Yeah, how many roads must a man walk on?

Yeah, how many roads must a man walk on before expectations materialize that he becomes one with the spirit of awakening? For that matter how many furlongs need to be covered to awaken to one’s being. Dasein. Must we allow modernity to tame us, certainly neuter/sequester us to give in? Should we be keeping a patch of wilderness alive for our numbered days? 

In wildness is the preservation of the world. —Henry David Thoreau 

The answer is a blowin’ in the wind—the whoosh of a fist looming toward the face. 

In idiomatic vein: we come to blows over long embraced pet peeves; whereas in idiomatic veneer some gain an identity, with one blow. Furthermore lugubriously striking blows at the indigents. Sledge hammering their way through time! 

Being driven astray is a wildering—an estrangement that deposits us into that cauldron of uncertainty. Wilder bewilders. 

Wild thing you make my heart sing you make everything groovy. 
—Wild Thing, by The Troggs. We add our choice of veneer to our lives, mindlessly covering up tarnish with varnish. Garnishing never really helps when the core is rotten.

So where goest thy Rinsho

A sister from the West visiting Jaipur: Mister, what is that elephant doing, behind us on our right?
Indian brother: Madam, he is walking.

one walks before learning to run. but one does not enroll  in a class that helps get us from walking to running!

Fortitude: Encountering the Beatitudes while bypassing the ravines of Crassitude

Recently, I shared news with a few colleagues of a win—news of an artistic effort that had garnered recognition, and to my mind a win of sorts. I had received intimation from Radek in Poland that we [Radoslaw Nowakowski & Venantius J. Pinto (Poland/India – joint runner-up)] were runners up in the 4th Sheffield International Artist’s Book Prize for the artists book CorrespondAnce.  http://artistsbookprize.co.uk/2013Prize

Among the few people were those whom I had served in various capacities, those who had approached me for various things, those I had bailed (not balled) out on projects. Professionals ahoy—the parakeet in my mind squawked. Also, in that clan were individuals who had been feted, some wined, others dined, their angst condoled, and “confessions” heard. I received two responses celebrating the success of CorrespondAnce or about 20 percent. This was a new surprise since I would have thought that its not always that such successes small as they are their news du jour. Simply celebrating others is what I cherish. I was not expecting anything beyond the fact that I existed as also for reasons above which fall under the banner of being a professional. 



So what could some of their “dispassionate” reasons be. Is it that kudos are worth proffering only to certain people. Ergo, it does not sit well within certain minds if you are not one of those anointed ones, regardless whether ones skills have played a significant role in their having been able to rest easy. 

Or is it merely a coagulation of fear and torpor? Both of which being indecent as far as they taunt our sensibilities in wanting to disregard each other as part of a brotherhood of cogs in our endeavors, labors, and in love—whereby, in giving and partaking we receive.

I will do it

14 Blades (2010, dir. Daniel Lee) is a Wuxia film set in the Ming dynasty. The Jinyiwei were the government's secret police, rigorously trained since childhood in clandestine combat. The following words uttered by Qiao Hua who deeply loves Qinglong, a Jinyiwei—struck a chord in me. 

Whatever you tell me to do 

I will do it 

No matter if you are lying to me 

Or not

But such words will only be reckoned with by those who have complete respect for the significant other in their life. Often, although we give utmost respect to the other—the fruit of our senses, the aesthetic object if you will rejects it, or does not allow for the embracing—whatever the extenuating reasons may be. 

The point for reflection is in the what, the why, and the how of such a reality. During our existence as individuals, repeated mis-readings of the stirrings in our being are akin to a selling out—as in ones core being hollowed from within—our perceptions deceiving us. It occurs on account of a lack of direction; an inability to go headlong into the wind and learn about each other, as also a lack of realization or awareness, and an inability to cherish holding onto the strength of the other. As also, the sheer lack of awareness to strengthen oneself, as well as the other, and the relationship. 

Calligraphy reveals the person! Really and who says what?!

The point of concern as said and stemming from Chinese calligraphy is that: Calligraphy reveals the person/individual. That being accepted as truth, what I am saying is that, that realization cannot possibly be realized/comprehended by any and everybody. Such awareness only comes to certain individuals, and not necessarily those who practice any form of calligraphy.

Furthermore, I am not saying that I have the ability to discern how to see, or worse judge an individual by their calligraphy; and aside from that, I am not talking about myself or even remotely interjecting myself into any of this. These are specific distinctions.  Essentially the rupture on my part is to not make it simple for anyone to run with the maxim that Calligraphy reveals the person, and proclaim it in a cavalier manner. To even embrace that idea the mind has to be able to see, contemplate, examine as also adjudicate various aspects of any skill at shaping letterforms at deeper planes.

Satyagraha and Being

Satya+agraha. The insistence on truth, a belief that I will never abandon. It may perhaps sound hokey, but the embrace is real. So, as we approach the midnight hour, tomorrow Aug 23 being a new day—for me, the day I will become an American citizen. Have no irrational nor extrapolated fears about me losing my Indian being—that evolved existence will not be eclipsed nor compromised. Yet, I will owe allegiance to the United States of America (the U.S.A). The yakshas and yakshis, the apsaras, the dhoots, and among other entities the devas will not be rejecting me, and neither I them at 8:30 tomorrow morning, nor shall I my composite Indian composite being. In my case how could that possibly happen? I know that many of my Indian pals do not like to hear such thoughts, and that is good since now we can keep looking at each other from separate shore. Or as the Heart Sutra puts it: Gate gate para gate Parasam gate Bodhi Svaha!

Schemas, scheming and placating ones inner lemming

Frank Schneider as Gregor Samsa, at LaMama Etc., NY green roon.
photo: Sean Sullivan  body paint: Venantius J Pinto

Why is it uncommon for individuals to smile when they encounter another say in workplaces—depressingly, a de facto place of worship one might add in the times we are in. These individuals too often superiors, in positions of leadership and stewardship surely have nothing to lose. Of course, other than running around with some heady confusions written on the slates of their minds. Could it be just perhaps ensconced as they are in the haze of multitasking—that a smile could just cause their day to shatter? Just perhaps. Still, how could one shatter the tool that they are? 

But it appears that humor aids in hiding the extent of scheming resorted to by those who cannot but help themselves deploy their schemes? So could it be that they see a smile as an investment which they’d rather not be flashing around. other than being amiable in those moments when standing face-to-face. A self-hypnotic sleight in a compendium of mind-numbing states. And to add to the above, being highly aware is a quality very much in their pouch of talents! So I am all confused then. Do spare me any further ignominy.