May 30, 2016 Original Poetry

Backyard Jewels
©May 30th, 2016
By Vijaya Sundaram

Raindrops glittering.
Brilliant diamonds light up trees.
And tender young ferns.

Laughing pink hearts sway.
Fir needles clutch lucent gems.
Burning bush shines green!

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Tags: #haiku, #Nature, #OriginalPoetrybyVijayaSundaram, #RaindropsonPlants

Mar 18, 2016 Climate Change is Real!, Daily Life, Ramblings and Musings

Climate Change is Real – Day 2 of my Vigil Alone
©March 18th, 2016
By Vijaya Sundaram

So, another late night followed by an even earlier morning (6:15) for me today – sigh!

I made coffee to take in my trusty travel mug, and a hot breakfast, and ginger tea for my daughter (who arose at 7:20 in order to get ready for our post-vigil haul all the way to Cohasset, MA, where she will be attending a once-a-week farming/harvesting/animal-care home-school class at Holly Hill Farm from now until mid-May).  The dog was philosophical when left for my vigil.  My daughter was sanguine.  I love them both.

Despite awakening so early, I was STILL fifteen minutes behind the Warren-time on the vigil!  Never mind.  I made it, at least.

It’s been a beautiful, sunshiny day all day today, and it was cool (45 degrees), but sunny in the morning at my spot. Blue-jays flashed in blue streaks between the trees, and mid-way through, a sudden rush of wings divided the air near me. I saw, with wonder, two Canada geese arise from the boggy area of the Fells, which come close to the Warren Intersection (as I now call that part of Roosevelt Circle), and end right near where he/I stand at our vigil, and rise up, honking madly. It was quite arresting.

I was in low-energy mode, so I sang what I ALWAYS sing when I don’t know what to sing – namely, Bhairav – my default setting, possibly because I grew up learning South Indian music.  Mayamalavagowla (with the same notes as Bhairav) is the first raga that all good little South Indian children learn if they learn Carnatic music. I made moaning aakars, and some paltas, and droned on, did some sargam (Indian solfege) work, and sang Jaago, Mohana Pyaare Tumha, as well as Jaago Brija Raja Kumara. My voice held up for a bit, then cracked on some of the not-so-high higher notes. (Sigh! I have a long, uphill climb to regain my skills in singing Hindustani music). In any case, I had a good time.

Cars went by, and I had several thumbs-ups – one from an older white-haired, man with a Bernie bumper-sticker, one from a grey-haired man with distinctly liberal features, several smiles and waves from younger men and women, and even one heavily bearded, long-haired young hippie-ish looking guy driving a low pick-up car-truck thing (I don’t know what to call those!) –  who, having apparently being much taken by the sight of a woman standing with a protest sign, must have driven ahead, and parked his car somewhere, because I turned to see him walking up to me.  He asked to take my picture, asked me my name, told me his name, and added that he worked for a magazine called In League Press, which published pictures and articles about people with protest signs, or something like that.  I told him that it was really my husband’s sign, and that I was covering for him, and that he would probably see my husband in a couple of weeks.  He told me I would probably see my picture on FB or Twitter in a few days (or, did he say, weeks), and then left.  I was pleased by him, and warmed by our exchange.

A woman drove by, applying lipstick.  Another drove by, elaborately applying mascara. How did she do that and not slam into the car in front of her?  I admired her, in spite of myself.  Mothers turning back to their children in the back drove by, and fathers with empty car seats in the back drove by, as well.  So much potential for distraction when we have children!  I remember having to carefully explain to my daughter when she was younger that I could not turn around and look every time she said, ” Mom, look!  See what I’m doing!”  She was put out at first, but understood when I explained some more.  How much can one tell one’s young children about potential disaster (car accidents, Climate Change) without upsetting them, or making them into bundles of anxiety?  I walk a fine line there.  I think I do okay, but only time will tell.

Several plumber-type trucks and construction vehicles were out this morning, and I thought, not for the first time, about how plumbing and construction are some of the REAL jobs that would be nice to learn.  At the same time, they signal the fact that we occupy space, and leave waste behind.  Sometimes, when I feel pessimistic and misanthropic, I think that to be human is to create waste and denude the land of its natural beauty.  Thinking this does not make me happy.  (Quick!  Think better thoughts!  Yes, yes!  We humans create beauty, yes, we create music, yes, we create art, yes, we create language … yes, we create entire dimensions of thought and being.  Yes, we’re all right.  Phew!)

Still, if I were to be reincarnated, I think I’ll opt to be a bird, or a frog.  Or, better still, a dolphin.  Birds sing, frogs sing, dolphins click – who wouldn’t want that?
More good things:  A lovely black van drove by with this legend:  Earth, Stone and Water.  That was somehow soothing, even grand, in its way.  I imagined the company to be concerned with environmental work.  No doubt, if I Google it, I’ll find out something mundane.  I do not want to know. It was followed by another van with this on its side:  Plumbing / Heating / HVAC / Boilers.  Good, but not as nice.  Humpf!  After a while, another van drove by, and its driver, a young man, gave me a thumbs-up and a big smile.  The sign on the side and back said something about bee-keeping services.  I felt an absurd upwelling of affection for him.

So, I droned in Bhairav, and felt freer by the second.

Fifty minutes passed.  Suddenly, a nasty sour-faced SUV drove by, and a scowling man leaned out from the passenger seat, and snarled, “Oh, go get a job!”

If I had not heard from my husband about his routinely hearing such remarks every week, I might have stiffened and perhaps, gotten briefly upset.  As it was, I just laughed, and said, well after the car had driven past, “Oh, go to hell!”  Not the wittiest of retorts, but it was all I could muster in the moment.

I sang some more, finished my coffee, and trundled back home, and then raced around the house to get ready to take my daughter to Holly Hill Farm far, far away in Cohasset, and Warren’s student Thomas, showed up to dog-sit our Standard Poodle, Holly.   Holly is crazy about Thomas, and I swear that if we were to vanish from the earth, Holly would live quite happily with him.  It’s sweet to see her adore him so waggily and goofily.  He must emanate the scent of goodness (He’s certainly a very kind and good person, from what I’ve seen!)

My daughter and I returned after a lovely few hours at the Farm, and now, I have written this post.

Contradictions exist – we all know that.  I stood with a “Climate Change is Real” sign for an hour this morning, then got in my car, and drove several miles to have my daughter be in the midst of growing vegetables and animals in a beautiful area.  I wish things could be less complicated, but nothing is.

What we can do is try to reduce our carbon footprint, grow more things, buy less stuff.  We do what we can, and raise consciousness as we do it.  Every conscious action leads others to conscious action.  I hope this is true.
Thanks for reading!

Signing off,
Dreamer of Dreams
(Standing in for Man with Sign)

Tags: #ClimateChangeisReal, #Contradictions, #Man with Sign, #Nature, #Waste, #Woman with Sign

Mar 14, 2016 The Daily Post, Uncategorized

 For The Daily Post’s Daily Prompt:  Fleeting

Fleeting Nature – Haiku 3
©March 14th, 2016
By Vijaya Sundaram

Tall trees lose their seeds
Bolting in desperation
Premature birth-death.

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Tags: #Bolting too early, #Fleeting, #haiku, #Nature, #Original Poetry, #Trees, Climate Change

Sep 23, 2014 Awake in Real Time: Coffee-induced Meditations and Journal Entries

No one said it better than Wordsworth.  I will add nothing more to the poem below, except to say, Thank you, Mr. Wordsworth.  This poem always, always resonated with me.

The World Is Too Much With Us

By  William Wordsworth

1770–1850

Tags: #Nature, #sonnet, artifice, Quotation, The World is Too Much With Us, William Wordsworth