Jul 28, 2014 Awake in Real Time: Coffee-induced Meditations and Journal Entries, Current Affairs / General Interest, Reading, Teaching and Learning, Thinking, Writing

And here we are, comfortable, with our little, daily stresses and cares, our worries, or work-related sorrows, or the baggage we carry from our lives.

And there they are, in Gaza, which is burning, with Israeli artillery strikes or misfired Hamas rockets.

Or in Baghdad, where Sunnis are being harassed by Shias.

Or, in Ukraine, where there are hundreds of civilian deaths, while governments fight for control in one direction or another.

This isn’t a world in which I wish to live.

And yet, life IS beautiful.  And Life is Beautiful, too.

We MUST try and speak for beauty, for life, for love, for peace.

We MUST end the little stesses in our own lives by being non-reactive, thoughtful, calm and measured.  (Of course, that’s easier said than done — but I’d like to try.)

Plant a garden of flowers, however small your yard is.  If there’s no yard, make a window garden.

Plant some tomatoes and basil in a box outside your window sill.

Plant a tree in a park.

Read a book, or write one.  Or, do both.

Teach a child to read a book or listen to music.

Write to your congressmen and congresswomen, and to your leaders.

Play music with your family, your friends, by yourself.

Play.

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Tags: #Trees, Baghdad, Gaza, Israel, life here and there, planting flowers, Playing, Playing music, reading, Teaching a child to read, Ukraine, vegetables, Writing

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