Come Dance With Me

“Every child has known God,
Not the God of names,
Not the God of don’ts,
Not the God who ever does Anything weird,
But the God who knows only four words.
And keeps repeating them, saying:
“Come Dance with Me , come dance.”

                                       – Hafez

Let me share a very little, teeny tiny story with you. It is about a very devout Indian princess named Meera Bai (that’s her in the painting). She had accepted Lord as her husband and dear friend for her life and for the time after that.  There are many interesting incidents about how she defied all the decorum expected of a princess and sang and danced in public temples to please her Lord. She was forced to drink poison and when the poison touched her lips, it turned to nectar because she loved the Lord and the Lord loved her.

The biggest question that rises here is, does faith really have that kind of power that will make miracles happen? My grandma once told me that faith is stepping on the first step even when you can’t see rest of the staircase. A second question raises its head here. Are we capable of having faith? Are we capable of holding the love and belief for something, anything like the good in this world, a promise from a loved one, in love itself and hold it within us as a beacon of light so that it would illuminate the way when we step face first into the dark alleys of life?

Scientific studies say that the way faith really works is by boosting our self confidence enough to enable us to work wonders for ourselves. Whatever it is, I have always thought that all the magic and miracles of the world lie within us, for I believe that we are like small specs of divine power, so if not in anything else, can we just put our faith in ourselves and dance to our own melody? Cause if you think that life has no background music, listen closely, your heart taps out your tune every single day.

I Am

I am a traveler and I love this journey.

I am a student and I live this lesson.

I am a dreamer and this dream is beautiful.

I am a painter and I will create this masterpiece.

I am an actor and I will play my role.

I am Fire and so I will give Warmth.

I am Earth and so I will Nurture.

I am Air and so I will Lift.

I am Water and so I will Quench.

I am a Star and so I will Shine.

I am Divine.

I am Me. 

I Am Responsible

Look what I found on the internet the other day. Ladies, I say we must all read this, listen to this if we can’t read it, but somehow imbibe ourselves with this powerful message. It worked up a little fire in me yet again. I hope it touches you the same way!

“Responsibility to yourself means refusing to let others do your thinking, talking, and naming for you…it means that you do not treat your body as a commodity with which to purchase superficial intimacy or economic security; for our bodies to be treated as objects, our minds are in mortal danger. It means insisting that those to whom you give your friendship and love are able to respect your mind. It means being able to say, with Charlotte Bronte’s Jane Eyre: “I have an inward treasure born with me, which can keep me alive if all the extraneous delights should be withheld or offered only at a price I cannot afford to give.

Responsibility to yourself means that you don’t fall for shallow and easy solutions–predigested books and ideas…marrying early as an escape from real decisions, getting pregnant as an evasion of already existing problems. It means that you refuse to sell your talents and aspirations short…and this, in turn, means resisting the forces in society which say that women should be nice, play safe, have low professional expectations, drown in love and forget about work, live through others, and stay in the places assigned to us. It means that we insist on a life of meaningful work, insist that work be as meaningful as love and friendship in our lives. It means, therefore, the courage to be “different”…The difference between a life lived actively, and a life of passive drifting and dispersal of energies, is an immense difference. Once we begin to feel committed to our lives, responsible to ourselves, we can never again be satisfied with the old, passive way.

 

“I have come to accept the feeling of not knowing where I am going. And I have trained myself to love it. Because it is only when we are suspended in mid-air with no landing in sight, that we force our wings to unravel and alas begin our flight. And as we fly, we still may not know where we are going to. But the miracle is in the unfolding of the wings. You may not know where you’re going, but you know that so long as you spread your wings, the winds will carry you.” 

– C. Joybell C.

My Gift

A friend asked me yesterday: “What do you do best?” A thousand things popped up in my mind ranging from marketing to humanities research to cooking, but as soon as I uttered one of these, he just stopped me and said, no this is not the answer. Deep down, in your heart, you know there are so many people who can do all of these better than you. Tell me something that only you and you alone do with such excellence that few can say they stand a chance in comparison. And so, in the blink of an eye, the answer came to me. The best I do is to tell tales.

So simple. My gift is so simple. All I can do is tell you a tale and that is where it seems to end, but it doesn’t. I don’t know how that tale would enter your mind, what ways it would affect you in and what you might do after you listen to it. Who knows what it shifts within you and what you become thereafter? I may tell a tale that takes up residence in someone’s soul, becomes their blood and self and purpose. That tale will move them and drive them and who knows what they might do because of it, because of my words. That is my role, my gift.

So, I ask you now, “What is it that YOU do best, where most will fade in comparison to you?” Find the answer, embrace it afterwards because in the tapestry that is the world, this is what you are truly meant to do.

Crown

“I ask not for any crown
But that which all may win;
Nor try to conquer any world
Except the one within.”

-Louisa May Alcott

Becoming a Story

You are the hero/heroine of your life, it is your story, so why should others hold the pen. Snatch back that pen. Go on, write your story yourself, because nobody else can tell it better than you.  People just know your name, well most of them actually don’t know much about you, but they assume and they think they have figured you out. Show them that they know zilch about you, they don’t know your story. Your past is not your story, your appearance is not your story. Your story is cradled in your heart, that saga which you wish others would know and you don’t know how to tell them. Write it down somewhere, anywhere. Preserve it. All the petty drama, all the nuisance of the daily jingle doesn’t matter. You are above it. You are larger than this. 

Then take action. Once you decide how your story will end, strive to achieve that ending. Work for it. Push onward, make your life a story that everyone would read and draw inspiration from. You are a star in the making, so shine bright. Don’t compare yourself with others, don’t waste your time doing so. Your story will go at the pace you decide, at which you feel comfortable. Your life is not a race, it is your story. Be the poet and the poem. If you don’t find a muse, be your own muse. Don’t cry over instances that hurt you, smile and look forward because time is flowing that way, your story is going to happen that way. Don’t be sad when a chapter ends because there are many more to come.

Keep in mind, not all stories have happy endings, (although work wholeheartedly towards it)  but then be a memorable story, be an enchanting person, make this world beautiful by your presence.

Salt

In any case, Salt will guide you to the answer. Pick your path:
Sweat
Ocean
Tears

Tangled

“Maybe we’re all part of the same unconscious stew, dreaming the same dreams, hoping the same hopes, needing the same connection, trying to find it, missing, trying again—each of us playing our parts in the other’s plots, just one big ball of human yarn tangled up together. Maybe this is it.”
― Libba Bray

Ruled

Passion. It lies in all of us. Sleeping… waiting… and though unwanted, unbidden, it will stir… open its jaws and howl. It speaks to us… guides us. Passion rules us all. And we obey. What other choice do we have? Passion is the source of our finest moments. The joy of love… the clarity of hatred… the ecstasy of grief. It hurts sometimes more than we can bear. If we could live without passion, maybe we’d know some kind of peace. But we would be hollow. Empty rooms, shuttered and dank. Without passion, we’d be truly dead.

With Love, From Time

The clock hands were running

in a perfect circle and

a little girl slept soundly 

in a cocoon of warmth.

 

Opening a magical door,

in stepped a lady divine 

who watches over all, the

clocks- her minions in disguise.

She kept a present by her side;

majestic in its glory and then

vanished in the blink of an eye.

 

The girl, delighted to see a

present shining in the sunlight,

tore open the wrapping and 

found inside: a page left 

blank and a note that said:

With Love, From Time.