Shedding the Old

She is taking care of herself as she has been done for the last twenty years.
She had never asked for help. So, do not put the unnncessary fear in her mind. It won’t work.  She just asks for leaving her alone.

The sun is bright, leaves started to fall from trees.
She is glad… glad watching the shedding… the shedding… taking off the old, allowing space.
She loves to see the wide sky and the stars.

It’s her who has carried herself this far. It will be her who will carry herself from now on.
Let her take off her clothes that she outgrew. They are tightening her ribs. Let her go from this point and beyond by herself.
Maybe she already left, leaving her old skin behind.

<October 2019, re-written on June 2020>

A Witness on the Road

Between natural beauty and cultivated beauty, I prefer cultivated beauty… like one sentence re-written again and again by a poet in sleepless nights. But I welcome every bit of beauty in the world as a thirsty traveler gulps down water. I wish for my arms overflowing with beautiful harvests when I depart my life here.

My color is gray and I don’t stand on any side of the road, which have caused many troubles on the journey in living. People continuously asked me to point where I belonged to, what I stood for, not knowing that values and morals were not my choosing. I chose beauty. I listened to the murmur of my heart and followed along with its lead. My life is on the road, not on the side of it.

Nothing is wrong in the world of beauty.
Everything loses its meaning in its full glamor.
Time stops to eternity in its moment.
A gasp… always enough.
When a tiny bloom meets my eyes, it seems that my journey doesn’t feel vain.

The plain mantra that my soul leans on.

Hare Rāma Hare Rāma
Rāma Rāma Hare Hare
Hare Kṛṣṇa Hare Kṛṣṇa
Kṛṣṇa Kṛṣṇa Hare Hare

- Kali-Saṇṭāraṇa Upaniṣad –

It felt so good to hear this song… after all this emotional turmoil… listening to the sound familiar and soothing… maybe a small blessing included.

I think of you… what you are doing, what you are thinking, what you are feeling… now. Are you afraid, pretending that everything will be okay?

My eyes almost filled up with tears when I got a text from you… just a plain message checking me out… but… I had a hard time trying to be brave at that moment and trying to take care of everything… and a little warmth from you softened something inside me and made me keep moving… keep going… like a mantra that my soul can lean on from time to time… in the world that suddenly became distant… and far.

Blessing of Something to Look Forward To.

Nothing-to-look-forward-to-ness.

When I spent lots of time with very very old intelligent people, I didn’t feel their age until one day. One said about her ‘nothing to look forward to’ in her life and I saw how that feeling resonated right away with the others. That moment sank deep into my heart and made me sad.

I often think back those words after that day. They came out of nowhere… when I halted my step to blankly look at the top of a tree on the walk of my dog, when I woke up in the morning watching my face in the mirror in my bathroom, when I waited for my occasional date to be happening soon…  as if those words stuck somewhere inside me and had to show their presence up to my consciousness.

That concept became my worst fear of my aging.
Not the physical weakness or the deformation of my body, not the vulnerability to sickness or pain, not the vicinity to death… but the state that I have nothing to look forward to in living.

However, it already arrived even before I hit old age.
I don’t have anything to look forward to by the forced circumstance…  I pretend my calm in the swamp of nothing-to-look-forward-to-ness now…. silently screaming.

It’s all okay.

eerie… that’s the word I’ve been looking for…

I don’t have any opinion about this… about this disturbing epidemic… any thought, any new news unlike others… I just feel… when I walk the streets that I’ve walked hundreds of times before… fully empty air… brewing from the lifeless roads surrounded by the houses… the houses full of people, very quiet people.

Life hasn’t stopped. It got stuck.
Only optical lights vigilantly traveling through narrow cables to connect the things…. the things virtually real… the real that hides under a white cover hugging the frozen. It’s okay, I say… it’s all okay.