The Misgivings of being a Giver .....

If you open your heart, and give your all to the world around you, and for them you still seem to be just another step to the next thing, or a stroke of luck that has somehow worked in their favor, or they take it for something that YOU just had to do ..... then dont put yourself down for being around these people. You just by being there, have uplifted them, you have allowed them to see something , which they are not capable of doing for another human being.
A lot many of us, feel sometimes,that we are doing way too much and getting way less in return.... and yet a few others feel that they are only always doing things and getting , absolute zilch in return. So between these 02 groups, its most likely, that 90% of the population, isnt really going out of their way to begin with , and are just complaining (which comes oh so naturally to all of us!) about things which are not sooo big of a deal anyway. However, the people I wish to reach with this little piece , are the people, who give like it is their second nature, like they were put here to help others out, ALL the time. These are the happy strangers, or almost strangers (who'd let them go easy, they are such a prize to have in your circle of life, so start to get to know them better for keeps) who have gallantly showed you the light , on your darkest days , or have rescued you at times, when u really needed rescuing .... or have out of the big mushy heart of theirs been loving towards you, when it was hard probably even for God almighty to not smack you once and tell you that you're being impossible!

These are the sort of people , who think not once, and are miles away on their journey to be there for the ones they love... before you can say Jack Robinson! Those are the people, that I want to tell, that dont sell yourself short.... dont you , dare think that you get less back cuz you dont deserve it. It's because the rest of us , can't contain hearts as big as yours in our chests, that we somehow fall short of your expectations. Everyone of us, knows someone like you, someone who makes them feel safe , and cared for . And trust me everyone is always gushing about how lucky they were to find you . It is because of people like you, that the world hasnt crumbled and turned to ashes . It is because of people like you that there are still stories of heroes, because people can still believe in them!!
Never give up on yourself, never allow the jaded , inwardly motivated , selfish and insensitive agenda's of the less emotionally gifted people bring you down. You are a gift , and you should feel like one ..... all the time!

A Summer's Dusk .....

Those drops of dew , hanging on for all but imperishable love,
sparkling in the evening sun's last glimmer of hope.
Just as the young rose bud, curled in a bit tighter to settle in,
the drops of water decide to lay it to bed lighter n slip away.

The sky, pink ,with the last remains of what was a bright sunny day,
giving way to a most serene, lyrical dance of light on the sparsely spread clouds.
Dusk, walks in, half shy & half unsure of what it will get to see tonight,
gingerly stepping in, one foot after another, tip-toeing ever so gently n quiet.

Covered in nothing but a shimmery robe of summers grandest n best sceneries ,
bringing with it a drunken charm of promise, adventure, nervous flutters n more, this dusk.
A young man, lounging under the luxuriously lush sycamore, looks up with one eye,
admiring this work of art, unfolding before him, regarding it the sweetest of natures lullabies.

The wind, dancing to the tunes of summer, caressing every leaf, branch, flower n tree,
coming down slowly and gently , every now & then to lay a kiss on a young cheek.
Gloriously colorful , blissfully bright , effervescent & stirring up hearts everywhere, 
flirtatious, youthful, lively, smiling & beautiful like an innocent belle of sixteen, this dusk. 

Birds singing, the sea moving, the lakes n rivers sparkling in a sweet summer serenade,
smiling faces, happy & content, happiness for no shallow reasons, but just the joy of being alive ! 
The dusk of an everlasting summer romance, the adventure of a life time, the beauty of that eve,
the world coming together in natures glory n celebration, of all that will make the most jaded come to life!

When Jolted out of lifes Slumber ... How not to go back to it

There are times when ,all the everyday chores, plans, routines and the habits that we come to acquire over years of repetition and exposure to the same kind of circumstances , situations and events ..... seem to just all come together into a big ball of blur. This is when a  person , feels that they are entirely dissociated from this blur , and it doesn't relate to their life or what they feel in their heart should be their life. These are times ,which require , one thing and one thing only .... these are the times , when we need to jolt ourselves out of our state of suspended animation. The only reason we were put on this earth is and always will be , to be the very best versions of ourselves and be the happiest we can be , while we work towards that perfection.

No more Slumber

People say life is complicated, the world is a harsh place , that there are a multitude of things that "must" be done to have a life of "meaning " ..... and that in my opinion is a dangerous way of thinking , or giving into . There are more reasons than you or I could together fathom, for which the world has come to have this very acutely specific notion of , what exactly makes for a good , well lived life . School, job , money , social status , dressing a certain way .... judging those who do not fit the norm and shunning those who make choices that are not considered "normal " by the majority of us , who have chosen to borrow & absorb, the worn out, dated, passed down ideas of how one should live their life.
Sometimes , when we put in all our heart and soul into , acquiring these objects of borrowed desire  , in our pursuit of these things which are not even of after our own heart....we are lead to the mirror of our life state, by this loving universe in all its compassion. That is exactly when, we feel that we are awake finally in the longest time , and we see that  , what we have to come to surround ourselves with isnt really what we want or need.

And to make sure that you do not allow yourself to slip into this delusion , all we need to do is keep these 03 simple things in mind :

01. Love yourself : i know all of us have these things that we are very hard on ourselves about . And well I think that is frankly a bit too judgy ! life is a bit , too much to take in sometimes and every once in a while, we are allowed to drop the ball ... , so just relax and let yourself down easy. even einstein had to do a whole lotta repeat experiments .... its perfectly ok to be , you know .... YOU!

02. Be Courageous : You have to have cahones , and thats that ^_^ . Yes , be a ninja, be a samurai , be bruc lee .... be the fat one from Asterix & Obelix ...... take your pick of a real cool guy and then go ahead and be it !! Not only will you surprise yourself, you will find yourself .... feeling pretty cool about it . And the easiest way to do that , is be nice .... real real nice. It takes cahones to be nice .... and in this utterly busy world, people have forgotten to be nice ...... imagine how much positivity you would create by doing that. ... and that stuff, comes back around, so ...win win!!

03. Always have a sense of adventure : always have a sense of advenutre like Mr Gru , and sing along .... " It might seem crazy what I’m about to say,Sunshine she’s here, you can take a break, I’m a hot air balloon that could go to space, With the air, like I don’t care baby by the way"

But seriously , we need to have a sense of adventure about life's everyday little obstacles \ challenges . I always think of me, as the grand protagonist in this , opulent story .... working her way to the happily ever after , while slaying demons, monsters & other such nastiness . Just gives me that extra edge on the esp tricky days :) . You dont have to imagine a story like mine, just go find your own story or stories and use what it is that works for you. Being scared never got us to the good stuff, and we end up missing out on a adventure, so pull up them socks, suit up & be on with it ..... cuz everyone who ever did, never lived a day of regret or boredom!Find your self a goal \ dream , make an adventure of it and then just go ahead and get it !

And just those 03 things , is all one needs to remind themselves of , especially on the days that seem to have a little less light than other days .... to NOT give in , to NOT be morose & to NOT choose things that are not what make You happy.
Keep fighting the good fight !! I know I will , with every bit of my own flare
.. not borrowed!!

A Missing Shoe

He and her,  had sat in that corner over there,
two peas in a pod, two faces in crowd that didnt get lost.
Not scared to love, no sir not those two,
and they did, and did it better than most of us do.

On a bright as a beach, lovely as a peach summary day,
she with her tan and bonnet and he in his sailor cap.
sitting a mile apart but it has strange ways, our heart.
They could tell , feel one another from that distance apart.

ohh the imagery of that day, would make you swoon !
A girl of nothing and a man so well to do .. 
caught in a game as old as nature itself and exciting too.
Ohh they were meant to be, more than anyone ....those two.

A courtship of envious and opulent gestures ensued,
and she was swept off, by the charm and lure of their objectionable union.
They were young, they were fearless and not jaded by the world as we know it.
Against a thousand voices they went ahead and tied the knot.

She made him a better man ... more than he thought he could be.
And he made her feel like a goddess who had descended just for he.
No parallels could be drawn , for such was their magical story .
They were intoxicated ,like it cant be imagined by your or me.

It was a "forever", written in stone that was changed that starry night.
A meant -to- be , that had sort of decided to just pick up and walk.
A dory out by the lake in his back yard, a dinner to surprise her they say.
They went out together, laughing like always, holding eachother close.

In the morning, they dory had floated up on the sandy bank on its own.
She looked pretty, so white, so quiet ... the jasmine still fragrant in her hair.
He had turned a bit pale, his hand although still wrapped tight around her.
No breath, no signs , nothing but serenity on their faces and her missing shoe.

RAINBOWS and BLUES

When the rains come down on us,

every June I sit down and I wonder

if this is just a cycle of God's earth

or is it me who makes the sky weep.

Oh I am not self absorbed

I know the science behind it , I do.

The water from the oceans and rivers

and the sun heating up our green earth.

Then it pours down upon us from the skies,

and we rejoice for this great kindness we earned.

Plenty plain and boring that notion I find,

and hence this thought comes to mind.

Can I, just one little person of no great influence,

be the reason why the sky is sad and grey and weeps.

I have the blues you know, sometimes more than others,

and when I do I wish for a rainbow across my window.

But I have to wait, for summer and beyond, 

to see those colors that I know I so want.

And I wait, and I wait and I long for it .

Sometimes I say a little prayer too,real quiet.

No cotton candy, no polka dots, no amount of ribbons,

not Clark Gable or even James Dean bring me a smile.

Yes I'm a girl and the idea of a romance I do fancy,

but why oh why do these blues wont let me be.

And then I ask for my rainbow and I wish upon stars,

and I close my eyes and try to imagine really hard.

That my rainbow is right outside my window sill,

and when I put my hand out, its colored all blue,green and yellow.

And then when I am just about to give up,

on shaking off the blues and on my rainbow.

The calendar is through 12 pages and June is here.

The grey skies bring me this sense of joy and happiness.

And when the streets are curtained behind umbrellas,

I run out on the bridge with no rain coat or rubber boots,

in my polka dress and sneakers, jumping like a lunatic,

happy that its finally here, my rainbow of waiting for a year.

So I'd like to believe, that I had a little something, 

to do with all that color showing up in the blue sky.

Because with everything,everyone and all of that,

all I ever wanted was it to pour really hard!

A world of your own...

There are a lot of things that we see in our everyday lives that we wish we could keep with us. Either an object of desire, or of beauty, a person, a memory, or a feeling ..... there is often this need to capture, own, preserve and forever hold these instances of time in our hearts or somewhere more tangible. Where you can go back to, just like you go down to your basement, or to the attic, to pull out that old baseball glove, or that raggedy old doll, or an old photo album.... and you always know ,that the next time you want to visit them, these moments frozen in time, they will still be there. Covered in just a little bit of dust, a little bit of nostalgia, a thin layer of age.... but still there.

" Memory is a complicated thing, a relative to truth, but not its twin" -Barbara Kingsolver

The Rabbits hole!

Memory, somehow has this quality of impermanence, of wearing out, of decay if you will... that always makes me feel that submitting my thoughts, ideas, affections, wisdom to memory doesn't do justice to my desire to hold on to them. And yet, that is the only means I have to that end. There are some tricks or practices, to each their own beliefs!, out there in the world that one would think can help you hold on to  or re-visit these fleeting moments in time that you want to preserve. Hypnotism can take you right back to that instant in time, or so they say. And then there are memory tricks that you can use to keep things fresh and real in that enormous labyrinth of information that we carry around every single day, all of our lives.

Holding on.... hmmmm, I personally sometimes struggle with the idea of holding, keeping, retaining,having and harboring. It inevitably makes us sound like hoarders, collectors or worse like someone who is incomplete without the things they possess, someone who is incapable of letting go. Its a very anti climatic thought , this one I just put across, especially when we are who we are because of where we have been and is that not a function of memory? To know where we've been.  A very unromantic idea then waltzes into my head, unromantic because it thrives on practicality, logic and most definitely always on the truth.... and not a glorified, exaggerated idea of our wants, desires and dreams. And it is "wisdom"!

If we learn what there is to learn, from every experience, every encounter with another, every exchange with another being, place or thing...... wont that experience have fulfilled its purpose by way of enriching us, not in terms of the pictures, images, feelings that we carry in our heads or hearts.... but in terms of leaving us with something, that has made us learn something. Something of value, for our life, and those around us. And is that not wisdom ?

Having a dream, of a time to come or a time long gone, is a quality that is by far the greatest sanctuary that the human mind has known..... a place away from the right now, a place that has haunted us, a place that has encouraged us, that has kept us safe, or given us hope. A characteristic that is probably at the center of everything that makes us who we are.... and is in the same measure capable of bringing us to our knees, and showing us a side of ourselves which we never imagined to have existed.

I am not much of a thinker, and in that way I feel blessed, because things can come and go and I am still where I was before the event .... emotionally speaking that is. But I cant imagine how those, who dwell in this sphere of our minds, where everything exists only because it is a figment of their memory or imagination.... deal with things. And I say that only because, even though I am not a thinker, I have faced many a times, this dilemma... of not knowing where to draw the line between the real and the imaginary. It must be difficult to deal with whats outside and real, when you are not sure of what is real and not on the inside. Is'nt that cause enough for a clash between your own faculties??

Memory and imagination, I have gone ahead and added two variables to this equation! I do apologize ..... I guess, our minds have a way of revealing things to us. A journey is thus just with one constant, the starting point..... where you will go, well that still remains a function of the actions, the course you take as you journey on. Choosing to stay with what is real, what is enriching, what is in fact a safe flight from our plain of reality and back ..... that is a choice, a question, a journey and for some a struggle.

Here is to the adventurous who journeyed just so far and brought back with them wisdom or stories, the frequent flyers who take leave to that land often and come back safe, the brave who made it far beyond and back and especially to the weak ones we lost to the other side. Where are you drawing the line ?

Just another Story... untold!

  
And then there was no more left , other than what she saw in her room.... an almost empty bottle of rum, a half burnt cigarette  lying no more than a foot away from her and about twenty cigarette butts in the ashtray, her clothes on the floor.... an open closet which was so full of color.... that she felt repulsed by it. She got up, wobbly on her feet and walked till the mirror.... what she saw, should have shocked her, scared her, shaken her..... but all she felt was .... pity or may be it was nothing at all. Her neat little bun was undone and made her look like a deranged killer straight out of a bad movie, her mascara had left stains on her cheeks and her face, there were traces of a bright pink shade of lipstick on her lips, which were dry.... as dry as a dead,withered leaf , fallen from a tree in the dead of autumn...... she stood there in her black Chemise, one bright yellow stiletto on her foot, the other one she couldn't even be bothered to go look for. In fact, she could not be less bothered about life at all . Another Friday night had come and gone by and she had drunk till thy kingdom come, till all her senses had deserted her and she had left for a place of.... not knowing, not comprehending, where they did'nt have a place...her senses that is, a place where she did not have to use her head at all.
Another Friday evening that she had wanted to go home and sort out the storm that would hit her every Friday afternoon..... and like every other Friday since the last one year, she had ended up... going about town, with friends, co-workers, acquaintances or whoever would care to give her company .... drinking , dancing, coming back home, drinking more and passing out.

Still staring at the wreck she saw in the mirror, she felt she was looking at someone else..... anyone else but her, she was the prim and proper mumma's little girl.... who always combed her hair back, always tied them in a neat high pony, wore light pink dresses, light yellows or some other plain Jane, good girl shade. Someone who never raised her voice, someone who never spoke ill of anyone, someone who trusted blindly, someone who believed that life was going to be just wonderful. And here she was, a wreck, a quitter, a raging alcoholic, a nicotine junkie, anorexic, poor lonely girl ..... with clothes piled up till the roof in her house, shoes bursting out of her closet, no money in the bank, and a foul smell from the smoke that emanated from a burnt out dream in her heart... that refused to leave her.

"When did I get this jaded?" ... she thought to herself, " When did I give up on hope? When did I stop smiling? When did this life turn into this.... this, lonesome, unhappy, miserable mess ?" .... even though she was saying the questions out loud, she didn't want to think of the answer.... so much so that she turned around and walked into her bathroom.


About an hour long shower later, she stepped out, made herself some coffee, popped a few aspirins to rid her off the throbbing she could feel in her head..... "Sigh!! another hangover." , she said to herself.
She finished her coffee, put on a pair of khaki's a white shirt..... and it was hard to find, in that wardrobe , which she had stocked with bright bold colors of all kind, to hide the lack of them in her life behind. She picked up her handbag,her camera and walked out of the house .

It was a bright day outside, it was a wonderfully lovely spring morning. She was glad that she could still smile with the sun, at the sun, for the sun..... even as a little girl, she had thought that, the great big ball of fire in the sky was a friend, and she knew from then on she was always going to be a happy sunshine , morning girl. Lost in her thoughts she walked through the San Francisco Bay area Flea market ..... like every Saturday morning. She loved that flea market, all the used things she felt had a story to tell..... a story of who they use to belong to , of a love that no longer lived or at least of a love that had gone far away for some reason. She felt that she belonged there, just like all those things, given up by people, who no longer wanted them, or no longer could keep them .... and behind each one of them was a story..... just like her.And she loved capturing those sundry things on her camera.

Walking around, she walked to the cozy little cafe that she had made her second home for those first few lonely months in San Francisco. Jane the nice old woman who owned the cafe, was her mother away from home, the one person who she trusted blindly , with her life, her money, her dog ..Sharpie, and everything else she held sacred. She walked in, and Jane was more than happy to see her, and with one look Jane could tell that She had been drinking again!... "You better stop feeding all that alcohol and nicotine to that thin little body of yours..... you are so young, so beautiful, your whole life ahead of you.... and to think you haven't even fallen in love yet! When I was a young girl in New York, men would lie down on the street for a woman like you..." , " Oh Fran! please dont... not today! I know you love me, and you worry about me.But you don't have to try to get me to quit my life.. that is who I am. But I love you !" ..... She cut Jane off , before Jane could finish her song about, how New York was the place to be in the 70's and how She was not realizing what she was doing to herself...... She gave Jane a hug, and a peck on her cheek ... and Jane shook her head in exasperation, and asked her to sit down and went into the kitchen to make her a coffee.

She took the coffee from Jane, and told her she was going to go out for a walk and come back after an hour or so and they would have lunch together. This was her routine every Saturday. She loved the day, loved spending it with Jane and the people at the Cafe. As she walked out the door, Fran.... that is what She called Jane, because for her, Jane was San Francisco, for no one else in the city meant more to her,... glanced over her shoulder, just like a mother, looks at her child before she leaves the house.

She had barely walked a few feet from the cafe, looking at the clouds in the sky... she bumped into someone and spilled her coffee all over herself. Not seeing who or what it was, She yelled out, "Ohh my God!! would it kill you to look where you're going.... that's a 200$ Chanel shirt that you just ruined!!".... when she looked up, she saw who she had bumped into..... and she froze , her feet suddenly felt like they were made of stone, she could'nt breathe..... she wanted to scream, but her lungs failed her.