Intentions and theories

Intention is the nucleus around which theories are built…theories of convenience…theories of compulsiveness and impulsiveness…theories of righteousness and charity. These theories collectively become a school of thought, and culture of a set of people. A school of thought so born may influence/ represent one whole country, a state, a city, a family, or the smallest possible social entity such as one individual.

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We are out in the society holding a mirror to ourselves. It is strange that the image we see of ourselves is far more perfect and different from what the world sees. Everyone except us sees the imperfections we reflect.

Our intentions manipulate our words and deeds. It is of utmost importance that we identify our intentions beyond their garb of nicety. Often our intentions are rolled in layers of self-centeredness in the inside but present themselves as good Samaritans. When negative intentions float around us it’s hard not to give in. By practice we can bring in some kind of mental regime. Identifying a negative or selfish intention is a great beginning to curbing the release of the same, and the resulting ill effect thereafter. That achieved we are prepared to identify such intentions in others. But may the schooling begin for self at first.

Similarly people will always know if we are downplaying our virtues. Our way of thinking is a watermark that appears in everything we do. But positive intentions seldom are cause for worry.

Intentions drive actions

Actions are irreversible

May they reflect nobility.

Intentions derive theories

Theories lead to practices

Practices lead to norms

May they reflect righteousness.

In the end human nature is bound by its own weaknesses. We always come up with a reason and logic to support our intentions. If we are not in agreement with something, in spite of it having the potential of doing good to us and the society, we find a reason not to do it even before thinking of a fair motivation to do it. Similarly if we are inclined towards doing something, even if it has the magnitude of bringing down our own image, we don’t wait for a reason. On the contrary we would have already done it before finding a justification.

Intentions are powerful tools that can either break or make us. If we mind, we can make them our strengths. We can eliminate the difference between the real and the virtual image of ourselves. The need is only to rise beyond our own interests.

Thanks for reading through. May we all be led by the angel in us.

It’s not complicated…

We live in times where a word or an action drives a thousand more. Communication is seamless and equally seamless are the possibilities of miscommunication. We have perhaps misplaced the comma in a world of instant reactions.

We often miss the ambience of an expression.  We don’t have to necessarily count unto ten to control our urge to misunderstand things, but we can always take a fraction of a minute to look at the backdrop of an ongoing conversation. Only hearing, but not interpreting what’s being said in the light of a larger picture, leads to a jugglery of justifications. No one wins, everyone loses in the end. Wise people either ignore or develop immunity to this syndrome. But when beautiful equations are thrown off balance it’s time to go back to basic grammar.  

Don’t lose my song in the dance of words.
Read not too much between the lines
I don’t write anything there.
As real as the sky above us
is the song on my lips.
A note you didn’t find
is a note I didn’t sing.
It’s a maze with no escape
let’s not go there another time!

Lot of energy is spent in reading between the lines rather than looking at the writing on the walls! We are more concerned about what may be hiding in the shadow while we totally miss what the apparent burst of light is trying to tell us. What may be implied gets more attention than what is shouted from a rooftop.

The pleasure of communication is only when it is received in the same sense as it is conveyed. It is such a simple joy when someone says ‘I get you’.

the monkey mind

The key to finding the inside monk is setting the inside monkey free. Both are wor(l)ds apart but both are homed within us. The trick is to retain the monk and let the urchin out.

And then sit calm and watch how the monk becomes all the wonderful things in the world. May the unsettled wander from tree to tree, and may it let go of the dream of enlightenment.

May we all find the monks in ourselves.

Tree knows not another way

shelters them both

Monk under the tree

Monkey atop the tree

Summer knows not another way

suns them both  

Monk down to earth

Monkey dances for the sky

Monk becomes the tree

becomes the Sun

the moon


Monkey shifts

tree to tree

Monkey sets free

a dream

an awakening.

October splashes

Looks like haikus have me hooked for a while, so much so that I had to create a pond for them. Until the splashes last let me soak my fingers.

pc -Karen Arnold (public domain)

reading the daylight
a bookworm in sepia
sparrow bird ethics

Known to be a joyous bird often seen working hard in teams. The simple sparrow has its own moments of reflection and recreation. Seems like it’s having a ‘me’ time trying to read the fortune the day’s weather may bring.

pc- pixabay

she drifts with such ease
moored to the mercurial
the greenwood lover

How nature pairs up the wavering and the unwavering! Each not intimidated by the other’s conflicting personality. Instead there’s a graceful acceptance and peaceful co existence.


Midas leaves no tree

turned to gold they wait the spring

sages of the woods


It’s autumn again. Midas lingers in the woods touching the green sages in penance.
Looking to the sky, rooted deeply in the earth for ages, I wonder what truth they seek!
If a boon they must ask, it must be to be born a tree again.

pc- pixabay

To look upon them as pious is how we can revere the noble souls for all that they give us. While fall is all a burst of colors to the worldly eye, there must be more to it. Losing is winning is what trees try to teach us. Every year autumn anoints them in gold perhaps to test their resolve. Politely returned all the wealth surrenders by their feet. The onus now is upon the spring to breathe green into the leaves. And when it does trees are all smiles again!

from my album

Japanese short form poetry

stock photo

The focus in short forms is on the brevity and economy of words. It’s the art of saying all that we want to while saying too little or not saying anything at all.

when a raindrop says it all

why talk an ocean!

Lyrical Passion Poetry E-Zine publishes all Japanese short forms of poetry. Happy to have my poem here. To read and contribute to this flourishing community of poets click

Here is a detailed write up on Japanese poetry which I found very interesting. Sharing the link here for those who would be curious to know more.

Happy Japanese poetry writing!

Between the mind and body…

Who wins the obedience medal between the mind and body? I am thinking only of normal people. People whose lives are controlled by the two mischievous brats they have raised. It’s an odd combination if the two don’t age correspondingly. That we can control neither is the biggest truth and life’s most important feature. Wisdom lies in gracefully accepting this enlightenment, and also our limitations. All we can do is channelize the energies of the mind and body and churn a healthy brew.

A good fitness regime, as much as our health and age permit, is a basic necessity of our body. Likewise we must have a custom made regime to flush out the toxins of the mind. There’s a way to keep a watch on the body. There are sure tell-tale signs. But it’s the mind that takes a beating. The whole process is abstract. We will never know how, where, when these toxins royally march into our mind. Isn’t it strange that our mind knows how to keep our body fit? It tells us how much we must eat and when we must stop eating and when it’s time to exercise etc. But when it comes to keeping itself fit, it’s rather casual. I am tempted to compare the mind to a slightly older sibling who gets away with a little sermonizing over the younger one, a little monitoring and perhaps some bossing.

The mind too needs to be cornered. The mind needs to know that we cannot play favoritism. The mind needs to find the regime that works best to flush out the toxins. Meditation is one way to drive away the crazy calories of the mind and restore some sanity and peace. It’s quite challenging to bring our mind to behave itself. A proven vagabond that it is, holding its reins takes some real effort. I wonder how such vulnerable mind is tough and ruthless when it comes to overseeing the physical fitness activity. But we are at least half done if our mind doesn’t tempt our body into an unhealthy lifestyle.

The other half is a difficult mile to run. Some days the mind begins to run amok even before the net is cast. It’s such an instinct of the mind to escape knowing well that we are out to fix it. There’s lot of action, hide and seek, and luring, happening behind the closed eyes. That’s the time I realize I haven’t been able to tame my mind one bit. What an embarrassment contradicting the calm and serene outward appearance! I let it wander aimlessly and wait for it to be tired and get home. When it finally happens I feel like a winner.

In the poem, which was published in Strange Horizons, I am being courteous and large-hearted by calling the mind a pilgrim.

My comfort niche recedes
into the mogra mist
homeless, unhinged
within myself
I grow a pilgrim’s feet.
chakra to chakra
greys to gleams
apogees to perigees.
An aberrant sixth demon
has carved her nest
peeled three layers of bark
blued the veins of rootless trees.
In her maya
mazes in mazes
I’m lost
I’m lost.

A restless frog
breaks the pond moon
a thousand times!
I can’t escape
the allure
of the water mirror
It’s not a myth
of the sepia pond
that faces are epicenters
of brewing storms
ripples moving outward
from the ajna chakra
reaching for the ashwatha,
Mired in delphic ponds
I wander
I wander
cities of glyphs

Cosmic drifts
of a pin head universe
frank the homecoming
of the conqueror.
A lotus
of folded palms
for my acharyaa.