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The Land tells me .... ( a poem)

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  The land offers me a memory, intangible as it can be, A memory of royal, benevolent Rajas. I wonder who his Rani was and then I slip into the memory again. Land is granted, temples built, and priests brought in from faraway lands. I wonder if the Raja and his escorts come back today to witness what they bestowed, Will they know it or even recognise it?   Lord Ganesha is the guardian of this temple, He is still worshiped in his own little shrine, placed at the entrance. Yet the main deity lies forgotten somewhere in the nether regions of the temple, While their replacement is feted in the sanctum-sanctorum.   Human memory is so fragile and ephemeral. Old is lost and abandoned, While New is painted and polished. We forget stories of the old and wish to reinvent every wheel again.   It is time to Remember the past and acknowledge it. And let go our greed for new and nearer things. It is time to Reclaim all that we already have. And to sit with

Rupa and Arupa!

    Rupa is in what I see,  Rupa is in how I perceive Rupa is in the steps I take Rupa is in the path I tread Rupa is in the choices I make Rupa is in the decisions I take Rupa is in all my ways of attachments, cravings, grasping, owning, seeking, knowing, experiencing... Rupa is in all my be ing Rupa is in all my think ing Rupa is in all my feel ing Rupa is all what I THINK makes me - ME   The first story I ever told was called Rupa the Elephant and tells us of an elephant's struggle with identity - she did not like her grey color and wanted to be colorful like the other animals in the zoo ( tiger, peacock, parrot and leopard). Eventually she realizes, no matter what colour she is, everyone loves her for who she is from inside! (I am delighted to deeply engage with this word Rupa!) The only way to release oneself from Rupa ( object identity) is to meditate on Arupa (non-object identity).  I realise all that I THINK I know comes from my own meaning making a