Apr 7, 2016 Daily Life, Ramblings and Musings
What I’m Reading Right Now …
©April 7th, 2016
By Vijaya Sundaram
I’ve been reading “Strangers Drowning” by Larissa MacFarquhar, and it’s deeply moving, deeply unsettling, deeply inspiring. After I read about people like Dorothy Granada, Aaron Pitkin, Peter Singer, Julia Wise, Baba (no last name) and Ittetsu Nemoto, I feel unbearably selfish in my life. I’ve always thought about how someone like Gandhi, who stared down the British and made them quit India, sacrificed the happiness of his family, and could justify having one at all, if he gave it all to others. I think about people like Paul Farmer, one of my heroes, who co-founded Partners in Health, along with Ophelia Dahl, Jim Yong Kim, Thomas J. White and Todd McCormack. Or, people like Anuradha Koirala, who has saved 50,000 lives from human trafficking, and does nothing but work to better the cause of downtrodden women. I think about all those who gave unstintingly of their time, their energy, their passion and their lives, and it gives me pause.
Being a teacher was a tiny bit like that (except that I got paid for it). I did it for seventeen years. Each year, teaching pulled me more and more into the crazy ethos of school, which sucks the life out of you, and can take blood from a stone – yes, yes, you get a lot back, but at what cost? It took me away imperceptibly from my time with my husband, from music, from being a writer and singer. Then, I had my daughter, and I took back the extra time I put into school, and poured it into her, seven waking hours, and all night. I gave her everything I had. As she grew older, more independent, I put more time back into school. I still did a lot with her (viz., playing with her, reading to her, singing, taking her to parks, museums, the zoo, the Aquarium, and other places, and homeschooling her when I came home. My husband did the morning and early afternoon homeschooling work with her). The problem was that I wanted it all: Have my time with my family, plan lessons, keep my classroom neat, colorful, operational and inspiring, grade papers thoughtfully, attend meetings and conferences, and set up, plus update my webpage for school. It all became too much.
And though with each year, our daughter became a lot more independent, and we acted more as on-hand resources, we still put in a lot of time. My husband and I were both exhausted. My teaching job was the elephant in the room when I was at home. While I loved teaching, and had a very good reputation as a creative and qualified teacher, I did not fit into the competitive and increasingly test-oriented, grade-oriented, rigidly controlled structure of school, which seemed more and more about structure than creativity and exploration. Added to which, I was always the “oddball,” the “weird, creative one.” So, what was keeping me there, a brown person among mostly uncomprehending (and sometimes overtly disapproving ) suburban white colleagues, many of whom regarded me as some sort of aberrant entity, but a well-qualified hippie teacher? A sense of duty? To whom? Why? Money? Well, yes, I could use the money – but not at the cost of personal happiness. I was suffering. I was drowning among strangers (to borrow some shadow of the title of the book I mentioned earlier).
It was time to pull out of school. So, I did.
And it’s SO much nicer now! I have time with my family. I’m singing again, writing, reading, keeping house, and more. I am around as a full-time homeschooling parent, and still have time to be by myself. Yes, I still want to do work to improve the lives of others. I’ve begun to do a little activism. I want to help women in shelters, but am letting this year of freedom-from-teaching help me recover my old Self. I want to do Black Lives Matter work, do Climate Activism, help the homeless. I have all these goals I want to pursue AND write books, sing songs, perform Indian music, be with my family, take care of my loved ones. I want to help teach poetry and writing in prisons, but I worry that I might get sucked into doing more and more, and I don’t want to give more than I can. That’s because I want to make a little fortress around me and mine, and protect and guard my family’s own peace. Is that bad?
I think if EVERYONE did something for others, but reserved some for themselves, their families, their friends, then, we COULD make the sum total of happiness increase in the world, and we would still be happy, in ourselves, for ourselves.
That’s my conclusion, and I’m sticking with it.
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Tags: #Activism, #Anuradha Koirala, #Homeschooling, #Mahatma Gandhi, #Ophelia Dahl, #Paul Farmer, #Reconciling selfishness with altruism, #Teaching, #WorkingforOthers'Happiness
Apr 7, 2016 Original Poetry, The Daily Post
After reading Edward Hirsch‘s explanation of the Verbless Poem, I decided to try one, and combined it with The Daily Post’s Daily Prompt for today: Tricky
Twisted Vignettes – A Verbless Poem
©April 7th, 2016
By Vijaya Sundaram
Twisted, broken, aging oaken branch,
Shining drops of rain on arching trees,
Solitary girl in dripping dress,
Tricky, yes, but also broken-hearted,
Hood-hidden, her thirsting face, so pale.
Man so crafty, and so full of guile,
Undone at a glimpse of homeless child.
Such innocence beneath his grimy skin!
And heretofore empty, his aching heart,
Quite tearful, humbled, hurting, all absolved.
Hair so snarled and curled and hands so gnarled,
And eyes so guarded, full with deep intent,
Young and old, all full of fell purpose,
People all afloat in misty air.
Lips a-twisted – cruel, trickster world!
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Tags: #EdwardHirsch, #OriginalPoetrybyVijayaSundaram, #The Daily Prompt, #TheDailyPost, #VerblessPoem, #VignettesofTheReal
Apr 7, 2016 NaPoWriMo, Original Poetry
Life and Death, and Silence and Sound (A Tritina)
©April 7th, 2016
By Vijaya Sundaram
The thrilling rain fills the air with sweet sound
Birds trill their joy aloud, and the soil sings
So, why do I feel so lost and alone?
For you are gone, and it’s the sky alone
Which feels my pain, the emptiness unsound,
Uncertain, and afloat – who’s that who sings?
Not I, but ’tis the grief of loss that sings
As I walk, silent, heart-broken, alone.
For with your death, my silence replaced sound
So all alone, Life sings, without a sound.
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P.S. I am SO happy, because I overcame my block against anything that resembled a sestina today (and it wasn’t too hard)! I guess I’m going to have to do a real sestina now, and next, I’ll tackle a Villanelle!
YES!
Today’s prompt from NaPoWriMo:
Our (optional) prompt for Day Seven comes to us from Gloria Gonsalves, who challenges us all to write a tritina. The tritina is a shorter cousin to the sestina, involving three, three-line stanzas, and a final concluding line. Three “end words” are used to conclude the lines of each stanza, in a set pattern of ABC, CAB, BCA, and all three end words appear together in the final line.
Tags: #LifeAndDeath, #OriginalPoetrybyVijayaSundaram, #Sestina-related, #Tritina
Apr 7, 2016 The Daily Post
In response to The Daily Post’s Daily Prompt: Clarity
Clarity: Seeking You
©April 7th, 2016
By Vijaya Sundaram
When things are clear, oh Lady, dear
It’s easy to advise
But when the storms are brewing,
I’d like to stay inside.
I know it doesn’t help to hide,
It doesn’t help to fight
it doesn’t help us do a thing
It doesn’t win us rights.
My mind is trapped, my feet are sore
My body’s feeling stuck
My head is clouded, and I feel
I’m rooted in a rut.
When things are clear, and clean, and nice,
And muddy depths stay put
I think of things I’ve not seen yet
And then I think of you.
I know you live somewhere
As far away from me
As I from you; we’ll never meet
– I see you in my dreams.
Your beauty’s past compare, and I
See wrinkles growing brighter
And when the sun catches your eyes,
I laugh in pure delight.
I see a mind that’s strong and pure
A mind that’s not bestirred
To think on this and that all day
Instead, you think of work.
I see a mind whose strength is as
The strength of hundred men
You never lost your faith in one
Who lives in us or them.
You brought the water from the pond
You birthed babies well
You made the food, and fetched the wood
And dreamed of naught at all.
I recalled you when, one day I
Stood looking skywards
I saw the moon smile down on me
And mirrored you, from far.
Wanderlust possessed me, and I
Yearned to leave this world
And wander, bare-footed and poor
I wished for things that were.
And if I find you, I would ask
If you would travel far
And if you shake your head, I’d say
“Let’s find each other’s Earth.”
My mind is clear with you right here
My memory is bright.
If anger clouds my vision, I shall
Place it in the light.
If sorrow clouds my vision, I shall
Stir the waters deep
Then, let things settle down before
I head right on to sleep.
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P.S. I began with just rhythm and meter in mind, but decided to let the half-rhymes and near-rhymes, then finally, a few real- rhymes emerge.
Tags: #Clarity, #Daily Prompt, #RamblingPoemWritten at 3:00 a.m., #TheDailyPost
Apr 7, 2016 Original Poetry, The Daily Post
In response to The Daily Post’s Daily Prompt: Handwriting
Handwriting – A Lament
©April 7th, 2016
By Vijaya Sundaram
My handwriting goes raggle-tag
And off the page, and in a rage
It stomps around, then takes a rest
(‘Tis time to leave the stage).
My handwriting is small and neat,
But then, quite suddenly
It rears and dances on two feet
(Capricious as a bear.)
If we were judged by one and all
For how we write, or wrote
I’d be the one who’s first to fall
(And sink, without a boat).
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Tags: #Handwriting, #OriginalPoetrybyVijayaSundaram, #The Daily Prompt, #TheDailyPost
Apr 7, 2016 NaPoWriMo, Original Poetry, The Daily Post
In response to The Daily Post‘s Daily Prompt: Faraway
Faraway: A Mirrored Fib
©April 6th, 2016
By Vijaya Sundaram
It’s
A
Distant
Faraway
Place, where I come from –
And that’s where I am headed to.
It doesn’t matter if I slip, or fall, or if I’m
Crushed, or hurt, or if I disappear into thin air
I’m still going there, yes, I am
For, along the way,
I shall find
My old,
True
Self.
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P.S. So, this is the first time I’m writing a “Fib Poem” – I’ve seen these cropping up everywhere on WP recently, and thought I’d give it a shot. However, just to make things a little more interesting, i thought I’d reverse the order after I reached 13 syllables (7th line), hence the “Mirrored Fib.”
Here’s some more information about Fib Poems, or poems based on the Fibonacci series.
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Submitting to The Daily Post, and to NaPoWriMo
Tags: #Daily Prompt, #Faraway, #Fib Poem, #OriginalPoetrybyVijayaSundaram, #TheDailyPost
Apr 7, 2016 NaPoWriMo, Original Poetry, Uncategorized
Fruit – A Poem about Mad Desire
©April 6th, 2016
By Vijaya Sundaram
What draws me isn’t just the actual fruit
You understand.
No, it’s the thought of fruit,
Its connotation, its symbolism
Its scents twining their arms about me,
Its hidden erotic profiles.
What draws me is all that is around it.
Yes, it’s the nature of fruit
To entice, to shame, to delight
To condone, to console, to
Stimulate, to make one swoon
With desire and dreaming-want.
What draws me is the symmetry
The perfection of an apple, where
Enticement and danger embrace,
And a sorry knowledge comes
With every bite – the knowledge
That this too, will end.
It’s the clustering of grapes
The mad, symmetric glistening
Globes of tight flesh encased in
Purple, or green, or red skin
That draws me in, like a humming
Bee which, though sated with juice
And nectar, and sunlight and pleasure,
Still gets pulled in by mere desire.
Its the bright, cheerful sunlit
Blips of orange packed so tightly
Into a globe, surrounded by an
Unwelcoming, reluctant, tangy
Skin, dissuading mere temporaries
From opening up its secrets.
Those are for me, only me.
And figs so purple-achy, and melons so round,
And dates, dense with brown sweetness
And jackfruit poky outside, succulent within,
And Indian jamuns, so tart and violet
And peaches, squishy and laden with juice
And plums the same, but deeper, darker,
And clementines, flirty sun-cousins to oranges,
And green, uncertain pears, both raw and ripe,
And summer berries and fall berries,
Red and blue, and crimson in hue,
Full of nectar, full of welcoming.
And every fruit that ever guarded
Its progeny jealously, possessively,
Yields up its secrets to me,
The lover at the heart of it all.
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From the prompt for NaPoWriMo Day 6:
Today, I challenge you to write a poem about food. This could be a poem about a particular food, or about your relationship to food in general. Or it could simply be a poem relating an incident that involves food …
Tags: #FoodPoem, #FruitPoem, #OriginalPoetrybyVijayaSundaram