Tag: Man’s search for meaning (Page 6 of 6)

The art of listening

May 31, 2018 / Sreenath Sreenivasan / 0 Comments

After a 52 day sojourn in Thailand, I reached India a couple of weeks ago. I had the fortune of staying with my friend’s family in Kolkata. I was fed home cooked food with utmost love by his mother for a whole week.
Both her sons are working in different cities and her husband is a working man who isn’t home for the most part of the day.
I would love to spend time with her in the afternoons, which she would usually spend alone, all by herself. She enjoyed my company too, and shared so many of her stories with me. It felt as if she didn’t have anyone to speak to for a long time.

On the first day she seemed to be a shy and introverted woman. But as she got to spend time with someone who would listen to her patiently, she opened up and spoke freely with joy.

During my stay in Kolkata, I also met with a school friend who’s been preparing for an entrance exam for a year at home.
We met up and he spoke on and on for hours on end. I felt happy to be there and give him company, for it felt as if he had not spoken to someone openly for a long time.

While in Delhi, I met a brave friend of mine who’s mother has been bed ridden for four years now. We used to play a lot of music together and share great brotherhood.
He also, had so much to talk about when we met. He spoke of his struggle, the hardship, his mother’s fighting spirit and his newfound belief in Buddhism. Despite his extroverted nature, I knew he had few people who he could talk to about matters of the heart. His sharing felt like a catharsis.

On my last day in Delhi, I found great company in another close friend’s Mother. When she came to know about my ambition to bicycle up North in the mountains, she started sharing her suggestions with spirited encouragement. Over time, she opened up and talked about her dreams, aspirations and nostalgia. Within half an hour, it felt as if she had shared so much of her life in the conversation.

These experiences got me wondering about a person’s desire for expression.
Anyone who has heard their own voice in a recording would say they do not like it at all. It sounds weird and whiney. One might sing to himself when alone, but would not record himself and listen back. It doesn’t sound as good !

But that is merely the physical aspect of our voice. Our true voice is in our thoughts and actions. The act of speaking merely helps to communicate.

Most of us are convinced that we do not have a good voice.
But boy, do we not love to be listened to?

In that moment, one forgoes the idea whether they have a good physical voice or not. While speaking to someone, what matters most is the voice in the heart.

It is tragic to see that despite our hyper connectedness, many of us do not have a patient, judgement free space/ friend to speak to. The voice deep inside our heart never finds expression.
But the moment, one finds a conducive space, even the most introverted of people share their life and experiences animatedly.

I wonder, maybe the best gift one could give to someone, especially to the elderly, is to just lend them a patient ear and listen with intent. There is plenty of learning and avenues to grow in the exercise.

Listening is an act of compassion.

And sometimes, the easiest way to be accepted and loved is to just listen, with an open heart.

On friendship beyond context

May 27, 2018 / Sreenath Sreenivasan / 0 Comments

I had the fortune of meeting a friend yesterday in Delhi. We used to play a lot of music together until a few years ago.
That was the context we grew closer in.
But despite being far away physically and not playing music together for so long, we both felt our friendship had grown over the years. It was a deeply reassuring feeling.

We made great conversation over a car ride and he dropped me at the metro station.
There I met my old student who I used to help learn how to play drums.
We reminisced about how our classes used to be, full of openness and fun. We used to discuss problems of Mathematics, philosophy, logic and science and learnt drumming in the process.
We both were students in those 40 minute sessions.
Now, I am no longer an official teacher to him. But we’re great friends, despite the distance.

These interactions made me realise how one can make the choice of fostering lasting relationships in life.

We all meet our friends in a certain context. We meet them either in school, college, an activity group, while playing sports or at work…you get the picture.

While we are interacting with them in the context we meet them in,
are we open to share our ideas and beliefs beyond the context of our interaction?

Can we talk about how to live a good life, what our dreams are, what we want to change about ourselves and the world around in the same breath as we talk about say pottery, if we met our friend first in a pottery workshop?

The longevity of a relationship is determined by how resilient is it in the face of changing contexts.
We are all growing, ageing, evolving, getting married, changing jobs, chasing dreams, becoming parents…
Can we still talk about minutiae over a margarita, the profoundness in finding purpose in life?

As they say in evolution it all boils down to
‘The survival of the fittest.’

The healthiest of friendships are ones where there is a constancy in love, care and respect for your friend despite the dynamic shifts in contexts life takes us through.

That in my opinion is a fit friendship,
a lasting frienship
A friendship that would truly,
Thrive.

An Unfair Freedom

May 26, 2018 / Sreenath Sreenivasan / 0 Comments

After a 9 hour delay, the train finally chugged onto platform 6 on New Delhi Railway Station. I quickly alighted from the train and rushed to the luggage compartment to unload my bicycle.

Navigating our way through the sea of people on the platform, we finally reached the parcel office. I got an exit pass for the bicycle and we were free to hit the road.

Outside the railway station, I stopped to affix my pannier bags and backpack onto the bicycle. I had my helmet on and the safety lights Buddha had left for me were flashing intermittently. I put on a reflective jacket to make myself more visible in the traffic.

Quite evidently, it was not a common sight in that area and I was the subject of fascination for those five fleeting minutes. Once I finished fixing the bags, and safety lights I looked up to the stares of a dozen rickshaw pullers. Virtually invisible in the the dark oblivion of their existence, their faces lit up with each flicker of the safety lights on the bike.

Rickshaw pullers have a challenging life in Delhi. They have a tricycle which houses two passengers at the back, sometimes their luggage too. Never do they carry less than a hundred kgs on a trip.
They have to pull an old, ungeared tricycle through the maze of traffic in sweltering heat of summer. It was evening already at that moment but the air was warm and scathing. They are too many in number, fighting for a living that promises just enough food to get by, a space to sleep in their own rickshaw under a flyover and a dreamless sleep earned from exhaustion.
A little life they wrestle out of the spiral of their own fate.

I would find myself to be happy about carrying three big bags on my bicycle around Thailand. I thought I grew strong and tough with that experience. But the sight of these rickshaw pullers annihilated even a tiniest shred of pride I had in my heart.

I am going to bicycle further north from Delhi towards the foothills of the Himalayas. The ride will be mostly uphill and challenging.
But, I have an unfair advantage that life gave me without my asking.

The advantage, of having the freedom to choose my challenges, my struggles.
I have the liberty to take the road I like, of how much weight I want to carry, to stop if I am tired or if find a moment worth capturing.

Comparing it to the misery of a life the rickshaw puller leads where he cannot choose the load he has to carry, the route he wishes to take, to grant himself a modicum of rest to recover,
I felt my challenge was far too easier, for it was a challenge of my own choosing.

I left the scene quite soon, leaving them with a topic to discuss with each other before they had earned enough to call it a night.

I realised that even the freedom to choose a journey full of struggles is a privilege.

For, when your life is interminably leashed to a struggle that your fate brings with it,
And you don’t even have the choice to rest, forget choosing your own struggle,
One feels like the mythical Sisyphus, tasked to roll up a huge stone uphill, that only rolls back downhill eventually.
And every day, my brothers on three wheels, start downhill with full awareness that they will also end up downhill at night, maybe on every night of their lives.
There is never an uphill vantage point for them to take a moment and enjoy.

Helpless, yet grateful,
I pedal on slowly,
With the weight of the realisation,
Of how simple my struggle is.

What time is it Buddha?

May 25, 2018 / Sreenath Sreenivasan / 0 Comments

I have a little polaroid camera in my bag. Whenever I find a kind and helpful person while travelling, I click a Polaroid picture for them as a gift.
I had the fortune of meeting a kind bicycle mechanic, Nu, in Chiang Mai.
He helped me even when his shop was shut for the Thai new year.
Moved by his desire to help, I clicked him a nice Polaroid picture with one of his cats in his lap.
He took out a marker to write the date at the bottom of the picture.
It read ‘13-4-2561‘

For a moment I was taken aback.
Was it possible that I was time travelling and breached past the time-space continuum to a point in future?

Nu sensed my curious mix of surprise and disbelief.

‘It is the Buddhist calendar date. Don’t worry !’ he shared smilingly.

I was relieved and a tad disappointed at the same time. Wouldn’t it be fun to have time travelled after all !

The year in which we live is also relative to our set of beliefs. I am sure there will be remote tribes where it would be another calendar year, if they believe in calendar years at all.

That night, back at my hostel, I was sitting in the lounge and writing on my laptop. My laptop still displayed the Indian standard time on it while my cellphone had the Thai time.
I looked at the laptop of a friend sitting next to me. Her clock showed the time in Germany. I looked at another friend who was waiting for sunrise in the west coast of USA so that he could call and talk to his family. It was late at night in Thailand but in our minds we also had the time of the places where our friends and family lived.

I wondered, well,
even time, at the same instant,
Is relative to where a person is.

The other day someone shared an article with me that asserted that time is merely a concept of our own making. Our sense of time is a locally agreed upon reality here on earth. Our understanding of time warps when viewed in the grand timelessness of the cosmos.

How do I make sense of time after all these stimuli broadening my perspective within a span of a day, which is also a local cosmic reality.

I found myself in a Buddhist temple the next morning.
Sitting in front of Buddha’s statue, I asked,

‘What year is it now Buddha?’

He chuckled and replied,
‘There is no real answer for that question.’

‘What day is it then?’

‘ It is today.’ he said matter of factly.

‘And what time is it?’

‘It is now.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘The only true, non negotiable, non relative time, in now. No matter where you are on earth, that stands true, doesn’t it?’

‘Hmm…so ‘now’ is the correct time in your opinion.’

‘It is not my opinion. It is a truism.’ he said.

‘I see, Now is the right time.’

‘Yes, Now is the right time, to do what truly matters to you most.’

We shared the same half smile, the Buddha and I.
I clicked a Polaroid picture with the Buddha. I felt no need to put a date stamp on it.

Enlightened by the profoundly simple sermon, I got up with enthusiasm,
‘To do what truly matters to me, in the present moment.’

‘Now.’

On an artist’s state being

May 24, 2018 / Sreenath Sreenivasan / 0 Comments

‘So what music are you listening to these days?’ I asked my friend Vijay over a phone call.’

‘Ah, I must share this artist’s music with you. His playing is absolutely mesmerising. It is a wedlock of poetic expression with reckless abandon. He plays as if he doesn’t care who is listening or not listening for that matter. He just does his thing. I wonder how long it would have taken him to have that state of being.’

‘Sounds fascinating ! Do share his music with me !’

‘I will, when we hang up.’

And we went on with our friendly, fruitful conversation.

The way Vijay described the musician’s state of being made an impression on me.
I remembered a phrase a dance teacher used to say when people were shy to sway. He would say,

‘Dance as if nobody is watching.’

While that helped people for a while, of course their conscious state of mind came back to them in no time.

But when kids dance, they know the whole world around them is watching. Their expression spouts out in bountiful measure nevertheless.
They don’t dance as if nobody is watching !

Maybe the way to dance best is to dance with a subtle awareness. An awareness that people might be watching. Or not.
Consciousness is such a gift. It should never be stifled by being ‘conscious’!

As a musician, I have also felt this state of being ‘conscious’ while playing. It happens even to the best of us.

We all fall in that trap of trying to be ‘good enough’ as someone. That someone could be your favourite artist, a contemporary or your own mentor.
But in reality we can only be as good as our best selves. We can never be as good as someone outside our own being.
We can only push further and reach the heights we are capable of. The moment we stop having an external benchmark, a sense of emancipation will dawn on us.

While you should always strive to learn from everyone,
from a master to a novice,
The goal should always be to reach your best possible expression,
Your truest artistic splendor.

And it is best achieved by not striving to ‘be like someone.’
Surprisingly, it is not even achieved by striving ‘to be the best version of yourself.’

The most natural way to progress is just by ‘being’.

It might sound psuedo-spiritual.
And I must admit that it is a difficult state of being to win back.

But we had that state of being as kids.
I am not talking about mastery. Kids are not masters at an artform per se.
I am talking about that subtle awareness.
And the state of just ‘being’,
and expressing until you’re spent for the moment, for the day.

We all had that state of being.
We just have to unlearn.
Unlearn the habit of self-doubt, comparison, and the state of being ‘conscious’.

Now that I wonder about my friend’s question of,
‘I wonder how long it would have taken him to have that state of being’,

I think that the artist preserved the childlike ‘being’ he had as a kid.
Maybe he has always had that state of being.
Like we all did once upon a time.

And we can all strive for that state of being.
In the interest of our best artistic expression.
In the journey of being the best human we can be.

Sometimes the fastest way to learn,
Is to Unlearn.

How to open up your heart

May 23, 2018 / Sreenath Sreenivasan / 0 Comments

I had the fortune of volunteering at ‘Mindful Farm’, a little community nestled among hillocks in North Chiang Mai, Thailand.

One of the things I liked most about being there was the nutritious breakfast we used to eat, seated on the floor, in complete silence, mindfully.

After breakfast, one of us would read a little story about mindfulness in daily life to everyone else. The founder, Pi Nan, had a wonderful collection of stories to be read out loud every morning.

On a particular morning, my friend Alice was reading out a story. She read the story with such an endearing cadence that all of us just wanted to keep on listening. Giving space and emphasis as it deemed fit, she beckoned us all on a journey, like Pied Piper would with his pipe.
After she finished reading the story, we all were secretly wishing that she kept on reading !

We got up from our places and continued on to work on the farm.
While we were busy working, I took a moment to compliment her about the way she read the story.

‘Alice, how did you learn to read like that?’

‘Ah, did you enjoy it?’ she asked.

‘Yes, indeed. It was read with such empathy and emotion. I felt as if I was a kid in a nursery and my teacher was reading a gripping little tale to me.’

‘Well, I am a teacher back in Myanmar. I teach kids. I have to be able to read engagingly, don’t I?’

‘Ah, that explains it!’

‘You know, I feel that we assume that we no longer need to be read to once we learn how to read. But isn’t it a joy to be be listening to a story read with the right emotion and flow?’

‘By all means !’ I assented.

And we carried on our work in the little patch of the garden.

Yesterday, my friend’s father and I sat down to share time and space. I narrated a short story to him I had written a few days ago. He recited a few of the couplets he had composed.
He had such joy in his spirit when he recited his own poetry composed in an agreeable melody.

Once he was done reciting he spoke,

‘You know, my wife has insomnia. When she cannot fall asleep at night, I sing my poetry as a lullaby to her. Before she knows, she falls asleep like a content baby.’

‘How do you think that works Uncle?’ I asked.

‘You know, I think we all feel that only little babies need lullabies to fall asleep. But, we could all use a lullaby in our life.’

Smiling gently to his wise observation, we enjoyed the evening breeze.

These two experiences with Alice and my friend’s father got me thinking about the things we do away with as we grow up.

Most experiences we consider so precious as kids are deemed to be childish.

Who doesn’t remember sleeping to a lullaby? Or a short story performed by Granny in the dark theatre of the night, that soothed us into a dream filled sleep?
The caressing on our ruffled hair by Mom, when we were down with fever? Her peculiar scent that made you feel you’re home in her arms?

As we grow up we do not let these experiences into our lives. We dare not to sleep in our mother’s lap, rationalizing our fear, fooling ourselves out of what we might truly need.

After an age, subconsciously we seek the same feelings as we did as a child, from a partner.

Yes, we need to listen to someone with deep anticipation and intent, just how we used to listen to those childhood stories.
We need to listen to them whisper in our ear, to lead us to a sound sleep, just how a lullaby used to do back in the day. We need to be touched, lovingly, like we allowed our mother to once upon a time. We need that embracing scent of our beloved, to feel home, no matter where we are, just like our mother’s scent made us feel.

Our adulthood comes with a baggage. The inertia of all those walls that we build between us and our guileless heart.
Our heart was open to love as children.
But as we grew up, we even started feeling awkward when embracing our own parents, something that used to be so natural !
How is this growth in any sense of the word?

Sometimes, growth means to retreat.
Retreat to a state of pure being,
Of having an open heart,
An all embracing soul,
That touches and let’s itself be touched.
That seeks out an embrace,a lullaby, a story, the scent of home…

The seed we are all sowing…

May 17, 2018 / Sreenath Sreenivasan / 0 Comments

Each tiny seed has a mighty tree waiting inside it.
A single seed being a microcosm of all of what the tree it came from is like.
Many seeds,
Many trees,
The possibility of a thriving forest!

Now, consider this.

Each of your actions is your own seed,
Your own karmic fingerprint.
Each little action is a microcosm of all you are, all your future could be.
Many actions,
Many stories,
The possibility of a thriving life!

Once you realise this,
The smallest of actions can only be done with greater love.
Being responsible at every moment will become second nature.

And each of the seeds we plant,
Each of our little actions,
Will manifest into its highest possible expression.

We can start small.
How about listening to someone with complete attention?
Or keeping an organised living space?
Or smiling with an open heart?
Or playing and learning from children?

Little steps.
Little actions.
With a little smile throughout,
We’re planting a forest of the future after all !

May it thrive !
Realising all of its expression.

Let us begin my friend.
Let us begin.

When you feel you are not good enough…

May 14, 2018 / Sreenath Sreenivasan / 0 Comments

‘Am I good enough?’
‘You know,
Maybe I’m not good enough.’
‘Maybe I should not pursue this at all. There are people out there who are way better than I am.’

Sounds familiar?

In life, we often find our self in situations when we question our ability. It happens way more to people who consider themself an artist.

While it is easy to bow out and not pursue something that you’re involved in, it is seldom the best choice one can make.

Before making a decision to quit anything that you’re currently pursuing ask yourself,
What kept me involved with this activity/art for such a long time?
Does my growth in this field matter to me?

If you hear a voice staying ,
Yes! My growth in this field matters to me,
Ask yourself,

How is the decision to quit going to take me any closer to the growth that matters to me so much?

As humans, we are prone to make irrational and impulsive decisions.
But when you question your own ability at an art form, and you are close to quitting, thinking there are people way better than you out there and you must not continue,
Think about,

What led you so far into it?
Does your growth matter to you?
Does quitting make you any better?

Once you can answer these questions with conviction, making a decision becomes much easier.

Most likely you will continue with the art form and work hard at it.

You are not the only one who loses faith in himself from time to time. Even the best of us fall for this trap.

The ones who march on despite this, are the ones who get better.

Don’t quit yet.

Comparison never fosters art.

I’m reminded of a story about a father and son looking at two mango saplings in their garden.
The son asks,
‘Which one of the two will bear more fruit Daddy?’
The father smiles and answers,
‘It is too early to tell son,
Let me just say,
they’re both growing !’

We’re all growing, at our own pace. And we shall all bear fruit in our own reality , in our own capacity.

No tree ever curtails its own creative expression. Why should you?

March on.
For your life is,
a masterpiece in progress…

Buddha behind the wheels

May 13, 2018 / Sreenath Sreenivasan / 0 Comments

Riding on the highways can be tricky at times. As a cyclist, I have to be extremely careful about the traffic etiquette. I need to be on the leftmost lane all the time and give way to vehicles speeding past me in the other lanes.
While it has been pleasant bicycling in Thailand, today I was made to realise how particular I have to be while changing lanes.
In the afternoon, a particular gentleman in a pick up truck drove by quite close to me within a hair’s distance while taking a free left turn.
Thankful of being left unscathed, I wondered how I could ride better.

I have been avoiding riding at night since I do not have enough lights to keep me visible from afar.
I thought maybe my bicycle should have indicator lights!
I kept pedalling on dreaming about this.

Until I saw another gentleman standing near his pickup truck near a temple on the highway. I guess he had just come out of the temple after offering alms to the monks.
It was a strange sight to spot a white-western gentleman in rural Thailand.

I slowed down a bit as I approached him.

He handed a packet to me which I presumed had food.

He quickly got in his truck and left. He honked twice to wish goodbye as he drove past.

In some time I stopped to rest. I was hungry and hoping to eat what he might have given me in the packet.
Do you know what I found in the packet?
To my surprise,
I found a set of bike lights !

It seemed like such a spooky coincidence. I met a man for ten seconds on the highway. Without even exchanging any pleasantries, he offered me something that I might be needing the most and left without a trace.

I affixed the light he gave me for the bike, still blown away by the turn of events.

This gentleman didn’t only give me lights for my bike,
He enlightened me in many ways.
He showed me the light towards being kind for the sake of kindness.
To help without even wishing to be remembered.
To represent the undeniable light that shines in us all.

He must be God.
Or at least his gesture,
Decidedly Divine.

Brim with the spirit of embracing kindness as a way of life,
I pedal on…

Art, Man and Motherhood

May 8, 2018 / Sreenath Sreenivasan / 0 Comments

As a kid, my mind was always full of questions. I clearly remember one question that kept looming in my mind.
As a kid I used to feel,
‘Why can only women become mothers?’
‘Men should also be able to give birth !’

It is funny indeed to think about it now.
But that was the first time I felt unequal to women in some sense.
Over time, I realized how naturally empowered women are !

Recently a friend shared how she is sometimes frustrated when she has to go through the agony of getting periods every month.

I could only share,
‘But you are the source of all creation! You have the ability to support a life inside your body. To me you are the most powerful force in the world that I know.
This recurring inconvenience is nothing as compared to the gift of creation you possess!’

Once I said this, the old question I used to have as a child came back to me.

‘Why can’t men give birth?’

Then I thought,
Maybe a man can’t nourish a child like woman. But he still has the choice to create art.
The two are quite alike!

Whenever we create a piece of art, we feel as if it is a part of us.
It is our baby so to say.
Anyone who has ever created art would relate to it. It could be an old poem you’d written that you still remember, or a song that you’d composed when you’d fallen in love for the first time, that day when you baked your first cake or knit those socks for your newborn niece…
It could scale up to more serious pursuits in art, depending on how much it means to you.

Through art, a man gets access to motherhood.
The more lovingly you create, the more the work of art feels like an extension of yourself.
And just how a well brought up child takes care of his parents when they need him,
The art you create will heal you as you’re at it, and bring you joy, satisfaction and recognition as it ages with you.

A man can be a mother, repeatedly, through his whole life. He has the liberty to be a better mother as he understands and evolves with the process of creation.
Biological motherhood doesn’t offer this latitude!
Women are lucky indeed, for they can create babies and of course, art!

Now, I believe I can give birth.
With my art!

And just how important making babies is for perpetuation of our species,
Just as important is art, in revealing what the universe expresses,
Through the fascinating experience,
Of being human.

To our collective experience of the joy of motherhood.

Make art ! 🙂