Oh to be alive

  Times have changed, indeed they have:  one often sees the  pot calling the kettle black ! Wonder when good  sense vanished & where?  Everything suddenly vaporised, in diaphanous thin air. The haze is heavy, blinding: overpowering one & all;  debate, dissent are rare.  In a crevice along the bend, erupts a tender tendril:  brave, feisty & bare ! Rearing it’s tiny head,  raring to go & ensnare: just awaiting the spunk to tell  the pot & the kettle,  how they are both dark & devious:  beyond redemption & repair. Times have changed,  indeed they have.  #Srkmusings

    Sub m erged under a multitude of layers, lies a distant dream. Envelo ped in mystery or perhaps just a an illusionary slipstream. It tri es to surface and resurface, grappling to stay afloat on its own steam. The impetus of darkness makes it thrive, but in the light, it barely survive s.         How does one then from the deepest recesses of the mind, retrieve? Shards of memories, some broken some peeled, keep emerging evaporate, coalesce.       Astounded by the perpetuality of some, and the belligerence of others playing hide and seek. Some are coy, some have blatant and bizarre streaks. All in all, deeply embedded in every psyche are a million imprints, scathed unscathed, brimming up against the tide: some reach the shore others dissipate, tired of trying.   ©Copyright Suverchala Kashyap    

In the daily rush of life, sometimes, ever so quietly, just per chance sometimes, comes a moment one wants to savour forever.  A moment so vibrant and yet calming, a ripple in placid waters or a restful instant beneath a storm, it is often difficult to discern. In the brouhaha caused by the criss-crossing labyrinth of life around, be it hyped and sensationalised simple everyday goings on, or earth shattering news; one is often inundated with a mantle of unnecessary information, bytes that bite, in fact gnaw into ones innards, like an omnipresent carcinogen. The consequence is not too hard to guess, individuals flailing around, battered, floundered souls; grappling with lots unknown.                     So how does one disentangle from this octopus like grip, of these so called hazardous situations/events?  There is a way, the middle path as the Buddha would have us believe or the Zen...