Of nest and trust and doing the best!

Those who have been reading my blog for awhile now, know how much I focus on trying to change things within me. How I am constantly introspecting, for the meaning and place of things in my life and the way I am affected by them. How I know what are the true impediments to my own inner growth, and what I need to overcome it. And that one of the biggest things holding me back was my anger. But perhaps, you didn't know that last bit, because I wasn't that very aware of it myself, until now. But over the last 10 years, I learnt that had let a lot of anger grow within me. And that it was liberally expressing itself with my kids and my husband and my family in different ways. And that expressing it always always made me terribly unhappy in the end.

So much so that when my the form of my Spiritual Guru, passed from this earth, I was seized, not just by that initial grief, but right after, this great sense of urgency to transform. To lend some meaning to my own life, by giving up this great big obstruction, that did no good. To instead let some of that anger turn inwards, in a very positive light and let out that steam to fuel the real effort to let it go.

On Easwaramma Day, at Winkie's Balvikas graduation, I wrote this down on a little flower petal that was meant for giving up such vices. And then again, renewed that resolve among a group of my bhajan friends, as we all tried to let one bad thing go. The days following that were horrible. If possible, I got more angrier than ever, I let it show more fiercely than ever, through the most biting words and screaming, and it seemed like I had completely forgotten that such a resolve had been undertaken by me. Looking back now, I realise those were the death shrieks of my own Ego, as it realised it was close to annihilation. And it was putting up quite a fierce fight. But it eventually lost to the greater power....which was my sincere desire to change and be better.

After 3 bitterly frustrating days, the 4th day found me much calmer. The anger was still there, but even as it tried to bubble up to the surface, I became aware of it, and seized control back. I bit back words, I gave myself time outs, and forced myself to speak softly. I exercised a lot of restraint in my reactions, and found that I enjoyed that pause and breather to think things through. When things got overwhelming, I simply dropped to my knees and prayed, with a fervency and urgency, that was so liberatingly pure. And it always helped.

Slowly, whatever anger I still had became more impersonal. And by that I mean, that I still acted angry sometimes, but it was just to put a point across to the boys, that some things just weren't done. Inside, I felt no passion in that anger. It was calm...and quiet. One of the biggest things this effort has wrought in me is this sense of sweet restraint. I don't feel the urge to react right away. Do you know how big that is? Most of our problems happen because we cannot control our urge to react to something. I find myself being aware of whatever undesirable feelings and emotions still surface, and giving it the time and space to work itself out. And then I act.

But perhaps, the nicest after-effect, and not the subtle kind, to come from all of this...is my relationship with Winkie. Those who have been reading my blog for awhile now also know that I can have a complex sort of chemistry with him, quite unlike the more effortless one I have with my younger one. Now, Winkie feels the direct warmth of all my change and my efforts. He is a lot more relaxed around me now. We talk so much more. He is bubbling with things to tell me from school, whereas before I would have to pry even a single word out of him for a simple question, on how was your day! He likes being with me, and is more forthcoming with ideas on what we can do together. The times when I have to get strict and put on my disciplining mantle, he is more responsive and understanding of them. Sounds too good to be true, doesn't it? I think so too. But because it is all good, it is all true.

The biggest testimony to my goodness is from an incident this morning. It all happened so mellifluously that it can't even be sharply termed an incident, but let me coin a few words to tell you about it. He was ready for school. Bag was packed, I had done my bit for his lunchbox and everything and he was set to leave. I wished him a good day, but he lingered. Suddenly, before I knew it, he came and wrapped his arms around my waist and snuggled close in a hug, a very content smile on his face. Within a second, I was bent over him, planting a kiss on his soft cheeks and smoothing his hair, thinking simultaneously that it was time for a haircut. :). As he walked, he turned back so many times to wave and the gap from the loss of one of his upper milk teeth, made his smile even more goofier and sweeter. He was showering his love so liberally and affectionately, that at one point, it got too much to take and I started feeling conscious of it within myself, and played down my own delight, into a very casual smile and wave back. But the impression was left on my heart and I find myself giving myself a very hearty pat on the back through this post, for being such a good girl! :D

And I realise one thing.....transformation is so easy beyond a point. It is just reaching  t.h.a.t  point, that's the killer! :)

As for why I chose the picture of an empty nest on the tree outside my home....the reasons are 2-fold. One, there is an avid reader friend of mine, who loves the visual effect of a picture for each post. And 2, because the picture should have some relevance to the words underneath, and I figure this is mine. The sight of it makes me happy. Its been around for a few years now, and I think its still being used. And I think the fact I am most touched about, without even realising how touched I am about it, is that this little bird has trust in us, and faith in us, to have built a nest and left it there, knowing it can always come back to it. Something about that implicit trust, hones my protective instincts even further. Just like the trust, that people I love, have in me, to be the best thing that I can be! Yes, I can find a sob story for everything! :D

House of Expressions

This is the perfect end to a day. Its 8:00 PM and the boys were in bed some 10 minutes ago. A rarity in this household, despite my fondest notions of an early bedtime. All the groceries are done and put away. The house is clean and organised and looking spic and span. I re-potted our biggest house plants and they seem even more lush and prosperous now. And best of all, I managed to do the one thing I had been dreaming of for awhile now. Setting up a proper art corner for the boys. 

A place, where we could find all the supplies whenever the fancy overtook to create something. A place, where making that inevitable mess was still ok. A place that would be a little haven of peace and solitude and expressive energy. And most of all just a space they could go to on their own and help themselves to materials that were within their reach, instead of calling out to me for every single thing, which is how it has been so far. 

The idea for this space having been born a long time in my head, I had been steadily preparing for it, by gathering all the stuff together and accumulating it in the basement. But I still had no clue how I wanted to go about it. It remained a vague dream in my head, until finally this last weekend, when I decided that me and the boys would head down, while R took care of feeding us lunch. But once there, I was again beset by this inertia of where and how to begin. How to make efficient use of that space? How to give consideration for the plants that still needed to be indoors and in view of the sun, and also my art corner, which would be light, and airy and bright enough for the boys to work in? So I just sat back on the couch for a bit and looked around, while the boys played and shouted around me, and finally, unable to sit back any more, just began with some simple broom on the floor action. 

I swept the floor from end to visible end, and just the swish swish of that helped clear out my own dust in the head, and gave me a clearer picture. Soon, I was clearing out the soil of old plants that had long dried up, and   watered the new ones, and after deciding to still keep our clothes drying corner intact, decided that the best place to set up would be right next to it. With that finalized, the rest was easier. I moved out stuff that didn't belong in that corner, like bits of old carpet, and extra blinds, and our old table etc etc., pulled in all the extra shelving that we had around the place and started opening the boxes of supplies. Before I knew it, it was actually taking shape, and the fun bits were how I could improvise and use stuff I already had to add interesting touches to the space. Like, how Winkie's decoupaged bowl from school craft-time, was now used to hold some of our paint tubes. Or how an interesting goody bag from a party was now a paintbrush stand. Or how some of the boys' old plastic sectioned plates, could now be used as extra easels. Or how the toyhouse we began and never completed, is now our supply house. :D. Or even how, the two 1000-piece Thomas Kincade puzzles, I had worked on 10 years ago and glued to the back of cardbord, to make it like a painting, could now be commissioned as an art piece for the space, acting as a source of inspiration, and giving splash and colour to the grey walls.

Before long, I was digging into Winkie's Kindergarten and 1st grade memory boxes, to extract all his other drawings and pictures and notes, and sticking them on the walls. I ran back upstairs and got all of Thambi's current ones from his folder and added a corner of his own, making that section of the wall a museum....of memories and colour, and little hands in earnest expression, and capturing the essence of the boys frozen at that point in time. I saved the really prized ones (pics later), to be framed nicely and mounted in the boys' room. But this made use of every other thing they had worked on and saved, and added so much, colour, character and cheer to the place.

At the end of it all, I sat back again on the couch, this time to enjoy the fruits of all my labour and it was a gladdening sight, which is the picture you see on the top, followed by a more detailed slideshow. Now it remains to be seen, whether it will be used and made functional in the way I envisioned it. And that's a whole different ballgame. But the summer's just beginning, ins't it? :)

This free scrapbooking design personalized with Smilebox

Feasting on the Mahabharatha

For around close to a month now, I have taken to telling the boys one different story each night at bedtime. Its something I had always meant to get around to, but never made the time for in terms of planning. But thankfully, that bit of inertia was overcome and now I read up something different each day, and create the right atmosphere each night, with the lights off, sheets tucked under little chins, eyes wide as saucers in the dark, all other claims of life put on hold for those 20 magical minutes as mythology meets imagination, and carefully chosen words fall on eager little ears. At first they were whatever mythological stories I could remember from my own readings of Amar Chitra Katha. But when Winkie started out-narrating me, with his faultless memory in his more recent readings of the very same texts, I realised I would have to have a theme, and diligently research each story, to create that right effect of drama with carefully interjected details of nuances, which would delight the listeners and weave a blanket of charm and allure over all the protagonists.

And so it was that I began telling them stories from the Mahabharatha. As a child, and a teen, and even now as an adult, I was and continue to be most fascinated by this great epic. Every single character in the story has so many little inner stories to take you even deeper into their lives, and even take you off track from the main plot. But each one of these digressions allows you to taste the richness of it all and understand that mystical setting that was the period of the Mahabharatha. I love hearing about the grandsire Bhishma, and his ultimate sacrifice to give up the crown and even conjugal happiness. I love the air of mystery and victory in a swayamvar, as the princess chooses the one who truly deserves to have her. I love the mysterious ways in which some of the births take place, like that of the Pandavas and the Kauravas and even Pandu and Dhritharashtra themselves. I love Krishna's guiles and tricky advice, which when you sit down to analyse, you realise is steeped in dharma. I love the sound of all the astras that are given as boons to the brave ones who do the most rigorous of penances for them. I loooooo....ooove the story of Karna, and it almost always leaves a lump in my throat, to know how doomed he was from the start. His life was a most valuable lesson to all. I love the solemnity of that period, where a word once given, was defended to the end with your own life. Where war had rules and honor and subsequently, even dishonor.

And so it was with great pleasure and eagerness that I sat down to read a few passages each night, willing my tired end-of-the-day brain to memorise the names and places and people and weapons, to be able to recreate that vivid texture back to the boys in their room. I started off with the story of Vishwamitra and Menaka, narrating it in the most innocent terms possible. Winkie barely had the patience then, for he couldn't see what they would have to do with any of the meatier portions of the story, of the game of dice and the exile, and finally the war. But I told him every story would have a proper place to start, and there needs to be a period of build-up, which must precede the strong portion of the narrative. And so they both listened raptly, and understood who Shakuntala was, and that her son was the reason the homeland got her name, and that in this great line of ancestry, finally comes King Shantanu, who marries the River Goddess Ganga, and watches in shock as she drowns so many of  their sons, and what was Bhishma's history even before that birth, and why he was cursed to this life, and also blessed to choose the exact moment of his departure from earth. And fast forward 2 generations, and how each one of the sisters Ambika & Ambalika react when they see the scary persona of Sage Vyasa, and how that affects the children they bear. And then of course, the story goes into overdrive from that point, and you are no longer steering it. It has now assumed a will of its own, and will see itself through to its final fitting climax and anticlimax.

But I am getting ahead of myself. We still haven't gotten that far. Right now, we are at how each of the Pandavas were born, and we sidetracked a bit from there into the detailed life of Karna and his ultimate death. My spirits are a little low right now, for I am still not over his demise and how the fates played out for him all through the story. And was remembering so keenly Sivaji Ganesan's ultimate performance in Karnan, when I googled to see if was available even by the remotest possibility, and viola! There it was, a very old old print, but in full print nonetheless. I am super excited and looking forward to movie night on Friday when we can premiere it to the boys. Of course a lot will have to be translated, but it will be thrilling for them to see some of the action live. On the same note, I also managed to find quite a few full episodes of the Hindi serial on veoh.com, and am looking forward to those protracted viewing sessions.

Which all brings me ultimately to kutti Thambi's favorite story in the epic....that of Abhimanyu and how he entered the chakkafew and was ultimately trapped inside it, and assailed by Jayadratha among many others and overpowered and killed, but how he was the hero that we all love and rooted for all through. The story of Abhimanyu is truly a heartbreak and it really made a deep impression on Thambi. Its most entertaining to hear him narrate it in his yankee accent calling the Pandavas ...Pan-davas (with pan as in pan-card!). And thanks to him, his uncle and aunt from London and Altoid, who visited prior to that, know that story so intimately, that they can do a thesis on it, thanks to all the countless narrations he subjected them to on our long roadtrip over the Easter break, a few weeks ago.

But again, I digress. The Mahabharatha is on in full swing now. And its only a matter of time before I put my hand to my heart and start singing Mahabhaaaaaaaarath.....Mahabhaaaaaaaaaaaarath........Mahabhaaaaaaaaaarath. [Click on the link to listen to the original. :)]....punctuated with a solemn blowing of the conch, just before storytime. Yes, we are that hung over here. :)

[Image courtesy google.com]

Do you believe it?

Just as we got back home after our morning station run, Winkie followed me into the house, and declared, a plaintive note in his voice...Amma, Sathya called me a bad boy!

Now I've heard this enough number of times, as the boys grow and repeatedly discover new dynamics to their relationship as brothers and playmates, but this morning as I heard it, a simple and immediate question formed in my head, even without my knowing, and I asked it. Do you believe that?

He was quiet. Do you believe that you are a bad boy, Winkie?..I repeated.

He nodded quietly in the no. That's it then, right?..I say.

Yes... he nodded, this time.

And that was it.

And quietly as it came, it was still a bolt of lightning, suddenly illuminating the space of my mind, much like it does on a dark and rainy night.

Anyone can say anything to us. And the only task upto us at that point, is to examine it to see if there is truth. If it is not the truth, the way forward is simple. It is false, so shrug it off. The reason that it bothers us, even to the extent that it does, is our 'inability' to let it go. At times, all we are required to be is a medium for things to pass through. But if we mistakenly broaden the scope of that role to to receiving and holding all that energy, then no doubt it will fester and harm our insides.

But if it is true, if it points to even a sliver of the truth, then we can dwell on it just a bit more, to pick out those grains of truth, and hold them tightly in our fist, while letting all that chaff blow away. We can look at those grains of truth again, and ingrain them into our awareness. And then, it is time to let even that go.