Temple Moments Part 2: Dreams And Visions
An old man dreams temple dreams, while his young neighbour sees iPhone visions.
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Picture taken in Kapaleeshwarer Temple, Chennai
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The Lotus-Eaters
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“Branches they bore of that enchanted stem,
Laden with flower and fruit, whereof they gave
To each, but whoso did receive of them
And taste, to him the gushing of the wave
Far far away did seem to mourn and rave
On alien shores..”
From The Lotos-Eaters, Alfred Lord Tennyson, 1832.
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Picture of edible lotus roots being collected, taken on a visit to the Chellanam backwaters, Kerala.
Tweaking The Dream
I will never do this:
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But could try this later:
I must try to accept my limits gracefully..
while joyfully exploring the countless opportunities life still offers.
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A few months back, I entertained the fantasy of buying a motorbike, then driving along the local roads, with the wind streaming through what’s left of my hair.
The byzantine workings of Indian bureaucracy slowly but inexorably sank that illusion.
But my plan could be tweaked a little. The idea is not totally unattainable.
Anu, my houseboy, has just acquired a motorbike.
He has only recently passed his driving test and lacks experience.
But Anu is sensible and the bike is not powerful.
When he has gained experience and confidence I hope to live my dream vicariously,
as one of life’s pillion passengers .
But first, there’s a helmet to be bought…
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Harbouring Dreams
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To sit overlooking Fort Cochin harbour, with a glass of fresh lime-soda in your hand, is as good a way as any, to while away the sunset.
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And Thee, across the harbor, silver-paced
As though the sun took step of thee, yet left
Some motion ever unspent in thy stride,—
Implicitly thy freedom staying thee!
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Personal Boundaries
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Experience suggests that life comes with limits.
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I tell myself that the Art of Living
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May lie in ways of
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Working with these personal boundaries..
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“Orpheo ed Euridice” sung by Kathleen Ferrier
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Rather than railing against them.
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Discarded Dreams
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Life is a stream
On which we strew
Petal by petal the flower of our heart;
The end lost in dream,
They float past our view,
We only watch their glad, early start.
Freighted with hope,
Crimsoned with joy,
We scatter the leaves of our opening rose;
Their widening scope,
Their distant employ,
We never shall know. And the stream as it flows
Sweeps them away,
Each one is gone
Ever beyond into infinite ways.
We alone stay
While years hurry on,
The flower fared forth, though its fragrance still stays.
Petals by Amy Lowell
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“By plucking her petals, you do not gather the beauty of the flower.”
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“For every beauty there is an eye somewhere to see it. For every truth there is an ear somewhere to hear it. For every love there is a heart somewhere to receive it.”
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