Woke up today, all charged up.
It was a holiday, and there were a lot of things I had to do for school, but more importantly, a lot of things I wanted to do for school.
Saw the two 911’s parked on my desk, and remembered these words:
“In the beginning, I looked around, but couldn’t find the car I dreamt of. So, I built it myself“.
Isn’t that what we need to do with ourselves and our surroundings?
Wildflowers by the roadside,
Along cycling paths,
Lining the winding roads of memory..
“If what I say resonates with you, it is merely because we are both branches on the same tree.”
“Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.”
Have seen a bit of rainfall here, and the almost instant sprouting of fresh leaves, tiny shoots and fresh grass which followed is nothing short of magical. Am missing some of the trees of Bangalore, those faithful friends of mine who waved when I saw them, who guarded the roads on both sides, who celebrated each season differently, who towered mightily and yet humbly, and who literally breathed life into me..
Ever since we joined in our new roles as teachers last month, I’ve been getting a bit more time to read and ponder about the utterly magnificent dohas of Kabir. It helps to have a colleague who has been listening, reading and pondering on these beautiful and deep lines written hundreds of years ago, and recently I came across these two lines, which have made an imprint on my muddy mind’s surface.
What these lines say, translated as best as I can, is:
The clay tells the sculptor “what! You will beat and pat and trample me? There will be a time when I will do the same to you”.