Saturday, March 21, 2020

Amita Ajit Bihar writes


A White Feather

While I was walking towards it

My destination disappeared
I felt lost
Until I realised that my journey was my destination
And then I wept

As Time, Kaal, swept me up in his chariot
I thought we would stop at the grave
But as we passed by the grave without a pause
I realised
Like Emily Dickinson before me
That the Horse’s Heads
Were turned
Towards Eternity
A desolation then possessed my Soul
And I wept

I thought until
Thought was no more
And then I cried

I cried until 

Tears were no more
And I realised
Cries are futile

And that my sorrow is
Ephemeral and shallow
And then I smiled

I thought my smile was cynical
Until I realised cynicism is meaningless
Fragile and brittle
And then I laughed

The laughter liberated me
And I was light with Joy

I laughed
With Joy
Until I was exhausted
And then I slipped

At last
A sustainable state
Stable steady steadfast
Sat Chit Anand

Chitt hai Ambar Jaisa

The Mind is like the Sky

The Clouds
Pass me by
Yes, the Mind
Is like the Sky

O La Paloma Blanca

O Blessed Peace!

1 comment:

  1. Satchitananda ("existence [or truth], consciousness, and bliss") is an epithet and description for the subjective experience of the ultimate, unchanging reality. It is a name for Vishnu, Shiva, or Brahman. An early usage of the word occurred in the Tejobindu Upanishad, composed before the 4th century, in which the soul (atman) is described:

    I am of the nature of consciousness.
    I am made of consciousness and bliss.
    I am nondual, pure in form, absolute knowledge, absolute love.
    I am changeless, devoid of desire or anger, I am detached.
    I am One Essence, unlimitedness, utter consciousness.
    I am boundless Bliss, existence and transcendent Bliss.
    I am the Atman, that revels in itself.
    I am the Sacchidananda that is eternal, enlightened and pure.

    "Paloma Blanca" (Spanish for "white dove") was written by George Baker in 1975:

    When the sun shines on the mountains
    And the night is on the run
    It's a new day, it's a new way
    And I fly up to the sun

    I can feel the morning sunlight
    I can smell the new-born hay
    I can hear God's voices calling
    From my golden sky-light way

    Una paloma blanca
    I'm just a bird in the sky
    Una paloma blanca
    Over the mountain I fly
    No one can take my freedom away

    Once I had my share of losing
    Once they locked me on a chain
    Yes, they tried to break my power
    Oh, I still can feel the pain

    Una paloma blanca
    I'm just a bird in the sky
    Una paloma blanca
    Over the mountain I fly
    No one can take my freedom away

    "The Chariot" was posthumously published in 1890 by Emily Dickinson's friends Mabel Loomis Todd and Thomas Wentworth Higginson. As usual, early renditions of her poetry were given titles and regularized structures or otherwise changed from her actual versions, which were generally not corrected until Thomas H. Johnson's variorum edition of 1955. Johnsom ditched the title and assigned it number 479:

    Because I could not stop for Death –
    He kindly stopped for me –
    The Carriage held but just Ourselves –
    And Immortality.

    We slowly drove – He knew no haste
    And I had put away
    My labor and my leisure too,
    For His Civility –

    We passed the School, where Children strove
    At Recess – in the Ring –
    We passed the Fields of Gazing Grain –
    We passed the Setting Sun –

    Or rather – He passed Us –
    The Dews drew quivering and Chill –
    For only Gossamer, my Gown –
    My Tippet – only Tulle –

    We paused before a House that seemed
    A Swelling of the Ground –
    The Roof was scarcely visible –
    The Cornice – in the Ground –

    Since then – 'tis Centuries – and yet
    Feels shorter than the Day
    I first surmised the Horses' Heads
    Were toward Eternity –


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