Master of one’s own Destiny

Master of one’s own Destiny

I couldn’t be happier than I am now. Living in the best of times. The best of communications. The best of travel. In the midst of making history. A different revolution. A different kind of connecting and loving. It’s the ’60s all over again, they say. And if so, a time to be remembered too. I couldn’t have wished it to be any other way. For all the angst… all the railing against times… railing against the world… life couldn’t have been better. The world couldn’t have been a better place. The time couldn’t have been a better one… at least from where and what I can see.

The world is a much different place… so different from all one has known. Didn’t even realise when the future crept up on us. And for all the doomsday prophecies of catastrophes come and yet to come… the Now is interesting indeed!

The best I can say is this – one is finally the Master of one’s own Destiny.

Advertisements

Gaia conversations…

“Why did you let it happen?”, asked the non-commitant bystander.

“What?!”, she asked, a little nonplussed.

“This endless give, this endless take… that has all but ruined you, yours and him and his too”, the question rasped out, a little hurt, a lot accusing.

“Yes, a Game has its consequences, no?”, she answered, a little sadly.

“So…?”, the bystander insisted.

She sighed. Explanations, she guessed, were in order.

“You see… I knew them all… my creatures, big and small… I knew there were depths. I knew there were heights. I wanted to explore… I wanted to know…”, she said, wondering whether perhaps this time she had gone too far.

“… ?”

“ummm… “, she continued, “here I was spinning silently in space… doing my rounds round the Sun diligently… the Great Cycles were set to move endlessly… my creatures were happy… they had reached their limits… I was… bored. So… it had be Man, no?… a little ruthless, a little selfish… who would neither care enough for the Law, nor fear his own destruction… he could do what those fishes, birds, animals, and trees couldn’t… wouldn’t…”, she wondered whether she made any sense to him…

“do what?!”

“ummmm… turn me inside out…?”, she ventured a little uncertainly.

“… and your creatures, big and small”, the bystander whispered, appalled at what he thought was hell to pay.

“oh! don’t you worry… I won’t let them all die now will I?”, she tossed that aside, not an iota of doubt in her of her regenerative powers!

“… and he?”

“ah!”, she drew a longish breath. She stared far into the distance and pondered for endless moments… shrugged and said, “it is up to him… whether he really has the gumption and gall… to mutate and further evolve…”.

“and will he…?”, the bystander felt a strange panic running through him.

“hmmmm… “, she pondered… and smiled (a tad unkindly, he privately thought)… “let’s wait and watch…”

a Tigress story…

she was always restless
this Tigress of mine
pacing endlessly
bouncing off walls and bars
tighly locked within
all keys thrown away.

threatening to shake
the very foundations
of structures too weak
to withstand
her sublimal, primal,
repressed energies

befriend her. talk to her.
let her free.
they say.

but how can I?
there is no place for her
in my rational, compartmentalized
pseudo-world…
cubicled containers
of whats and hows
doneses and not-doneses
where tigresses need to exist
but only this way and that.

she needs acres of freedom
this Tigress mine…
to streak across
my soulscapes
flaming orange. fierce.
potent. proud.

i am faced with choices.
to live in this world
where We – my tigress and I
have no place Here
and there is no other There either.
if there was one,
I would take it.

so I have transformed her
a metaphorical Hobbes
to my caustic Calvin.
a caricature that
still seemingly exists…

her fiery oranges hues
now a manageable ochre
her claws little lumps of cotton-balls
her strange, powerful eyes
now mere shiny buttons
her toothless smile
threatens no one – not even me.

a ghost now – she only
haunts my dreams.

pressure to conform

I have this interesting relationship with Roshan. Roshan has been hired to keep our house clean. She is a robust, larger than life, 40+ woman, who seems to rule her world with an aggressive energy. And often I get the feeling that she would like to rule me too!

I don’t meet her often – only during the weekends I am at home. But those are the days I just prefer to hang around doing nothing… letting my world go to the dogs. The house, if W is not around, is a proverbial mess… to Roshan’s angst. She tries to prod me in many ways to get off my ass, mother-in-lawing me, often with not-even-veiled digs at how everything is done when W is around! She makes it clear that as far as she is concerned, I am a blot to being a Woman – not only doing nothing to play the Woman’s role, but letting my man do it to boot! Surprisingly she hasn’t yet made any comments to my smoking… considering that W doesn’t smoke.

I enjoy the banter too… teasing her in return whether being a woman can be much more than a tied-to-the-house-and-babies role… though she wonders at my freaking out lecture when she wastes water… and telling her I thank the good lord that I don’t have her for my m-in-law!

I wonder what she must make of the gender roles in my house. While W does a marvellous job of house-keeping, he doesn’t really fit into the typical description of a cuckolded, hen-pecked male role… and while I seem to do nothing, obviously I don’t “run” either the family or the home… the relationship equations are clearly not in favour of one over the other.

I often see Roshan struggling with herself to understand the dynamics in my house… and trying to do her best to beat us back into a shape of conformity that would fit into her social, gender role models…

who is my archetype?

“If you could have your light shine in your world, how would it shine, on who would it shine, where would it shine”

“If I could realize my will to action, my will to engagement, and my will to manifestation, what format would it be?”

… was reading this about archetypal energies… and I thought what would be mine? I thought of all the deep, intense, dark archetypes that play inside me and finally realised that no… if i could shine my light in the world I would like it to be playful, bright, catalystic… in that sense my archetype would be Krishna… the master-player of all… non-emotional, catalyst, moral code-breaker changing social rules, political, counter-balancer, engaged but not involved, committed but not attached, who was Maya himself yet played with Maya, the ever romantic, who could get many to realize love, yet he himself was self-contained, human yet above being just human… yes! it would be a krishna.

What would be yours?

 

Being REAL

’What is REAL?’ asked the Rabbit one day. ’Does it mean having that buzz inside of you, and a stick-out handle?’

’REAL isn’t how you were made,’ said the Skin Horse. ’It’s a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long time, not just to play with, but really loves you, then you become REAL.’

’Does it hurt?’ asked the Rabbit.

’Sometimes,’ said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. ’When you are REAL, you don’t mind being hurt.’

’Does it happen all at once like being wound up,’ he asked, ’or bit by bit?’

’It doesn’t happen all at once.’ said the Skin Horse. ’You become. It takes a long time. That’s why it doesn’t often happen to people who break easily, or have sharp edges or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are REAL, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don’t matter at all, because once you are REAL, you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand… Once you are REAL, you can’t become unreal again. It lasts for always.’

– Margery Williams, “The Velveteen Rabbit