A sacred space

Working from home has its many benefits. Specially when I am blessed with a house and green community as beautiful as ours. The pain point does seem to be how blurred the boundaries become - between work and family, between my time and work time, between what to focus on vs everything else that seems unfinished around the house.

It took me a while to figure this out for myself - the shift i needed to make is to accept this reality and then create clearer boundaries (first in my head and then for the rest of the family). Step 1: creating a clear physical boundary - to have a room only for work. Sure it meant taking over the guest room - and then having to give away our room when friends and family came visiting. But it has been truly worth the trade off!

After the physical space was carved out, what helped me create an energetic boundary has been this special altar in one corner of the room. Each morning begins with attending to the altar, lighting the dhoop stick and taking in all the symbols and meanings of what I have placed there. The altar anchors me in my work world. In times of stress and confusion, it helps me anchor in myself. And it serves as a constant reminder to send out gratitude for the many blessings in life (including this very house!)

Today I wish...

Having a smart phone has many advantages but a big bummer past few months has been zero writing. Thanks to FB links and forwards, I now end up reading such well written pieces that my own musings and articulation seems to pale in comparison. Recently I ended up lecturing a friend about feeling free to express without judging and a little voice inside nudged, "how about practising what you preach?!"

So here's a re- reentry! I thought of posting some of my poetry. In the past few months, attempts at writing poetry have been a healing, creative process. I find myself stuck in a situation, a mood and attempting to express that through poetry helps me work my way through it. It's clarifying as much as it is cathartic and I love these moments I give myself. Somehow limited exposure to poetry has somehow created a mindset in me that I need to rhyme. Only once have I written a piece when there was no such compulsion and here it is:

Today  I wish ...

Today  I wish to bind myself to the  earth,

Though I see the unending free skies stretching overhead.

Today I wish my hair strikes roots in the ground,

Though the winds strain to caress it.

Today I wish my feet get swallowed by the wet mud,

Though the dew kissed grass offers soft solidness.  

And though the thoughts scamper like restless squirrels on the branches,

Today I wish to be like a tree, 

grounded, and quietly swaying to the rhythms of the seasons. 

P. S. my little girl, nia also seems to enjoy writing poetry and has been planning to blog herself. Can't wait to see her foray into the world of writing and blogging! 

Back from Hampi

I am finding myself wanting more and more to look at creative ways of self expression and one of them has been poetry. Encouraged by a friend to do more of it, here's what emerged after a three day lovely break @ Hampi with family & friends.

Stories from Hampi

If only these rocks could speak

What stories would they choose to tell?

Of the many events they bore silent witness to
Events that even history has dispelled

Would they choose to talk of brothers

Vali and Sughriva locked in a fight for life
Or of the devoted Laxmana following Rama
As he crossed these lands in search of his wife

Or perhaps the tale would be of sisters

Who for insulting these very lands,
Were cursed to become the Akka – Tangi Betta
Frozen in eternal rest, they now stand!

Maybe the folklore of the chieftains Hukka and Bukka

Is what the rocks might want to share
Who made this very land their kingdom
On sighting the hound being chased by the hare.

Or maybe history would take precedence over myths

Stories of Krishnadevaraya, the King
His bravery, his religious tolerance , love for poetry
Songs in his praise the rocks would sing!

Would they, then,  swell up with pride

As they begin to share the many forms
Of prosperity that radiated in this kingdom
In its bazaars, its streets, its religious icons

And then would they start to mourn

The fall of this prosperous, mighty empire
Ruthlessly plundered by the Sultanate’s men
Then left to burn for months in the fire.

Ah! Those tales of religious intolerance,

Of greed, that these rocks could tell -
Even in today’s times, several centuries later
Those stories would still ring a bell

But the rocks know that history repeats

That man from his mistakes learns less and less
So these rocks withhold their stories, their wisdom
And continue to stand in mute witness.

 

 

A must visit site for women

Following upon a web article a friend of mine sent me the link to, i stumbled upon this really cool website : My Inspiration Lounge


Created by a woman, it has tons of links to very interesting websites, thoughts, ideas, practical tips and everything you possibly need while you are looking for inspiration. The inspiration you seek could be to start a venture, go travel, save, go green, get healthy, cook and entertain (that's the one that got me) and even references for books, movies and films. I loved the idea and I loved the look and feel of the website. A must see for all my women-friends

Creativity Unlimited!

Back in school, there was clear branding on a whole lot of things - studious / naughty being the most common. More so in the space of arts. There were clearly the "good" artists, performers, orators and writers. The rest of the class, definitely "not good", only meant to be the captive audience. Given large classes and the limited focus on anything other than academics, any event that  came up created opportunities only for the good ones. Although i had my fair share of success in school, no one ever saw in me any artistic talent. Neither did i. Back then the definition of creativity around me was 'creativity = good at performing arts'.  (yes i confess i have still not come around reading Edward de Bono's books!) And therefore "Me = not creative" was a stamp i left school with.  

It was much after leaving school that i discovered the creative part of me quite by accident. A chance encounter with clay when i was in my late 20s. A pottery teacher visited the organization that i was then working with to give a demo class. If you liked it, you could then enrol for an 8 session course. The teacher walked around handing out lumps of earth to all those who turned up and asked each one to work with it. I, like most others, sat blank for a while. But clay can be very enticing and sure enough all of us started kneading, rolling, pinching and stretching it. And as each of us worked with our bit of earth, the teacher went around showing us how a simple mask could be made. Completely mindless of the time, the traffic outside or even the day's exhaustion, I made a couple of other masks, quite amazed that I could actually create. 

Sure enough, i enrolled for the classes and went thru a huge clay modelling phase of my life. Made lots of gifts for friends. Ranging from tanagram figures to masks to photo frames. And not just satisfied with the form i gave, i rather hesitatingly tried out colours. Me, a non-artist, actually colouring? With a paintbrush?!! What i created then was quite amazing and almost a surreal experience for  me:

But even more thrilling that what or how much i made, was the joy of discovering the creative part of me. A part of me that could visualise in images and colours and make something original. 

This happened almost six years back in my life. Since then i have tried my hand at several other "creative" things. Innovative lesson plans for kids, designing visuals and posters to be used in our events, learning theatre and performing on stage, learning songs in Kannada (a language i neither speak or understand), co-designing personal development programs for adults, writing little songs for children, painting diyas to be given as gifts during Diwali, blogging,.......  

More importantly, my definition of what creativity means stands redefined. I see myself now challenging the mainstream ways of judging work - be it my own or the work others do. The more i look around, the more i discover immense talent within me and all around me. Playing with clay, colours, words has made me feel less bound and more alive.  

There's a Pablo Picasso quote i often remember when i work with children: "Every child is born an artist. The problem is how to remain an artist once he grows up." What I have learnt from my own personal journey, even as it continues, is that you never stop being an artist. It's only a matter of seeing it. 

The Prolific P

The day i started this blog, i must have spent a good 2 hours trying to come up with a name. A name that would truly capture my thoughts, my spirit, my moods and madness! After a lot of rummaging through the dictionary and the thesaurus (none of which really helped!) i finally settled on Purple Pitara. And then spent the rest of the day marveling me on my creative genius. The play of words -the clever mix of languages - ah, what a clever name!

In my enthusiasm, i went as far as crowning myself the Queen of Alliteration. Until this weekend, i knew it was time to give up my title when i saw a friend's son reading a comic book. It's about a hero called Capt. Underpants (i swear i am not making this up!) And the title of the book - 'Captain Underpants And the Preposterous Plight of the Purple Potty People'. 

Me thinks the author is my soulmate in the world of writing J !