29 Aug 2016

A singular weeping willow, alone with its carefully stencilled reflection in the still water, may learn the language of the wind or hail passing clouds with stars tucked inside their greying smocks, but it cannot be a grove, Marcus. Not one in which squirrels skips over the crossbeams of filtered sunlight while koels gather to sing a cappella and life throbs with a drumbeat that is magnificent in its imperfection.

And yet, which one is closer to knowing the truth.

That conquering my senses and unyoking my mind from the drag of desire, will put me on the path to spiritual ascendency, seems contrary, at best. But the suggestion that intellectual detachment can only be realised through physical isolation is absurd. Can’t you find what you seek on secluded hill tops on in forests and caves, in the urban chaos? In relationships?

Maybe the novice mind is better trained far away from the overload of distractions. A silent boot camp.

Maybe it is better to toss a stone in the water, toss the whole mountain, just to hear it splash, to be transported through the spiralling angst of the sobbing ripples.

the cold caress of the wind
it’s calluses
smelling of earth


18 thoughts on “29 Aug 2016

  1. beautifully contrasted theme…to be magnificent in imperfection or to be perfect in detachment through conquering the mind…the final prose line is so intense perfectly matched with the end haiku…gorgeous writing Rajani…

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Gosh. Such images of impossibility! “toss the whole mountain” and a single tree as a grove. What I love, though, is the struggle to conquer, just as I love questions unanswered. Those callouses on the wind speak.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. I think there is a lot to be said for silent boot camps – perhaps it is more about where we find ourselves in our head more than our location – a really interesting piece


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