There is a goddess of memory, Mnemosyne;
But none of forgetting.
Yet there should be, as they are twin sisters,
Twin powers, and walk,
On either side of us, disputing for sovereignty,
Over us and who we are,
All the way until death.
-Richard Holmes
A meander through memory and forgetting
   
It was twilight on our second day at the park. The crimson sun’s rays were slicing through the dust raised by migrating animals. On the park radio, our guide heard that a couple of lions had surrounded a blue wildebeest (an animal the size of an adult cow) and were attacking it with their natural ferocity. Our guide quickly turned his land cruiser in the direction of the hunt. By rushing through the maze of dirt roads which snake through Serengeti, we reached where the wildebeest was on its last leg of battle, and within a few seconds it fell on the ground, its body ripped apart and the force of life leaving it forever. The attacking lionesses - one older and one around three years old - now exhausted from battle sat down stoically next to the dead beast. Their silent expressions were giving the illusion that they were coming to terms with raw grief of taking a life. It is said that sorrow has a voice: it is a scream turned inward and silenced. I suppose the lionesses, if in grief, had turned their roar inward. It has been shared that lions carry no memory of previous kills, so each act to them likely feels like innocence lost.
The vultures perched on leafless trees looked like monks contemplating on the nature of death. For their meal, they would have to wait. The lions were going to guard their hunt overnight.
The above episode has left a deep impact on my memory. It dawned to me that our lives are so separated from the natural actions and cycles of animals. While for me and others, this was a powerful experience, for the lions and wildebeest, it’s the natural way of the world. The poet John Fletcher said:
Weep no more, nor sigh, nor groan
 Sorrow calls no time that’s gone

As the title suggests, this blog post is not about the size of the park and various animals in it - Wikipedia and internet are loaded with the such information. This writing is about my memories, reflections, and the changes the visit brought in me.  

After seeing the hunt, we headed back to our tent house. The night was falling and very soon the sky turned a dreamy velvet black. Every night, the sky brought the same color. The nightly bonfires at the tent had gold, red, and purple flames dancing on the embers. In the park, the animals were roaming free and we were caged in a secured tent during nights. Every night you could hear hyenas calling each other with a full range of musical tones including legatos and staccatos.
Our guide suggested that if we wanted to see lions feasting on the dead wildebeest, then we should start by 6 am. It was still dark, but the sky was changing its color from black to indigo. The shadow of yesterday’s moon was still lingering in the sky. It had rained in the wee hours of the morning, and the vast cathedral of Serengeti was being swept off its feet by the moisture laden breeze. On the way, we saw guinea fowls (I would describe them as cuter versions of chickens) doing their sputter walk on the side of the dirt road amidst line of blue monkeys. We reached the place of the kill at around 6:45 am.  It was an unbelievable scene. There were at least 4 lions sitting cheering on two other lions, one eating the face, and the second, a child, like any curious child, struggling with the tail.  From here, we moved on to other parts of park.

The sky by now had moved from indigo to a blue which can only be experienced and not described. According to the author Earl Shoris in The Last Word ’ the Mayan language had nine different words for blue”. The loss of language has made the blue I was witnessing beyond description.
By noon the sky had turned pale blue. In the open grassland, the animals were sunbathing, and the atmosphere was like a picnic. Lions, elephants, zebras, giraffes, a few foxes at distance, gazelles, all were in proximity of a few hundred yards of each other without any fear.  I saw carcasses of dead animals in the same mix. I saw a mother elephant breastfeeding her baby, a male and female Ostridge couple taking a leisurely walk during their picnic, and lions sleeping on the trees. A few miles from this place, we saw a lioness sleeping on a big lava rock like a beautiful lady in a portrait session of sleeping beauty. Her 5 cubs were playing around and occasionally sucking on her breasts. The littlest among them was constantly hitting on her face and periodically stopping to gaze at her face possibly to ensure that her spirit was still a float in this world. The beauty of this Eden like place brought the memory of the following verse from Gregory Orr:
To be alive; not just the carcass,
But the spark
That’s crudely put, but……
If we are not supposed to dance,
Why all this music?

The story of circular migration of animals following the rains and rejuvenated vegetation is nothing less than magical.  Science tells us that the animals for navigation shave several tools like spatial memory (some genetic and some learned), earth’s geomagnetic field, and seasons. I am not as well-endowed with spatial memory as these animals. The goddess of forgetfulness is always encroaching on the memory land. I am always trying to remember as much as I can the landscapes experienced with their wind patterns and sky.  
Serengeti was a gift to us from our children - Chetan, Megan, Ashim, and Pooja. Their gift brought an experience which we will cherish for as long as the goddess of forgetfulness does not turn her eyes towards us.

Visiting Serengeti and listening to what this land was saying, a new understanding and appreciation  of life and nature developed. In conversation with the land, we create spaces in our life where wisdom arises like morning sun and our spiritual landscape expands. The forgotten experiences come back as stories to be reflected upon as something new and novel. We realized that this season of our lives is more important than any other season to cherish lived moments and stories. Most importantly, a realization that the eternal call of time is beckoning us to cherish the internal seasons of life together with the knowledge of our partner's heart's wants.
I carry your heart with me ( I carry it in my heart)
I am never without it (Anywhere I go you go, my dear)
Here is the deepest secret nobody knows (here is the root of the root, bud of the bud and sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grown higher than soul can hope, or mind can hide)
And this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart.
-E. E. Cummings   

Reflections on my Visit to Gurudwara Sacha Sauda in Pakistan

Charity for God’s Sake has a hundred signs-within the heart
The good deed, a hundred tokens though in Charity Riches are Consumed
A Hundred Lives come to Heart in Return
A Sowing of Good Deeds in God’s Earth and Then no Income Impossible
- Rumi

In Pakistan, we spent our first night in Lahore. The persons traveling without a companion were assigned a roommate. My roommate was a short and stout Sikh gentleman from Indiana, USA. In the morning at around 3:30 am, the whole air space in the room started reverberating with the sound of beautiful recitation of morning compositions of Gurbani (Guru’s Words). Sitting on his bed, the gentleman was reciting in hypnotic trance. Like the pied piper, he had taken me into the wordless world of elevated state of mind. Over the next nine days, we would end up developing an enigmatic warmth for each other.

After having breakfast, our group of 37 or so people headed out to Gurudwara Sacha Sauda. According to the legend, Guru Nanak’s father was not happy with his ways and wanted him to be productive and earn money. One day, he gave him 80 rupees and asked him to strike a true bargain with the money and earn a very handsome profit. He sent his friend Mardana with him. Instead of doing what his father wanted, Guru Nanak bought food, and cloths for beggars, persons discarded by society, lowest among the low casts, and sick to no end. Both him and Mardana distributed the food and clothes with sheer joy. The Gurdwara is built on the very site where Baba Nanak showed us the path of giving to needy.

I found the Gurdwara to be beautifully maintained with manicured lawns and clean buildings. We all sat in the prayer hall and listened to the Kirtan (sacred hymns) by the priest as well as some members of our group. We were served Langar (food from the community kitchen) after the end of singing and prayer. To my surprise, two of the servers were Muslims and while serving they were reciting Sikh chants. There were also two little kids age around 6 or 7 distributing food.

There was a big berry tree on the right side of the main hall’s entrance. The tree is believed to be over 600 years old, and it is believed that Baba Nanak used to sit under the tree and muse about the nature of God. The locals believe in the healing power of its leaves. Almost all of us took some leaves.

Reflecting on this episode, I realize that even at the young age of 18, Guru Sahib had a compassionate heart. Reading about the episodes of his earlier life, I (we) know that he had mind of his own. He objected to wearing of sacred thread, did not want to perform in rituals, questioned rationality of society’s beliefs and actions and did not want to indulge in any activity which did not allow him to grow spiritually. In short, he was a non-conformist. He was like a boat which in order to navigate stays in contact with the water (society/community) for travel, but in order to keep itself moving, does not allow societal ills to seep in.

In discovering his true nature, he did not follow his father and mother’s aspirations. Baba Nanak throughout his life taught that the true human bliss is in service of living beings. One shall choose the path based ion his/her calling. Baba Nanak was not an arm chair teacher but walked the path.

He made giving and service (Daan) as one of the three pillars of the Sikh path. The other two he shared were Meditation (Naam), and living a virtuous life (Isnaan). Jesus who lived centuries before him emphasized service of mankind as one of his principle teachings. Jesus spent most of his time with lepers, persons discarded by the society and prostitutes. Baba Nanak also like him spent his time helping poor, needy and sick. In Sikh teachings, while one is encouraged to help the needy and sick, the healthy and capable persons are scolded for begging. The following lines clearly show Guru’s thinking:
Is Pekhe Thavuh Girhe Bhala Jithoh Ko Varsae
(Instead of wearing the beggar’s robes, it is better to be a householder, and give to others)

The teachings remind us that service is gratitude which brings grace into the life. Service is humility and any giving of items of no use to the giver is not a true act of charity, but more an ego filled feel good activity. In the old Hindu scripture Katopanishad, Nachiketa tells his father that giving up old useless cows to Brahmins with fanfare was self-aggrandizing and an act frowned upon by Gods.
He emphasized that service should not only be a duty but should become a habit. In Guru Nanak life time, inspired by his teachings, there was spread of community kitchens far and wide. The care of needy and sick was done by his followers and showing the path to the existence to move onto more enlightened path. When I think about it, the following words ring through my ear:
Sage does nothing but nothing is left undone
-Lao Tsu

I was writing these last lines around the time of sunset. The orange sky and green lawn together had created a picture evoking nostalgia for the place and mind was being ambushed by the memories of my visit.

I recently had the privilege of traveling to Pakistan to honor and learn more about the birthplace of the Sikh religion.

It was 4 am on November 17th, and the Turkish Airlines flight (where I was joined with my sister and brother-in-law, among others) was slowly gliding down on its approach to Lahore Airport. The lights of Lahore had started to come out from oblivion. Fear and excitement were running through my veins. I was enchanted by memories of the stories my mother told me about her childhood in Jhelum and those my father told me about his undergraduate days in Lahore at Khalsa College, but that was clouded with the horror of 1947. Leading up and through the partition, the violence and fleeing caused unforgettable pain to people who built their lives together for the past 5000 years. While leaving west Punjab (now Pakistan), the people of my parents’ generation and older would have never imagined they would forever leave the only place they knew of as home.

I thought of my mother walking miles with torn chappals (sandals) holding the hand of her three-year son (my eldest brother) and carrying another six months old son (my other brother) in her arms. Her caravan of 100 people walked over 50 miles to reach the safety of Amritsar in India.

In 1947, on both sides of Punjab, there was no oxygen, but only blood in the air. It seemed as though a hapless God had escaped to deep dungeons of Earth amid war cries of Allah ho Akbar, Bole So Nihal, and Har Har Mahadev. Fundamentalists were looking at heaven for redemption from their violent acts while creating hell on earth. It seemed as if Satan, the sorcerer, had made the sun emit black light under which disarray and malice conquered all.

The haunting memories created by the stories of partition were coming to me like a ceaseless vertigo of pain. I was born after partition, but I realized that the stories of partition had become a legacy of suffering and an important part of our family history.
I was lost in my own world when the plane landed. The immigration was a hassle-free process. After clearance, we were greeted by friends of the pilgrimage organizers. They took us to a hotel in an area called Liberty Market.

The morning was filled with a lucid stillness in the air, and the tangerine sun had started smiling from the east. Voices sharing the Punjabi hospitality greeting Jee Ayaan Noon (heartiest welcome) and sounds of Punjabi accents similar to my parents (Punjabi spoken in Pakistan sounds different than the one spoken in Indian Punjab) were everywhere. Even though my parent’s generation suffered during partition, they didn’t let their good memories of the land and the people be stained by the memory of bloodshed. I was beginning to breathe a sweet mist of my parents’ nostalgia of good times and as a result slowly my cocooned self was beginning to grow wings.

At around noon, we went to Liberty market. The sounds, smells, and hawkers looked very familiar.  The overwhelming feelings generated by the familiarity of things made me question the senseless bloodshed of 1947. The welcoming tenderness in the corner of everybody’s eyes was beautiful. It is said that if one finds peace in the air, water, and land of a new place, then it is because the person’s hereditary consciousness dwells in that area. I didn’t have to convince myself about the validity of this belief.

By the afternoon, most of our group of 38 had arrived to Lahore. We assembled in the hotel lobby and then got onto organized buses for a visit to Gurudwara Dehra Sahib – the place of our fifth Guru’s, Guru Arjan Dev Ji’s, martyrdom. His martyrdom took place in May of 1606 (according to the Gregorian calendar).

According to 17th century sources, including contemporary poet and theologian Bhai Gurdas Bhalla (a Jesuit priest who was in Lahore at that time) and the Mughal Emperor Jahangir’s own biography, the Guru Ji was martyred due to fear of his rising popularity among masses. Jahangir felt threatened by other religions gaining power. He asked Guru Ji to convert to Islam and change a few verses of Adi Granth Sahib – a religious compilation of Gurus’ teachings. The order was refused. Guru Ji was tortured, and it is believed that he disappeared in the Raavi River after torture. There are fictionalized stories that came about in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries involving other characters and ideas behind his martyrdom, but these stories hold no historical truth.

The place where Guru Arjan Dev Ji is believed to have disappeared is now dry land where the devotees have built his Samadhi (a structure commemorating the union of soul with God). A weak person like me cannot comprehend the moral strength of Guru Ji and his unwavering faith; at the age of 43, he gave up his life, refusing conversion to Islam. Looking at the Samadhi, I imagine the scene when Raavi was full of water and Guru Ji entered it with hundreds of onlooking devotees. Heavens cry through human eyes. Flowing tears of devotees must have made Raavi’s waters salty for a good amount of time. I remember a couple of lines from a poet requesting the waters of Raavi not to push around, because my lord has countless wounds (burns from the torture):
                Raavi deya pania thokraan na maar, mahi dey shareer ute chale beshumar

Guru Arjan infused the core of Sikhism – morality and ethics - with warriorship. He was the first martyr in the religion. The path shown by him led to a line of thousands of Sikh Martyrs.

I was marveling at his accomplishments. At a young age of 17, he became our 5th Guru. In the short span of 26 years, he completed the construction of Harmandir Sahib (the Golden Temple), wrote the highest number of hymns of any Guru, compiled the Adi Granth Sahib, organized Sikh sangats (congregations) and langar (free, community kitchen) at broader scale, etc.

​In the evening, my mind was entrenched in a web of thoughts as I reflected on his execution, the sacrifice of martyrs, and the rich history of Lahore (including contribution of Sikhs). In the Gurdwara, I saw a Muslim, Pathan couple from Peshawar eating langar (as shown in the picture below). There were many Muslims serving and eating langar. I could not escape the lingering thought that had Jahangir not ordered the execution of Guru Ji, our relationship with Islam would have been at a much different plane of understanding. I also believe that our historians did a very poor job of presenting facts, which complicates things and creates mind myths.

Lahore’s history is a labyrinth of blood shed, invasions, court intrigue, Sufism, etc. It would be easy for me to get lost in deep, tangled thoughts, but my Guru Ji lifts me out of this and reminds me I may never get the answer I’m seeking. Live this moment and relish the time here. The past is nothing but how you imagine it. Rotate the kaleidoscope and the picture will change. His beautiful composition of Sukhmani Sahib came to my mind, and I reflected on the following excerpt:

           Sukhmani Sukh Amrit Prabh Naam, Bhagat Jana Key Man Bisram (Rahao)
           (The name of God is Peace ( Jewel) of mind,  (By Contemplation)
           The mind of devotees abides in restful state, Pause and Contemplate 

I Declare with Perfect faith, That Prayer Preceded God
God Created Human Beings, Human Beings Created Prayer
That Created the God, That Created the Human Being
- Yehuda Amichai

The above poem on initial reading may appear very acentric, but on close pondering, it is a beautiful expression sharing how we experience God through prayer.

Reader - a few weeks ago, I went on a bike ride in Fairmont Park of Philadelphia. It was a misty morning and softly penetrating the mist was the morning moon, which was looking bigger than usual. The pines in the park were sacrificing their fragrance in honor of this beautiful late September morning. It was indeed a perfect day for biking. The freshly pressurized tires of the bike were kissing the trail with exquisite vivacity. I have always loved the ride on the gravel path in the park, which is sandwiched between tall trees on both sides, and on its northeastern side is also flanked by the sparkling Wissahickon Creek. The playful water provides the magical sensation of a soothing balm. The creek would have been more enchanting had man not interfered with its meandering path. On and off, I kept on thinking about various type of prayers, why we pray, and whether prayer works. Reader, I’d like to share my collection of thoughts with you.

Rumi’s words of wisdom often allow me to stretch my thinking. I recalled this poem:
Today, like every other day, we wake up empty and frightened
 Don’t open the door to the study and begin reading.
Take down a musical instrument. Let the beauty we love be what we do.
There are a hundred ways to kneel and kiss the ground

It is liberating to learn that prayer does not have to follow a structure. Actually, prayer should have the mark of originality, like our fingerprints. This originality brings us into our being and allows us to become one with our true self.  A prayer with active listening leads to equanimity; otherwise, it is a collection of words which escape without their footprint.

Prayers can take so many forms.

• There are some traditions where prayers happen in a very specific rhythm for a specific purpose. In Islamic Salat, five times daily prayer is performed at specific prescribed times of the day.  The tradition believes that the practice leads one to dissolving of the self (fa’na) and finding the divine within (ba’qa) thus leading to divine unity (tawhid).
• Sometimes, there are prayers that, while albeit a routine, are often individualized. The Hindu Praise of River Ganges and Aarti (a prayer with lit lamps expressing highest love toward gods) in temples are choreographed with improvisation. Each temple and person performing has some freedom. In my teen years, I with my friends used to go to a Hanuman Temple. Hanuman helped Lord Rama (a Hindu deity) recover his wife Sita from demon king Ravana, thus restoring Shakti (power) to Lord Rama. Hanuman is a very inspiring symbol of service and devotion. In the evenings during Aarti time, I recall that each priest performed aarti in his own distinct style. The captivating ambiance enhanced by cresting and ebbing rhythm of bells created during the ceremony hypnotized us.
• We might invoke prayer in times of suffering, pain, loss of dear ones.  Any amount of prayer does not change the realty - it is cosmic law. However, prayer does provide therapeutic balm of healing and emotional reconfiguration. It helps us change things by changing our perspective. It gives us hope so that we do not live in fear. There are beautiful words written on this aspect by Christian Theologian Reinhold Niebuhr. It is called Serenity Prayer:

                                          God, grant me the serenity
                                          To accept the things, I cannot change
                                          Courage to change the things I can
                                          And wisdom to know the difference.

• Meditation and meditative prayers are in vogue these days. There are meditation retreats. While I have never been to one, I believe long-term benefits of such retreats can only be achieved if the attendee makes mediation a daily part of his/her life. But, it can often happen that, as with many practices, we lose interest or give up within a few weeks. I admire the discipline of those few who go on to a true and deep meditative path.

In prayers, we strive to have freedom from fear of heaven and hell, and free from fear of life. Religious texts talk in detail about this fear and how to get rid of it. Guru Nanak, the first Sikh Guru, gives directions in his prayerful writing, Japjee Sahib (Pauri 38), on how to develop God Consciousness in your total self – mind and body - thus releasing yourself from fear:
 Jat Pahara Dheeraj Suniyar, Ahran Mat Ved Hathiyar
Bhau Khala Agan Taptau, Bhanda Bhau Amrit Tit Dhal
Karihye Sabad Sachee Taksaal, Jin Kaur Nadar Karam Tin Kar
Nanak Nadri Nadar Nihal.            
(Free flowing translation: In order to find eternal bliss one needs to make himself/herself worthy of almighty’s grace. For that one needs to mint coins of “The Word.“ Such minting can be attained by strident effort which is coupled by patience, anvil like intellect, hammer like wisdom, fearful caution, firesome discipline, and with this effort you pour gold coins of virtuous teachings with love in your mind.)

Often, we invite the higher spirit into our life by performing special prayers at home, at places of worship, and at satsangs (holy gatherings), But, we may forget that God is always present in our hearts. It is we who are missing from our hearts.  Therefore, a big chasm remains between our true nature and imagined self.

For me, spending time in nature and listening to its beautiful sounds is nothing short of prayer. While I have deep appreciation for ancient hymns, I find the need to ground myself in the simplicity of nature as well. The following poem resonates with me:
Every day, the priests minutely examine the law
And endlessly chant complicated Sutras
Before doing that, though, they should learn
How to read the love letters sent by the wind
And rain, the snow, and the moon
-Haiku By Ikkayu ( A Japanese Poet)

Reader, I remember when I was a child in India, we used to sleep on the roof and since the future sky of light pollution had not arrived, we could see thousands of stars. We used to name the stars. I recently came across a prayer like poem written by Lin Manual Miranda (of Hamilton fame) for the animation film, Moana - about a voyage of a child across the Pacific.
At night we name every star
We know where we are, we know who we are.
Through nature, we learn that we are whole only if we consider that surroundings are a part of us. Seeing the lifeless leaves on the ground during on my fall biking trip, I am reminded that we are all connected in death. It is said that the second law of thermodynamics is the first law of life - literally meaning that everything in this universe is moving towards a higher degree of disorder (entropy) and destruction. I was thinking that I am also slowly coming apart at the seams, with death slowly percolating through my body.  I was somehow finding comfort in those dead leaves; they were my therapeutic allies.                 

I looked up and saw a few large birds gliding up and down with oceanic rhythm in the sky. Lost in wonder of their play with the sky, the mystery of existence was deepening. From this depth a deep sense of prayful gratitude was emerging. Around the same time, one of the birds with a big whistle like sound started soaring higher and higher. Reader, the bird’s whistle reminded me of the following poem by David Whyte titled “The Bell and the Blackbird”. It came to me like a message nothing short of a prayer.
The sound of a bell still reverberating
Or a blackbird calling from a corner of a field
Asking you to wake into this life,
Or inviting you deeper to one that waits
Either way takes courage, Either way wants you to be nothing,
but that self that is no self at all
Wants you to walk to the place
Where you already know, how to give every last thing away
 
 
 
                  

Like the reflections of the bridge
In the flood waters,
dance with great abandon.
Keep your feet firmly on the ground
and while forgetting yourself----
just dance and let go

The above lines are translations of a ghazal (a form of poetry) by 19th century Indian poet Mirza Ghalib. Mirza Ghalib was a Muslim and like many poets from his religion were fascinated by the image of dancing Shiva. According to scholars of his poetry, the allusions to dancing Shiva in this ghazal are unmistakable.

A few months back while in Shivaliks, these lines kept on reverberating in my head. The sweet fragrance of the footsteps of Shiva and his consort Parvati permeates through all of these low-lying mountains forming outer edge of Himalayas. You cannot escape thinking about the their stories and philosophy. We visited the 15th century temple of Naina Devi (another name for Parvati) situated at the height of 3434 feet. After the temple visit, we stayed at Kandaghat Resort, situated at a height of 4667 above the sea level. The resort is breathtakingly beautiful. The glaring blue of the sky tirelessly untames the nature burdened by human activity. Shiva and Parvati temples enchant the whole cosmos of the area to no end.

Visiting these ancient places brought back the memory and desire of elemental quest, buried under life’s trials and tribulations. Visiting Shiva and Parvati’s stories in my head while walking on these mountains, rekindled that fire. During the long walks, the image of Shiva and Parvati playing chausar (a form of chess) with dice kept on flashing in front of me.  The image implies that death is certain, but timing is not. I marvel at the thought process of Indian mystics. God of death himself is playing dice. The famous astrophysicist Stephen Hawking once said “Not only does God play dice, but... he sometimes throws them where they cannot be seen."  The image teaches that the life is governed by laws of intolerable, permanent uncertainty.  The image says leave your questions open and be prepared for unpredictability.

Every fortnight, I visit my oncologist and every couple of months I have brain and lung scans. During my visits, I notice that some faces have gone forever only to be replaced by new ones. I am part of the caravan of violated bodies seeing death not so quietly percolating, creating arid pain and morbid gloominess. I realize that to look at Sun (Shiva, the transcendent) one must stay under shade (completely aware of mortality). I hear Shiva, the dispeller of fear, saying that the struggle and end of life will happen whenever the time is ripe. So during your brief sojourn on this planet walk fearlessly and take whatever is given as prasad (blessing).  Again, Ghalib using the image of Shiva, says:
If you have the motivation, then why do you talk of ending your struggle,
Forget the speed and dance, listening to beat of ‘dra’,
and let go.
On the formless substrate of this music which produces thousands of moving emotions sits immovable Shankar, the abode of joy. The depiction tells us that life and death are joined like lovers journeying together. Shankar (the abode of joy) is another aspect of same reality known as Shiva (the one who is self-illuminated and pure consciousness).  This unmistakable symbol tells us that life soars to high skies on the wings of death.  Enjoy the flight and celebrate the dance with full abandon. That is the only way to get drenched in life’s nectar at every moment of your breath. Mikhail Bulgakov in The White Guard expresses same sentiment using different words:
"Everything passes away-suffering, pain, blood, hunger, pestilence. The sword will pass away too, but the stars will remain when the shadow of our presence and our deeds have vanished from the earth. There is no man who does not know that. Why, then, will we not turn our eyes toward the stars? Why?"
In Hindu mythology, Shiva is the only god who is a householder. He and his consort Parvati (daughter of mountains) have three sons, Ganesh, Kartikeya, and Ayappa. To keep the world in perfect balance, their marriage is a union between Wisdom (Shiva) and Compassion (Parvati). This combination is the most appropriate response to needs of life. Shiva is also known as Somnath (lord of mind), and Parvati is also known as Gauri (Intellect). Mind cannot function in an optimal manner without cultivated intellect. Indian literature is full of stories of Shiva’s compassionate actions upon the cajoling of Parvati. Under cathedral of mother goddess Parvati people were witnessed and heard thus calming their internal roar.

I get tremendous solace while looking at Shivalinga sitting in non-emotive silence with my inner turmoil.  Sitting In that silence, you hear Shiva saying in words which cannot be said in words. One understands that the journey of faith does not give you answers but gives you acceptance and peace with the bubbling questions.

Shiva Sutra ( teachings of Shiva) says “ Hriday Chittasanghatad”  meaning that once your heart and mind are in union every being appears to belong to you. Shiva’s teachings emphasize non-ritualistic spiritual journey. According to teachers of Shiva Sutra, the teachings of Shiva were given to everyone without consideration of color, cast, and creed. You see pictures of Shiva surrounded with animals and simple poor people of lower casts indicating that Shiva dwells in horizontal relationships. Shiva’s teachings tell us that supreme consciousness lives in every form and every form is perfect in itself. Man has no business of thinking himself as someone on top of the heap of evolution.

There is a story that consummate lover Shiva embraced and made love to Parvati and half of her body fused into him. For that reason he is also called Ardhnarishwara (half women and half man god). The symbol behind the allegory is unmistakable. A real man must cultivate and imbue himself with women’s sensibilities. That is only way to achieve good understanding and balanced life.

As mentioned before, Shiva is self- illuminated and beyond death. Contemplating on non- dualistic nature of Shiva, the primordial light, and acting according to virtuous instructions, one attains perfect bliss. These words of Rumi connect so beautifully with Shiva:
I am the real world, giving it endlessly away
Grow rich, flinging gold (to) all who ask
Live, empty heart of paradox
I will dance with you cheek to cheek.

While writing these lines, my thoughts went to a an uplifting and soothing lines from Shiva Sutra:
Namah Sri Sambhave, Svatmananda Prakase Vipuse
( I bow down to the wealth ( Shiva) that brings peace and joy )
While thinking these lines, I find myself uttering Shivoham, Shivoham ( I am Shiva, I am Shiva)
 

Gaze in wonder at ever circling stars, as if you were floating among them; and consider the alteration of elements, constantly changing one into another. Thinking such thoughts you wash away the dust of life on earth
 - Marcus Aurelius

My wife and I recently took a trip to India, during which we attended a Sikh Wedding (Anand Karaj) out in the open airs of Goa against the backdrop of Arabian Sea. The whole affair was organized elegantly with love and full respect to the holy Guru Granth Sahib (Sikh holy book). It was late morning and the waves of the sea were lazily playing with each other. On the far-right end of me, a rivulet was rejoicing its union with the sea. The birth and death of waves was reminding me of a quote I once heard likening us all to butterflies who flutter for a day and think it is forever. The salt-laden air was adding sugary sweetness to the sound of religious music being played. The combined effect of amniotic pull of the vast expanse of the sea and the soulful rendering of gurbani (spiritual hymns) had levitated me to a different plane of consciousness. It could have been a satori (instant enlightenment) moment, but regardless, I was awakened from my trance by the words, “let us take a walk”.

On the same evening, the wedding reception took place. For my antiquated ears, the music was loud and incomprehensible, so I left the hall earlier than others and went for a walk along the beach. The night was cool; stars in a communal honeymoon spirit were out in full force (something you do not get to see in Philadelphia). The words “let us take a walk” were still ringing through my head. I recalled that these words may be from a book which I have been reading titled “Walking with Nanak” by Pakistani author Haroon Khalid. In the book he has chronicled the places Guru Nanak visited in West Punjab (now in Pakistan) during his life time. The thoughts about Baba Nanak were pulling me into a spiritual discourse with myself like a moth being pulled to the flame.

For a moment, I thought that I am quite often drawn to fuzzy spirituality. A fearful thought sprang - what if my ego is playing a pious fraud with me? However, the thought that I must regardless heed such a calling won over my trepidation. I decided to walk into a world of thoughts illuminated; even if it turns out to be a mere bohemian meandering, it will still be soul lifting if I focused on Baba Nanak’s words.

While thinking all these thoughts, I was gazing at infinite patterns of shapes created by clusters of stars. I thought that the sky must be something like this for him as well. When standing on the shore of cosmic ocean and earth, he may have marveled at the beauty of the universe and asked where is the place from which you take care of all the celestial beings including fire, water, human beings and so on and so forth (so dar keha,so ghar keha - SGGS,P7). In this beautiful thought he sent countless salutations to the intelligence behind the universe. The musical cadence of his thought process was dancing in my head. The voice in my head was telling me that Baba Jee’s words of wisdom are like seeds of awe following of which ing would lead to wonder and experience of mystery.

Baba Jee recited that there are thousands and thousands of universes. The wisdom says that there is no end to the universe. Universes come and go as a matter of routine. His mystical vision had taken him to the other side of the infinity, and he could see this scientific truth hundreds of years ago without satellites with microscopes.

For next couple of days, I kept on thinking that Baba Nanak gave us a very simple panth (path) for liberated living. The tapestry of beautiful hymns gifted by him is interwoven with the concept of Naam, Daan, and Isnaan. It is the essential foundation of Sikhism and the code that dictates a Sikh’s moral and ethical life.

Naam stands for mindful awareness and whole-hearted acceptance of divine presence in every sentient and non-sentient being. The vision that we never separated from source and thus from each other runs through Sikh Philosophy. The central belief of Sikhs that all beings belong to same race and everybody is equal in creators eyes is rooted in the principle of Naam.

Daan stands for touching lives that are not ours in a benevolent and generous ways. A good Sikh is supposed to deliberately effort towards cultivation of generosity with gratitude for evolution of higher consciousness.

Isnaan stands for living by high ethical and moral principles of humanity leading to good deeds resulting in cleansing of body and mind from passion, anger, greed, attachment, and jealousy.

Naam, Daan, and Isnaan in their definition include practice of virtues such as kindness, forgiveness, contentment etc. The practice of this principle in life sculpts the human clay to its most exalted form:

Saach Varat Santokh Teerath, Gyan Dhyan Isnaan
Daya Devta Khima Japmali, Sey Manukh Pardhan
- SGGS P 1284, Raga Sarang, Guru Nanak
(Those who hold truth as their fast, contentment as pilgrimage, kindness as their deity and forgiveness as their rosary-they are the most exalted ones).

During the same visit to India, I went to several historical Gurdwaras. I saw Sikh worshippers taking a sip of water from the place where worshippers wash their feet before entering the shrine. It was at the Gurdwara Sisganj in Delhi (Guru Tegh Bahadur, 9th guru, was martyred here). I saw old men and women working selflessly in the kitchens making food for the worshippers. I saw handicapped men doing circumambulation of Golden Temple by being carried by their grandchildren. At the Golden Temple in Amritsar, I lost myself in the beauty and magnetism of hymns being sung by hymns singers.

I was sitting on the second floor in the Golden Temple for some time. I was about to get up when the singing of the following hymn from the fifth Guru, Guru Arjan Dev Jee started 
Haun Aya Dooron Chal Key, Main Takee to Sharnaye Jiyo
Main Asa Rakhee Chit Meh, Mera Sabo Dukh Gavae Jiyo
-  SGGS, P 763, Raga Suhi 
(I have come so far seeking the protection of your sanctuary, My mind has put hopes in you that you will take away all my sufferings)

A vulnerable looking middle aged lady who was sitting across me started crying at the onset of this hymn. I do not know whether the tears were expression of melancholic joy or outpouring of all the pain and sufferings. For me, I saw my Baba Nanak in her tears. While leaving the complex of Golden Temple, I turned back to have a last look at the glittering temple and thought of devotees of all kind praying and giving meaning to Naam, Daan, Isnaan in their own unique way. Each one of them, as Baba Nanak said,  effable representation of ineffable. I thought of Baba Naank as someone beyond comparison and my eyes could not hold the pride in my heart. The following couplet came on my lips:
Aaina kyon na duun k tamaasha kahein jise
Aisa kahaan se laauun k tum sa kahein jise
(Maybe I should give you a mirror, so that you can watch your own spectacle
 Where can I find another, whom people will consider magnificent)
-Mirza Ghalib
 
 

In the deep glens where they lived, all things were older than man and they hummed of mystery.                                                                                                                                                       Cormac McCarthy, “ The Road”

The morning of December 11th, my wife and I, along with our four and half month old granddaughter, were walking along the shore of Pacific Ocean in San Diego. My wife was ecstatic, enjoying the weather and scenery while holding our granddaughter in a baby carrier. As if by alchemy, my granddaughter had transformed my wife into a child. She had a permanent smile etched on her face, beaming with joy while the waves washed her feet, and asking everyone who passed to take pictures (and they obliged generously). I was enjoying these beautiful playful moments.

The waves were cheerfully playing and rolling over each other. In their play, the waves were magnifying the mysterious humming sound of everything in the cosmos thousands of time. It occurred to me that this beautiful tapestry of sounds has been playing since the creation of this universe. In Indian philosophical texts, the humming of the universe is called Anahat Nad (unstruck sound), and this bell is ringing in every living and non-living object. Our earth is perpetually expanding and contracting with the vibrations caused by this hum, The vast expanse of wonder laying in front of me was creating a labyrinth of joy from which escaping at that moment was unfathomable. The ocean oblivious to the presence of people at the shore was working effortlessly to please everyone and anyone.

This reminded me of the following lines from the movie Color Purple:
“I think it pisses God off if you walk by the color purple in a field somewhere and don't notice it. People think pleasing God is all God cares about. But any fool living in the world can see it always trying to please us back.”

Last week an observatory in Chile got a fingerprint of a massive black hole 800 million times more massive than our sun. Its humming signal took 13 billion light years to traverse the realm of space and time. The signal was generated when the universe was only 690 million years old (current estimated age of the universe is 14 billion years, and age of planet earth 4.6 billion years). One cannot help but marvel at the intricacy and beauty of our inter-connectedness. This humming is like a continuous song of praise and gratitude for the mysterious energy and spirit which is behind this magnificent order.
The existence and experience of the rhythm of the unstuck sound as life giving force made Indian Sages say Aham Brahamasmi (I am the force of the Universe). The songs of praise sung by us quench our thirst for the mysterious and wonderful and connect us with this sound (energy). Every religion realized this aspect of our yearning and incorporated hymns of praise and wonder. In fact many religious thinkers of all faiths believe that the purpose of life is to sing praise(s).

We sing praises for providing reset to our mind and resynch it with that mysterious bell which is ringing in all of the cosmos. In Sikh Holy Book, Sri Guru Granth Sahib, there is a hymn which says that the praise of the lord is my prayer:
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Gurmat Naam Meraa Praan Sakhaaee, Hari Keerat Hamree Rahraas
May the divine enlightenment obtained through Guru’s teaching be my support of life and the Divine Praises my way of life.
Guru Ram Das, p. 10

The evening of July 14th is permanently etched in our memory. A strange combination of excitement and nervousness had filled the air of the waiting room at the hospital. Then the news broke that a little bundle of joy has arrived, and you and your husband have named her Vaani. We were thrilled with the name, as it exudes a sense of spirituality, literally meaning song of the soul or spiritual voice, also conjuring images of Sarasvati (Goddess of wisdom and music).
​
The news hit us like millions of light photons joyously torpedoing our bones. My little girl, you, had become a mother. My chest got filled with emotions beyond the bounds of expression. That unexpressed joy is now like an unfinished symphony trying to find right notes for the melody. With Vaani’s arrival, the lingering thought that my sojourn on this planet is nearing its end vanished like dew under sunshine. I saw my continuation in her. Pooja and Ashim, we cannot thank you enough for making us feel immortal.

Vaani is one change in our life which changes everything for better. I hope that I get to see the days when this bundle of concentrated sunshine cheerfully does innocuous mischiefs. I can feel in my heart that when she grows up as a young woman, her smiles would cause earthquakes in California.

Pooja, I am very proud of the way and ease with which you and Ashim have embarked on the journey of motherhood. I see nothing about you which does not make me proud. You never disappointed us and I have no doubt that you will be a very good nurturing mother. My piece of advice to you is not to ignore your needs in the process. Invest time in yourself. Engage yourself in fulfilling activities. Take dance or cooking classes. Take piano lessons, or my favorite, take walks in nature. Most importantly, take adequate rest. The time invested in yourself will make you perform the joyful activity of motherhood more efficiently and effectively.

This will be a rewarding, but at times overwhelming, journey. Based on my 35 years of parenthood, here are some thoughts I want to pass on.

• Practice solitude. The poet Rilke said “in solitude your judgements have their quite undisturbed development”. You develop an eye for seeing the things in their depth, a place where wisdom and love flow uninterrupted. The grain of light you carry within you would shine with cool light of thousand suns.  Your everyday life would look richer to you.
• Work hard on creating an environment in your home that fosters education and instills a sense of wonder, awe, and curiosity. Provide an education that supports an experience of wonder, while providing knowledge that does not hinder the art of imagination. When you read a bedtime story, engage in conversation and encourage her to ask questions.
• Always remember to celebrate life, be grateful and invest in prayer. Mornings are a perfect time for celebration. A perfect time to converse with the higher all-knowing spirit with prayer of gratitude. A word of thanks from deep wells of heart is better than thousand mantras. The fragrance created by the prayer of gratitude will fill memory chambers of growing Vaani. This memory will put her on the path of resilience and humility. Remember, prayer is not done for asking but to converse with all pervading spirit. It is song of the soul; whose words start with thank you.
• Before going to sleep, as a regular discipline invite silence into your heart. Recall and restore the beauty that  gets dirt on its mirror during hectic activities of the day. Have her join you when she is a couple of years old. Girls in true sense are their mother’s daughters and they love to imitate.
• Encourage dance and music. Dance with her for no obvious reason. Dance is poetry of motion. Nietzsche once said that the day that does not have dance in it is a lost day. Engage her in music very early. I have tremendous bias in favor of piano. This is the only instrument that establishes neural connections between left and right hemispheres of the brain like no other.
• Let her play in mud. We in the race of modernization have forgotten that moderate play in mud increases immunity. When she grows up to understand her body, tell her that walking bare foot on freshly rain water soaked earth is sensuous and earth at that time is loaded with all kind of antibiotics and such exposure boosts immunity.
• Enjoy nature. This is difficult given our increased obsession with technology, but it’s important to expose her to the beauty of the world. As mother I think it is important that you and Ashim take frequent nature trips and expose her to the mystery hidden behind the beauty of nature. In the presence of nature’s luxuriance sublime feelings and poetic imaginations join to create amplified epiphany. Bejeweled riverbanks, rainbows shimmering through mists of rapids, lightening bugs shining upon clues from stars would create rich tapestry of beautiful words that will permanently get etched on her heart.

 
You must think of your role in Vaani’s early life as that of a gardener. The gardener makes sure that the plant gets adequate sunshine, water, fertilizer, and keeps it free from bugs. In short he/she do everything what is best for the plant. Similarly for Vaani, you are to provide a learning environment where she will flourish, grow and come into her own. Pay attention to her interests and guide accordingly. But do not overload her, which will be counterproductive. Teach her to be kind and respectful to all people, even those who get left behind. You have always been a humble and polite individual, and I urge you to continue to hone these traits and pass them on to Vaani. Remember you are not a sculptor, therefore you cannot sculpt her, but it is the direction and example you provide that will be of importance.

As a young mother a lot of questions would rise in your mind. These are life’s questions. Cherish them with patience and live the questions. One day at appropriate juncture the answers will appear. The answers provided will come from depths where irony does not exist.

We do not get to choose, life is what is in front of us. I hope that she lives with this thought and also knows that her worth is not going to come from what she would do but by becoming a better person and her soul would show in noble action.

I have tried to live by most of what I have said. Some of it is observation. I have lived a very blessed life and these blessings have been secured by wisdom of my ancestors and age-old traditions. I have tried to pass on these in words in this letter to you.

When I die and go to the world to come, they will not ask me: Zusya, why were you not Moses? They will ask me: Zusya, why were you not Zusya?
- Rabbi Zusya of Hanipol
 
The Sikh Holy Book, Sri Guru Granth Sahib (SGGS), starts with the letter Ek Onkar, which means that there is only one ultimate reality that governs the universe. The second word Satnam, means true as well as truth is that reality’s name. With this word, we are given direction showing that in order to experience the beauty of cosmic consciousness and enjoy the countless boons emanating from the experience, one must live a truthful life in accordance with his/her true nature. Rabbi Zusya’s internal tussle stems from knowing that there is no liberation without living a life according to one’s true self.

Often, we live our lives not according to our true nature, but instead by rules and expectations imposed by tradition, culture and religion. We see ourselves through the eyes of others. We are swayed by societal norms like good looks, money, respect from others, raising good children, etc. I saw life from the same angle. Living according to needs of one's true nature was always a project for tomorrow, if at all it was in thoughts. The following lines from SGGS beautifully describe the grasping nature of human beings, which is relentlessly encouraged by society:
Ras Soyena Ras Roopa Kaman, Ras Parmal Kee Vas
Ras Ghore, Ras Seja Mandar, Ras Meetha Ras Maas
Aete Ras Sarir Key, Key Ghat Naam Nivas.
- Srirag Mahala 1 ( SGGS, Page 15)   
                                                                  
(You are submerged in pleasures of owning gold, beautiful women, fragrances, horses, beautiful beds, and palaces. You are busy relishing all kind of sweets and meats. With so much involvement in so many physical pleasures. How can the word of lord enter your heart)

I had in my own way mastered the art of living according to outer modern norms. A time comes in our lives one the rules mastered and lived by do not get you peace and satisfaction. This happens mostly during the second half of life. It is said that in the second half of life, the journey should have different priorities and it should take a turn towards finding oneself.

One cannot live the afternoon of life according the program of life’s morning. For what was great at the morning will be of little importance in the evening and what in the morning was true will at evening have become a lie.
- Carl Jung, The Structure and Dynamics of the Psyche

Assuming an average man’s life in USA is 80 years, the afternoon technically would start at the age of 40. I am 65 plus years old and around three years ago I was diagnosed with advanced stage of lung cancer; therefore, I potentially have far less time available. The fear of not having lived as per my true nature started haunting me. 14.7 billion years ago the world was created and the symphony that was created plays outside as well as inside us. I was not in a place to recognize and listen to this inner symphony, and the desire to listen and experience was growing and making me restless.

I began to think about how to go about living this phase of my life. Sikh Gurus did not believe in rituals and dress codes as a path to find the truth, thus I did not prioritize these modes. I thought of going to a spiritual retreat, but then remembered the story of Mulla Naseerudeen; he went to such a retreat. Upon his return, a friend asked him how was it, to which he replied, there were a lot of beautiful women mingling with the crowd and in the end they tried to sell us clothes. I dropped the idea. Then, I thought of reading self-help or spiritual books. Buddhists say reading and not practicing is like having a chicken farm and instead of gathering eggs, collecting chicken droppings. So, while I could gain insight from these ideas, none of them were going to push me into my true realization phase.

The frustration would sometimes generate a deafening cacophony of emotions and sometimes a taunting eerie silence. Anne Lamont once said, “My mind is like a bad neighborhood, I am afraid to go there alone.” I was in similar situation. The mind was still running on old obsolete software.  I prayed for the thoughts to become silent so that I could hear the guiding voice. I prayed to see perforations created by loving arrows of wisdom in those dark heavy clouds of disillusionment. I prayed for new software. I knew that home was somewhere beyond those dark horizons, but I had no map. Herman Hess in Penwolf said that “We have no one to guide us. Our only guide is our home sickness,” and I was homesick indeed.

I read the following lines of SGGS almost every day, but never stopped to ponder at them:
Kiv sachyara hoviye, kiv koorey tutey pahl
Hukum rajaee chalana, Nanak likhiya naal.
(How can one live a truthful life so that all the illusions are broken? Nanak says that it is possible by accepting the universal law and living accordingly)

David Whyte, an American poet, says that poetry is a language against which one has no defense. One has to wrestle with it. As I contemplate on these words again and again, I came to the conclusion that Guru Sahib is telling us that in order to live a truthful life, we must surrender to the will of higher power. Surrendering makes one open to receiving guiding instructions. Hafiz said it beautifully in his following composition:
What is the difference between your existence and that of a saint
The saint knows that I take the spiritual path is sublime, a chess game of God
That the beloved has made such a fantastic move
The saint is continually tripping over joy and bursting with laughter
Saying I surrender
Whereas my dear I am afraid thou still think
That you have thousand serious moves.

I come to the conclusion that surrender is the path. I am beginning to reimagine a new universe, ready to get on new adventure, a new odyssey. When I close my eyes to imagine this path, I see a young boy who enjoyed bicycling, singing melancholic songs, playing lord Shiva in plays, taking walks in wilderness, and going to Sikh Temple every evening at the time of singing praises (Aarti) of the timeless. The boy used to spend hours sitting next to a pond full of lotus flowers. That gave him joy comparable to Nirvana. I have started rediscovering that boy. The process is giving me tremendous joy and the journey continues and as per the words of poet David Whyte, I feel everything is waiting for me.
Put down the weight of your aloneness and ease into
the conversation. The kettle is singing
even as it pours you a drink, the cooking pots
have left their arrogant aloofness and
seen the good in you at last. All the birds
and creatures of the world are unutterably
themselves. Everything is waiting for you

We, unaccustomed to courage, exiles from delight,
Live coiled in shells of loneliness, until love leaves its high holy temple
And comes to liberate us into life
- Maya Angelou

A few days ago, I was alone at home alone, and decided it was the perfect time for an evening date - with myself.

This exercise is not new to me. During my early teen years, I used to walk aimlessly miles and miles lost in fantasies and stories of Gurus, Krishna, Rama, and countless other mythological figures. Even at the peak of my business activities, I rarely worked on Saturdays and instead chose to walk miles and miles lost in another world. With age this exercise has become more difficult as my “mind sink” has accumulated more clutter and noise (that it calls knowledge and experience), making the process of getting lost in imaginative thoughts and fantasies more challenging.

I decided to sit in the backyard with a chilled bottle of Pellegrino (my doctors are drinking my share of wine). The late afternoon rain had helped settle the airborne dust. Consequently, multiple skyways for the light of the stars opened in the northern sky quenching the thirst of novice stargazers like me. The half-moon from the southern sky with a shower of silvery rays was whispering songs of silence to young baby’s feet like leaves of maple tree. The rays were eagerly landing on needles of arborvitae pines to continue the timeless conversation with the trees. I wished to cocoon myself in the realm of this prodigious beauty emanating from the elusive conversation between these forces of the nature. The very thought deepened the experience of solitude.

Upon reflecting on our life’s stories, we learn to honor our journey regardless of our pains, failures, and regrets. The past successes and failures become just a window dressing. We acknowledge that the path to enlightenment is strewn with scar tissues, and the most important thing is that we realize that life is not made for us but we are made for life.

While reflecting on these thoughts, I closed my eyes and saw myself as a young man infected by infantile omnipotence, his boat grappled with life’s waves with impatience and sense of impunity seeking instant gratification. Suddenly, that youth was much older and his boat drifted slowly towards an unknown distant shore. Earlier, his younger mind did not care for guiding light. Now, his mind was less malleable and open, therefore the true light could not penetrate. His mind spent more time judging and analyzing as opposed to true listening. It seemed that the more his mind knew, the less he knew about himself. He saw himself looking for the enlightening source of eternal love to come down from high temple and unshackle him from bonds of ignorance. Then he remembered Rumi’s words:

The minute I heard my first love story
I started looking for you, not knowing how blind that was
Lovers do not finally meet somewhere
They are in each other all along.

That thought made me open my eyes and I saw lady “Awe” had carpeted the whole area with bliss. The moon had moved slightly in the westerly direction. The embrace of its rays and the pines was deliriously romantic. The moon and pines were creating beautiful story by connecting with each other. I realized that all stories require connection. Our stories, mine as well as yours, relate to the eternal spirit by a cloth of love and beauty weaved by the great weaver in deep time.  A sense of joy and happiness overtook my emotions and tears as warm as mother’s milk started coming down:

Since there is no such place to contain so much happiness,
You shrug, you raise your hands, and it flows out of you,
Into everything you touch. You are not responsible.
You take no credit, as the night sky takes no credit,
For the moon, but continues to hold it, share it,
And in that way, be known.
- Naomi Shihab Nye