Category: Man’s search for meaning (Page 9 of 10)

The gift of gifting

April 30, 2018 / Sreenath Sreenivasan / 0 Comments

As a pure stroke of luck, I found myself in the midst of a few hundred Bicyclists today. We were all participating in a bicycle rally, a 25 kilometre ride along the coastline in Trang, South Thailand.
It is funny to confess that I still have no idea what the rally was about !
Everything was written and communicated in Thai and barely anyone spoke English.
I mimed my way into the rally much to the amusement of my fellow Thai cyclist friends.

Towards the end of the race, there was a freebie distribution session for all finishers. We had to choose a ball from an opaque pot containing balls of many colours. The ones who got a red ball went home with a bag, blue balls got key chains, green ones got pens and so on.

It was such fun to observe that everyone there could easily afford all these free things. And no one really felt the need of these extra things in life. Yet, the joy of getting something for free was much apparent on everybody’s faces. It was hilarious to see a 60 year old grandmother jump up and down as she got a free water cooler. I am quite sure it wasn’t the most pressing need of her life.
But oh the joy of getting something for free!
It cuts across all of humanity, location and culture notwithstanding.

Most often, sponsors use this vulnerability of participants by giving away things that can serve as a promotion tool for them. All bags would have their names on them, so would t-shirts and other accessories
A freebie costs the sponsor some money, but it provides an avenue for promotion, with avid participation from all.

No freebie is totally free.
While there is joy in giving, it comes at a cost.

I got thinking about the prospect experiencing the Joy of giving without a monetary cost per se.
And I thought about kids.
Just through their pure being,
Kids give out so much energy filled with joy and laughter at every moment!
In fact the whole community around a little child feels the happiness that it emanates through its existence.
What makes it ever more beautiful is that the child has no idea how profound a difference it makes in the life of everyone around. Just through the pure state of being, it acts as a true harbinger of joy. A true freebie, where everyone wins, and the smiles are much more lasting and meaningful.

If a human wishes to experience the joy of giving unconditionally, by all means he can. He just has to turn to a kid to learn how.
Expressing an unadulterated state of pure being, sharing one’s creative energy, or just even making people around feel good, is a profoundly meaningful gift to the community.

The best gifts is one which the receiver didn’t realise he needed so badly in life. All of us can use a source of good energy in our lives.

And gifting someone with constant nourishment of good energy also helps one cultivate his best self.
Both the giver and receiver benefit, with no ulterior motive, with no additional cost.
A true win-win situation.

Every human, no matter how poor or rich, is in a position to gift abundantly.
And it is the greatest feeling to spread love like a child, without even realising you are, through the pure state of being.

It is a choice,
That not surprisingly,
Is free for all.

I Love You

April 29, 2018 / Sreenath Sreenivasan / 0 Comments

I had been staying at my Hostel in Chiang Mai for four days. The hostel was quite a dynamic place with people checking in and out all the time, changing personality with departures and arrivals.

But in my four day stay, there was one constant in terms of occupancy.
A frail old English gentleman with a disfigured face lay in that quiet corner in the common area, much the same way as I saw him the first time, four days ago.
He didn’t even seem to move. Occasionally he would turn a little with great discomfort to get to an agreeable bodily position.
I felt a bit afraid to approach him. I felt he wanted to be left alone.
As I was leaving the hostel, I mustered the courage to approach him.
I had a few Rose Apples fresh out of the fridge, just at the temperature they taste best at. I patted him on his back and offered it to him.
He opened his uninjured right eye and accepted it.
I left for the next destination soon after.

A week later, I happened to pass through the city again and chose to stay at the same hostel. Much to my surprise, most of it was deserted with people leaving to cooler places in Thailand as compared to a hot and humid Chand Mai.
I entered the common area to find the elderly Englishman still lying at the same spot. This time I felt more responsible to act since there was barely anyone around.

With a ripe mango in my hand I approached him gingerly.

‘How are you?’ I asked.
‘Ah, it’s you!. I am much better than last week. I can finally walk on my own.
You know what happened to me? I fell off a bus after getting nudged by a heavy backpack. Once I got up, I had my money and phone stolen and I did not recall much at all. I forgot my bank passwords, my email…It was like a complete reboot.
Gradually I remembered things and I wrote to my bank to send me a new card. I have just been waiting for it all this while.
I was a reporter for BBC you know, I’ve covered news from war-zones, but never in my life have I felt so lonely and helpless, on a holiday for God’s sake, when I am supposed to be having fun.’

‘That day when you gave me that fruit’ he continued,’ I felt I could eat a hundred of those. I hadn’t eaten in a while and my body didn’t feel ready to accept anything. But since that day, I’ve been eating and recuperating.’

‘How about a mango today?’ I asked him.

‘Oh, I love mangoes. That would be a dilight !’

I left him to savour the mango and retired for the night.
The next day as I was leaving, I stopped to check if I had any food left in the common fridge. I had mangoes and a few packets instant noodles.

I took the food with me to the English man.
‘Care for another mango?’ I asked.
He slowly opened his eyes.
I placed the cold mango in his palms.

‘Oh thank you so much!’

‘Okay, Michael, I am leaving now. I wish you a speedy recovery.’

The staff at the hostel interrupted to inform Michael,

‘He also left noodles for you. You can have for dinner tonight!.

Joining both hands together in gratitude,
He just said,

‘Thank you so much. I love you.’

We waved goodbye and I left the hostel happily.

While bicycling, many questions arose in my mind.
‘It must have been a long time since he made a new friend.’
With age, we lose the openness of making new friends. Kids have a new friend an hour. But adults barely make new friends after an age.
But finding a friend, especially when you need them, in situations you least expect, is such a cathartic joy.
You feel like a child again.

And once the gentleman felt like a child again, it was second nature for him to say ‘I love you.’
That’s something people don’t even say to their spouse after a decade into the marriage. We guard our hearts with utmost caution in the real world. But the moment the heart turns into a child’s , a guarded, 70 year old man, sings these words like the song of a canary.

I also got thinking about
‘How hesitant we are to ask for help. Even sadder is how reluctant we are to help people who could use some.’

It is easy to not help when there are many people witnessing the same problem. We think that ‘someone’ will help. A classic case of diffusion of responsibility.
But once we get past that and be proactive in helping someone in need,
Not only do we gain goodwill, but also the prospect of making a new friend.

As they say, ‘A friend in need is a friend indeed.’ Especially a new friend, who chooses to stop being a bystander, a passive sympathiser.

It helps to keep an open heart.
When you need help, ask for it,
When you are in a position to,
help in the best way you can.
That’s how we create the possibility
Of new friendships,
Of blossoming hearts,
Of having faith in humankind.

I LOVE YOU.

On Art and Identity

April 24, 2018 / Sreenath Sreenivasan / 0 Comments

Bicycling on undulating-hilly roads is full of ups and downs, both figuratively and literally. At one point you reach a comfortable summit from where you can breeze downhill for a kilometer without any effort. But you also find yourself face to face with a steep incline, much of which you traverse while pushing your bicycle up the hill.
Today, while pushing my bike uphill, I stopped to catch a breath. Amid the puffing and panting, I saw a consummately weaved spiderweb swaying with the breeze. A bright florescent spider rested at the center of the web, waiting patiently for prey.

Still entranced by the artistry, I wondered,
‘How does the spider know how wonderful its colour is? Most certainly there are no mirrors in its world.’
Yet, a spider works on, not wasting time thinking about what it looks like. Like an artist at work, it labours to leave his signature on its work of art. The web.
Quite the Karma-Yogi.

Even the trees all around me would never know how majestic they are. They just keep on expressing their creativity through their graceful growth, their gift of fruit and shade, free for all beings to enjoy.

Thinking about these beings of nature thriving in a mirror less realm, I couldn’t help but think about another spirit in our human world that displays similar traits.

The spirit of a mother.

While working hard to manage the day at home, she never has time to focus on her appearance. She solely focuses on doing the best job she can for the nourishment and comfort of her family. Most often she wears a disheveled look from all of the day’s work.
But can you think of one child who thinks that his mother is not beautiful?
To any kid, his mother is the most beautiful person on earth.
Why?
Because she speaks of her care through her dedicated work. By all means she is a true artist. Her beauty is beyond any mirror to testify.

I wondered why we are all so obsessed with our physical appearance in this day and age.
What transcends our physicality is our work, our art.
Like a spider weaving a spiderweb,
A tree bearing fruit,
Or a mother cooking with love,
If we choose to express our best selves with our work and derive our esteem from that,
Then we would no longer feel the need of mirrors
For,
We are what we create,
And life is decidedly,
Art.

The Eternal Journey

April 23, 2018 / Sreenath Sreenivasan / 0 Comments

Shafts of sunbeams shine through the roof of an open wooden hut. As I enter the hut gingerly I see a little girl in a pink frock,
wonder-struck.
A busy carpenter bee digs up a home in one of the wooden roof beams. Little woody construction debris falls through the sunlit shafts onto the little ballerina’s arena. It feels like raining confetti to her. She gently raises to stand on her feet and swirls like a Sufi in trance.
I decide to sit down gently to watch.
She chuckles and dances experiencing this novel stimulus.
Oh the wonder in her eyes !

Inadvertently I sneeze and spoil the moment.
She looks at me and runs to her mother’s lap. All snuggled up she investigates me with a beckoning gaze of her left eye.
I assuringly go to her and extend my finger. I am met with a shy pinky finger handshake.
A strong breeze makes its way through the thick forest. The leaves sway and clap in appreciation of the moment.

Over the course of the day we become closer friends. We discover our mutual love for smelling flowers and singing lullabies.

As night sets in, I feel the conquest of a bout of cold in my body. I try my hand at lighting up a fire. I heat up some water in a camping pan for a gargle.

The baby’s mother comes close and asks,

‘How do you feel?’
‘My cold would heal in the warmth of your daughter’s company’.
‘ In our village in France this weather is considered to be summer!’
‘ Well in India this is quite a cold winter !’

Both her and I look at the baby dotingly. She tries to put kindling inside the little camp fire.
‘Comme ca?’ she asks us.
We nod smilingly.

The jungle is abuzz with grapevine as fireflies flirt in pitch darkness. I choose a spot under an open canopy.
As I gargle, the funny noise grabs the baby’s attention. She follows the sound and finds me behind a thin outgrowth.
I take her in my lap, take a sip of hot water and turn my head up to gargle. She cannot stop giggling. And I do it again. Sip and look up.
She looks up too.
And I find her,
Wonderstruck. Again.
As my eyes open up beyond the banal, I finally see what she sees.
A beautiful array of stars, falling on us,
Slowly
Just like the wooden dust from the carpenter bees, falling through the sunlit beam.

A dizzying cascade of stars,
unfurling,
Falling from a height beyond,
Promising to never arrive.

She cannot look away.
And I dare not sneeze.

Through her, I learn to truly see.

And now,
I too am wonder-struck.
Watching the same sky with new eyes,
Realising how far into the Jungle I had to travel to realise,
The extent of
Our eternal cosmic travel.

Tidying up our home

April 20, 2018 / Sreenath Sreenivasan / 0 Comments

The sun shone feebly over the hills covered with morning mist. Alive with nature’s clarion call, the valley arose to greet the new day.
It was my first morning at the Mindful Farm Community. I awoke bright and early and savored the surprise of the magical dawn that unfolded.
Amid the calls of curious birds, I heard the clink and clank of kitchen utensils at a distance. I descended the stone stairway and made my way to the kitchen.
Pi Nan, the former monk turned farmer, the founder of the community, was cooking breakfast all by himself.
Brim with enthusiasm, he enjoyed each moment of involvement.

‘Can I help you Pi Nan?’ I asked.
‘Yes, of course. Can you cook something with Zuccinni? We have a lot from the farm but I don’t know how to cook it.’ he shared humbly.

‘No problem Pi Nan, I can do that ‘ I said and got to work.

I made a broth of Zucchini with lemongrass, fennel and mushroom sauce. At a wizardly pace, he made four dishes at the same time.
At 8 am, Pi Nan rang the breakfast bell. Everyone assembled and got themselves a plateful of food.
We sat facing the rising sun and enjoyed the meal in complete silence, mindfully.

Once we finished, I got up to wash the dishes. In the community people take turns to cook and clean. I chose to help my friends cleaning the dishes.
Down to the last dish to clean,
My fellow work-mate Rafa and I smiled at each other.

Just twelve hours ago, I was completely new to the community and now suddenly, I felt quite at home.
After a moment of thinking, I realised why.

‘You know, the easiest way to feel at home anywhere Rafa?

‘No, What is it?’

‘ The easiest way to feel home is by helping to clean up. Once you do that, you’re not a guest or a stranger anymore.
You’re part of the home, part of family.’

‘Oh yes ! I too feel the same ‘ said Rafa laughingly as we washed the last dish.

Breathing in the fresh mountain air, I wondered,
‘ Isn’t this beautiful planet we all share our home too?’

‘And if so,
Then are we tidying it up in the best way we can?’

The mist in the valley and in my mind, cleared up at this realization.

And with a clear mind, ready to act,
I picked up the broom,
And my spirit,
To do my part,
One choice at a time.

The Buddha’s Sermon

April 18, 2018 / Sreenath Sreenivasan / 0 Comments

Yesterday I went for a little hike up a hill in Chiang Mai. There is a nicely paved road leading all the way uphill to the sacred Temple ‘Wat Phra That Doi Suthep’
It’s a steep road with many bends and corners.

I chose to hike up about half the way to a temple called ‘Wat Pha Lad’ on the trail. It used to be the temple where monks would stop to rest in olden times as they hiked to the main temple uphill.
Slowly and steadily, walking afoot, I made my way to the temple.
On the road, just before the temple, there was a little shrine with a statue of the Buddha inside it.
I wondered why there was this little shrine on the road just before a major temple that stood a bit further from the road, inside the forest.
I looked into the eyes of the Buddha’s statue and prayed for the strength to find my own truth.

After visiting the breathtaking temple nestled in the forest, I started walking downhill, back home. I passed by the little shrine again. After being mesmerised by the ethereal beauty of the temple in the jungle, I wondered again, why this little shrine stands here after all!
And I continued on.

Today, I decided to cycle all the way uphill to ‘Wat Phra That Doi Suthep’. Within one kilometer of cycling I understood what I had gotten myself into.
The steep incline was going to last for 11 kilometers until I reached the temple. The weather was getting stormy by the second. I gasped deeper and deeper for breaths as my heart rate jumped to twice the normal. Drenched in sweat, I pedalled on in the lowest gear, heaving and panting constantly.
About half way up, thick black clouds started to condnese into raindrops. Huge blobs of water started hitting me like torpedoes.
I got a bit worried since I was going uphill and there was a forest all round me.
I could turn back and race downhill to save myself from getting drenched. But I wanted to go all the way up.
I was determined.
I saw a signboard at a distance as I approached it at an easy pace. In moments I could read what it said,
‘Wat Pha Lad 500 meters ahead’

I heaved a sigh, this time of relief.
I pedalled on quickly to reach the little shrine just ahead of the temple I’d been to yesterday.
I parked my bike and took all my stuff inside the shrine to find shelter.
The downpour lasted for half an hour.
In the meantime, I just sat in front of the Buddha’s statue. I saw what I failed to see yesterday. There was a roof on Buddha’s little shrine!
And it saved me from getting caught in heavy rain.

I tried to remember if there were any roofs in the magnificent forest temple I was so mesmerised by yesterday.
I couldn’t remember any.

Grateful for the roof, I understood why there are small shrines leading to all big temples.
I looked intointo Buddha’s eyes on the statue,
And he told me,
‘I am here only to remind you to pray.
Not to me.
But just to pray.’

‘When you face adversity as you undertake a big challenge,
Your prayers will manifest into the shelter you need to keep you going.’

After two hours of cycling uphill, I finally reached the main temple ‘Wat Phra That Doi Suthep’
On my way back downhill,
speeding past the little shrine,
I smiled,
And prayed.

And in my mind,
Full of belief,
I am ready for the next challenge,
The next ride,
Uphill.

On sculpting your identity

April 13, 2018 / Sreenath Sreenivasan / 0 Comments

You.
Yes you, my friend.
Grant yourself a few moments of perfect stillness.
Take a deep breath.
And Imagine.

Imagine who you currently embody. Your mind, body, thoughts and soul.
This is what you represent.
You’re a being in incessant flux, becoming and evolving.

Accept it.
This is YOU in the present moment.

Now imagine the version you wish to embody.
What do you represent?
How do you ennoble the people around?
Do you shine in your own glory, and invite people to do the same?
Visualize and believe in it.

Now,
Think of your present self as a chunk of marble.
And your better self as the finished work of art, the timeless sculpture you wish to create.

Now, let me share a story about the great Renaissance artist Michelangelo.
When Michelangelo was asked about his creative process of sculpting, he simply quipped,
‘You have to see the sculpture in the block of stone and chisel out the bits that aren’t the sculpture.’

Drawing a parallel,
each adversity,
each challenge,
each responsibility you willingly take represents the chisel your stone like self has to go through to inch closer to your better self.

Then, the question remains,

Can you visualise the better version of your self?
If so, are you ready to weather adversity, face challenges, embrace responsibilities that shall sculpt you each living moment?

It is a slow process.
It takes time.
It takes mindfulness.

But it also takes you closer to your better self.

So I ask you, my friend,

Are you ready,
To begin the journey,
Of Chiseling
Your own self?

On realizing a higher self

March 20, 2018 / Sreenath Sreenivasan / 0 Comments

Today I was going through an old journal. About three years ago on a particular page I had listed down what I what I wanted to be in future. One of my desires was to be a writer. But I didn’t have the understanding about the element of writing consistently. And the desire reeled in inertia for a few years.
However, about an year ago, I realized that the surest way to be a good writer is to write consistently. So, I cultivated the habit of writing every single day no matter what. Even if I failed in the process, I chose to get back to the streak of writing. And before I knew, I was writing better, because I was writing everyday.

I realized that we often set ‘being’ goals for ourselves. I want to be a chef, a gymnast, a banker, an architect…
What helps though is to have the ‘doing’ goals. An aspiring chef should cook mindfully everyday.
A budding writer should write every day and learn from better writers.
A wishful entrepreneur should take initiatives and responsibilities every day.
The consistent act of ‘doing’ something is the surest way to realize all of one’s ‘being’ goals.
And one should never forget that in the end it is all about being remembered as a good human being. Cultivating kindness and compassion in everyday life coupled with consistent practice of one’s craft will surely help one realize his highest possible self.

On privileges and responsibility

March 13, 2018 / Sreenath Sreenivasan / 0 Comments

Morning. My friend’s two year old nephew, brimful of unbridled energy is running around. He is wearing a warm sweater and a rabbit shaped winter cap on his bobbing head. His dutiful grandma is chasing him with delicious food fresh out of the kitchen.
Witnessing this wonderful moment of his childhood my brother turned to me and expressed,
‘ What an amazing life this little boy has. He has all that he needs, food, clothes, a home, plenty of toys, a loving family and all the time in the world. And he doesn’t even know about his privileges and won’t even remember this idyllic period of his life! How blissfully unaware he is !’

I smiled, and couldn’t help but wonder,
Back home, we have all the food we need, good clothes, a loving family and the time to do whatever we want. We have access to technology and the freedom to create what we want. We are just as privileged as the kid and our freedom of thought and action could emancipate us even further.

Yet, we choose to be unaware of these privileges. And unlike the blissfully unaware state of mind of a child, our unawareness makes us anxious.
From another person’s point of view we are extremely privileged. If you are reading this right now, you are more privileged than 80 percent of the world who does not have the means to access this information.

So the question is, are we sentient enough to realise our privileges and brave enough to take up the responsibility to make something out of the opportunity we have.

There are enough problems to fix, ample opportunities to make our world a better place. The onus is on us !

Roots

March 8, 2018 / Sreenath Sreenivasan / 0 Comments

Morning. 6 am.
My sleepy 5 year old friend Adva is rubbing her eyes to wakefulness. She dangles out of her mother’s comforting shoulder as sun warms up the air with its promising ascent. She basked in the warmth of mother’s love and sunlight.

After breakfast I saw another friend Lior, 24. She was feeling a bit sick in the morning. The sport she is, she shook her head like a toddler and whined jokingly, ‘I want my mommy!’
She files back home to Israel soon and she will meet her mom in not too long a time.

At night I happened to speak to an elderly American-Indian lady, Dami, 63.
She shared how she comes to India only to see her mother. Life in the US can sometimes get lonely. The prospect of meeting her mother keeps her going. Although the chance of meeting an 86 year old mother in good health gets bleak with every passing day.

It got me wondering how regardless of age, one wishes to turn back to her very source, the Mother.

It’s tragic however that as we age, our proximity to our mother decreases. Even though we have the technology that enables us to talk to anyone anywhere in the world, we still long for a motherly touch, her comforting lap, her nourishing food.

Then I looked around to see my fellow freinds in the flora.
Trees.
As they age, their roots only go deeper into mother earth. Ageing only strengthens the bond between mother and child in this instance.

It might be the deepest human longing ,
To emulate this strengthening of bond with our mother as we age.
We only have to look around and find a tree for inspiration…