You may believe you have no influence in this world. Yet, someone hears a tune on the radio that makes them think of you. Someone has been lost in the pages of a book you suggested to them. Someone on the bus recalled a joke you told them and giggled to themselves. Someone put on a shirt and felt stunning because you complemented it. Someone has a recollection of you that makes them smile. Someone is sipping a drink from a cup that you gifted them with. Someone now loves themselves even more since you made a casual remark that made them feel wonderful. Never underestimate your effect; your fingerprints can’t be removed from the little acts of kindness you’ve left behind.
Holding Ehan’s hands on a calm morning of the weekend | theborderofamind.com
I’ve always experienced and perceived that organic and holistic growth is always incremental and gradual instead of a sporadic leap. Incremental, constant progress over a long time frame is the recipe for the mastery of a craft, purposeful, fulfilling education, powerful aquisition of skill sets, learning something totally new (like learning a language, for example), etc. Small successes aggregate to produce massive change over time. Although the outcomes may not be spectacular right away, they will be long-lasting. And the accumulation of multiple modest gains is sometimes as potent, if not more powerful, than efforts to make large jumps. The same is true for personal change. People who make a difference always begin slowly, one person at a time. It is not completed entirely at once. It’s done gradually.
“And I’ve noticed something about people who make a difference in the world: They hold the unshakable conviction that individuals are extremely important, that every life matters. They get excited over onesmile. They are willing to feed onestomach, educate onemind, and treat onewound. They aren’t determined to revolutionize the world all at once; they’re satisfied with small changes. Over time, though, the small changes add up. Sometimes they even transform cities and nations, and yes, the world. “
The transient nature of our short life in this world is a recurring theme that I usually write about here. In an earnest effort to keep my thoughts and spirits grounded, I try to humbly ponder on it quite often. The following exchange between a sage and a guy whose death was near that I read about recently has had a profound effect on my thought process.
I’ve compiled it in a way, thinking from the mind of the sage’s point of view. In other words, it’s written from the perspective of the sage’s intellect. This discourse is written through the sage’s eyes. I genuinely feel that it all comes down to perspective and how we think about things. May this inspire a soulful rediscovery in us all. May we find the fortitude to put aside trifling concerns and thoughts and engage deeper into much more significant realities.
Photograph of beautiful bougainville flowers at office garden | theborderofamind.com
“O learned man!, I have an issue and I want to talk to you,” stated a young guy. “Go ahead,” I said. So we spoke about it. “My first worry is that my death is definite,” he explained. “I will undoubtedly die as a result of a problem.” “No, with God’s grace,” I said. “God controls the duration of one’s life. Many people have died as a result of the deadliest sickness…” “No, this is different,” he responded. Maybe it was my first time meeting someone who was dying. “So he won’t be living for long?” I wondered. It was an odd sensation. “I’ve accepted this,” he said. It was difficult to embrace this fact at first.
When I woke up one morning, I told myself, ‘You’re going to die.’ Live in the now. Go out. Work. Talk. Interact with others. You’re going to die!’ So I got up and started living. After that, if someone harassed me, I didn’t get irritated. ‘I’m dying!’ I’d exclaim. I wasn’t disturbed at all. I was not envious. ‘I don’t want anything,’ I would say. Let others acquire these items.’ If a car carrying a bride and groom passed by, I was as thrilled for them as their moms. ‘Aww, it’s their wedding,’ I would remark. I hope they’re content.’ I would pray for young people in the same way that I pray for the elderly. If someone stomped on me to go ahead, I’d respond, ‘It’s fine.’ Let him have it.’ I wasn’t seeking to become famous if I helped someone because I wouldn’t live long enough to benefit from such recognition. I’ve gotten quite calm. I don’t see anything wrong. My grasp of good language has improved.”
He went over them one by one. He seemed to be referring to the characteristics of pious individuals from the past that we respect. “I see,” I said. “Will God accept these if I die?” he asked. “Yes,” I answered. “But I’ve gotten this way because of my fear of dying,” he explained. “Do you not believe in God?” I inquired. “Yes!” he said. I do. However, I have not improved as a result of this. I adore God as well. God is the only one I have today. No one will stick around for me. But it was death that taught me a lesson. Is this all right? “Won’t they tell me, ‘When you discovered out you were dying, you rectified yourself?'”
“No, it has been stated, ‘Death is enough to counsel one,'” I replied. You were warned and adjusted yourself.” [He said,] “Thank you. I’ll go.” “Wait!” I exclaimed. Let’s become pals. I’ve discovered a genuine individual.” “No, I don’t want to fire you,” he said. “No, sit down.” I’d want to chat to you more. “What is your illness?” “I’m not sick.” “But you said you’d die.” “I claimed I’d surely die, but I didn’t mention I was sick.” “What? “What do you mean you’ll definitely die?” “I asked whether there was someone who could assist me so that I wouldn’t die, and they answered no.” “So, when?” “One day, thousand days, thirty thousand days from now.” I’m not sure.”
I gave it some thinking and realized that I, too, would die – whether in a day or a thousand days… “So you’re not sick,” I explained. “No.” How many days before you die?
Attempted some modest newfangled indoor space arrangement with a bamboo ladder added to the mix and some hanging plant installations. Right time with the right vibe enables the visual poet in me to prose. I’ve been contemplating some hanging set ups for a long time. There’s something very beautiful about plants hanging. They bring in coziness and warmth to smaller spaces and help them to be perceived as different. Petrichor is the smell of rain. The word comes from the Greek words ‘petra’, meaning stone, and ‘ichor’, which in Greek mythology refers to the golden fluid that flows in the veins of the immortals. Green areas with crawling plants and hanging pots brings the petrichor of a personal space and home. They say, home is a story of who we are.
“She awaits the rain like a writer embraces metaphors,
A drizzle isn’t for the child who dances in the storm.
Of rain that washes away the petrichor it brings,
A downpour of a hail of bullets, and she calls it spring.”
Wisdom is no more relegated to the places we desginate them from. You know, sometimes, wise words would overpour from unexpected placed, like a toddler’s scroll book. Moments to cherish whirl away like scattering baloons in the blink of an eye before it metamorphoses into a memory. As Antione de Saint-Exupery put it, ” It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye. “ You might already would have deciphered that I’m trying to brew some philosophy through the title of this post while Ehanu is looking at a chapter in his mickey story book with the same title. We are all kids disguised as adults at the end of the day. Aren’t you : ) If you’re reading this, you are.
Plenty of people miss their share of happiness, not because they never found it, but because they didn’t stop to enjoy it.
My mind these days typically revolve around the lil one and the experiences to be kindled. If he’s the earth, I’m the satellite of moon around him. Often as we grow older, the beautiful soul of a child with fierce demeanor and curiosity to explore dwindle away in the chaotic flood of normalcy, notions and routines. The round pegs in the square holes are always cast away. Curiosity is the arsenal of discovery and learning. Rose Wilder Lane once told that curiosity is the hunger of the human mind. In my vision of this initiative, I had expounded that one of the salient aspects of this corpus of writings has always been to kindle this childish curiosity we are born with. As I pen these words, that’s telling that I yearn for that inquisitiveness. I’m writing and working on art to keep the fire and flame afloat. Boundless curiosity and open minds are doors to a sea of depth, broadness and reason. One way of staying alive is to ensure that this is not being robbed off our souls. God bless.
Ehan pondering on the aquatic universe | principal photography & styling: theborderofamind.com
..“Don’t let anyone rob you of your imagination, your creativity, or your curiosity. It’s your place in the world; it’s your life. Go on and do all you can with it, and make it the life you want to live.”
23 Apr 2022 – Time flies. It’s been one year. The little one who used to lie down with a smile on the craddle is now crawling and moving around. The year that passed has been one of trials and the little one really has been a hope, direction and solace for us. The clock of one year came about fast as we count the little milestones and look at awe on how he’s exploring the world around him. I fondly remember the day when I held him near the window and he was wrapped in a blanket sleeping most of the time and with ocassionaly priceless teethless smiles and glances and the lovely fossette on his cheeks when he smiles. So much development is packed into the last year as I write this. Ehan is now tinkering and exploring the details of the toys around at a much more deeper level now. He’s much more attentive towards the birds at the balcony. His little teeths are propping up. His little brain inside his fluffly hair is growing and his personality and emotions are slowly taking shape. With the will of God, as he grows up and blossom, and we celebrate each momentous milestone in awe and gratitude, this note would serve as a memory of my thoughts in this transitory phase. We love you, Ehan. Ever grateful to Almighty for all the blessings. Thank you Just Bakes by Parvathy Gosh for the beautiful artistic cake.
Right in the periphery of where I’m staying currently, there’re a lot of new buildings propping up every other month. Recollecting Peter Zumthor‘s words from his book Thinking Architecture,
“Architecture has its own realm. It has a special physical relationship with life. I do not think of it primarily as either a message or a symbol, but as an envelope and background for life which goes on in and around it, a sensitive container for the rhythm of footsteps on the floor, for the concentration of work, for the silence of sleep.”
This is a humble effort to chronicle an endeavor to freeze a part of the time, a moment to reflect later. The hands and feet of my son cast at a time when he does not think of the future and is in a carefree state of mind. This is a work of art to remind of this time when this innocence leaves him to be free to enjoy himself as few adults can and to remind about this beautiful time which existed before being caught up in the fret of future when most adults leave their childhood behind. As a father, I gaze awestruck at how curious he is and this memory in my mind of him picking toys and little things by his tiny hand and tinkering with it and exploring them is so deeply engraved in my memory that I desired some sort of material realization of this time which will pass soon in a blink of an eye as he grows up so fast. This work of art graciously reminds us of the transitory nature of phases of the life of this world. Of course, photographs, old toys and dresses would bring back memories, but there’s something special with the aspects and details in a cast. Thanks to Imprintz by Srushti for crafting it to perfection with lot of care and love put into it with a stellar attention to detail.
“Writing, music, sculpting, painting, and prayer! These are the five things that are most closely related! Writers, musicians, sculptors, painters, and the faithful are the ones who make things out of nothing. Everybody else, they make things out of something, they have materials! But a written work can be done with nothing, it can begin in the soul! A musical piece begins with a harmony in the soul, a sculpture begins with a formless, useless piece of rock chiseled and formed and molded into the thing that was first conceived in the sculptor's heart! A painting can be carried inside the mind for a lifetime, before ever being put onto paper or canvass! And a prayer! A prayer is a thought, a remembrance, a whisper, a communion, that is from the soul going to what cannot be seen, yet it can move mountains! And so I believe that these five things are interrelated, these five kinds of people are kin.”
― C. JoyBell C.
“Everything comes in time to him who knows how to wait” told Leo Tolstoy once. This is a very profound statement on exercising patience and unravelling the beauty of persistence. This broadly applies to everything small and big and could be a material entity, an experience or anything longed for that matter. This can also imply on working very hard on a potential opportunity found. It’s a beautiful, yet hard phase of being unshattered and unwavered by provocation, misfortune, annoyances. It’s a work in progress on let’s say a willingness to bite down restlessness and anger when confronted with delay. It’s in that calm state of mind yearned for in a soul with steady perseavarance, gentle dillingence and even tempered care. It’s a powerful deployment for endurance. Every uncertainity, every hardship (small or large as battles fought within are different and real for different people), every misfortune on the outset is an opportunity for doing things different and to walk out of your usual comfort zone. Relying on divine will and being calm and composed no matter what happens, is one of the biggest comforts of this life. Me, you, everyone is a work in progress. God bless !
