London, Aging

When I was younger
I did not feel at home in the world
For the world was a set of disconnected places
Each intense, full of feelings and memories
I could barely imagine
how to get from one to another
without falling through the cracks
which were filled with fear of falling
getting lost, being late, going the wrong way

Now I am older
I have fewer desires and goals to realize
fewer people and things to take care of
I know that the ways are infinite
and there is all the time in the world
London feels safer, smaller, cleaner
and I wonder about my old self

The War Against Terrorism in India

In India they are fighting terrorism
not with guns or x-ray machines
but with luggage and stamps

Even my empty pani tiffen has two stamped tags
my shoulder bag had to go back to security
to be restamped
while they made pooja over me with a metal detector
in the Ladies' Q

Like dirty water is good for you
if it is holy and blessed enough

In Madurai three hotels turned me down
as a single person with no luggage
Only terrorists are known
to travel alone
and not to be householders

I picture the terrorists cringing
under this onslaught of baggage and ink

If it fails maybe they will threaten them
with hunger strikes
and loincloths

Strange Vision

Vishnu sits before the blue ocean
green flames rising from his eyebrows
He beckons me with three long fingers
I approach.  Behind me
the crowd oms perpetually
I pause not knowing what to expect
then I am Vishnu
facing the crowd
smiling

I beckon another
who replaces me

I fly up to the stars
and dwell among them for eons

Reborn as an eskimo child
I play in the ice
craving seal fat
warmly wrapped in skins

A forest bursts into fire
orange butterflies swarm
high high into the blue sky

To Swami Vishnu Devananda

It took some imagination even in the 1970's
to fly across borders in a psychedelic plane
repainted every stop, with a passport to match
as a self-proclaimed International Ambassador for Peace
interviewed in Belfast in front of blond yogis
performing in lime green leotards and white tights
throwing flowers at Israeli fighter jets
preferring the Egyptian jail to the bellydance club

Nowadays you would be shot
not chanting your doderage away
in a Quebec hammock

The swamis drum alongside the procession
bathing your orange-robed statue in the lake

All these young people passionate about yoga
how will their dedication to inner peace bring peace?

Ashram Day

Once I would have had to explore the entire landscape
Summit all the tree frilled hills
Swim every morning in the warm earthy lake
Surrounded by lotus flowers and crocodiles

Now I am content to sit eating cashew nuts
Watching the rain, smelling things getting wet
Hearing the sounds of India blasted from temple speakers
My body pulled about by yoga like frazzled wool
Loose, bunching together

Not Yoga

If only we could be like trees
carressing forever
their branches entwined
in an endless hug
growing into trunks
supporting each other
even after one dies

But we are too soft
we give way too easily
we move too fast

Better be like the butterflies
courting in the wind
a flash of speckled beauty

God looks on dispassionately

Why should I be like Him
or devote myself to Him
when I want to lose myself in you

I would do anything for you

Sunrise Sounds

Sounds of Indian music
blast across the valley
disturbing the tranquility
of this lonely mountaintop temple

Here people learn
to be at peace
with other people
stepping on each others toes
being stepped on
having their gods stepped on

As the rhythms merge into a cacophony
and lions roar in their sanctuary
we shelter in our asylum
of Western style meditation
emptying our minds
until the sun rises
and we start clicking cameras
while chanting

Only the Elephant

Only the temple elephant
doesn't know I'm a foreigner
and I'm suppose to pay twice
or ten times the price

He takes my 5 rupee coin
in the moist pink interior of his trunk
and pats me on the head

Captured Moment

Everything is beautiful today
Even the sound of a camera clicking
Behind me
Pointed at the fishermen
Gathering their nets
Each in a different colored button-front shirt
And loincloth
Yelling and shoving
Because their boat was full of water
While the young woman
Sits and meditates
Her face slowly turning pink in the sun
And while her tan will fade
The moment will be captured
On old-fashioned film
And survive a little longer

Missing the Boat

It would have been better
to have missed the boat
if God were to give me an audience
read the poem I wrote
look me in the eye and embrace me
so I would feel held

But I skip the line saying
"I've a boat to catch"
though I feel no urgency
because the line only moves if you push

The devotees snatch my poem
I hold up the line briefly
She shrugs, smiling "no English"
draws me to her, blessing nontheless
"Mydaughtermydaughtermydaughter"
and I am pushed away by devotees
saying "Amma is busy"
tears in my eyes, smelling of roses
wondering why
we are in such a rush
to reach the grave

Next time
I will mail my prayer
I am in no hurry
to meet my maker

Focus

Human Good needs a focus
just like Evil does
We create God, Jesus
Buddha, Amma, Hitler
Nobody is all good or all bad
We put our power into them
because we are afraid
of our own power to choose
We are so full of our fears
we do not notice
the beggar at the gate
as we stand in line
waiting to receive Grace

For our actions are
like a drop in the ocean
of human need
If we cling together
maybe it will be big enough
to make a sound when it falls

But we are the ocean
and if we all move
in one direction
it will be a tidal wave

Meaning and You

It would make this much more meaningful
watching the waves come and go
feeling their warm breath on my face
hearing them crash into the sea
booming up and down the shore
seeing the little moonshine stars
shimmering down upon the sea
finding Orion's belt above

It would make this so much more
if you were sitting here with me
watching it too

I wonder why?

To and Fro (trans from Hebrew)

To and fro, to and fro

The waves come back toward the shore
and back into the sea they go

There is something touching about all this

The light of the moon on the water

Mother River

Mother river is flowing
so slow
the palm trees barely ripple
over the warm mud

If life were to emerge again
it would be here
in the backwaters of India
the cradle of civilization
language and crystallized thought
where progress flows like the river
flowing and growing
slowly trickling down to the sea
of simple people
salt of the Earth

So many people
who would have thought
there would be enough souls
to go around

The water rises and becomes spirit
rain
river
naught

To Amma

In a vision I saw the eye of a lion
flickering in the red flame
it became an Indian woman's eye
the eye of a Goddess
as you meditated on the beach

The next evening the sunset
was orange not pink

They tell me that here
pink is the color of Passion
orange the color of Peace
and red Universal Love

Amma, love your daughters and protect them
from your sons' passions
Educate your sons to respect them
Only then will there be peace

We should not swaddle ourselves in sari
to hide our love from your sons
For we are all mothers, like you
We all have the right to give hugs

We too are sisters of Durga
We have Kalis for our daughters

Like you, Jesus would have said
"I am not a God," adding only
"Everything I do you can do."

Not "be a zero"
but "know that you are a zero
and you can be Everything"

Eagle Taming

Little boys with two sticks
fight the eagle
who swoops down

I wonder
what's in it
for the eagle?

Maybe he's just angry
with the little boys

The crows are too smart
to stoop to such tricks

Amma

People like a living human God
It is hard to imagine
the Almighty giving you a hug
tasting your fruit offering
asking you to wrap candy for supplicants
watching the sunset with you on the beach

But I feel the sand holding me
the ocean tasting my feet
the tree pouring peace over my head

To others these things are Amma
to me they are Sand, Ocean, Tree
Amma is them and so are you and me

Not an Orange Or an Onion

We all need love, don't we
it's our one birth right
so hold me tight
(but don't squeeze)
clinging is ok
(but please no tears)
love me for the good person I am
while appreciating my sharp mind
(and stunning looks)
look me in the eyes and smile
make me laugh
hang in there for the long haul
with no hidden hooks

Sunset Meditation

If I could lie in this fishnet hammock
threaded with copper, beaded with gold
flickering over the creamy sea
the waters would rock me safe to sleep
before the sun sets.

Amritapuri

The warm breath of the wind
coming and going with the waves
So much pink
pink is natural here
hanging in the sky for hours
bright pink as for a baby girl
lining the wrinkles on the sea's surface
with opalescent golden pink
pink that means so much to us
like lips opening

Kathakali

An hour goes by
As the pudgy dancer
Transforms himself into Vishnu
Onstage
Yellow stripes on his forehead
A green diamond in the center
Black to bring out the eyes
A red clown's mouth
And green all over like Shrek
The old cymbal clapper
Is off beat tonight
He has a tic in his mouth
That wiggles when he rolls his eyes
Or demonstrates hand gestures
Then Vishnu like a bawdy carnival float
Comes up behind the curtain
And dances like an elephant
Almost knocking over the fire lamp

Indian Ocean

Sun clears the mist
Far away a silver splash
A pink nosed dolphin

The Pre-Pre-Dawn Chorus

The pre-pre-dawn chorus
has room for soloists
a rich melodious tapestry
of tropical birds

Around 4am
they can hear themselves singing
between yesterday's and today's
medleys of multipitched human voices
motorcycles, car engines and horns
alarms, prayers broadcast from temples
churches and mosques competing with radios
of street vendors, dogs and goats
and incessant crows

Shows that sometimes
it pays to be early