May 12, 2013 Awake in Real Time: Coffee-induced Meditations and Journal Entries, Reading, Writing, Thinking, Teaching and Learning
Meditations on Greatness and Ordinariness
©By Vijaya Sundaram
May 12, 2013
I’ve often wondered why people can exist in a kind of dumbstruck awe of those who have achieved greatness in a particular field.
I do not mean to imply that I don’t respect great people or am not in awe of their gifts, tenacity and devotion to their field. I do not mean that I find them puny or insignificant. Not at all! I admire them deeply, intensely, with great respect and open eyes and heart. I appreciate enormously the sacrifices they must have made and the strength of mind to keep at their art or science or any other field. I look at them, and see their greatness as part of the power which pours from an unseen source into their hearts, into their minds, the minds of those who are compelled to follow a dream. I love that, and wouldn’t mind some of that to spill over into me as well.
What I don’t understand is the slightly subservient attitude that is adopted by those who pay them tribute — or, maybe I mean something other than subservient. I’m referring to the slightly timid manner which people adopt in the face of greatness. I find it strange and slightly discomfiting.
Perhaps, I’m thinking that the possibility of greatness is in all those who seek passion and purpose in their own lives, along with tenacity and vision. And I am wondering why tenacity and vision, which should be everyday things, things of no great consequence, could be so extraordinary.
I know why — because they are extraordinary.
But they shouldn’t be!
I don’t wish to slavishly idolize those who possess creative greatness and heroic tenacity. I want to appreciate them with eyes wide open, and with a readiness to let them take me elsewhere, without giving up an iota of my own being. Surrender to greatness, without surrender of self.
Is that possible?
Therein lies the paradox of the attraction and repulsion that “great” people hold for me.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The End ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
(NOTE: I’ll probably write a longer meditation on this. This is all I am capable of for now — work awaits.)
Tags: #musing, greatness, Greatness and Ordinariness, surrender of ego, surrender of self, surrender to greatness
May 7, 2013 Awake in Real Time: Coffee-induced Meditations and Journal Entries, Reading, Writing, Thinking, Teaching and Learning
Ruminations
(Not too earth-shattering or terribly original, but what I thought of today)
©Vijaya Sundaram
May 7th, 2013
It seems so obvious, somehow, when one puts it baldly, thus: One has to have a meaning, a purpose in life. If there isn’t one, find one. If we cannot find one, look elsewhere. If we still cannot find one, create it. That’s it.
If the meaning and purpose come from a place of emptiness, then one’s actions are empty at best, and harmful at worst. That’s where we get the Dzhokhars and the Tamerlans. That’s where we get empty men with hungry souls emptying their weapons into innocent and hapless people. Adrift without meaning and purpose, the empty ones fill their emptiness with rage, religion and false notions of honor. Killing is the ultimate worst expression of that emptiness.
If we act with mixed motives, our lives will crumble, and we will create confusion in the lives of those around us. No one will benefit in the end, and all of us will be unhappy. I did all this for them, how come they don’t appreciate what I do? is the question that haunt those who act with mixed motives. Or: I don’t mind sacrificing my needs for others. Really! Confusion and anger come from these, and ultimately, disappointment and bitterness.
If our motives are clear and obvious, and we are not working only for our own benefit, but for the benefit for all, our lives will be the richer. As a great soul once purportedly said, “What you do to the least of my brothers, you do unto me.” Interconnectedness is everything in the web of our lives. Self-expression and service to others work only if both come from a place of joy and love. Clarity is the result.
If we work with purpose and true motivation, and we are doing it from interest and a willingness to learn, and a willingness to be vulnerable to failure, our lives will be the richer, and so will the lives of those around us.
If we act from moral strength and purpose, and our actions are real and obvious extensions of our intentions, and there is no self-aggrandizement detectable in our actions, our lives will reflect that. And inexplicably, others’ lives will be affected — positively.
Meaning and purpose germinate in such grounds as these.
It is the job of teachers and parents, and of the policy-makers to help create a world with meaning and purpose. If, instead, we create a generation devoid of true self-hood, but made up of selfishness instead, we are committing societal suicide.
Create meaning. Help and hold each other as we cross the treacherous terrain of existence. It’s in the reaching out and the holding that we find the poetry of living, the art in life.
Ultimately, a true artist or poet does art or writes poetry for its own sake, because it’s beautiful and because it makes her or him happy. Artists or poets don’t look for rewards or recognition (although they wouldn’t refuse it if it came their way). They bring others pleasure, but they do it unintentionally. They come from a place of truth.
Make your life a work of art. Make poetry. Make truth. Make love happen. Make the act of living, both for yourself and for others, a beautiful thing.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The End ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tags: #Clarity, #Life, #Love, #Poetry, #Truth, Art, Beauty, honor, interconnectedness, meaning, self-expression, self-hood vs. selfishness, service, Teaching the young
Apr 30, 2013 Teaching and Learning
A Final Judgement
©By Vijaya Sundaram
April 30th, 2013
It’s always about the hierarchy —
Who’s above whom, and who’s below
And who’s stacked at the top
And who’s down at the bottom.
But who am I to approve or not,
If I am not, myself, perfect?
So, if I judge them or evaluate them,
Should they not judge and evaluate me?
And won’t the judging stand in our way?
And is not all this an artifice, a construct,
A means to justify ourselves to each other?
A means to prove our worth and our realness?
And perception of power and position
And the dull echo of a lack of power
Give a false sense of place
To the judge and the judged —
One seated above, the other
Waiting, humbly at the lower step.
One looking down, kindly or not,
And the other looking up, grateful but resentful.
At other times, it’s about the
Mutual acceptance of a smiling,
Shared understanding, where
One bows to the other, and asks
For judgement, and sometimes,
For praise, and sometimes,
For forgiveness, the one submitting
To the will of the other, willingly.
And would the judgement
Stop us from seeing the true face
Of our humanity, and our
Shared fates? Could we judge
Without judgement, without harshness?
Could we judge with love and kindness?
Would that be judgement? Could we judge,
And let go of our judgement?
We are not God, except that we are.
And the only being who could
Ever judge, and from whom we
Could hope for understanding, is
Our downcast, sorry selves, not a figment.
It is we who hold in our hands the key to
That final forgiveness and that
Final Judgement.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The End ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tags: #Forgiveness, #NaPoWriMo, #Original Poetry, #Understanding, Final Judgement, Hierarchy, Lack of Power, Mutual acceptance, Power
Apr 22, 2013 Original Poetry, Reading, Writing, Thinking, Teaching and Learning
Daily-ness and Disaster
©By Vijaya Sundaram
April 22nd, 2013
How banal, how mundane
How silly, how pointless
Our lives seem!
Sitting in class, pencils in hand
Trying to be good, while
The teacher gazes on.
Stern she looks, and somber
Trying to be vigilant
Wasting time on gum-chewers
And time-wasters.
When elsewhere, lives end
Abruptly, pointlessly.
Grief and loss bloom
Like a mushroom cloud
Over a teeming populace
Wiped out by violence,
Riven by famine and flood.
And children torn from the arms of love,
Watch as parents are afloat on a sea
Of uncertainty.
Where food comes from
Hardly matters, when
They worry about whether
It comes, at all.
Whether school is up and running
Seems to matter so little, and yet
Someone is shot at brutally,
Risking her all, to reach school.
Elsewhere, in the city, last week
A child of eight died, in mid-cheer
Abruptly, pointlessly, painfully.
A shining being, ready for greatness.
And here, in the humming peace
The strumming quiet
The numbing apathy of daily life
We sit, pretending what we do matters.
It may all seem pointless now,
In the aftermath of recent tragedy.
And I might be right.
But I’d like to be hopeful
I’d like to say it matters
I’d like to say, “Everything,
But everything matters.”
Writing matters, reading matters,
Being hopeful matters, being good
Matters a whole lot.
And I would be right.
~~~~~~~~~ The End ~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tags: #Hope, #Learning, #NaPoWriMo, #Teaching, Boston Marathon Bombing, classroom, famines, floods, global disasters, Goodness, Malala, reading, Students, wars
Apr 18, 2013 Original Poetry, Teaching and Learning
Soldier
©By Vijaya Sundaram
April 18th, 2013
Yes, the world goes on,
The earth swings herself tiredly
Around the sun, sluggishly
Around on her axis
And the tilt of her
And the lilt of her
And the will of her
And the thrill of her
Though she be tired
And old and leaden,
Reminds me that I, too
Must go on, tilting
And lilting, not
Wilting, but willing
To show up for duty,
Across and through a waiting
Universe.
For that is how it is,
Was, and must always
And forever be.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The End ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tags: #Aging, #NaPoWriMo, Planet Earth, showing up, Soldier on, tiredness
Apr 14, 2013 Teaching and Learning
Banjara Bound
©By Vijaya Sundaram
April 14th, 2013
The women walk, with soft sway of hip-bones
Copper and silver, bone and glass adding
Allure and weight to their step, mystery
On mystery, burden folded on burden.
And sometimes, they wear pots on their hips, and
Sometimes, they wear pots on their heads,
And sometimes, they wear babies on their hips,
And sometimes, they wear baubles on their necks.
And sometimes, they are beaten by husbands
And sometimes, they are abused by landlords
And sometimes, they play with babes in the dust
And sometimes, they ask you to share their food.
Sometimes they walk by, unaware of all
Intent on their destination, which they
Alone know, and where you may never go.
For where they come from is a land that’s theirs.
Not for the faint of heart, not for the weak,
Their lives are traced like lines of wind in dunes
Of sand — beautiful, but subject to the
Whims and fancies of an indifferent fate.
And they move like sighs of wind on the sand
Their sorrows not to be unpacked by those
Who might try, but never will understand —
How does one analyze those tangled threads?
Love is, of course, love; so is forgiveness,
Loss and despair are also understood.
But the moving and the endless walking
The pull of wandering, the lust for home
These tug and push, these discontent-makers,
These lure and beckon, these will-‘o-the-wisps,
Just one more sand-dune, just one more dust-storm
And then, we’ll come to rest, and we’ll be home.
Home is just another word, a starting,
A still-point, before the turning of the
Axis, the revolving around a sun
That’s brighter than any gold they could buy.
And so they move, these beautiful women
Subject to no calendar, answering
To no greater power, except for the
Slow, hypnotic sway of an earth that turns.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The End~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tags: #Desert, #NaPoWriMo, #Women, Banjara women, Beauty, gypsies, Home, lure, mystery, wander-lust, Wandering
Apr 9, 2013 Awake in Real Time: Coffee-induced Meditations and Journal Entries, Original Poetry, Reading, Writing, Thinking, Teaching and Learning
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3o8jL1BXMdk]
Response to “Pigeon” by Anthony Green
©Vijaya Sundaram
April 9th, 2013
[The above YouTube video shows the film “Pigeon” by Anthony Green. This was the prompt I put up today on my “smartboard” in class (we have been studying books set in the Nazi-Holocaust period for the past few weeks). Students watched this 11-minute film and then we had a discussion about the significance of the different acts of kindness or unkindness in the film. We also discussed the symbolism in all the visuals (I don’t want to go all school-teacherish on you here), as well as the arresting imagery, acting and directing.
This was followed by a writing assignment. Students had to write a poem-response to this film, telling the story itself, or using the larger symbolism to zoom in on what moved them. They were deeply affected by the film, and the poems they came up with were beautiful.
I told them that I, too, would write while they wrote. So, I managed to write in four out of five of my class periods today.] Here is the first of the four poems I wrote (unedited, sorry, no time to tweak things. Will do that later):
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Shema Yisrael
Response poem to the film “Pigeon”
©Vijaya Sundaram
April 9th, 2013
Shema Yisrael
Stranded on the island
I await my deliverance
Shema Yisrael
Pigeon at my feet
Crumbs for its survival
Shema Yisrael
I have lost all, lost all
My papers, my self, my life.
Shema Yisrael
I try and sidestep my fate
Waiting is my wasteland
Shema Yisrael
Here are guards, inexorable as death
I die by degrees, in a sweat of fear
Shema Yisrael
Angel in human form sees
My loss, transforms into demoness
Shema Yisrael
I had a wife, and now a new one,
Who beats me about the shoulders.
Shema Yisrael
Guards aim death at her, “Papers!”
She mocks me, her “husband.”
Shema Yisrael
They laugh at us, mock me; they see she
“Wears the pants,” and then they leave.
Shema Yisrael
Bless this angel of mercy, this wife
Who delivered me from death, from hell
Shema Yisrael
May her act not go unnoticed
May she find a place among the angels.
Shema Yisrael
May the pigeons and doves among us
Find their saviors, may they fly in peace.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The End ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sh’ma Yisrael Adonai Eloheinu Adonai Eḥad
(Hear, O Israel: the Lord is our God, the Lord is One)
Disclaimer: I am not a Jewish person, nor a believer of any sort. However, I believe deeply in the power of prayer to steady ourselves, when we’re cast afloat, rudderless, on an open sea. It’s a centering mechanism. It’s good. It can only calm us, not hurt us.
Tags: #humanity, #kindness, #NaPoWriMo, #Resistance, #Teaching, Deliverance, Goodness, Mercy, poem-response to film "Pigeon" by Anthony Green, Shema
Apr 4, 2013 Original Poetry, Teaching and Learning
Teacher: A Glimpse As I Passed By
(For Val)
©By Vijaya Sundaram
April 4, 2013
Almost in the abyss,
A young boy howls in
Soul-agony, a torment
That he cannot understand.
He sobs, beast-desolate
In the hallway, uncluttered
By others.
I approach,
And see this:
Kindly teacher,
Clad in blue
Pats him gently,
Inexpressibly kind.
“It’ll be all right.
You’ll be fine.”
Her voice like soothing
Balm in Gilead,
Pours solace on his
Strange, wounded mind.
(For he is undeniably
Different from the others.)
Her goodness, a candle
Steady in his darkness,
Completely undoes him.
I walk by, heading elsewhere,
And try not to intrude.
He howls louder,
Lurches against her.
She hugs him with such love —
A well-spring
Of love, she is
An angel of beauty
An angel of warmth
Goodness glowing golden,
Like an energy-field
Around her.
All the comfort he needs
He finds right here,
In her enveloping frame
All the goodness nestled
In the encircling warmth
Of her motherly embrace.
And no matter what this child
Suffered today, whatever else
Torments, grips and twists
His grief-stricken heart,
He will remember this:
When he was most
Desolate and undone,
When he was most
Alone and abyssal,
There was someone.
And she leaned
Over the abyss
Plucked him up,
And brought him back
From the brink.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~The End ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tags: #kindness, #Loneliness, #Love, #NaPoWriMo, Abyss, Autistic Spectrum, Brink, Comfort, Education with soul, Goodness, grief, Misery, Saving, Special Education Student, teacher, Teaching the young