Today is your birthday. And it has been 3 sweet, sweet years. We love your cute impish smile, your sharp eyes that miss nothing and your strong clear voice, especially when it breaks out in song. We hope you will always be interested in music and that your life is filled with all kinds of song.
When you were born, we worried about how your Anna would take to you and adjust to everything. Now, 3 years later, we can smile wide at the thought of the two of you together. In addition to all your daily tussles for toys and space, you both need each other so much and are visibly incomplete without the other.
At 3 years of age, you have an avid interest in building blocks and are always making new and interesting things with it. Favorites are a birthday cake and candle, helicopter and schoolbus. You love songs and your favorite remains....the wheels on the bus.... and we hope that changes soon. You love watching Mickey Mouse Clubhouse and love your milk with Bournvita in it. Anytime, I make noodles, you munch on it eagerly. You love payasam and brownies and chocolates and banana chips, not the store bought potato wafers.
You are friendly and have a ready smile for everyone, and offer an unprompted hello to anyone within a 10 feet radius. You are very tuned to our feelings and always want us to call you a dooboy. (good boy)
You ARE a good boy. A very good boy. And you deserve a very happy, fun birthday. And we'll do everything we can to make you smile for every second of it.
Our simple day of celebration just got done. And as simple as it was, I think it ended up being a fun proposition for him. The nicest surprise being the visit of his Chitthappa from SFO, who flew in last night just in time for the big day. Chitthappa came loaded with gifts and the boys pounced on him like love starved little puppies.
Affectionate phonecalls from grandparents, whose eagerness to be with him was keenly felt in every word they said to him. Thankfully, he gave them those few minutes of happiness by talking to them on the phone, wishing them a happy birthday back. To him, saying happy birthday is like saying hello. You say it and says it back. And then he went to school. Where I joined in a couple of hours later for that official Montessori celebration. She has known him since he was a baby and he has visited the school when he was just 2 months old and looking back at that picture and comparing it to the one now.....wow!
Back home, and a solid 2 hour nap during which we seriously started setting the scene, using every ounce of lung power to blow up some 10-15 balloons to line the floor. Presents from the family to hide in little corners so he could seek at the count of 10. Resorting to the faithful youtube to croon the birthday song as he walked down the stairs, a little earlier than expected. Lighting 3 soft, glowy candles that added their own luster to his wondrous face. Loaded sugar fed into his cute, puckering mouth. And then giving him little clues to find the hidden boxes, sent lovingly by family and friends. He enjoyed them all. Perhaps, it even got a bit overwhelming as he jumped haphazardly from one gift box to the next. Right now, things have settled a bit and all he wants to do is play with the balloons. And that's a child for you. Leave aside all the fancies, and go for a bit of air inside some rubber. It makes me smile.
I am happy to have got some really groovy pictures of him over the past couple of days. He obliged me for some eclairs in return. Bribes are the way to go! :) But I think I am going to like this one of him looking over the cake, candles glowing on his face, a little smile of sweetness, which is what has been the component of the past 3 years! I love this little dude!
Somebody here is so darn excited about the birthday coming up. He takes every opportunity to inform me, that everyone else's birthday is now over and it is HIS turn. I dare say it is. He has waited patiently all year, for his Anna's birthday to get over, then his Appa's, his Amma's, his Tattha's, his Chitthappa's, his Chitthi's, our anniversary, and now FINALLY....HIS BIG DAY! Phew. That's a lot to ask of a child.
We've covered a lot of ground together, as in the menu has been decided, as are some of the other little components that will go into his day. The idea has been to keep it very very simple and fill it with the things he would really delight in. Like cake, candle, balloons, some TV, a lollipop, birthday song on youtube, and a gift of an addition to his existing lego blocks. I can't think of anything that would make him happier. Yesterday being our special Monday, we set aside those conversations, and went shopping instead. For birthday clothes, for which he patiently obliged as I measured him for size. We made some nice finds and colours that I think he would look cute in. That was followed by a relaxing haircut, where he was lulled by the sound of the clippers and invigorated by the prospect of a lolly at the end.
Thambi's life is full of such highpoints these days and he gives us the complete satisfaction of revelling in each and every one of them with his trademark joy, doubling our own. So end of Year 3....here we come!
It has happened so many times at home with the boys. Where one of them picks up the toilet paper holder in his hand and tells me its a mike to sing into. Or when one of them gets into the big large toy tunnel we have, with the other pulling him along, and it is actually a train with many stops along the way. I see it all the time, when their imagination converts the simplest everyday object and becomes a whole new thing with a whole new dimension of possibility. And that is the concurrent theme of Not a Box as well.
What looks deceptively like a box, morphs into a race car, a mountain peak, a building on fire, a robot suit, a hot air balloon, a mount on top of an elephant....and...you get the drift. The rabbit at every turn keeps telling us that it is not a box. Then what is it, we wonder...and we get our answer at the very end....its my not-a-box. Which is like the most fitting finale to such strong imagination. Why is it necessary for everything to have a name, when it can be the not-a-name?
Not a Stick by Antoinette Portis
Ages : 3-7and on..
This is the follow-up to Not a Box, and another imaginative adventure, where a stick is a stick and not just a stick. Can you imagine all the things a stick could become now? :) I will not let the stick poke the fun out of the box, by spelling it all out.
Instead, I will tell you about the stark simplicity of the illustrations by the author, where less is truly more and sharp, clear images on plain white backgrounds create the maximum impact of visual enjoyment.
This author is already a favorite on ST, with the beauty of her A Penguin Story already captured here.
This series of books has potentially triggered another winter game and art activity hereabouts. Where boredom can be dispelled by a flick of that not-a-stick and other everyday objects that we see, can morph into the wildest, funniest things, making life...just a little bit more interesting!
There is something about animals in improbable everyday settings that just raises the gentle humour quotient and makes the story a surefire enterprise in enjoyment, and Library Lion is no exception to this genre.
Ms. Merriweather, the head of the library is very strict and particular about rules, topping which are two particular ones : no running in the library, and no noise. Fair enough, one would think. Except when it comes to lions. What are the rules about lions in the library anyway? No one knows. So when a lion turns up in the library one fine day, everyone is surprised, some nervous even, but they let it be, because he is not breaking any rules. And moreover, this is one conducive lion. He fits right in, and proceeds to make himself useful in many ways. He dusts off the encyclopedias with the furry ends of his tail, he licks the envelopes for sending notices, carries the children on his back so they can reach the top shelf...and the best thing of all is that he is a nice cosy backrest for the kids during everyone's favorite story hour.
So everything is going well, until one day when things go wrong. The story twists as the lion has to jump to the rescue in the only way he can. Which means that he has broken one of the cardinal rules. What happens that day? What does the lion do? What happens now that the rule is broken? This is what forms the rest of the story and in a way that has your emotions hanging on your sleeve, until you can be at ease on the last page that everything is just as it should be, that the shelves will once again be dusted, and the envelopes licked, and children hoisted up to reach the shelves and everyone cuddling up close to our beloved friend during his beloved story time....
Its a simple story, of an fantastic situation, with gentle humour to keep a smile always handy and the victorious exhilaration of everything being alright again in the end. And the illustrations tell this story perfectly. Kevin Hawkes' eye for creating just the right facial expressions, and the underlying current of persistent humour, makes you fall in love with the characters right away. The rule-wedded head librarian Ms. Merriweather, the sincere assistant Mr. McBee, the slightly nervous storyteller at story time, all the numerous kids who look like they have found a second home in this magical setting and our highly entertaining, unlikely-gentle, books-loving lion....you have a place in your heart for them all, when you get to know them through the book. And he adds little touches, like all the kids reading books with pictures of a lion in them, when the lion goes missing, to create the mood of his absence and their missing him. Or the way, he shows the entrance of the library with two imposing lion statues on either sides....much like the lions at the New York Public Library...tying in the theme cohesively.
With its warm and familiar theme of unlikely animals in improbable settings, this is a book that appeals to all ages, and I wouldn't be surprised if I caught myself daydreaming about a lion at the library the next time I go!
Its close to 21 days now. And I think I can reasonably conclude that we have made a change in our lives, which we will be sticking to. It took a little bit of preparation and thought, of which R was the main mover and shaker. He set up a drying area downstairs in the basement, got out the hardware and tools and hung some clotheslines. That, coupled with a clothes rack and a drying rack for smaller clothes, the area is pretty much complete for our needs.
" “We do not inherit the earth from our ancestors, we borrow it from our children. ~Native American Proverb "
We have a system in place now. All dirty clothes go into one hamper, and the minute it is full, without having to stuff it in for more space, we know its time for a wash cycle. This takes about 3 days. Washing -> 20 min. Then R, who mostly takes care of the next part, sorts out the clothes into 2 big buckets, depending on whether they go on the line or the rack. Hanging them to dry takes about 15 minutes, and is a very quietening and calming exercise, the benefits if which I cannot feel and stress enough. And that's it. We give it about 2-3 days to dry, in which while there are plenty of other clothes to wear and use. When its dry, it takes us about 10 minutes to fold it right there in the basement. The clothes are stiff and starchy and easy to fold, without looking for the fold lines. This part was a very pleasant surprise for me, I never realised how simple and time efficient it would be to fold the clothes right there standing, and sorting alongside, and bringing up a batch of fresh folded laundry to put away.
In a nutshell air drying feels great and works well even in a Midwest winter...
1. We stay on top of laundry, since we know clothes will take time to dry. So there is no procrastination in the least. We also use clothes and re-wear clothes as much as we can, considering its winter and it doesn't get that dirty/sweaty.
2. We do laundry only 2 times a week.
3. Hanging clothes to dry is pure therapy, without even 1% of exaggeration.
4. Clothes are easier to fold when taken from the line and done right away.
5. The additional exercise removes at least 5% of sedentary-ness from our lifestyle.
6. We have eliminated our dependence on at least one energy consuming machine in our household.
7. We are making regular use of a space that was till date, neglected.
8. There is a good feeling to the conscience, that lets you be at peace with yourself.
Now the nice thing about taking one step towards change is that it encourages you to make another, and another, things you would not have easily considered earlier. In my case, I have also reduced my dependence on the dishwasher, and am enjoying doing the dishes in 3-4 small batches a day. The minute the sink is about 3/4 full, it is the signal to clear off some dishes and use the dishwasher to dry them. I am glad for this change, because I was getting very annoyed with the soap deposits that were getting left behind on the dishes with the dishwasher. We have experimented with using 2-3 brands to see which left minimum deposits, and still found those off-white patches on the dishes, which we always had to rinse off before use. This was again using up additional water. Now that wastage is minimised and I can boldly take a dish from the dishwasher and use it directly.
The next step indicated to me is to reduce our dependence on plastic in our lives. This is going to take some time and thought-realignment to get into a good efficient groove. I am going to give myself another month to achieve this sincerely. If you have any other suggestions for me, do write it in...
We first held hands during the panigrahanam. And I still remember the way he shielded my hands from the heat of the ceremonial fire, during the offerings we made together. Since then, we have walked through some fires together, of our own making. And when you are scorched, at first it isn't pretty. The make-up has all but worn off. But heat always subsides when the cool air blows. And we have been testimony to this truth as well.
" “It's so great to find that one special person you want to annoy for the rest of your life." ~ Rita Rudner "
Today, he still laughs with relish at silly MCP (male chauvinist pig) jokes on marriage, while I put my nose up in the air and walk away. But all the words are running out. All those lengthy, weighted, extra, loaded words that stir thought and stir trouble...those are running out. And leaving behind a refreshing silence of acceptance for one another. As we truly are.
The view of this from an everyday life spectrum isn't romantic in the least. But on a day like this when we both joined lives, I feel like pausing to think, and pausing to understand, what has changed and what still remains. And what still remains is the truth...that the Universe ordained for our paths to unfold together.
When I was about 18 and on a train journey to Chennai, I struck conversation with this sweet old couple, who after noticing my interest in spirituality, directed me to the reading of some books which could be best procured from the Theosophical Society. So the soonest chance I got, I went there and found many of the titles they had recommended, one of them being The Hidden Helpers.
What the book deals with is as mysterious as the title. Hidden Helpers, refers to people who connect with you on the astral plane, to help you out of desperate situations. Sort of like that timely help from this complete stranger who happened to be there at the right time and right place for you. Only, these people have the psychic capacity to astrally project themselves to be of assistance, quite akin to a guardian angel.
I started reading it in the solitude of my hostel room and soon abandoned it, because it felt too spooky for me at the time. I wish I could get my hands on it now, but the book has been lost to obscurity.I relate the connected history because the term came to my mind, just the other day, when Winkie was home from school and the morning had just begun and we were wondering how to engage ourselves.
My surefire resort during times of impending thumb twiddling boredom, is to give him situational ideas and ask him to translate that via his art. This particular Monday, the concept happened to be hidden helpers. I told him that there are people in our lives, who remain hidden from the naked eye, many times, but their job is to help us, and in that, make our lives easier. If you, dear reader, are worried about a 6.5 year old's premature jaunt into the astral plane and its inhabitants, then fear not. For the hidden helpers I refer to are very much present in our physical worldly lives. :)
At first, he was mighty puzzled. Hidden Helpers??? Who are they? And I know of them???
So to get him started, I named the first one. Garbage disposal man.
Oh! ...the expression on his face said as he realised where this was leading. He hopped on board pretty fast and rattled off the names of every other hidden helper he'd met. The postman. The snow cleaning guys. The lawn care guys, etc. The fact that they are helpers is no secret. The fact that we don't see that much of them as they go about their work, that most of their work goes unacknowledged, and if they were to stop doing it, we would be in real trouble, is what makes up the 'hidden' aspect.
He was fascinated with this view, of thinking of them as 'hidden helpers'. And that sparked some terrific enthusiasm for him to get started on his drawing. This one here, the first of what I hope is a series, is his personal thank you to the snow cleaners. At first, he drew all the homes and the road and the snow truck and that was that. But I prodded him for more details, on what makes our community, 'our' community. So he added the extras. The trees in the back, the snowman on the side, one hidden helper dude shovelling a driveway...the works. And with all the "hidden" details, thrown up to the light, it all came together beautifully, as an ode to these special people.
The lingering vibration of this exercise is that he is now on the lookout for hidden helpers in our lives. And whenever he spots one, his excitement is palpable. The other day, as we were cleaning out the car, the garbage disposal truck came around, picking up all the trash. He could not take his eyes off from them and his whole body was tensed as he prepared to call out his thanks. When they parked at our driveway to take our bags, we both called out together.....thank you....but the sad thing of it was that he couldn't hear it above the roar of his truck. We called out 2-3 more times, but our voices were too faint in that noise.
Winkie was disappointed. I guess a smile or a wave of acknowledgement would have been a good boost for him to remember his gratitude even in the future...but another little lesson was being imparted anyways....that expecting acknowledgement is a little fringe benefit for the Ego, and what matters is the feeling that you acted upon, in all sincerity. It needn't be rewarded, and if you ask me, this is a lesson that we can all do with from our earliest possible memory. Plus, when a thought is good, it radiates positively into the ether, which is the plane in which my original hidden helpers operate!
One might wonder how it is possible to ponder the mysteries of life together with someone whose idea of enjoying a slice of nutella bread is to ensure that he leaves every trace of his pleasure in and around his cherubic little mouth. But it is known to happen. Especially when the foundation is as strong as the very same building blocks he uses to make his n'th batch of cake with a candle on top.
The two days of the week we have totally to ourselves, Monday and Tuesday, are loaded with such conversations. I sit on the sofa, sit him on my lap facing me, ask him to look deep into my eyes, and in that splendid atmosphere of sincerity, we 'talk'.
I ask him....do you believe God exists?... and he takes a moment to mull it over, before turning back to me with a sure grin to say...ya.
I askhim what do I do when I get really annoyed with things...and he starts to sing....for the gazillionth time that morning, the very same song that can get to me to such an annoyed state....the wheels on the bus go round and round. His voice comes with no holds barred and a cheeky smile to boot, and I realise that yes, this is indeed an answer.
I confess some of the failures I have had recently and his razor sharp eyes miss nothing, as he raises a finger and mockingly scolds me, capping off his sentence with anannathan? (understand?). Yes, I have understood. I am suitably chastised via being reminded not to take things so seriously.
After a bit, we leave behind the serious tone and banter a bit instead. I inform him he has a birthday coming and that he completes 3 years and he smiles and nods sagely. We agree without exception that he will have chocolate cake with a candle on it. He asks for noodles and I realise the menu has just been decided. He checks and crosschecks with me several times until all the details are worked out.
And then he climbs out of my lap and leaves my side, and I know the meeting is officially over. I cannot complain at the abruptness of it when my heart is light years lighter and as soft and fluffy as the batter that will soon go into his 3 year old cake!
Recently we read a book called...oooh! picasso. It is a children's book and introduction to Picasso's famous works and what it was about him that set him apart. It turned out to be an interesting session...because it was interactive.
The first page had the picture of part of an object, which could be looked at from different ways. Followed by the big bold question...what is this? For instance, there is the top half of a figure that looks like a car. But turn over the the next page, and you see that it is a baboon holding a baby in its arms. Intriguing huh? It was, to say the least.
Winkie and I enjoyed the book. And I guess his picasso senses have been awakened, for Thambi brought home a little something today, and Winkie looked at a portion of it and said...look Amma, shark! Now that very same exclamation, in a different setting of sandy beach and bright sun overhead, would have had this music playing background score in my head, so let's just be thankful that we were ensconced in our very tame and very safe bedroom!
Anyways, I was tempted to play what is this?...with you guys, but changed my mind. Thambi brought this home today and I believe he didn't figure out what it was until the very end when every piece was cut and glued on and he finally saw it in its entirety, and then the most delighted smile broke out on his face and he's been hugging it close ever since. We've named him Lou, for obvious reasons, since the "real" Lou, is submerged in a mountain of snow. All I can say is that will be one well preserved carrot, by the time spring rolls around. :)
The words are uttered some 5 minutes after we've gotten underneath the covers. Both of them have said RaamaSkandam... for the night and the rule is, no more talking after that. Plus there is no way he would have slipped into sleep and that in-between realm where dreams happen. I sigh tiredly, and summon up the patience to ask...What kind of dreams are you having?
That very poisonous ants are climbing all over me.
I am stunned. How did such a graphic visualisation come into his head? I mentally scan the memory bank to see if there's anything he watched that could have triggered it and come up with nothing.
I am right here next to you...I say instead. Don't be sacred.
But I am. I am feeling very disturbed Amma.
The instant I hear that word....distrubed...I know there is only one way that I can help him to help himself. It is something I have taken to recently, when the mind seems ridden in conflict. I tell him that we can chant the Gayatri together. That it is a very powerful mantra that rests right inside his heart and in its words, it carries away bad thoughts, and leaves you empty and calm.
He is enthusiastic to try. And we start...once...twice...3 times and on till about 9 times..and our voices taper off with...Om ShantiShantiShantihi..
I feel better...he says...Its all gone.
The process is simple. The trigger of a bad dream, pretty common place. And as I share with him the simple technique of what I recently learned myself, I realise that this is my true job in life. Of course I knew this before. But it helps when it hits with better impact from time to time, to fuel the effort to come back to the path with them. 2 very precious souls have chosen to be born to me. That at every juncture possible, in every opportunity that presents itself, I have to help them turn inwards, to their God-Self. Because all they need is already inside them. That true success in life is when you have become the mastermind...the master of your own mind.
in the lowliest garb...it never announces itself royally, or with neon signs hanging on top. It also is the kind that challenges you in the most painful kind of way. But it has to be painful, because our inertia is sooo.... thick and so clouded that there has to be a shocking impact for anything to seep through and make you think. Let me tell you about the opportunity that came to me this morning...
I washed a bedsheet in our washer yesterday morning, and transferred it to the dryer to dry. I turned the knobs to the regular setting, and heard a few extra suspicious *clicks* that didn't belong. I pressed down on the start knob, but all I got in return was a steady hum. *groan*. The dryer wasn't working. A frantic call to the repair shop, and they quoted about $200 odd, helpfully adding that we might just be better off buying a new one than replacing the old faulty motor. R scouted around Best Buy last evening, where we had bought our old one. All he had to do was locate one and complete the purchase. But he came home without sealing the deal. I had a splitting migraine last evening and didn't even bother to find out. It was enough if my head stopped splitting in all the wrong places.
This morning we spoke about it. And his opening lines had me inwardly groaning. We have off and on spoken about our traditional air drying methods, and of using it sometime, at least in the summer months. But of course, I never took up on the idea. I preferred the convenience of a simple wash, then dry, cycle. I mean...getting laundry done on time, without letting it all pile up, is in itself a big task for us. So why take on the extra work when you can save time???
So his opening lines, while not fully spoken out loud, leaned towards this old idea. But my reaction put him off, and his idea put me off and egos flared and moods soured. 10 minutes later, he calmly explained his idea to me. That we would indeed buy the dryer, that was for certain. But we could try and use this opportunity to also see if air drying could be made to work for us. That he would take up the task of washing and drying them, and all I would have to do is fold and put them back. But I was in no mood to listen to any of it. Wasn't it enough, all the work I had to do anyways, on my own? What guarantee was there that he would take over this without fail? That he would sustain it past his own enthusiasm?? Why did we have to be the one family that seemed to regress more and more into the middle ages, as firmly as the steps we took to enter into the second decade of the new millennium????? I was just so darn mad and so darn helpless!
And more than anything else, I was mad at the inner voice that was whispering the same thing and actually leading me to believe that he could have a point. How dare any part of me agree to this ludicrous thing!!! And even as I was feeling it, I could see mental images of balconies back home in India where clothes hung out colourfully to dry.
But people there have help to do it. No one does it themselves!!!...my mind countered.
Oh yes they do.....it said again. And I knew i was defeated. Of course there are people who do it and they do it well and they do it day in and day out, else they would have no clothes left to wear the next day. And I will have to do it too, until we buy the dryer, else we will have no clothes left to wear the next day.
And with that all argument came to a close. In a corner of my mind, I was thinking of who to call so I could complain about my backward husband, and it looks like the blog is the first place. And ironically, it is not him I am complaining about. :)
This is the funny thing about getting worked up very strongly over something. Because at some point, you are going to reach fever pitch and then deflate like a pricked balloon. And there's going to be no air left inside, except the cool breeze of common sense. And if you allow yourself to feel it, the calm voice of Eternal Wisdom. Which tells you that this is an O.P.P.O.R.T.U.N.I.T.Y. That if you don't take it, you have just lost a chance to grow in a way, that won't be possible any other way. That true reform comes at the cost of great personal sacrifice. And that if anything is done for 21 days in a row, it becomes a habit that could very easily be a part of you.
So tell me folks, how can I let go of this just like that? Without even trying? Without even a fair chance? So what if I have to work a little harder? I do have one very strong pair of hands, and by last count, 2 well working limbs too. So yes, I am going to bend and flex and think a little out of the box of my own comfort and find a solution that is actually age old and time tested. Nothing path breaking here. At this point, I have to admit, I don't honestly know if I have the will power to sustain it, but there's only one way to find out......and it starts with a closet in our house, where I know we have stored a long coil of rope, from some many moons of travel ago....!
He flings a small little backpack over his shoulders, and walks around the room, a purposeful air in his stride. Maybe within his little self, he feels like a big man, going some place important, the way he sees his father do. But does he realise that only minutes ago, he came to me, the said bag in hand, asking for help to wear it.
As I inserted each little hand through the straps, he looked straight at me, an expression of gentle love in his eyes, and deigned to kiss me on the tips of my nose, like someone haughty, who suddenly has a softening and decides to be kind. I take what he gives me, longing to crush him in a tight embrace and some very forced kisses, but instead, follow his cues on it. He walks around the room, waving a bye, and then comes back to me, to give me another kiss. The same chaste, rationed one, and I once again resist the urge to overpower him with my love. I know I very well can, but there's something deliciously delightful in giving him the power to call the shots, and control the motions.....so incharge does he look just then.
There is a little hole in the drywall, where the washing machine is. And his little hands have found a way to wedge a finger in, feel around, gather a bit of the paint dust on his fingertips, and apply it reverently on our foreheads calling it doopadi (vibhuti). And somehow, despite the cild stark facts, not a single one of us, including Winkie, have ever brushed it off as paint on the drywall. How can we bear to forgo something like this in the superior haughtiness of knowing, when the fact might just bely us, and point instead to a subtler energy current that he may have tapped into? And so when he applies his doopadi, we close our eyes and bend our heads low to accept his offering..
And as we follow his cues, and give him the room he needs, he develops a certainty of his own self, and a confidence of belonging to something that feels comfortable and familiar. And suddenly, its not just about a bag on the shoulder or a hole in the wall, anymore...
I had planned to write something before the year ended, reminiscing on all that had taken place and shaped my year and hence shaped me. But that moment passed, and before I knew it, a new year had been born. And just as quickly, 2009 felt old, and that burning desire to analyse the little things and make a picture of it, left me. I don't want to look back. Neither do I want to look forward. I just want to be here now.
I don't think I have ever felt the dawn of a new year on a new day so keenly. I was aware of its intensity all day. Imagine standing on the brink of every possibility. Its extremely humbling. You have been given the opportunity to reset everything and just start anew with a fresh year. If that isn't one of the biggest gifts, I don't know what is.
We ended the last day of '09 by watching an uplifting video on youtube, and switched off the lights to sleep by 10:30 PM. Prior to that, I had been disappointed by such a low key finale. But that delicious sleep which stole over me, I don't think I could trade it for any excitement in the world. And we started our new year morning with bhajans at our Sai Center. I can't think of a better way for us to have done it. If symbolism is anything to go by, then I hope this symbolises everything that such a holy start should.
I have this one prayer of God, the words for which, I am borrowing from the back cover of a book I am reading...
When you take me on your wings into the skies of your glory, Give me the humility to bow to you in all men.
When you trample me under your feet to shake off all my unlikeliness to you, Grant me the resolve to cling to your feet with love.
When you take up the sword to strip me of all selfhood, Give me the strength to surrender to your wrath.
When you lift me up into the heavens of your bosom, Grant me the courage to sever the bonds of earth.
With that, I have one sincere, earnest beseeching to all of you. That in your own capacities and beyond it, breaking out of the existing moulds of preconception and doubts, you embrace God in all His compassion. He is there to love each and every one of us. He is NOT responsible for the unhappinesses we face. But He is the only way out of it. So please, cling to Him more and more, and to your Ego less and less. Give up your identities to be one with Him. The Bliss is simply unimaginable. It is total.
I pray that He gives each and every one of you such mercy of His Grace that you have no choice but to succumb to His Love. God Bless you all.
To our dearest Thambi..
of hours later for that official Montessori celebration. She has known him since he was a baby and he has visited the school when he was just 2 months old and looking back at that picture and comparing it to the one now.....wow!
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