Places I Gotta Visit: Jamaica

Concerning Words...

Music can bring up some amazing memories....there are haunting melodies and then there are words.

I wanted this post to be about lyrics..but the more I write, the more I want to talk about Helen Keller. She couldn't hear, speak or talk. That was her world.

What was her world? Are you sad if you don't know what you are feeling is sad? There were no words. Never before have I felt gratitude so intense than when imagining my life through her lens.

“Have you ever been at sea in a dense fog, when it seemed as if a tangible white darkness shut you in, and the great ship, tense and anxious, groped her way toward the shore with plummet and sounding-line, and you waited with beating heart for something to happen? I was like that ship before my education began, only I was without compass or sounding-line, and had no way of knowing how near the harbour was. "Light! give me light!" was the wordless cry of my soul, and the light of love shone on me in that very hour.”

I was reading her book- The Story of My Life...and when she talks about her discovery of language, my heart burst open. Literally. Like there was blood spatter everywhere.

Ok. Figuratively. But it did.

We take our words for granted. Our language for granted. Our thoughts for granted. Not knowing how much to be utterly grateful for. I remember reading this quote somewhere that says (in a nutshell) say whatever you want, but you can't say anything other than who you are. Made me wonder who I am and what words am I using. What am I reinforcing? By saying that I'm sad, am I acknowledging the truth or reinforcing it? And if I then say that I'm happy instead, am I just living in denial? Sometimes, I just want to take my brains out and stomp on them just to make them feel what it's like. This mental stomping. A mishmash of tapping and paso doble. 

Sigh. Anyways, going back to Helen Keller. She was one smart woman. And she writes so well. This gift...gift to put your words exactly like so...that makes complete and utter sense. That tells you so succinctly, so precisely, that this was the thought that would forever define that particular experience. And no other. Like every time I stand on a roof top, near the edge, I can't help but quote Gaiman- for he stole my thoughts perfectly- I'm not scared that I'd fall....I'm scared that I'll want to jump. For that's what it feels like. That subtle itch that wants me to fly. Just fly. And just for those precious few seconds know my true nature. 

I'm not the one for fancy words, or detailed prose. Yet as simple it may be, Vikram Seth in all his glory or Rumi with his heart (all heart...his writing is all heart) is something that reels me in and keeps me there. On the tenterhooks, waiting for the sky to fall and this illusion to shatter. That this feeling will go away and will be replaced by the reality. I can feel it now...like part exhilaration and part numbness. Like meditation... 

I'm not sure how to end this. This commentary on thoughts and words. I'm not even sure how it came about...but here's a lovely thought by Ms Keller to hold me by...

“I wonder what becomes of lost opportunities? Perhaps our guardian angel gathers them up as we drop them, and will give them back to us in the beautiful sometime when we have grown wiser, and learned how to use them rightly.”

Sigh. Beautiful sometime. You see? Sigh. What words....

Love this new App....

Still I Rise: Maya Angelou

You may write me down in history

With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I’ll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
‘Cause I walk like I’ve got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I’ll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.

Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don’t you take it awful hard
‘Cause I laugh like I’ve got gold mines
Diggin’ in my own back yard.

You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I’ll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I’ve got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history’s shame
I rise
Up from a past that’s rooted in pain
I rise
I’m a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.

Chromatic Aberration

Red. 

Like when the sun sets, you know, and for that one moment, the sky turns into this molten mix of red, orange, blue and purple? That red. And it's all I see- that bare tree, covered in red. In the midst of all the greenery around it, it's browns and red set it apart- standing out among the crowd. As the bus heads closer to it, I can make out the flowers- as big as my hands. 

Grey. A bird shoots past my window, and all of a sudden, my gaze is drawn to the sky- the scatter of the birds...drawn towards the pavement littered with seeds.Smoothly landing down to the ground, only to effortlessly lift off again. 

Brown. A child runs through the flock, scattering the pigeons. His smile taking over his dark face, a face full of unbridled joy...a joy that makes him forget the cold or the lack of his clothes. Close by, his mother washes the utensils, her dupatta niftily caught between her teeth. Orange. A contrast against her dark sun burnt skin. I see it fall out of her mouth as she looks up and calls out to her son. He shakes his head and continues frolicking... running across the road with reckless abandon as only people his age have the confidence to do.

The bus stops at the red light. This couple on the scooter...it's evident they've been fighting. Pink. Her tender face is flushed with the color, her eyes shining brightly with unshed tears. She looks around...anywhere but at him. He, who sits ignorant of the turmoil in her heart, facing onwards...and she, facing sideways. Her hands gripping her purse tightly, her body stiff and unbending to avoid contact. She turns and smiles at something... something in the car adjacent to her. One chubby little fist appears in my vision.

The light changes. The bus chugs on, it's mind number pitter patter restored. I close my eyes a bit..If I squint, I can make out a flurry of colors- blue, red, green, white- with my unfocused eyes. Like a camera, you know, if you keep the shutter open.

Yellow. The pale high walls keeping the secrets safe. We are there already. 

I run my hand through my hair and get off the bus. Green. I take my slippers off and walk through the grass. It is still wet from the morning dew. The soles of my feet stirring, as if with new found life. With each step, the ground seems to be reaching up, as if wrapping my feet in its roots, making me stay a little longer. The breeze is light as it rustles my hair. Blue. The color of the sky almost unreal.

Khaki. He's covered from head to toe in it, pride emanating from his stance. I catch his eye...Hazel eyes meet hazel eyes. Unsure, unhinged. He looks the same as the day he was born. Brown. His short hair. Wheat. His skin. Grey. His first scar. Gold. His mother's chain. My gaze breaks as I'm escorted up the stairs. Gentle hands, praying lips, fluttering eyes. It's put around my neck. I can feel the rough fibres lightly scraping my skin. 

Black. They've covered my face with a cloth. I can hear my own breath, my heartbeat in my ears, the blood coursing through my veins. Somebody coughs. I can hear them shuffling. I hear the thud as the plank beneath me gives way to empty air.

White.

Staying Current :)

Remember, remember, this is now, and now, and now.
Live it, feel it, cling to it. I want to become acutely aware of all I've taken for granted.
- Sylvia Plath

The Year that Will Be...

Fearless and Adventurous.

Of courage and daring. And doing things anyways.
Of truth and love. Even with self. Absolutely with self.
Of being. Just being.
And happiness. Not letting go of a single opportunity to smile. And smile I shall. :) through and through.

Happy 2013 me! And Lord knows it'll be happy, you lucky dope, you!