CHIDAMBARAM
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
Quietly
Into
Serenity
At last
A sustainable state
Stable steady steadfast
Sure
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!
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
Quietly
Into
Serenity
At last
A sustainable state
Stable steady steadfast
Sure
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!
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:
ReplyDeleteI 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 –