Wednesday 30 January 2019

Excerpts from Yajnyawalkya by Sushama Karnik
Oct 12, 2016
Revisiting a part of Yajnyawalkya (On Gayatri mantra)

Artabhaga spoke again: "A Master does not speak unless he feels you have the quest in your heart. ".....

A disciple asked, "You have been teaching us to invoke the inner light: Gayatri. Is Gayatri the same as Brahma which has been sought after by sages?"
Yajnyawalkya said, " No, Gayatri is not Brahma. Gayatri is the grand chariot which helps you traverse the path of this life on earth. Gayatri mantra enables you to unveil the light within you. Live your life constantly in that light. That light is the very power of Gayatri. It resides within you, but you know it not. "
Someone asked, "Are we born with that light or do we acquire it by effort?"
Yajnyawalkya said, "We are all born with it, and still we have to put in an effort to retrieve it because we have lost it in the process of living."
"Why do we lose it?" asked the pupil.
"Because our life on this earth makes demands on the other faculties which we call the mind, intellect, ego, and memory. We develop a trust in them and come to believe that we cannot understand this phenomenal world without their aid. Gradually we become one with them. We do not see ourselves as distinct from them. Ultimately, we are lost to that light in this process which we call "living'.
"If we are blessed with the faculty of memory, why are we lost to that light?"
Yajnyawalkya said, "The memory which loses sight of that light is the functional memory, which is an instrument of the mind connecting us with space and time that we can measure and imagine. It helps us communicate, speak, understand, synthesize and analyze. But it has limitations. Its function is to serve the body and the mind, but it does not enable us to reach that light."
" How do we reach it then? Is it enough to recite the Gayatri mantra?"
Yajnyawalkya said, "Recitation aids the physical memory. It helps you to be mindful, which is the primary need. But though necessary, recitation by itself is not sufficient. Gayatri is the vibration of the life within. It unites you with everything that vibrates in the universe outside of your body. Open your mind, body, and heart to the power of energy that the universe is transmitting to you ceaselessly. Gayatri opens up the heart, restores energy, heals, and elevates."
The pupil said, "This is love; is it not?"
Yajnyawalkya said, "Love is the underlying principle of life. The very light within you, which is lost and forgotten, is "love". There is discord, violence, and fear because we have lost that light. There is restlessness because we know that we must get it back, and restlessness is the sign of hope. Do not confuse that restlessness with fear. "
The pupil asked, "Does the light of Gayatri help me conquer fear?"
Yajnyawalkya said, "Yes, the conquest of fear is the first step you take in the direction of that light.....
Gayatri reaches out from you to touch the light that pervades the Akasha and comes back to you with floods of light and energy. When the universe is ever ready, nay, eager to enrich you, accept the bounty without agitation. Embrace life in all its aspects. Be aware that happiness and sorrow are aspects of life, not the goal of it. Your mind adopts happiness and rejects sorrow. That which you reject becomes the root of fear. Gayatri takes you beyond the antithesis of happiness and sorrow. It is light, pure and simple, and inexhaustible."
Yajnyawalkya stopped, but no one realized that he had stopped speaking. Their minds swayed on a tide of self-awareness that surged up from the gross world of the body to leap up and catch a glimpse of the subtle and timeless world of the spirit.
A sacrificial fire had been initiated on the ground of earth but reached the realm of the spirit. The offering came from the seven realms of Brahma. Divinity guarded the sacrificial fire. Earth was the ground of the altar, mountains bosom. Its hands spread in four quarters. Divine wrath blazed in the embers of the karma of the humans, and the inaccessible truth of Brahma leaped up momentarily like a tongue of fire to speak its word. So long as the Brahma guards this sacrificial fire, there is no extinction for the human spirit and the spirit of all life.

SUSHAMA KARNIK (C)

Sunday 27 January 2019

SOMEWHERE

Somewhere my love
the gold will be melting in sea
and here on the green periphery
stars will gather to greet,
and dance in the lake
with lilies.
If you see then one in the shadows
watching the lilies smile
cover not your face, let the moonbeams caress
your brow and spread the light
all over the rippling lake.

Somewhere in the desert
the caravan will shift
and the sun will shine on the immutable sphinx.
Be sure to watch for the signs of change
as just for a moment the sphinx may speak.
In an instant flash of lightning.
you will traverse the seven seas.

"Jab tujhe yaad kar liya,
subah mehak-mehak uthi,
Jab tera gham jaga liya,
raat machal-machal gayi." ..Faiz


 

Tuesday 22 January 2019

The Death Of The Queen: Rani Laxmi of Jhansi

And her bloodied horse,
embattled, loyal to her till the last,
carried her slumped body on his back,
her grip on the saddle still firm,
though her hands had slackened the hold
on the reins that needed no signal to guide.
The horse and the master were one.
That was no submission on the part of the horse,
It was a bond of love and strength.
He knew her mind like an open land
and carried her to her last resort.
Away from the battle, away from hounding killers,
the horse trudged now silently
to the abandoned cottage standing in the forest
and gave a gentle knock.
The hermit came, saw and knew who she was.
There in that solitude, she breathed her last.
The hermit had no logs to build a pyre.
There was no time to lose,
the foe was on her trail.
The hermit set the cottage on fire.
He and the horse stood still
as the fire accomplished the task

Friday 18 January 2019


A thatched roof covers a marble arch
in a dichotomy of a surreal dream
where two birds without a name
come from a sea of crystals balls.
A bird's eye view is brought under their wings;
they perch upon my Mediterranean sea.
Archetypes of palms and coconut trees,
islands resting upon the crests of waves,
footprints in the sand that are never erased,
on the sunkissed shores hutments are lined,
mud walls adorned by a paste of rice,
nights when the moon hides among trees,
colours on a palette swelling up in tides,
overflow a godly canvas and rush to the rocks in a spray of light.
I overhear their restful words, "This world of mine is a crucible of a kind .
Nothing ever freezes; everything flows into colours I see but cannot name.
Once upon a time we took a flight in search of many precious stones.
Now we perch upon a window sill and watch the waves come and go.
The afternoon warms our tired wings, and all that we sought,
comes back to us in a haze of the afterglow."
Thank you +anu x for the treasure from the world of Picasso
Pablo Picasso
Les pigeons, Cannes (1957)
i do not seek . i find
. . . . .
Pablo Picasso (25 October 1881 – 8 April 1973)

Picasso is not just a man and his work. Picasso is always a legend, indeed almost a myth. In the public view he has long since been the personification of genius in modern art. Picasso is an idol, one of those rare creatures who act as crucibles in which the diverse and often chaotic phenomena of culture are focussed, who seem to body forth the artistic life of their age in one person. The same thing happens in politics, science, sport. And it happens in art.

~ pablopicasso.org
. . . . .
image from artribune.com
. . . . .
#Art #PabloPicasso
. . . . .
Photo
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Bird of a strange paradise,
how you descend upon the shallow tide
with ruffled feathers and a quiet grace!

The dawn is the time to wake up and face
the new day with your secret strength.
Let me watch you dance with all my days.

Bird of paradise, let me match
my footsteps upon the shores
of your immaculate white sands.

Ruffled feathers and a quiet grace,
you have dropped a message in my lap.
I read your presence in every wind upon the virgin sand.

A breeze from an unknown land, peace from a healing song,
your melody drifts on the waters here;
I listen, and drown in the scent of stillness that wraps me all around

© Sushama Karnik
A thatched roof covers a marble arch
in a dichotomy of a surreal dream
where two birds without a name
come from a sea of crystals balls.
A bird's eye view is brought under their wings;
they perch upon my Mediterranean sea.
Archetypes of palms and coconut trees,
islands resting upon the crests of waves,
footprints in the sand that are never erased,
on the sunkissed shores hutments are lined,
mud walls adorned by a paste of rice,
nights when the moon hides among trees,
colours on a palette swelling up in tides,
overflow a godly canvas and rush to the rocks in a spray of light.
I overhear their restful words, "This world of mine is a crucible of a kind .
Nothing ever freezes; everything flows into colours I see but cannot name.
Once upon a time we took a flight in search of many precious stones.
Now we perch upon a window sill and watch the waves come and go.
The afternoon warms our tired wings, and all that we sought,
comes back to us in a haze of the afterglow."
Pablo Picasso
Les pigeons, Cannes (1957)
i do not seek . i find
. . . . .
Pablo Picasso (25 October 1881 – 8 April 1973)

Picasso is not just a man and his work. Picasso is always a legend, indeed almost a myth. In the public view he has long since been the personification of genius in modern art. Picasso is an idol, one of those rare creatures who act as crucibles in which the diverse and often chaotic phenomena of culture are focussed, who seem to body forth the artistic life of their age in one person. The same thing happens in politics, science, sport. And it happens in art.

~ pablopicasso.org
. . . . .
image from artribune.com
. . . . .
#Art #PabloPicasso
. . . . .
Photo