From back of my Notebook - 9

Every few months I will look at the last pages of my notebook and see these scribbles. At times not even remembering why I wrote those, but some of them feel right and worth starting a dialogue about. From time to time I share those and here is a 9^th serving of those (also links for past 8 below for re-taste if you will ) . These are random and not all interconnected, but like I said; scribbles…..

Let me know your thoughts.

  

Rebel with cause is a rebel. Rebel without cause is nuisance.

Sometimes it is better to provide a cause to the rebel than addressing the nuisance.

Simplifying complexity is a complex undertaking.

Complexity is natural, simplifying takes effort.

Accepting complex is simple and mostly stagnates the growth.

Only the caterpillar who tackles the complex walls of pupa can become the butterfly.

Mind has more power than physical self
Spirit has more power than mind
Still most get so engrossed in material and mind that spirit stays untouched.

Those who touch spirit know the futility of material reliance.

 Being spiritual not necessarily is abandoning material comforts, but stopping to identify with them and stopping to glorify material gratification.

Be grateful of what you have received

Be hopeful for what you May receive and
Be mindful of what you have lost
Be watchful of what you do
Be careful of what you wish
 

I am still as naïve as I ever was (so the seeker continues to seek.)

 I control what I don’t say but whatever I say controls me.

 The gift of speech can be a curse too.

 

  

Last 8 servings form back of my notebook Below, in reverse chronological order

https://nuancesofbeing.blogspot.com/2022/02/from-back-of-my-notebook-8.html

https://nuancesofbeing.blogspot.com/2021/09/from-back-of-my-notebook-7.html

https://nuancesofbeing.blogspot.com/2020/09/6th-page-from-back-of-my-notebook.html

https://nuancesofbeing.blogspot.com/2018/03/a-5th-serving-from-back-of-my-notebook.html

https://nuancesofbeing.blogspot.com/2017/12/4th-serving-from-back-of-my-notebook.html

https://nuancesofbeing.blogspot.com/2017/03/3rd-serving-from-back-of-my-notebook.html

https://nuancesofbeing.blogspot.com/2014/10/morefrom-back-of-my-notebook.html

https://nuancesofbeing.blogspot.com/2013/03/back-of-my-notebook.html

 

 

कई सालों बाद

वो  रास्ते जिन पर मैं बढ़ा नहीं
वो मोड़ जिन्हे मैं मुड़ा नहीं
वो काम कभी जो किये नहीं
वो नाम कभी जो लिए नहीं
वो अच्छे थे या नहीं, क्या पता
पर अब दिल से माफ़ी उनको

शायद कोई रास्ता मंज़िल का होता
शायद कोई मोड़ महफ़िल का होता
शायद किसी काम से सिद्धि होती
शायद किसी नाम से दोस्ती होती
कुछ भला होता या नहीं, क्या पता
पर अब दिल से माफ़ी उनको

तुम पूछो तो कहता हूँ
कि क्या  सोचता रहता हूँ
किसी राह बढ़ जाता क्या?
किसी मोड़ मुड़ जाता क्या?
कोई नया काम कर जाता क्या?
कोई नया नाम पढ़ जाता क्या? 
तो क्या अब कुछ बदला होता?
अच्छा होता या नहीं , क्या पता
पर अब दिल से माफ़ी सबको

Some point in life one thinks about what one didn't do and wonders if any of those "not done" acts could have meant something? The confusion can be very personal. ................ My lines above are just an offer to make peace with that confusion....... Just offer an apology to past and future to enjoy the present.... Do you agree?

A Mongoose, A Mother and the Reality

 “Perception is reality”, my friend said it again. She says it a lot. She is not the only one endorsed to that thought. When leaders with strong following accept this statement, then majority starts to see perception as reality. The problem I see with this thinking is simple. Perception is Not Reality. Perception is deceptive. One key job of leaders in any organization is to ensure that perceptions are not accepted as reality. Otherwise, it can be damaging for the teams.

We all have heard about the elephant and blind men story and know how accepting perception as reality is akin to being blind.

Today I am here to share another folk tale from India on the subject.

There once was a village woman longing to become a mother. One day she met a saint who could read her mind. The saint told her that she needs to start caring for someone unconditionally to be blessed with motherhood. Look for opportunities to provide unconditional caring.

Few days she stayed lost in that thought but could not see any signs. Then one night it rained a lot, next morning she stepped towards her wheat fields and found a tiny baby mongoose, drenched in mud and struggling. His family must have been washed in the flash floods of last night. She felt immense sorrow for the helpless creature and caringly picked it from mud. She cleaned it and fed it. She brought it home to care for, till it develops strength enough. But soon the mongoose started following her as her own child and became a part of the family.

Mongoose is a dangerous animal, her friend said, but she loved the thing so much that she will not accept any of such fears.

With time as her motherly love for the mongoose grew, as the saint has prophesied, she was blessed with a child. She gave birth to a beautiful and healthy boy. Her house was filled with joy. She did see the mongoose as the angel, who was given to her to exercise unconditional care to be blessed as a mom. The joy in the house was through the roof. She will play with the mongoose running around, while the baby will giggle seeing them play.

Her friend was even more skeptical now, and continuously asking her to abandon the mongoose, before the wild animal harms the little baby. But she loved the mongoose so much that she will never listen.

One day when the baby was lying down in the back courtyard, and the mongoose playing around him, she heard a knock on the main door. She ran to answer, it was the same friend who has warned about the mongoose so many times. She had come asking for some herbs to make an organic concoction to soothe her itchy throat. The mother went to kitchen to fetch the herbs. While she returned at the main door with the herbs, they both heard loud grunt of mongoose and a sharp cry of the baby. She got worried as the friend screamed, “seems your mongoose has attacked your child” They both ran to the courtyard, and right before the threshold there was the mongoose smeared in blood, seemed that he has just hunted. “Oh God, he killed your child” the neighbor cried. The mom had heard this so

many times and understood that against all her feelings for the mongoose, this wretched beast has killed her son, like her neighbor had prophesized a hundred times. She grabbed a bamboo and hit the mongoose hard on his head, the mongoose was dead in just one blow. She felt that she had avenged her child’s murder, but still feeling guilty of not listening to her neighbor sooner, she fell on floor and started to cry. And then she heard the baby croon.

She ran into the courtyard and saw that her baby was alive and well and giggling, while there was a venomous cobra lying dead a few feet away, killed by sharp teeth and paws of the mongoose. So, the blood on the mongoose was not her child’s, it was the cobra’s. The mongoose did not kill her son but saved her son from being killed. She had lost her angel, her blessing that had given her so much joy for many months. The one who taught her to care unconditionally. The one whom she had saved and loved like a mother. She had killed him because of the perception, the perception that was built based on the constant suggestion from her neighbor that the mongoose will harm her son.

It was too late; the dead mongoose cannot be brought back to life. The reality was very different from the perception. Perception was never reality.

 

Epilogue Mongoose Story: The child was still small and mother still busy. The neighbor never showed her face. Monsoon season was approaching and that is when, in village like this, the snakes can come to courtyards. The risk was real. The one who could stand between the snake and the child, that mongoose was dead. That was reality.

Epilogue Blog: My friend now knows that when you are in a significant position in any team or organization, you always have a responsibility to intentionally disperse the cloud of perception so that reality is visible to all. Afterall, however real it may appear, still perception is not reality. 

 

Note: And my twist to Elephant and blind men story below -

https://nuancesofbeing.blogspot.com/2014/05/the-elephant-and-blind-men-fable-retold.html

https://nuancesofbeing.blogspot.com/2014/05/the-elephant-and-blind-men-fable-retold_15.html

https://nuancesofbeing.blogspot.com/2014/05/the-elephant-and-blind-men-fable-retold_18.html

 

खोखले ?

"खुद ही खाली हो तुम

किसी को क्या दे पाओगे?"

ऐसा सुना सुना के हमारे

खालीपन की जब हंसी हुई

आंखे झुका, हम मुस्कुराये

दबी आवाज़ हलके से बोले,

"लकड़ी जो खोखली लगती थी,आखिर 

वही तो बांसुरी हुई"

🙏

रास्तो के कायल

                                   रहनुमा उनको मिलें

जिन्हे मंज़िले दरकार हों

हम रास्तो के कायल हैँ

हमको कहाँ ले जाइएगा?

पेड़ो, पंछियो, नदियों की 

आज़ादी से मुतासिर हैं हम  

रसमों रवाज़ों की जंज़ीर से

हमें  कैसे  बाँध पाइएगा?

दोस्ती से, प्यार से, कुछ मीठे

बोल चाल से, हम बिके बेभाव.

ताकत, दौलत के  ज़ोर पे 

हमको न खरीद पाइएगा 

कभी आ मिलो इन रास्तो पे

जहाँ लाख कहानियाँ बनती हैँ

मंज़िलो पे हमें ना ढूँढिये 

कहीं राह पे टकराइएगा 

और रहनुमा उनको मिलें 

जिन्हे मंज़िले दरकार हों

हम रास्तो के कायल हैँ

हमको कहाँ ले जाइएगा?

Happy Place

Pristine beach, turquoise waters, white sand, gentle cradling waves, calming breeze and warming Sun, all that on west side of the island.

Rocky shoreline, deep blue waters, jagged volcanic rock, waves roaring as they crash on the rocks, gusty wind and toasty rays from the Sun, that was the east side.

This is the small island of Aruba. And as any native will proudly call, "one happy island"

The contrast between the two coasts of the island just with 2 to 1 mile between the two coasts is amazing. However, if you ask me which is the better coast, I will not be able to decide. Both had their own charm, their own beauty, their own personality and the land between them binds the two ends with a perfectly harmonious balance.

In the short span of 3 days, I was lucky to enjoy both shores and the contrast. Be it calming walks in the wet, soft sand at the beach on the west shore or adrenaline pumping UTV ride on the rocky terrain of the east, they both were amazingly unique and breathtaking.

Witnessing the evening sun hastily moving to set behind the sea on the west coast in the evening. 

Followed by next morning waiting patiently under the light house, for a reluctant sun to lazily wakeup after last night's slumber from the east.

The food and the hospitality offered by the locals. The laughs and the comradery shared by friends and coworkers. All that and more in those 3 days. I and my partner in all crimes (and good deeds) vowed to return. To soak more in the goodness that the One Happy Island offers.

The beauty, the contrast between the personalities of the coasts, the serenity of morning and the celebrations of evening that it offers, makes me feel that my experience in Aruba is truly what life is about. Respecting the diversity, accepting the differences and offering the bridge between the extremes that the small island of Aruba does to harmonize the opposite characteristics of its two shores. That, in my opinion is the reason why this is called "One Happy Island"

What do you think?

 

Caterpillar Story

He was moving slowly from one end of the leaf to the other, consuming the green goodness while he moved. Life seemed so good. He was happy at the food at his disposal, the tree had an unlimited supply of leaves. The sun filtering through the leaves was warming his back and the breeze was cradling him on the leaf to a gentle slumber. Life indeed is good he felt.

Few days of good life, and he grew significantly in size, and started feeling somewhat uneasy on the move and something was happening to his body. The leaves didn’t taste as good the crawl from one end to another appeared monotonous. He wanted to run faster, but he had to limit himself to slow crawl. Many leaves that he had enjoyed around him were looking ugly due to the large holes where he had eaten them.

While he was trying to walk faster, during those days he started developing this webby layer around him. As if a giant spider is trying to consume him in its woven prison. The layer consumed him very fast, and he was imprisoned. He wanted to break free, but he could not. He felt lost, suffocated, missing the glimpse of Sun light and the green of the leaves. He couldn’t even feel the breeze on his back anymore because he was encased in the thick shell that was all around him. I need to break free. He cried. I need some help; please someone; free me from this menacing prison. He screamed and he was sure that he was heard, but there was no help anywhere. He was trying to push himself out of the shell that has encased him.

Every waking hour he will push the shell and no avail, he will get tired and sleep and then wake up only to push again. He could feel his tiny feet getting stretched due to continuous pushing. His back was hurting and feeling funny with all the scratching and pushing against the walls. He was feeling certain that it is cruel joke that fate has played on him, and he is going to die of suffocation in this shell that surrounds him. He couldn’t count how long ago this confinement and torture had started for him. He did miss the days of freedom crawling over lush green leaves and nibbling on them to feed himself. He did miss the light and the air.

Then one day when he had given up all hope, the prison walls moved. His push and his prayers had cracked a small side of the wall. He started hitting hard with his stretched legs while pushing with his, now so soft back. The shell walls finally seemed to be giving way to his effort. He kept on pushing with all his might. Please help me he screamed to quicken the process. He knew there were a few outside that shell who could help him in his misery, but no one came to his rescue. He painfully learnt that he was all by himself to push through. He cried and he got angry but didn’t stop pushing, and then the shell cracked open fully, he wanted to crawl out. But he learnt that he was not a caterpillar anymore to crawl. He was a butterfly with agile legs and beautiful wings. He could fly now. Fly to any tree and any flower he wished. The sun felt warmer and the breeze more pleasant than ever.

The torture of the caterpillar in confinement was only to make him a beautiful butterfly, to totally transform him to his higher self.

No caterpillar in confinement and being suffocated should remember this story and know that the confinement is just for the sake of transformation. Because if someone remembers and stop pushing and trying to be free of that confinement then the transformation into butterfly will never happen.

Such is the nature. Such is the will of God.

And this is not just the story of a caterpillar.