Here I am sitting in the office at 39 George street, just got back from a really good friend of mines b’day party and it was really good just hanging out with my crew mates in the wharf.
It was a perfect days end, to a very enlightening weekend spent in the South Coast in a land where God took a paint brush to the horizon and splashed it across the landscape.
It is funny because up until my trip, I had no idea that I had felt like a blind man struggling to find his way home by touch against a tropical thunder rain, hell bent on throwing you into a gaping maw of rocks at the base of a cliff, with the waves crashing on it. With only the lonely carrion birds to witness it.
It feels really good to get that out of ones chest. It is funny how meditation can help release your minds thoughts into a tangent of chaos with only YOU the architect who can make sense of the chaos.
After all how is a genius born ? I reckon it is born on the cusp of madness. Am I a genius ?? hell no haha … am just another human being trying to chart my short life in the cosmic time map our universe has experienced over an infinite life-cycle over and over again.
As I sat there cross legged with the wind caressing the folds of my baggy clothes and body like the comforts of a long lost lover, it is very surprising how one can connect to the earth right under his breathing core and explore a completely different universe by seeking for a balance.
This is when an old American Indian fathers conversation to his son popped into my mind:
**** A wise father once told his son while they were out hunting ” In all of us Son there are two Wolves fighting a never ending war for supremacy ”
The first wolf is the wolf of peace, love and kindness. The other wolf is fear, greed and hatred. “Which wolf will win, Father” asked the Son. “Whichever one I feed,” was the fathers grave reply as he stares back into the setting of the lonely sun over the horizon
Why am saying this is because I was lost and when this story came across my mind it left me really jilted.
I then remembered when I was a child and overheard my grandfather tell my father in Tamil “It is better to return a borrowed pot, with a little curry to return the favor”
I don’t know why the memory floated back to my minds eye fresh as the day it was in my mind when I was 9 or 10 maximum because I remember it was when my grand dad visited Oman before he passed away.
That is what urged in me to seek my spark, a life source, thread or any link to nature. Gods final gift to every one of his children, with hidden treasures lying to be discovered in every ecosystem.
This is when I tried to synchronize my breathing with the space in nature I was occupying.
The sounds of the distant creek jingling like the gurgle of a happy baby, the crying of the catbird (I had a really funny feeling it was the one I had plucked a feather off the previous day as a gift for a friend) and just the ebb and flow of nature surrounded by mountains as grand as the One The Prophet Moses stood on when he proclaimed Gods Testament to the Jews act like beacons when you close your eyes and breathe taking into consideration of how Nature is always eternal and regenerating in the space of every breathe.
This is when an epiphany hit me, the very ground I stand on helped my ancestors sustain themselves as they sailed accross the Indian Ocean to the lonely mountains of Mawanella in Srilanka.
So its about time I returned nature a pot of curry to return the favor. (mind you not literally , I dont want to see “Wombat Road kill due to leftover Rocket Curry” in the papers)