Ordinary Lives, Extraordinary Living

 Ordinary Lives, Extraordinary Living –
Also a review of the book, This Too Shall Pass, by Elango Thambiah.

A story is alive, throbbing, when it is straight from the heart and can reach deep into the hearts of its listeners and pluck strings there. This is such a story.  In first person, from the real-life incidents that took place in the life of its protagonists, it is narrated in such a simple manner, that reading it felt like drinking a large mug of hot chocolate as a young something, snuggled into the warmth of a grandmother’s love listening to her wisdom stories.

It tells the profound story of a family living through the trauma and subsequent recovery of one of its members suffering from brain hemorrhage, and how they find their way back to the land of the living.

 I read the book last week over 4 evenings and nights, of days filled with intense, meditative study of Vibhuti Pada, chapter 3 of the yoga sutra, with a group of co-sadhakas that also included the author-protagonists of the book!  

And because of this concurrence of the yoga study and life story perhaps, this book seems forever intertwined with the learning and insights from the Vibhuti Pada of the yoga sutra:

How it is possible to connect with the ecstatic joy and beauty of simply being Alive.

How just by the virtue of being this ordinary human being, he and she have the potential and possibilities of channelizing and straddling an extraordinary state of being, the extraordariness of Life, with an ordinary self simply by surrendering to that life. To the very act of being fully alive to this present moment.

Pic by Vincent on Unsplash

This book epitomizes the above for me. And brought alive an inner story for me, completing the healing process of one big part of me, and closing a very old wound. A wound that said, “Any change means loss; loss of love, loss of warmth, loss of safety, belonging… so, fear change and shun change.” A wound that did not believe that there is anything permanent and holding a terror of everything that is not.  And yet, a deeper part of me had always searched for the permanent. Is there anything that is unchanging?

This Too Shall Pass is about that which is unchanging that rests in all the dance and drama of change. And brought home to me in a primal way, that Change also means new, fresh prANA, new forms of love, new explorations, possibilities and ways of being. How fun.

It is then possible to live life with this changing, ordinary moment, every moment, being held in the lap of the extraordinary permanence within it. And as Thomas Merton says, live and celebrate the “present festival”. Like a new, tender shoot. 

Do consider buying the book, much of the proceeds from its sale will go to The GangaFoundation, an organisation for enhancing the quality of life of persons with Spinal cord injury in India, co-founded by the author, Elango Thambiah, . , 

A walk in the clouds

A walk in the clouds. I re-discovered the heartwarming and eye- and mind- opening experience that this can be.  As I wrote in my journal, two kinds of people who would totally and especially get much from such an experience, came to mind. (Obviously, anyone would find a walk in the clouds joyful) Read on to find out more.  

Are you one of those people who can’t seem to discover an iota of interest in getting your limbs to move?  Would you rather grow roots under your couch and have the world delivered there?  Pilates: "What’s that?" Yoga: "Those convoluted positions? No thank you, I’m already happy!" Ok, the gym: (whispering) "Do you know they sweat in those room? What if I get dehydrated?" Would you say, "Look, I am not obese; I love all of me including my body and don't want to change it just because people who love me are telling me to hit the gym. I dont want to do anything just because others are telling me to."  

Alright, what if your body is telling you to? Have you listened to your body lately? Do you feel breathless and weak if you walk up the stairs? Or fatigued if you walk at all? Or does your heart start racing? You heart is also a muscle which needs exercise and so it has to do double work even for a little bit of movement if you have not given it enough (exercise). In a series of studies published in a medical journal a few years back, it said that there are as many deaths in the world because of not exercising as smoking! One of the other important signs is the "heavy cloud inside your head". Do you feel listless and disinclined? Do you feel like a dark cloud has taken residence in your head and heart? There are many ways in which your body talks to you, warns you, coaxes you and even shocks you to get you to truly notice it, but we don't want to wait until the shock, do we? 

Or, are you one of those driven people, who have an ultra-disciplined and regimented day, and you drive yourself at work and at play? You want to give better than your best on the shop floor, at the gym and at home with your family.  You sweat it out with your cardios, push yourself with the weight-training and gorge on salads and low-carb, protein-rich diets. Would you say that you are a go-getter, success is your mantra and one of your non-negotiable goals is to keep yourself healthy and fit? And others call you superwoman or superman? 

It sounds just the thing. However the question here as well is: have you listened to your body lately? What is it trying to tell you? Do you return from the gym sore and weak, and then return the next day for more strength training? Have you been dropping the stretches from your routines to make more time for the cardios and resistance training?  Are you fresh and flexible when you get up in the morning, or stiff and unyieldy? Do you rarely feel that you have accomplished anything, or have had time to spend hanging out with friends?  Do the people closest to you find you hasty and / or irritable? 

For both these types of people on extreme ends, the pendulum needs to swing back to a dynamic balance.  The body and mind cannot hold extreme positions against natural rhythm and gravity for long without showing the wear and tear and ultimately giving up. What you are doing is forcefully holding the pendulum up at its farthest ends, not allowing for its native movement.  

What I recommend to you is a walk in the clouds. By which, I mean a simple, no-strings attached walk. One that doesn't have to go anywhere and do anything. One that doesn't have any goals.  One that is not measured by any parameters. The only thing that could give it a boundary (if you choose) is time.  You simply walk. You see the sky above, a mountain and hills, the crows perched on a window sill, trees and shrubs looking clean, the heavy and hanging clothesline, a line of scurrying ants on the ground that you carefully avoid, puddles, a couple of cycles and motorbikes, a car, and an autorickshaw, school kids returning home and an assortment of adults including vendors.  You smell mud after the rains, dampness, smoke and grease, flowers, urine, and some others that you can't identify. You hear bird calls and particularly crows cawing, children's giggles and chatter, vehicles honking, one of them braking, vendors' shouts, dogs barking somewhere, water splashing in a puddle, the slapping of your slippers once you reach the road. You taste your saliva along with faint coffee just as you swallow.  You feel your slippers very differently on squishy ground, the slippery edges of puddles, on grass and on the road; you feel the wind raising the fine hairs on your arms and touching the skin in-between, the insides of your loose pants when it billows out this way and that from the wind, and a welcome chill after all the heat.  And you feel free. 

With your senses alive and awakened to what you are experiencing, you will find yourself returned to the here and now. Your mind opens up to new possibilities; you may find puzzling situations falling into place, the cloud in your head lifting, gifts worth celebrating, and meaning to life.  You see a whole new canvas, or a different canvas, or your old one from a different angle at the very least.  Your heart may expand with love*.  You wouldn't need further recommendations.  You would find them all within.  At least for now! ;)  Which means that this is also a muscle to be exercised, it would be good for me and the world, to do this now and then. 

Go on, get up and take that walk.  Just concentrate on putting this one leg in front of the other.  I dare you to.  
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* My post is not based on the movie, A Walk in the Clouds.  It is coincidental that I titled this post by the same name. Or perhaps, "There are no accidents"  (Will have to watch the movie again to find out, I dont remember much except that it is a love story) 

How can the Ordinary be Extraordinary?

How can the ordinary be extraordinary as well? Simply by the quality of one's attention.  I tried to immerse myself in it, when I encountered such an attentive quality recently. 

Scene: A moderately-big^ photocopying / DTP works-binding-printing establishment in the city.

At the outset, he was yet another young guy from a small town, come to the city for work. He looked it.  I waited for a while by the photocopier machine before he came to attend to me.  I had two entire books to be photocopied and he finished with two others before he came to me, although I had come earlier.  Some typical leg-tapping had begun at my end.  I had also by then slotted him, "he attended to the men first; he is so young, looks barely 20, he's going to mess up my photocopies; he's got a cell phone that he is constantly checking on, how usual!"  I realised later that although my initial impression of him being from a small town was correct, that was also a stereotyping that I'd indulged in.  

So initially when he started the machine for my work, I kept shifting from one foot to the other and checking my phone (to look at the time of course!). After about less than a minute of this, he turned to me and smiled and said (in Tamil*), "those two people had only a couple of papers each and so I finished theirs first."  

I was arrested by two things.  First, I was ashamed that I hadn't noticed this myself because I had been too caught up in my own typecasting.  Second, his eyes.  He looked right into my eyes, directly and openly.  He had such clear eyes, such depth and stillness in them. By this time, he had already tuned into his task again, and I tuned into him.  Really looked at him. And was thoroughly mesmerised by how he was doing what he was doing. He had in the beginning itself punched some keys on the keypad to indicate standard number of copies and page dimensions and so on.  (And I realised at this point that I had been watching all this like a hawk for any mistakes!).  Now I just started to simply watch. 

Since it was not a completely automated process, he had to key in something after the machine spit out the required number of copies of each page.  He had to turn to the next page, put it face down on the fibreglass top, and adjust its orientation before closing the lid and punching the keypad. This went on continuously.  After every few pages that were copied, the screen would have moved and changed angle because of the way he was tapping the keypad (on the touch-screen), and he would move the screen back to its original position.  In a while I saw that it was exactly after 10 pages that he did this.  (I dont know whether he kept count)  Every 2-3 pages, he would check the page number of the photocopies that had just come out and the page number on the original before flipping to the next page.  Open-flip-place-adjust-close-punch, Open-flip-place-adjust-close-punch, Check-Open-flip-place-adjust-close-punch... If ever I've seen mechanical work done in style, it was this instance.  He executed that whole sequence so gracefully, that the yoga practitioner in me saw a perfect, smooth, seamless and flowing vinyasa krama** in action.  It was utterly rhythmic and hypnotic. 

This was not all.

The pictures have been taken and put up here
with his consent

In the middle of this steady pulse, there was a stream of phone calls that he attended to.  I realised by and by that he was in charge of the shop's cell phone and he was handling enquiries!  He answered an irate caller who didn't know the location of the shop; I could hear the irritated voice asking for directions, standing more than 2 feet away.  He gave some rates and tariffs to another person. and so on.  Without missing a beat - in his hands, or his eyes or his voice and smile.  I mean, he was obviously not in the middle of a toothpaste commercial - he was not smiling actively, and yet his face was a restful smile.  

This was not all.  

He also seemed to be in charge of other things in the shop. He seemed to have in his purview, two new boys handling other machines in the shop, and he was instructing someone else to go and check up on one of them who has not had the requisite training yet.  He also at some point, asked the person at the neighbouring machine, to go sit on some computer and handle work there since that person had taken leave today.  I have no clue how he knew what was happening right behind him (maybe he was listening to everything happening around him), but just as a customer was going to go to that empty computer station, asking for some particular service, he turned and redirected her to someone else.  He was also completely aware of what was happening at the delivery counter and the finished jobs that were coming there to be stapled and handed over to the right person, after the payment was made. (The payment counter was exactly behind him and I was also sort of standing there). 

Some things that came to me later: I believe now that his eyes and how he looked at me the first time changed the quality of attention I was giving to the present moment, the task at hand and the people in the present moment (because of his own attentive quality). I also realised that early on, he had pointed out the obvious without any judgement of me, or any resentment, or chip-on-the-shoulder attitude; just a clear, non-attached statement. 

I had to take his autograph

His attention was everywhere in the shop I realised, and yet his attention was also on the minutest detail of the task in his hand.  How did he catch it otherwise - that one time when he flipped two pages together, he paused and corrected it. He continued his open-flip rhythm through to the end without losing himself to any one task or phone call or person.  He attended to all of it with a quiet confidence. What is yoga if not this? 

An ordinary day turned extraordinary for me, gave me a demonstration of Attention that I will carry with me for a long time to come, if not always. And transformed me in some inexplicable way. 

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* Our conversation happened in Tamil 

** Vinyasa krama in asana-pranayama practice is an intelligent, step by step progression / sequence, with synchronising breath and movement, towards a particular goal

^ What is moderately-big though? Beats me. 

Using the public transport

It makes great sense these days to use public transport or car pool for purposes of conserving energy. We see this being promoted heavily all around us. However, I rediscovered using the public transport for several other personal reasons that for the moment beat everything else. But of course, for these uses to surface, you must put away your ipod, and any other mobile digital devices, into the deep recesses of your hand bag or pant pocket. And decide not to indulge them until you get down from the bus.  Now for some fun! 

Uses

#1 Travelling in that bus through the traffic-ridden roads of Chennai, I realised that all my tasks will have to wait. No matter how many tasks I have lined up for the day, I cannot move from my position of sitting or standing. The only task is to stand or sit comfortably. One is forced to stay with the only task that is possible in that bus then - this is great practice for staying in this moment, and staying with the people who are with one at that moment.  If it is traffic time and the bus is crowded, you can be sure that flash points are lower, irritation levels are higher and everyone just wants to get home. Or office. So for self to stay comfortable, the others around will also have to be comfortable to some extent. For instance, people may like orange marmalade to be spread out, but not you and your bags on their laps and into their shoulders. Your neighbour may not enjoy your hair flying into their face and nose, unless of course you are his or her lover which puts hair and orange marmalade in a completely different realm altogether. 

#2 Deciding that there is no better task than leaning on the pole comfortably and just being, was the best thing I could have done for my breath. It is most fashionable these days to enroll for hatha yoga or a weight reduction yoga programme or any of the numerous yoga courses advertised. For those who don't have time because they have to leave home by 7 a.m. and travel in public transport in order to reach their work place by 9, the bus is the best bet to practice some praanayama. Close your eyes, and watch your breath. Just be with it, as you take in air, and as you breathe out. You will feel your breath deepening and lengthening. Continue breathing in and out. A sudden waft of typical Chennai may assault your inhalation as the garbage lorry hurtles by; watch the stink as it hits you and then as it fades away. Similarly, watch that puff of exhaust fumes, the fragrance of jasmine flowers, sweat or any of the miscellaneous smells of travelling chennai as they pass by. They will pass, your breath will stay. Of course, with all this deep breathing, you may fall asleep. Which takes us to the next use. 

#3 Ah, blissful sleep! What one wouldn't give for those forty winks after which one is refreshed and awakened! If you've been burning the midnight oil studying, or are stressed at work, and / or going to write an exam that morning, or haven't managed to get requisite sleep for some reason or another, this is the best time to fill up your sleep quota. In fact, it is highly recommended if you are going to write an exam, nothing that you study at this point will really matter - what will matter is how clear headed you are when you sit in the exam hall, and how gathered your faculties are. And if you have been poring over your books through the night, then sleep you must. Nothing like the motion of the bus to put one to sleep. Surrender your all to the bus driver, who's ishvara for the moment, and become lolly and noddy. The neighbour may understand this phenomenon if he or she is a regular in buses, and forgive you your trespass. Else, she may herself be noddy to your lolly. Enjoy! 

#4 I nodded off a bit in the middle of my breath-watching, and got up rejuvenated in less than 15 minutes. Being just where I was, completely aware of my breath, relaxed yet alert of everything around me, my attention automatically drew into me, and who and what I am at that point - I can hear the conversation of the two teenage girls in the seat in front of mine, and my mind is responding in a certain way. Watching my response, what am I feeling then? What am I thinking? Watching the feeling, watching the thought. Just watching, the origin of that thought suddenly flashed in, and its associated experience (our minds have thoughts that are actually our opinions, or assumptions or labels and stereotypes and so on which are actually conditioned by our life's experiences and resulting emotions, fears etc. Hence much of the time, our thoughts about others are actually everything to do with us, rather than about them). I hereby declare that you could make the bus ride one of the best spaces in which to watch the patterns of your life, the patterns in your mind and become aware of your self deeply. Which will obviously have its impact on your awareness of others. 

#5 I stayed with the insight that emerged, and its consequent excitement, watched the excitement and its origin (but of course!). When I looked around at that point, the bus was crowded with ideas. There were numerous bundles of experiences-thoughts-responses in many shapes and sizes, clothed outwardly in different colours and cuts, and in constant action / motion - talking to each other, exclaiming, checking their phones every 2 minutes, smiling, shifting from one leg to another, tching, adjusting their pallu or duppatta, looking out and waiting for their stop to get off, whispering and giggling, whistling, looking into the neighbour's mobile phone, screaming at someone to move, daydreaming, nodding off(!), sightseeing out of the window, catching my eye... adding more experience-thought-response on to the basic bundle reinforcing patterns, even as I saw. The bus is an artist's idea-heaven, artist in the broadest sense possible. Just look on, without forgetting to look at your looking (that is, being aware of any judgments, any thoughts that you may have), to get fresh ideas on just about anything under the sun and beyond! 

Which brings me back full circle to simply staying here and now, with the people and experiences of this moment. I got off the bus to a whole new world, all so fresh and shiny that I could almost see dew drops glistening everywhere. And it hadn't even rained! What just a ride in your local bus can do. 

An Account of a Romantic Drive

Every moment holds romance; whether one is alive to it or not is the question. This morning I lived through yet another definition and experience of romance.

Living in and for this moment has been high up there in the last few days - one of those up phases of life which one tries best to keep being in!  Waking at 4:30 a.m. (before the alarm), having a great cup of coffee with one’s mother and daughter for company, and getting a convenient share cab to go from Tiruvanmiyur to Pondy when its not yet dawn, all keep up with the spirit. I get into the front seat of the cab, settle the daughter on my lap and we take off.

Initially I fuss around the little one knowing that she will fall asleep soon enough, moving one of her legs so that it doesn’t disturb the gears, tucking my dupatta tight over her ears, responding with a reassuring murmur to her faint protest, and shifting her weight a little bit to get both of us comfortable for the drive. I was totally absorbed in this when one of the men from the back seat called out that I roll up the windows since it would get chilly for her, to which suggestion I smiled and replied that she wouldn’t sleep at all if the windows were closed and AC on.

The man’s voice was the first sound that I heard after I got into the car. Now other sounds registered gradually. The whoosh of the wind, the sound of the car, 80s and 90s Tamil cinema music (most public transport and travels drivers on this route seem to prefer this, I wonder why now; Valaiosai… vaan megham…), the rising and falling drone of the two men conversing in the back seat dwindling very slowly, occasional drowsy voices of either of the two children with them, the whiz of vehicles going in the opposite direction, the rare blast of a horn that starts faint, builds to a scream and then fades or cuts off abruptly – all in the flash of a second on such roads (the ECR)… I became aware of all of them and yet it was not a cacophony! It may be a bit much to call it orchestra, however let me be content saying that they were all in harmony.

I then felt my daughter’s weight on me – she had been growing heavy with sleep.  At the moment that I felt her weight, I felt everything else that I could feel on my skin and physical sensations as well as taste and smell, all in a flash. The pressure of my left ankle over the other where they were crossed, the near stillness of my breath, the car seat under me and on my back, her warmth seeping through her clothes to my right palm which was on her back, the friction and scratching sensation in the crook of my left elbow which was touching something coarse on her (I think there were some threads and self design on her pants), my chilled left ear and cheek since the wind was hitting me on that side, the increasing stress in my knees from keeping them bent in the same position, the faint taste of coffee lingering in my mouth and an increasing feeling of thirst, feet going to sleep, and the smells wafting around - the faintly musty car seat, coconut hair oil, sandalwood (soap, I am now guessing), the smell of morning (there definitely is a smell to morning, sort of tangy), and other smells from outside that we passed from time to time.

 I saw the long straight road ahead beautifully dark first, lightening slowly, and turned to see the sun peeping out on my left. I felt my eyes drinking in the road and sun and everything that it was turning golden. My personal orchestra was keeping up with me as well, effortlessly.

It was a space where every sense was alive to all that was hitting that sense, and yet it was not too much to handle; not one of them pulled that sense away from this space. That is, no one was getting carried away by anything. I realised that something similar was happening in my thoughts and mental sensations as well. For instance, I turned and looked at the driver when his mobile phone rang and he picked it up. All he did was murmur that he is coming back with passengers and that he will talk later. But I picked up on his satisfaction that he had gotten passengers and he would be getting some extra income. I also noticed that he was alert and not sleepy although he had driven the night before as well to drop off people at the airport. We had with us a young and really good driver (he drove smoothly without sudden brakes and jerks and it never felt once like he was speeding, but we were achieving quite a bit of road very quickly). Also because it was early morning before traffic hours, and a Sunday.  

However, noticing these didn’t take me away from that being-alive space.  There were not that many thoughts that occurred, but when a thought did come, it came into that space, and then fell away as we drove on. I simply watched the thought rise and fall.  I was conscious of every sense and sensation, yet not getting lost in or strayed by any one. At some point the thought came that it all felt like I was making love to myself. Don’t ask me what that means really, that is just what I felt or thought. I did not think further about it or analyse.  I was simply, gloriously alive. The two-hour drive was pure romance, and I was aware of a feeling of gratitude and benevolence towards the driver and my co-passengers. 

A continued soliloquy on Living in the Present (I) - Accidents

The thought and phenomenon of living in the here and now is something that I have had a love-hate relationship with for a very long time now. Love, in moments like this when the awareness and practice of here and now is strong, and hate, when it pops up as a reminder after I had forgotten to live in the present for some length of time. Hate perhaps is an extreme word. Intense conflict and struggle, maybe. Consequently, I tend to draw threads from every conversation and situation to the idea of living in this moment. In my mind of course, for the most part. This series of posts about living in the present will share some of these rambling thoughts and insights.

I realised some time back that I am a menace to myself and the rider when I travel pillion on a two-wheeler. Perhaps because of the number of road accidents that I have directly and indirectly been affected by, I am always anticipating an accident and sitting on edge, literally and figuratively. This means that every time we hit a ditch, or I spot a speeding vehicle coming in the opposite direction, which is every other second, I dig into the shoulders of the person in front of me. I let out involuntary yelps at every sudden twist, turn, brake, loud honk, bike whizzing by too close for my comfort, narrow path that we may have to squeeze through, child or pup darting out, and anything else that deviates from a completely smooth, uneventful and boring ride. The best reaction (or worst, depending on how one looks at it) is the sharp and swift intake of breath that happens when it even remotely looks like we are going to hit another vehicle. There are a couple of things to be considered here. One, the fact that it looks like we may hit another vehicle is entirely subjective. Can a fact be subjective? Subjective fact. It sounds like an oxymoron. The other point is that the swift intake of breath just happens; it is entirely involuntary according to me. However, a long time front rider and sufferer begs to differ. How can a reaction just happen when it packs a wallop of accusation, indignation, fear and the worst kind of predictions all rolled into one?  And so an average ride may go yelp, dig, yelp, dig, hiss of breath, dig, yelp, mutter, complain, dig, yelp, hiss, dig…. And I of course always defended myself. I saw no problem in this and always blamed the road, road rage and irresponsible driving.

In one of my stronger and lucid moments, it struck me that I am making a cake of myself. What does it mean to be traveling sitting on edge like I do? So every time I yelp or dig, I am actually living in the past experience of an accident that I have been through or have seen. Every time I hiss or mutter, I am living in the future with a few broken ribs perhaps or worse. Which means that every moment on that ride is a moment in vain, in death actually. I am either living in the past or the future, and not in the here and now. What an irony. An irony because this actually leaves me completely vulnerable even if an accident were to happen at that moment because my mind is not present in it. What a whammy!

The sad truth is that the sum total of our experiences and habits are so strong that such an insight does not mean immediate transformation. It could mean that for some of course, but not for this struggling soul. However, the yelps have reduced considerably, the digs and mutters have been completely eschewed from the bike rides and every hiss of breath is mentally converted to a mantra. There is hope! 

Learning from Children - Free to Love

Initially this post was to be titled 'Learning from / with children'. Then I realised that there are some things that we don’t learn with them, we necessarily learn from children, by simply watching them be, and engage with the world.

As adults many of us are often embarrassed by explicit announcements or gestures of love. And yes, that's a thoughtful statement; I am not saying it casually. The embarrassment would of course be at different levels of intensity, felt and manifested differently with different people in different situations. For instance, some of us may feel comfortable showing love to our partner, but not so with relatives. Some of us feel awkward if the expression goes beyond a cursory side-of-the-body hug. In fact, I find that many of us feel strange staying and feeling a hug completely.

The corollary to this is acknowledging love, a move of love.  We fare worse in this aspect. While I am quick to list all the wrong actions of the other, prompt with all the hurts inflicted on me by A or B, I am much slower to recognise an expression of love by the same A or B. Love is expressed in many ways, the beginning of which is physical expression like a loving look or hug. We miss most of the subtler actions of love, of the people around us. For instance, I recall now how my grandmother always served food with so much love. That is, she was very aware of how each one of us liked to eat, what went in first, what vegetables I like with certain other items on the menu, which were the side dishes preferred by my sister and on and on like this. And she served us according to our tastes, even though as children we were taught to eat everything put on the plate without a fuss. She did this for everyone but never once asked anyone about their preferences or tastes. She just observed everyone and served them. But for all this, there was no outward show of love. In my early teens then, I missed this for her outward irritability and the fact that we seemed to have nothing in common. I recollected and realised much much later how love worked through her.

I am remembering her again now, with some regret (because I never did show much warmth to her when she was alive), as I watch my daughter. There is nothing hidden in her love or its expression. And I am amazed again and again at the wisdom and simplicity she demonstrates even in her acknowledgement of it. I figure it is not so strange that the first time I thought of my grandmother and of our relationship in some depth, was when I was babysitting a 4-year old during my college days. Parmeet taught me a lot about myself, about conflicts and relationships and so much more, in the 3 years that I was with him, a few hours every day of the week.

Now it is Kaivalya, my daughter who is teaching me how effortlessly I can understand and acknowledge love . She so quickly drops her irritation or anger with something, if I just give her a beseeching look and ask for a "tight-a huggy". It is almost ruthless how she forgets the past second's hostility in this moment's love. And she goes on to give a tight hug and a bonus kiss with her slate clean. No baggage there. How do children do that? For me the joy is in how she acknowledges me. All I have to do is give her a loving look (sometimes I am not aware of it myself). If she happens to catch my look, she smiles immediately and says "I-o-dee" (which means 'I love you' in her language).  I was feeding her once and a little bit of the porridge oozed out onto the side of her mouth. Her tongue couldn’t reach it. I had been busy with taking the next spoonful, arranging her bib or something like that, that she had been at it for a while when at last I noticed her trying to reach it. I said that I'm so sorry I didn’t see, and wiped it clean. She gave a grin of relief and then insisted that she give me a hug and "i-o-dee" before we proceed with the more mundane process of eating.  How does she know when I am upset or hurt about something? She is not even two years yet.  She then does things which are very clearly aimed at bringing me out of my blues. Which of course they do. She is so forgiving about the mistakes I make in my engagement with her, she puts me to shame about all the resentments I carry. These resentments are a part of the huge wall I have built around myself that stops me from an open expression of love. She clearly has no inhibitions in showing love, in casual and deep ways. One morning I was lazy and didn’t respond to her mindfully. She indicated to me in no uncertain terms that I was behaving shabbily and she would rather be with someone who would no doubt be decent with her: "amma vendaam, appa venum" (don’t want mom, want dad). Wasn’t I quick in mending my ways! However she was not waiting to see me mend my ways. She had moved on to something that had her completely enthralled and she turned to me demanding that I see it. I can just go on describing numerous such ways in which she expresses and acknowledges love. But what sort of a memory is this, that forgets emotional gymnastics and carries no such luggage, but soaks and absorbs so much learning? How is it programmed to remember in minute detail , many things about the world and itself and yet forget some other particular aspects? What freedom. Children are so free to love, so wholly, because of the way their memory functions.

We are also meant to love in such freedom, aren't we? We also undoubtedly loved this way when we were children. We collect so much grime along the way and fail to see clearly. I am constantly learning how she does it. Funnily enough, I keep recollecting practices and suggestions that the greatest masters have prescribed for such a love when I see my daughter's behaviour (in general, children). No jokes! Pratipaksha Bhavana is something that the Yoga Sutra and the Bhagavad Gita prescribe - replacing one thought with an opposite or another thought / action / behaviour. The descriptions are typically about cultivating and understanding opposite perspectives, countering destructive thoughts with thoughts of the opposite nature, becoming the other etc. I see her doing just this much of the time. If I give a stern look, she counters it with a wicked smile. If she just has to have a certain type of food that she doesn’t like, with every mouthful she utters a protesting cry, and then she immediately changes it by finding something else interesting to look at, or take refuge in holding me or talking to me. And so, myriad ways. Another important sutra talks of cultivating maitri (congeniality, friendliness), karuna (empathy, helpfulness), mudita (cheerfulness) and upeksha (imperturbability - towards failures, people who cant be changed and so on).  I simply watch her flabbergasted, while she practices one or more of these traits in different contexts and situations.

An all important principle underlying all others I feel is how children are able to live in the here and now. This is what enables them to love with such abandon and freedom. Because of being forever in this moment, they walk light. Nothing burdens them. They have no walls around them - of assumptions and conditionings and stereotypes and other barriers. They are free to love. They are free.

Life's Like This Too

Today's post is more of a personal journal entry than anything else. I had to share it because, well, life is like this. A blessing, and a perfect moment.

The night was pure torture. I simply wanted to sink into the oblivion of sleep and kept doing so. But the mosquitoes insisted on dragging me out of my heaven. Not just me, but my daughter as well. My 19-months old daughter is a trooper but even she can take only so far. So there we were scratching and slapping and tossing and turning, well into the night. The both of us. And I was also trying to insist that she go to sleep by patting and singing to her. I felt sure that she thought I was a nutcase.

I had had one of those melancholy conversations just before going to bed wherein one feels sorry for oneself and all that is happening to her. I had managed to put myself in a true blue funk. Life was an angry-sad sigh. Lying awake helped the funk along. Despite the mosquitoes.

This morning I got up drearily from my half sleep, and by sheer force of habit and a dogged will that I not lose my discipline yet again, pushed myself out of bed to do my asana and pranayama practice. My daughter had settled into an uneasy sleep and I check on her from time to time. One hour, the breath worked its magic, and I was ready to face the day.

Then one of my best friends brings me coffee right where I am and we sit down to a good old chat. A pleasant early morning breeze, two woodpeckers knocking away at a coconut tree, and a cruising lone crow give us company as we chat about books and work and indulge in some light gossip. 

By and by, my daughter's morning voice calls me, "amma-a" and I get my morning hug and cuddle. She is content to look at the world from my arms for the moment. I am content to have her there. And there is the sweet promise of the morrow bringing her father back into town with it. "Appa vanthu", as my daughter said today in anticipation of being with him.

Despite all that we make of it, life persists in being a blessing. All it needs is this perfect moment.