Category: Poetry
-
Schrodinger’s Cat : Not This, Not That
“Writing, to me, is simply thinking through my fingers.” – Isaac Asimov Here is a post I wrote up a little while ago, but had forgotten to make visible. I had initially jotted down these ideas in order to prepare a paper for the Consciousness Conference in Tucson, but eventually did not present at the…
-
Transformations Thru Creativity
I love gardening. I simply love it. And I love growing roses in my garden. I currently have over 200 of them. When they bloom together in early spring, I feel I am in heaven. Thousands and thousands of happy rosebuds open themselves up to the elements in a display that is beyond words. My…
-
My struggles with Father Time
I haven’t written. There is no excuse really, except that I am Time constrained. Not writing, for me, is like not brushing my teeth, or not showering. Writing cleanses, and when I don’t write, I feel uncleansed, messy, disorganized. Thank god for my journal, else I’d be even more disoriented than I currently feel. Over…
-
Honesty, Integrity and Trust….
A few days ago Karin wrote a wonderful blog on trust, that started me thinking about the construction of trust as well. What is trust, do we ever stop to think of what the word actually represents ? I mean what does it contain, beyond the word-symbol ? Trust is a composite feeling that we experience…
-
Further Thoughts on Hope…
I had planned on writing a more detailed expose on Hope after my return, but demands on my time are many, and so for now my psyche can only bring forth this brief piece. I am confident that the rest will show up in some shape or form in my subsequent writings, for the part of…
-
Patterns of Silence
Just a quick note based on something I wrote to a friend’s daughter about problems in Kashmir. A Jungian tale I recently heard, a marker for our times. Once there was a severe drought in a village. There was no water, so all vegetation died, and there was no food for people. The cattle started dying…
-
The stretched psyche: The stretched string
It is 8:42 on Friday night. I pulled at my laptop, wanting to write about Shadow element of our personality. However, as I start typing, the fingers seem to have a mind of their own. So here I am, sitting with a hand written article on Shadow, willing to transcribe it, but with a psyche…
-
In The Shadow of the Contained
In the Shadow of the Contained Cynical, I’d thought you at first; and judgmental. But when you laugh, your face relaxes – A smile teased out of a little boy in an unknown Italian painting. Your cheekbones, are they high or low? Moustache? Glasses? I’ve never noticed, nor the rest of you, having been mired…
Madhu Sameer 