Everyday Musings > The Big C

In our growth as civilised nations, time has been defined by certain events - Industrial Revolution, Nuclear Energy, Liberalisation, Outsourcing, and for a while now, it seems to be rolling around Design. An after-effect seems to be a reverence for Creativity as something hallowed.

Creativity is a built-in feature within every living body - not an added accessory that one needs to pay or pray for. We are all creative just as we are all living beings, so calling someone Creative is akin to saying, hey, meet a Living Creature. It is a survival instinct that when used in different ways, could lead to different results. Just like our breath, a built-in response, that could be modulated to sing with depth, to run more effectively, to calm oneself down or to regulate the flow of Oxygen and Carbon-Di-Oxide in the body through Pranayama.

Being reverential to Creativity creates a distance - it is something to be enjoyed, delight in and utilise as much as we'd like to - not something we need to use to feel superior about or aspire to as we would for something outside of us.

There is another C however that I aspire to, one I hope will define the next era we are moving into - Compassion. Unlike Love, Compassion, I believe, is not in-built. It needs to be given birth to and needs practice to be kept alive. Love, like Creativity, is a survival instinct, a reflex that indicates ownership and attachment to a few. Compassion is empathy and affection for all beings. It's not about pleasing everyone, or turning a blind eye to ills or even being wise. It is understanding inter-connectedness in the Universe. The Dalai Lama, an advocate and a great practitioner of Compassion says here, "Because we all share an identical need for love, it is possible that anybody we meet, in whatever circumstances, is a brother or sister. No matter how new the face or how different the dress and behaviour.There is no significant division between us and other people. It is foolish to dwell on external differences because our basic natures are the same...I try to treat whoever I meet as an old friend. This gives me a genuine feeling of happiness. it is the practice of compassion...I must emphasize again that merely thinking that compassion and reason and patience are good will not be enough to develop them. We must wait for difficulties to arise and then attempt to practice them."

As our personal world turns too big for us to accommodate our limited capacity to Love and the outer world turns so small that the closeness of strangers kicks in our flight or fight response, the big C leads to the big Q - will we go with our survival instincts or will we choose to practice a new way of being?

Everyday Musings > Guest Relations

V and I had guests over today. From the moment we know they're expected till the time they ring the doorbell, we inevitably live their lives and see what they would see, need or feel - dusting top shelves if it's going to be a tall guest, scanning for sharp objects if a child is coming along, double checking if a shaking chair leg has been fixed if it's someone elderly, keeping spare toothbrushes handy if someone is staying on, laying out bathroom slippers to keep feet dry, keeping a bottle in to chill if they prefer their water cold - entertaining guests has cultivated an outside eye into our world and theirs. The little rituals help us walk through unfamiliar doors till we understand and embrace another side.

As I sat down after the day was done, I wondered about guests and hosts. Of both as familiar strangers who form a symbiotic pact to nurture one another every time they meet. We have no dearth of guests in India; when the mortal ones are not visiting, the immortal ones are invited over - we paint Rangolis, light lamps and incense, have all nighters with music and devotional songs - in the hope that good fortune will visit us again and again. We are taught to be good hosts regardless of our circumstance in life and how much we may have or not have.

It led me back into my own life. I recollected how I was, reflected on how I am and imagined how I would be and realised that I had played host to a lot of I's. Had I been a generous host or was I stingy about exhausting all I had? Had I held back because of prejudice and inner conflict? Had I entertained and enjoyed their company? Some I's were long-awaited guests (I finally feel wise after all these years), some surprise guests (I had no idea I could make such a big move), some cherished guests (I was so free spirited when I was 19), some unwanted(I hate myself right now). Some I had been gracious with, some I had rushed through, some I hadn't understood at all, some I still loved. Each 'I' was a familiar stranger, me but not me. As if I had walked in their shoes awhile, then said goodbye and moved houses.

There is a new 'I' visiting soon. I'm busy organising a bit of clutter, dusting some old beliefs, wiping off a bit of hesitation and picking a new menu for thought. The doorbell is ringing. It's time to be a new host.

Everyday Musings > Surprise!

I've spent my life thinking I love surprises. Till one day it hit me. Coincidences I find interesting, chance happenings are fun and serendipitous moments are lovely. But most man-made surprises I truly dread. The Online Etymology Dictionary expresses how I see it - "unexpected attack or capture". It also adds that the term 'surprise party' was originally a military term used in the 1840s and it made its way into the social circuit in 1858. I wonder who first thought it would be a great idea to test a battle strategy on unarmed civilians.

I remember behind-the-door boo's that never seemed funny. Or the sudden cupping of eyes with a cheerful 'Guess Whoooo' or a dancing on the phone lines of someone who wanted to play 20 questions before they told me their name. Or a room full of people yelling 'surprise' as I walked in hoping for a peaceful night off. Surprises, to me, are like pianos hurtling from an upstairs balcony - they may have the potential to sound sweet but I feel it's advisable to flee.

I'm sure there are plenty of people who love surprises. Politicians surely do; they always seem to spring one or have one sprung on them just before a major election. In USA, it even has its own name, October Surprise. Oprah's audience was constantly surprised. In fact, if they weren't, they would have been surprised. Even cynics seem to like them, as this town in Arizona seems to suggest - it was named Surprise by its founder, Flora Mae Statler as she "would be surprised if the town ever amounted to much.

I don't hate all surprises though. There are some that are lovely - like a witty comment in the middle of a serious speech, bits of poetic prose in an otherwise racy novel, a compliment when I thought I looked dishevelled, charming things Su bundled in for our shared birthday, the compassionate offering of food while I was stuck in a monsoon traffic jam for hours in Mumbai, a child who once ran to hug me, a vegetable tote that a chef gifted me at a restaurant once, thoughtful gestures V brings into my day, the lovely Murakami diary Pa posted to me, and this one today. I am writing again. :)