a month since the nestlings left. The rains and wind shook it. But then the old house is still fit enough to catch the eyes of a pair of white throated munia (Indian silverbill) who are a bit lazy and sociable little beauties who are open to move into used house. They have white throat running from beak to undertail, brown plumage and blue grey beak. So letting swift chirrup trill, the lady on house hunting is inspecting the rainlashed nest, evaluating how much of refurbishment might be required.

Quite incidentally, the original houseowner, scaly breasted Munia, also happens to be there on a nearby branch. Perhaps it has came for some noontime nap. The silent and peaceful bird with bright cinnamon head, full brown plumage and scaly patterns on breast just looks on pensively. Possibly it understands that laying eggs by someone is better than her sleep. So guys, no fight. It just looks at the would be mother with a strange detachment and allows the inspection. Hope we humans can learn something from these birdie guys.

Self-fucking moron or a happy go lucky filly? The choice is always ours!

The adventure and fun of life decrease in proportion to the distance between the point of your craziest, wildest urge of your heart and instincts on the one hand and the low point where you chose to be, driven, rather checked, by your fears, overvaluation, inhibition and assumptions, all of which stopped you from saying 'yes' to the moment and the choice which had all the possibilities to change your life miraculously. Never underestimate the consequences of your endeavors. A butterfly flapping its wings in Africa is linked to the causes which drive a furious hurricane in America. So no action is small, only our fears and insecurities turn it puny, belittled piece of failure. Coming back to that choice which could have seen you soaring in a sunny journey at the highest height, but which you missed through over-analysis and chose to crawl on earth, cursing yourself at every step over the so called missed opportunities. Long after that choice is gone, and you cast a helpless look at the sweeping miles between where you could have reached if you had the guts to say 'yes' to your heart and the poor point where you chose to be, you just can't help but find life almost meaningless. Destiny isn't a cheater altogether. There are moments passing through our lives when, with only a little bit of daring 'yes' we can change the entire course of our lives. Say yes to the liveliest, loudest, craziest, wildest cooing of your heart. If not the destination (and there is no destination by the way), you will love the journey for sure. A little stroll impregnated with your heart's agreement is far more substantial than hundreds of miles of sweating run if you have forced yourself into it. Those miles after miles are not the rewards to your self-punished self. That is the punishment for not being true to yourself. So listen to your heart, shut off all haggling by your mind which is tricking you by forcing you to compare your worth through the scales of others journeys. You have to have your own scale to measure the worthiness of your journey, how many miles you have to go, at what pace, at what stopovers and many more. Use others' scales and all you do is just self-fuck at the cost of lot of pain to your ass. So we always have the option of being a happy go lucky person instead of a self-fucking moron.