The Hungry Caterpillar

That elusive moment when entities in a reaction convert, the big transformation that may make us thinking that we are neither here nor there. Perhaps it’s that pinnacle moment that allows us to savor, take stock, and enjoy the view. Transitions are never easy and the only thing that helps us through it is perspective.

I used to think life is linear, you are born, you grow up, have a family, have a career, grow old, and life ends. On our memorials or tombstones we have our birth date to death date with a straight line between them. The dash in the middle is life, but now I know that it’s in no way straight. In fact, if it is linear for anyone, then it’s a life unlived.

The dash of life is fleeting as days turn into weeks into months, years, decades and even a century. Time takes over and adds twists, bends, climbs and descents with many alterations at each turn and major transfiguration at some points. Time is fleeting only when we keep moving with momentum to guide us, force to nudge us, inertia to stabilize us and without these, the lull stops all clocks and time drags through a sluggish path.

When we climb we may get sweaty or wrestle our way up, but we lean forward with each step to find that balance. The descent may be fast and furious for which we lean back to stay mindful. A soft bend or sudden turn puts us off balance and we lean sideways to center our core. Some call this laws of physics with force and inertia jerking us around, I call it our mettle, our ability to stay grounded by centering and focusing on our core. The push and pull, the tug up or down continues throughout the dash of life and we lean in or out, up or down, front or back to find our poise.

Transitions are hard, they are testy and if you transgress, lose the inertia during the sharp bends then the fall is hard and steep and even shattering.  Awareness allows a silkier ride, recognizing that change is growth, bends are new perspective, climbs are an opportunity to reach a peak, to savor a pinnacle moment.

Life’s undesirable or enigmatic events are not crisis, but transitions, transformations, opportunities for metamorphosis that allows the dash of our years in human form to have meaning and create a legacy.

A Week Ago

Jazz, a week ago you were in my arms

Now you are in the grand cosmos.

Last week you were suffering

The pain for you is no more 

Pain in my heart persists

In life for me as it now exists

We brought your ashes home

But still, I feel so alone 

Watching from the rainbow bridge

You’re wagging down to us,

Happy with no more walks in rain

Relieved at no more pain 

I hear your snores at night

Or while cooking I think you might

Come around the corner to beg

For a morsel, a crumb, a slice of bread 

Jazz, a week ago we said goodbye

But why is it so hard to let you go?

Please give me your mighty might

To face this life’s hardest fight.

JAZZ Forever

Blossoms and chirps

tulips and blooms

ashes, dust and earth

‘tis the season for rebirth 

fragrant flowers arise

nothing will ever demise

from ashes, dust or earth

all rise, even from the hearth 

spring back into life he must

return in any form, or energy burst

we are connected in the beyond

in cosmos, ocean or any land 

this is not goodbye

it will never be

return to me he must

as raindrop or even a wind gust! 

our limited vision cannot see

he’ll always remain with me

a fragment, spark or speck

fused in my element forever and ever and ever... 
 
 

PastFuturePast

Run, run, run, far, far away

go, go, go, into the vast array

from day into night and back to the day

from past into future, like a relay 

darkness into the light

from day into the night

leave wholly all behind

come out or stay inside 

there is no wrong or right

whatever may be your plight

you can, yes you can run away

or head for a new way. 

motion is the answer

your resolve, you infer

you are what you make of yourself

you are what you break in the self 

be a squirrel and scurry

a tortoise in no hurry

move with or no direction

strive, laze, with or without perfection 

be still with no motion

meddlesome ego devoid of emotion

stillness offers peace and sole

or lonely life, in its final zone. 

be still or run onward

away from or something toward

there always be light,

and dark, and plight.

 

life is one big circle,

there is no wrong or right.

Impermanence - Conclusion

Once the feeling of pure and emptiness immersed into her being, she felt weightlessness. Her body elevated as she flew alongside a majestic egret, its rich white body with its wide wingspan gliding with her, guiding her above into the ether. A fleeting thought crossed Rosa’s mind, a confusion of whether her body or was it her soul that had taken flight. She looked below and saw the white hair woman sitting by the willow alone, her angelic smile pasted upward as she waved toward the sky. With another blink of her eye, the scene below transformed.

Rosa noticed the sun had disappeared as magically as it had appeared while the ground below morphed. She couldn’t quite see below the haze, like steam, moisture seemed to rise up from the ground. She spotted tips of trees and grayness of entrails that seems to project out from them. A slight shift in the wind and an opening revealed the scene below.

Dull water surrounded the terrain, vegetation rising from within and around it, high and low, vibrant green to murky gray. Cypresses stood firmly on solid ground, ancient in their stance, bent low with age toward the water as they dipped their hair in or extended their feet-like roots out for sustenance of that we call life. Alligators climbed up and around the roots to laze before diving back into the shallow depths of the nourishing swamp.

The egret guided her back down, to land at the feet of a primeval Cypress whose gray, leafless hair poured down on all sides. Rosa’s wingless, formless being burrowed against its trunk, her knees pulled up into her chest as she nestled in the web of tree hair. She saw the egret take flight, its regal form traversing the sky. The mighty Cypress bent a little lower, as if to better hear the whispered confusions that escaped Rosa’s lips. A wisp of her hair entangled with a tendril as she felt an unknown force enter her. All consciousness, emotions dissipated as if her Self never existed. Her formless form felt fluid, fused with the force and energy here and there and everywhere, a particle, an atom, many atoms, timeless in motion and still in concert. The unbeing of a being, the unsoul of Self, the unconscious of all that is perceived.

Pitter patter of rain continued its trickle outside the window as Rosa opened her half-closed eyes. Her lotus positioned body faced the white wall, her cheeks sticky and wet. She stood up slowly to face the far side of her room and looked at the picture by her bedside. Her baby, the beautiful black Labrador smiled back with an angelic smile from behind the frame.

 

The End

 

 

Impermanence - Part Two

Turning around, she saw solid wall formed by the ivy she had breached through, and as she tried to take a step toward her only exit, her feet remained glued to the stone ground. She turned to the child who smiled and gestured her toward the fountain. She took a step forward, her feet magically unglued, and moved further into the depth of the mysterious park. Each step she took felt like she was wading through soft ground covered in cloudy water, as if the ground could turn to quicksand and swallow her up. A scream rose silently through her throat as she felt slime snake around her toes, its weedy claws caressing her feet. She treaded through the murky softness guided by the light of her umbrella and paws of the little child who held her fingers. Just before reaching their destination, her feet landed on her fear, a puddle of quicksand which quickly swallowed her.

Rosa lay flat on her back, her nightmare running as a vivid motion picture, frame by frame behind closed eyelids. She hugged her body and slowly opened her eyes to find them staring into blinding sunlight. A warm hand touched her forehead and she turned her gaze towards the angelic face beside her. She blinked once and then again, to adjust the haze that had covered her eyes, and tried to bring the face to focus. Her nightmare or was it a pathway to this bizarre dream and she was still living it to visit this heavenly being. She let the gentle hands guide her up and walk to a bench under a weeping willow. Rosa touched the woman’s silky, white hair, caressed her soft, coffee skin and continued to stare shamelessly, unsure of everything. 
 

Kissed by the flowing, leafy hair of the willow, Rosa listened to the soft lull of the woman’s voice as she revealed the nature of things. Trickles from the fountain reached her ears, the exact one she had seen with the child or was it the puppy?  Just as a whisper of wind embraced her cheeks, bringing with it fragrances unknown, Rosa recognized that this was not heaven nor earth, not planet nor star, not dream nor reality. A form sat next to her in the image of a woman, but she felt merged into the illusion. The woman was there, with her angelic face, love in her smile, warmth in her embrace, a woman with no story or label, nor perceived connection. Rosa accepted with an open heart in this formless association. Nature of things as in that moment were just as is, with nothing but overwhelming love.

To Be Continued...

Impermanence - Part One

Rosa looked out of her bedroom window and watched the rain patter down hard onto the sidewalks.  Each drop merged in the rivulets as they snaked their way from streets into underground channels, skirting all that lay in the path - pebbles, a runaway paper boat, a black puppy. Rosa watched the doleful creature exposed to the elements, its shaggy fur matted and soaked, its floppy ears drooped in sadness. She grabbed her yellow umbrella and charged out her front door, but when she reached the side street, the dog had roved away. She treaded down the alley circling to the back of her house where she spotted shaggy tail disappear down a bend. Her feet splashed through the twisted path, another turn just before she saw the dog disappear through an arched doorway.

Rosa followed and found herself in a courtyard swathed in ivies of pink bougainvillea, lush in their wet beauty. A bark directed her attention to the south wall of the ivy and she balanced her yellow umbrella at an angle, parted the green and pink wet curtain and peeked in. Behind it she saw the puppy beckoning her in with its short, staccato barks, as if to share his shelter. Rosa folded her umbrella and ducked in through the ivy curtain, her hair catching sprinkles of rainwater and pink flowers. Inside the shelter, she bent down to the puppy with her hands reaching out as if in friendship.

As soon as her fingers touched the wet paws, in the blink of her eye everything changed around her. She found herself in a dark room holding tiny fingers of a small child standing next to her. Her yellow umbrella stood as tower in the child’s hand, glowing like a street lamp. The child opened it and like the sun, her umbrella illuminated the world around them.

Rosa froze in her place, her eyes unblinking, absorbing all that surrounded her. The little den had transformed into a park with a dancing fountain in its center. She saw sculptures scattered throughout, partially hidden in hedges that were pruned to shapes of mythical creatures. She spotted a unicorn and a couple of elephants with a baby’s body. Thin, tall trees towered over her, their tops too high for her to see. Not a drop of water reflected on the park surface, only sunshine from what used to be her umbrella bathed her with its radiance. Music of rainwater reached her ears as if from a faraway land, its romance gradually fading.

To Be Continued... 
 
 

Vicissitudes

the season is changing

there are transformations happening all around

transitions are hard, you or me

suffering happens before cleansing begins

we are strong, you and me

we come out victorious, no matter what 

seasons change

to make way for new beginnings

life changes

to open new doors

we feel the low before reaching high

the climb is hard but the peak is sublime

we are strong, you and I

we need the transitions before we can be whole 

our lives are cycles

with transitions and victories

emotions are bitter and then they are sweet

evolution goes on, the world changes

we are strong, you and I

we embrace the deviations, in season and life

we flow in harmony to the music of the world 

Hang in there!

we are part of a constant change

and the beauty we can carry within us

from each end to the new beginning.

 

 

NORMAL

What is normal?

We strive for it all our lives and stray from it when it’s there. Like a wave it comes and goes and we desire and deter its oscillating presence in our lives as a constant.

It’s our desires we run after, desire to move forward, to take great leaps, to climb higher, to return to earth, to find satisfaction and a full circle back, our desire to be normal. It’s a continuous motion as the proverbial wheel of time.

With normal we define boredom, so we strive for change and excitement. Sometimes it’s our own doing or nature takes charge and throws the curve ball in our direction changing our normal to an undesirable state. As if getting stuck with lemons which we can either let turn sour, wither and rot relying on the so called destiny, or we can find a way to make orange juice. It’s all in our hands, as Lawrence of Arabia declared, “Nothing is written.”

Nothing happens for a reason. It just happens and when it happens, we aspire to change, so we can find for normalcy.

Life takes its turns with bends, curves, hills and U-turns. Like a garden it flourishes or dies, grows new and deeper roots, blooms and sheds, living by the seasons. Normal is what we see and define with our own sense of what we think is normal. A flower blooming in fall and trees shedding leaves in spring may not be normal for us, but this is how we choose to define it.  Change hemispheres and perspective, suddenly normal seasons become different. It’s how we interpret and define normal, what we as individual being part of a society define normal.

Normal is what it is, in the eye of its beholder and somewhat skewed by the society that eye belongs to. We are all born normal, only depends from what perspective one identifies it to call it otherwise. 

LOVE

Love is…

Not saying “I Love You”
or showering them with hugs and kisses galore

Love is…

showing you care by being a part of their life
expressing your concern when they hurt
sharing in their joy when good things happen

Love is…

calling on the land line just to hear their voice (static free)
swaddling them into a tight squeeze when you meet after a long gap
blinking tears wedged in your eyes every time they say goodbye

Love is…

listening… to their dreams, desires, nothingness
encouraging their aspirations
standing by them regardless of your opinions
consoling their heartbreaks or disappointments

Love is…

not saying, “I Love You”
but genuinely loving and it will naturally shine J

 

Time Warp

Since the change, it’s been a feeling of being in a time warp, just like driving through a school zone suddenly decelerating to 20 mph during drop off and pickup times. From behind my wheel, I look to my right and my left at other drivers as if they were distant stars from a star trek episode, racing with me at warp speed. But that is an illusion as we all drift through in slow motion, impatiently gliding forward, intent on accelerating as soon as the road sign indicates, until the next school zone hits us, and the time warp wraps us in again.

Similarly, life here moves along at steady pace with daily, mundane routines of outdoors and the indoors, until suddenly, just like the drivers on these massive highways, the velocity of my life picks up and I find myself swerving around the labyrinths as visitors weave in and out, or I maneuver between vacations, entertaining, or putting out fires in the maintenance of the house. Fleetingly this stage subsides, spiraling down like the complicated off ramps onto the stop and go service roads with their U-turns and cross roads, before it comes to a halt and the time warp begins.

So is it this place with its shifty soil, too porous to hold anything with might? Its skeletons of houses and construction cranes dotting the skyline that is fast pacing the road to evolution, including the heat of the housing market with its surging prices igniting them into a hot air balloon? Then there is the gun toting, entitlement culture that adds fear to migrants, may they be from within the country or perhaps it’s the belief system that puts any non-believer on the defensive. Can one really put down roots here and be held firm in this culture?

There’s yes, the beautiful sunsets with magnificent, pinkish hues that splash against the clear blue sky, the performance of the black, parking lot birds lined up on transmission lines and suddenly pirouetting in flocks into a ballet as if to celebrate the closure of a beautiful day. The short uncomfortable months palatable in exchange of more temperate climate throughout the year adds to its allure. The coolness of the morning like a baby’s fresh breath, the serenade of the mocking birds, and the fragrances of the magnolias all add substance to each chapter of my new life here.

It may be this place or just the phase. Life is an evolution, a discovery as its new chapters unfold. Tomorrow it may not be this place or yet another phase in my chapters, my story will continue to move forward gathering memories, hording only the beautiful ones. It’s not the place or the phase but the cliché – a journey. It’s the experiences we learn from, the sounds and smells we pick up along the away, the new friendships and relationships we secure.

The view from within the time warp looking out is just as compelling as the view from outside looking in. Life suddenly gets a new perspective, from which we can take stock and move on, whether it's this place or beyond.

Feeling (for) Blue

My dog is my companion, the constant who is with me while the rest of the household scurries about with their lives. He listens to my useless, baby talk blabber without judgement, takes me on walks every day, keeps me grounded and disciplined. Together we traverse the neighborhood soaking in the coolness of summer mornings and warmth of winters’ afternoon sun. On these walks we encounter wildlife in their habitat, listen to the incessant chatter of birds, stop to smell the proverbial roses (and sometimes real ones too), or admire a neighbor’s garden. Our paths vary daily, based on what Jazz’s nose picks up in the air – to pay our respects to an unfortunate squirrel that came to an untimely demise crossing the road, or to follow the track of a neighborhood bunny, or to just follow the scents of other dogs. Our steps are determined, yet leisurely as we admire the beauty of the blue above and greenery scattered around the concrete and brick. Our mission is to seek out hidden sounds of nature while trying to drown out the rude noises of aircrafts, cars, lawnmowers and the like.

The routines of twice daily walks are refreshing welcome to my otherwise fluid days. His stubbornness, the prance in his step, the unsuccessful chases of small creatures, all these I will miss. You see, my dog, this beautiful creature who is my best friend, who gives me unconditional love, tolerates me without any judgement, my constant companion, has cancer. Surgery has bought him time, but not long enough.

After he is gone, what will I jump out of bed early for every morning or be dragged away from my screens for his daily walks, who will sit on my lap or paw me to demand love, how will I stay disciplined? Who will make me feel needed? Cuddle time, baby talk, being silly, rough housing, unsure whether to laugh or be angry at a naughty behavior, all these things will fade away from my life after he is gone. How can I keep him with me forever?

So I heard on the radio this morning – I can clone my dog! Yes, I can keep him with me for always. Isn't that just dandy? I can have my cake and eat it too. Jazz can live with me forever. Except, it won’t be him but one that looks and behaves exactly like him. The clone may even get cancer like him, but it won’t be my Jazz.

I love my dog, there’s no doubt about it. But isn’t an important part of love, letting go? Jazz, my handsome, stubborn, sweet, regal, blue beagle will always be one of a kind, and even though he will not be with me for much longer, he will forever be in my heart. No cloned version can replace my Jazz!