The oil from this lamp, it is fading
And i know that the darkness surrounds
I've been keeping it safe for the burning
But the flame has been burning me down
Come and catch one more glimpse at the sweetest of flames
Come and see all your eyes have to see
One day soon i'll be gone like the ending of day
One day soon dawns the ending of me
I am good. I am great. I am someone indeed.
Magnificent, please come and see. Let me
live let me live off the offerings you give
to the warm hearted image of me.
I am dark. I am gross. I am evil indeed.
I am bad to the bone. Come and see. Let me breathe,
im in need of your harshest of words, of your
violent perceptions of me.
The oil from this lamp, it is fading
And i fear the darkness surrounds
Whatever my thoughts are about me,
this flame has been burning them down.
Come and save one more spark from this fire
Come and see me for all I can be;
I'm afraid, my dear love, of being one with this space,
with the emptiness inside of me.
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
On Meeting
Night makes the stars seem bright. Clouds may cover the mystery, but nothing is hidden from the great expanse. Kajol eyes tell a story, half hidden by doubting glances. Still nothing is unseen to the one who loves completely.
There is a resonance deep within. There is a subtle space of perfect union. There is freedom not yet known to the senses. But Oh, lets not go there. Its too risky. What if??? Lets stay here in this colorful illsuion for a while. Lets tease each other with our careless words. Lets play some more with thoughts and ideas and neglect. Lets add more mass to a massive mind while we forget our inner sky.
A lifetime, maybe two or three. Who knows?? Although separation means suffering, although heads may clash and these narrow walls get closer; still there is some meaning in frivolous occupation. But is there? I dont know, sometimes the mind seems so content with artifacts and ornaments of yesterday; it will so readily exchange the now for yesterdays longing and tomorrows fear.
Never here. Never now. Like a withered old man with inflated memories and the crippling thought of impending death.
There is a resonance deep within. There is a subtle space of perfect union. There is freedom not yet known to the senses. But Oh, lets not go there. Its too risky. What if??? Lets stay here in this colorful illsuion for a while. Lets tease each other with our careless words. Lets play some more with thoughts and ideas and neglect. Lets add more mass to a massive mind while we forget our inner sky.
A lifetime, maybe two or three. Who knows?? Although separation means suffering, although heads may clash and these narrow walls get closer; still there is some meaning in frivolous occupation. But is there? I dont know, sometimes the mind seems so content with artifacts and ornaments of yesterday; it will so readily exchange the now for yesterdays longing and tomorrows fear.
Never here. Never now. Like a withered old man with inflated memories and the crippling thought of impending death.
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Sunday, January 10, 2010
The way of seeing (part 1)
"Art is the way of seeing." The silence became louder as this truth resounded in the space between us. Two Beings joined together by this simple joy. I knew this encounter would change something in me forever......
The time was 11:30am. I did not know this then, but next few hours would leave a lasting imprint on me forever. Two exhibitions were being held concurrently. The Nepal-Korea art exhibition and a painting exhibition on Emotion. The Nepal-Korea exhibition included:
A sketch art exhibition by artist Kim, Jae Un:
A natural dye exhibition by Jeon Hee Kwan entitled "Karma":
Last was an exhibition by Lee Gyeong Hyeong entitled "Plastic Cocoon":
I met both artists Lee Gyeong hyeong and Jeon Hee Kwan and was touched by their humility and their love and passion for people. It was a blessed encounter.
I left the exhibition feeling energized and walked down the dimly lit corridor into a room on the left. There was an exhibition on emotions:
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Friday, January 8, 2010
Thangka Painting at Yellow Monastery - Swayambhu
Today i took a bus to Swayambhunath. It was my first time there. Swayambhunath is one of the three main Stupas in the Kathmandu valley area, the other two being Boudhanath (the area where i am staying) and Namabudha. I normally would take my time in a new environment. I would stop, take things slow, watch the local people and the activities surrounding the attraction.
It had been a while since i had painted on scaffolding but after a few minutes i was into the full swing of things and having fun. Let me tell you something, the most fun times i have had in Nepal so far have been with the monks. They will leave you in stitches in a matter of minutes. We knocked off at 5pm and took a walk down to town to catch some dinner and a few more laughs. I ride with Tenzin back into Boudha. Tenzin seems like a good guy. Will be hanging out some more.
Here are more pics: http://picasaweb.google.com/vishalinv/SwayambhuYellowMonasteryPainting?feat=directlink
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Friday, December 25, 2009
Some lessons i am learning
I walked down the same path today. Today the people looked a little different to me. Warm, welcoming faces in contrast to the cold around us. Its getting cooler here in Boudha these days. I keep saying to myself i need to buy a jacket but something keeps preventing me. The jackets are nice here, padded jackets either with down fill or synthetic. Warm fur on the inside and a weather repellant synthetic fiber on the outside. When you put one of these on you look puffed up like a marshmallow. Sometimes i laugh to myself and try to imagine this pathway with a whole lot of marshmallows walking up and down it. But the jackets are warm. :)
I met a familiar face today. We had met before, we exchanged pleasant conversation twice before. He works at a coffee shop along the path called the dream factory. While talking, i shivered with the cold. Immediately he asked me if i had a jacket. I replied "no but i intend to get one." Hold on he said. He leaves and returns a few minutes later with a jacket in hand. a NICE ONE with fur on the inside, fashionable and oh so warm. He says to me: "take this, you can have it." Such kindness. My heart is overflowing as i write this. So cold. So cold on the outside. Afraid of the warmth yet still longing for it. Afraid to truly connect, this old soul.....so cold. A man who earns less in a year than i would in a week hands me his jacket and my heart melts. No expectation. Just kindness. I didn’t even know his name. He knew that. "Here take this, you can have it." He pours me a cup of warm milk tea and excuses himself as he had chores to fulfill.
Now i am left with a nice warm jacket and a big debt to pay. My heart has been opened by this gift of love. Its not the jacket its the gesture. He gave me himself. His Being. His nature. You have to become really vulnerable in order to give like that, especially when your giving causes you pain. You have to become really vulnerable in order to truly see the gift and to receive it. I have missed this so many times. Now there is so much i can give here. There are so many here who are in need. True need. Not for luxuries or niceties but for food, warm clothes and a place to shelter from the weather.
There is a lady who sits outside a monastery in Boudha. She sits and asks for money. What she really wants is time. I did not see this at first. She speaks Nepali. I cannot understand most of what she says. It does not matter. I would pass her by every morning. I would place some money on her cloth. She would see me, but i would not see her. I refused to. I preferred the disconnect. A wrestless contentment. One day, i saw her with a little boy. He looked really sick. His eyes kept drifting off. I saw the look on her face and knew then that this was her son. I saw some other ladies, who would also ask for money, come by to help. The boy looked like he was going to die. My heart was moved, but i felt a little helpless. I just stood afar and watched as she put the boy on her back. (He must have been around 10 years of age) and walked away in desperation.
My heart sank. I went into the monastery and could not focus on my art classes that day. All i could think about was the boy. I came by the next day feeling really sorrowful and desperate. I felt like this lady belonged to me. That her son did as well. I felt sorrow for my inaction. I just wanted to see her there. I wanted to see her smile as she usually did. I wanted to know that everything was okay. But she wasn’t there. There was just an empty space. I was so sad. I went back home and asked for another chance. Two days later i saw her there. Her son was there as well. He looked healthy. This time i did not pass her. This time i sat down, and smiled.
We are now friends. The lady, her son and myself. We do things together. Her son and i. We share. He speaks my language so well. Once i rushed past her. Once, i was so busy. I thought that she wanted my money. I placed it on her cloth with haste and as i did, i looked at the hurt expression on her face. I betrayed her. I betrayed myself. I betrayed the true meaning of our relationship. Now, whenever i see her, she asks me to sit down and i do. She blesses me. She does not expect money. Sometimes i give, sometimes i don’t. Its a nice feeling to feel connected like this.
There is a man here who gave me his guitar to use for my duration of stay here. There is a boy who gave me his portable hard drive, there are two teachers who give me their time without expectation of pay. I get chai everytime i sit down at a family restaurant here. Sometimes they dont accept my money. They smile and say see you tomorrow. I cannot begin to understand where this comes from. I feel so indebted to all. I am so grateful. I am grateful to the man who gave me a jacket for the cold. I am grateful to the lady who gave me her loving kindness. I am grateful for the guitar, for the teachings, for the food, for the warmth, for the time that people take to show me love. The more i spend time with people here, i realise how far i am from the truth of human existence. I realise that I have made people, life and things a prop for my selfish existence. I realise slowly that things are just an excuse for hearts to get closer. Money and things are a mere excuse for souls to unite. This is the goal. If we lose sight of this then there is only emptiness in the exchange.
I have read these words by Kahlil Gibran so many times before but am only begining to understand it now because of the kindness of the people here in Boudha: http://www.katsandogz.com/ongiving.html
I met a familiar face today. We had met before, we exchanged pleasant conversation twice before. He works at a coffee shop along the path called the dream factory. While talking, i shivered with the cold. Immediately he asked me if i had a jacket. I replied "no but i intend to get one." Hold on he said. He leaves and returns a few minutes later with a jacket in hand. a NICE ONE with fur on the inside, fashionable and oh so warm. He says to me: "take this, you can have it." Such kindness. My heart is overflowing as i write this. So cold. So cold on the outside. Afraid of the warmth yet still longing for it. Afraid to truly connect, this old soul.....so cold. A man who earns less in a year than i would in a week hands me his jacket and my heart melts. No expectation. Just kindness. I didn’t even know his name. He knew that. "Here take this, you can have it." He pours me a cup of warm milk tea and excuses himself as he had chores to fulfill.
Now i am left with a nice warm jacket and a big debt to pay. My heart has been opened by this gift of love. Its not the jacket its the gesture. He gave me himself. His Being. His nature. You have to become really vulnerable in order to give like that, especially when your giving causes you pain. You have to become really vulnerable in order to truly see the gift and to receive it. I have missed this so many times. Now there is so much i can give here. There are so many here who are in need. True need. Not for luxuries or niceties but for food, warm clothes and a place to shelter from the weather.
There is a lady who sits outside a monastery in Boudha. She sits and asks for money. What she really wants is time. I did not see this at first. She speaks Nepali. I cannot understand most of what she says. It does not matter. I would pass her by every morning. I would place some money on her cloth. She would see me, but i would not see her. I refused to. I preferred the disconnect. A wrestless contentment. One day, i saw her with a little boy. He looked really sick. His eyes kept drifting off. I saw the look on her face and knew then that this was her son. I saw some other ladies, who would also ask for money, come by to help. The boy looked like he was going to die. My heart was moved, but i felt a little helpless. I just stood afar and watched as she put the boy on her back. (He must have been around 10 years of age) and walked away in desperation.
My heart sank. I went into the monastery and could not focus on my art classes that day. All i could think about was the boy. I came by the next day feeling really sorrowful and desperate. I felt like this lady belonged to me. That her son did as well. I felt sorrow for my inaction. I just wanted to see her there. I wanted to see her smile as she usually did. I wanted to know that everything was okay. But she wasn’t there. There was just an empty space. I was so sad. I went back home and asked for another chance. Two days later i saw her there. Her son was there as well. He looked healthy. This time i did not pass her. This time i sat down, and smiled.
We are now friends. The lady, her son and myself. We do things together. Her son and i. We share. He speaks my language so well. Once i rushed past her. Once, i was so busy. I thought that she wanted my money. I placed it on her cloth with haste and as i did, i looked at the hurt expression on her face. I betrayed her. I betrayed myself. I betrayed the true meaning of our relationship. Now, whenever i see her, she asks me to sit down and i do. She blesses me. She does not expect money. Sometimes i give, sometimes i don’t. Its a nice feeling to feel connected like this.
There is a man here who gave me his guitar to use for my duration of stay here. There is a boy who gave me his portable hard drive, there are two teachers who give me their time without expectation of pay. I get chai everytime i sit down at a family restaurant here. Sometimes they dont accept my money. They smile and say see you tomorrow. I cannot begin to understand where this comes from. I feel so indebted to all. I am so grateful. I am grateful to the man who gave me a jacket for the cold. I am grateful to the lady who gave me her loving kindness. I am grateful for the guitar, for the teachings, for the food, for the warmth, for the time that people take to show me love. The more i spend time with people here, i realise how far i am from the truth of human existence. I realise that I have made people, life and things a prop for my selfish existence. I realise slowly that things are just an excuse for hearts to get closer. Money and things are a mere excuse for souls to unite. This is the goal. If we lose sight of this then there is only emptiness in the exchange.
I have read these words by Kahlil Gibran so many times before but am only begining to understand it now because of the kindness of the people here in Boudha: http://www.katsandogz.com/ongiving.html
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Tuesday, December 15, 2009
An email to Kindness
| hide details Sep 15 | ||||||||||||||||||||||||
Hello my love
This is great news. You have been a testimony of love, patience and perseverance. I have been thinking of you a lot Aminia. You would really love it here. I have had so many adventures already that it will take a long time to start putting them on the blog (i am determined to do so and will however :)
I have met some very special beings, the likes of which i have never met before. I have been in the presence of those who have transcended ego and they have welcomed me with love. I have looked into the eyes of those in whom the entire universe seems to exist and have been drawn to tears by loves pure gaze. I have walked at least 19km of mountains through glaciers to the source: the glacier where Ganga is born. I have followed my heart through passes into villages where i have been welcomed as god. I have made family and friends there. I have communicated with so few words and am learning how to communicate with heart. Kindness is born here. Love in the expression of kindness is the language of the villagers. I have stayed at an ashram where people from all over the world meet from different walks of life to do intense yoga, sadhana and chanting at least twice a day. These things have an ability to change ones constitution. I am hoping i would be the better for it. I have meditated in a hall with the most revered sadhus and rishis in the north districts. I was the only non-renunciate there. I have done a course on Ayurvedic massasge and Abhyanga and have been giving massages at the ashram in Rishikesh. :) (practice makes perfect)
I have been drinking the local water. Eating the local food. Playing in the mud. dancing in the rain. laughing with the children. prostrating on the roadside in front of murtis and idols. teasing the cows. laughing with the beggars. swimming in the ganges. walking barefoot. picking flowers. meditating with rishis. I have not been sick to date (touch wood). this feels like home.
I will be staying longer. (i dont know how much longer) Then i will be off to nepal. I was at an orphanage in Rishikesh called Ramanas kids. And it has blown me away. i have made some good friends there and would like to be further involved. i have too many things to share.
I miss you very much. I miss my family as well. lots of things have been surfacing here that have needed my attention for some time now but i have been unaware of. India has been healing me to date. i am very grateful. To divine Mother in all her love and mercy. My hope is that Vishalin continues to dissintegrate and dissolve like the incense until all that is left is a sweet aroma for humanity. Please pray for this.
Namaskar
love and light
Vishalin
This is great news. You have been a testimony of love, patience and perseverance. I have been thinking of you a lot Aminia. You would really love it here. I have had so many adventures already that it will take a long time to start putting them on the blog (i am determined to do so and will however :)
I have met some very special beings, the likes of which i have never met before. I have been in the presence of those who have transcended ego and they have welcomed me with love. I have looked into the eyes of those in whom the entire universe seems to exist and have been drawn to tears by loves pure gaze. I have walked at least 19km of mountains through glaciers to the source: the glacier where Ganga is born. I have followed my heart through passes into villages where i have been welcomed as god. I have made family and friends there. I have communicated with so few words and am learning how to communicate with heart. Kindness is born here. Love in the expression of kindness is the language of the villagers. I have stayed at an ashram where people from all over the world meet from different walks of life to do intense yoga, sadhana and chanting at least twice a day. These things have an ability to change ones constitution. I am hoping i would be the better for it. I have meditated in a hall with the most revered sadhus and rishis in the north districts. I was the only non-renunciate there. I have done a course on Ayurvedic massasge and Abhyanga and have been giving massages at the ashram in Rishikesh. :) (practice makes perfect)
I have been drinking the local water. Eating the local food. Playing in the mud. dancing in the rain. laughing with the children. prostrating on the roadside in front of murtis and idols. teasing the cows. laughing with the beggars. swimming in the ganges. walking barefoot. picking flowers. meditating with rishis. I have not been sick to date (touch wood). this feels like home.
I will be staying longer. (i dont know how much longer) Then i will be off to nepal. I was at an orphanage in Rishikesh called Ramanas kids. And it has blown me away. i have made some good friends there and would like to be further involved. i have too many things to share.
I miss you very much. I miss my family as well. lots of things have been surfacing here that have needed my attention for some time now but i have been unaware of. India has been healing me to date. i am very grateful. To divine Mother in all her love and mercy. My hope is that Vishalin continues to dissintegrate and dissolve like the incense until all that is left is a sweet aroma for humanity. Please pray for this.
Namaskar
love and light
Vishalin
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Thursday, December 10, 2009
Red Canvas
The moon it gives rise to the waters
and the sun it gives warmth to the sea
the stars they give weight to the moon and the sun
as all hearts are connected you see.
It’s the meaning of love to fulfill itself
It’s the purpose of heart to unite
It’s the freedom of life to rejoice in these bonds
Like the song of the day and the night
As the hues softly bleed on his canvas,
for the one that has chosen to stray
Tales once told, colors bold by eyes filled with youth,
eyes now old by the youth turned away.
And each moment a moment with meaning,
each laughter each song and each play
now these moments are gone and alone does he morn
for the ones, way too soon, gone their way
Bleeding canvases now tell a story
of a love painted luminous gold.
Of a depth that is truer than the bearers of brush
and a heart with its secret untold.
Careless minds wouldn’t see from the distance,
how the distance they brought took away
all the meaning of love, all the purpose of heart
all the song from the night and the day.
Alone have I walked in the forest,
alone have I swam in the sea,
alone I will leave to the furthest of shores,
yet somehow people tarry with me
I’ve learned of the art of detachment
Yet the heart of denial its new
so I’ll sit and I’ll listen while these canvases bleed
as I learn this great mystery from you.
The moon it gives rise to the waters
and the sun it gives warmth to the sea
the stars they give weight to the moon and the sun
Perhaps one day soon we'll all see.
and the sun it gives warmth to the sea
the stars they give weight to the moon and the sun
as all hearts are connected you see.
It’s the meaning of love to fulfill itself
It’s the purpose of heart to unite
It’s the freedom of life to rejoice in these bonds
Like the song of the day and the night
As the hues softly bleed on his canvas,
for the one that has chosen to stray
Tales once told, colors bold by eyes filled with youth,
eyes now old by the youth turned away.
And each moment a moment with meaning,
each laughter each song and each play
now these moments are gone and alone does he morn
for the ones, way too soon, gone their way
Bleeding canvases now tell a story
of a love painted luminous gold.
Of a depth that is truer than the bearers of brush
and a heart with its secret untold.
Careless minds wouldn’t see from the distance,
how the distance they brought took away
all the meaning of love, all the purpose of heart
all the song from the night and the day.
Alone have I walked in the forest,
alone have I swam in the sea,
alone I will leave to the furthest of shores,
yet somehow people tarry with me
I’ve learned of the art of detachment
Yet the heart of denial its new
so I’ll sit and I’ll listen while these canvases bleed
as I learn this great mystery from you.
The moon it gives rise to the waters
and the sun it gives warmth to the sea
the stars they give weight to the moon and the sun
Perhaps one day soon we'll all see.
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Thursday, December 3, 2009
Water
This space was made for you.
I'm here now. I will wait for you.And while i do, I'll rest here in the water.
There's a story i would like to share with you.
It may tear your heart to pieces and shatter your dreams to dust.
It is a story without words. Will you listen?
There's a song i would like to sing to you
It may move your mind to magic and give wings to your weary soul.
It is a song without a tune. Will you hear?
Staring at a whirlpool of wonder
afraid to move, afraid to touch, afraid to feel.
History is blinding, memories aren't real.
I am here now. Give me your hand.
I am here now. With all that i am.
I will not drop you. I will not let you go
Come, find rest here in the water.
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Thursday, November 19, 2009
The gift of convenience
Do your eyes tell you the truth? Are you one with the masses: the terrifyingly pleasant, smiley faced, consumer eyed crowd that come and go? Its hard to tell for sure in this dim haze. These eyes long for the light, but closed they will remain, lest they be burned by a lie. Towering above me; standing there, making a shadow, even in my darkness.
You who found me here. What do you see?
Do you see another? What is it that is moving within your heart? Is it pity? Is it guilt? Is it sorrow? For whom? Will you choose again to be blind? You have come from the light have you not? Have the colourful hues blurred your vision like so many times before? I have been waiting here patiently for you in this dark place. Now you are here. By some fate. By some chance or fortune.
You who found me here. Who do you see?
Do you see another? Do not speak to me unless you truly know. This silence is too precious for empty words. Emotions have no say here. Do not wound me by inauthentic expression. If, in me, you see another, turn and go back into the crowd. It is not your time. Go back. Go back to the madding crowd. Go back to the expensive pashminas, the photos of shining pagodas, the Thangka paintings in your backpack that you scored for a penance with a conquering smile. Go back to the lie that satisfies your minds perpetual craving for happiness .
Go tell them about a poor homeless boy that moved you to tears. Tell them how touching this encounter was and what or how much you gave. Be grateful that you are not in his position. And then try to push away the sound of your bleeding heart, wounded by your minds refusal to truly see.
While you walk away from this moment, know this: I will still be waiting here for you patiently. One day you will return. One day you will surrender all the broken pieces of a life divided. One day you will sit here with me in this darkness and truly be at peace. On that day, I will open my eyes and i will see myself....... for the very first time. This is our destiny my beautiful, eternal soul
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Mandir Mein
A friend once asked me about a Shiva temple. If i was asked which would be the best Shiva temple to visit for some kind of enlightenment? I would say: The best one would be the one that exists in the heart. It may sound Pat and cliche but hear me out at least. In India and Nepal, I have seen some of the oldest Shiva temples in the world. One of them being Pashupatinath. In Pashupatinath you will see, at any given time, people coming to die in the temple, mothers coming with their new born babies, bodies being burned on pieces of wood, couples coming in for fertility ceremonies, business men coming in for financial blessings. There is death, life and everything in between, all of this can happen at once in the temple. There is chaos and wonder at any given time just like our lives. In the middle of it all is a black stone linga. Darkness. Nothingness. This is the presence of Shiva.
Here is a thought among the many that circulate and are equally true: The temple is our heart. The temple is life. In the middle of the temple is a darkness. From the darkness burns an eternal flame. Shiva means pure Bliss. Pure freedom from the trappings of manifest existence. Shiva is one without a second. One who is complete in the Self. It is better to visit the cave of ones heart where an eternal flame resides then all the temples in the world without meditating the implication. There is so much to talk about with regards to this. Shiva. Mandir. Self. What are your thoughts about it?
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