SOULspace

Happy World Storytelling Day! "storycare is inseparable from healthcare" ~ Dan Yashinsky What is the story you choose to carry within you - that cares for all of humanity? Tell me. Share it with me. There is an Italian version and a Scottish version, yet I like what is retold by Dan Yashinsky in this version from the Arabian Nights. ( Taken from the Diving in the Moon - Honoring Story Facilitating Healing Journal 2016 of HSA) Mine is: The Happy Man's Shirt. A king had a son who was so sad that all he did was stare at the wall of his bedroom as he lay in bed. (Many heads nodded at this description. “The bed is your enemy,” one patient said to another.) Finally an old wise woman came to the palace and told the king that she knew what could heal his prince. “Go,” she said, “and search your kingdom for a happy man. Borrow his shirt. When your son wears the shirt of a happy man, he, too, will remember how to feel happy.” ...

Ammi midiththu, Arundhati parththu is a saying that is part of the Tamil marriage culture. Arundhati was the wife of Sage Vasishta and meant to be the epitome of pativrata. Traditionally most women like my Grandmother would idolize this role and play their part to the "t", even eating off the same plate! I wanted to know more about Arundhati and I found a very learned woman who could coach her husband when he had no answers (thats pretty normal and true in most cases!). Yet the story that is amazing here is connected to my opening words... At the wedding ceremony couples are asked to observe the double stars of Arundhati and Vasishta, (Alcor & Mizar in the Ursa Major constellation). Both these are binary stars visible to the sharp eyes. You would believe couples are asked to look at these stars to signify the union should be like the mythological characters - pure and perfect. Nope, that's not it. The real reason behind it is that these stars display a unique beh...

At the outset let me say that this metaphorical world I am going to lead you into may be a bit too much for you to handle, that’s alright and that is exactly what looking inwards is all about. It is dirty and downright dangerous and meant for the brave and resourceful only! So as I said, Self Management is like Waste management. You have to do it, you know it and many know it, but we (in India) put it off, till it has piled up so high we are in danger of sinking into our own muck. You have to go inwards, understand yourself and where you are, at different points in life otherwise the sh** will pile up! Having said that some would suggest that Inward journey is a matter of choice – (well we know what you did to all the muck that piled up, you shoved it under the carpet!) Jokes apart... In my mind this is part of life and living –to go inward, understand yourself and retain that which is useful and discard (mindfully) all that which is not. So now that you are willi...

Feeling Helpless comes easily to me. I am the one standing in front of the ATM machine, frustrated and actually thinking the ATM hates me, because every time I swipe the card, it says…not recognized, insert again!  It’s like a default feeling… There was this time in high school. Its pouring in Chennai, one of those rare events that would make us all run indoors, instead of running out and enjoying it...typical madrasi, (It was still Madras to me, and the jobless Politicians had not yet gone on their name changing frenzy) …and I was returning from school...I could barely see…and had removed my glasses…so partially blind…drenched…walking from the bus stop to my home….I felt a painful grab….yayaaay…I yelled at this guy who had the gall to grab my breasts and just move on…while I stood petrified and helpless…my stomach churning with disgust and revulsion…I turned and walked back home…somehow feeling as if it was my fault… My breasts you see grew faster than I would ha...

There I have said it... I have actually wanted to write about this for the past 4 months, but just don't have the discipline to put pen to paper, or as the case here, finger to keyboard. What have I disclosed? Hmmm...my daughter fits into my clothes!! (Picture me with a wry face!!) How does that make me feel? Proud, happy, awestruck Bemused, sad, and a wee bit scared... Whoa...I thought the first time it happened... is she that big?!! Well, let me set the context here. My daughter learns Carnatic music and till 4 months back she was allowed to wear long skirts and tee for classes. I guess the long became too flowy and unwieldy and definitely distracting for some children, so the rule now is to wear kurtas/ salwar to class. So she picked out her only kurta and legging and wore it for class. Then the next class came and the absent minded mother that I am, I had done nothing to enhance her wardrobe. So she started scouting....conveniently in my cupboard.  Lo and b...

I started a new journey in 2011 A journey that I planned With books, stories and creativity And all that that made me spark! Snapshots of all the activities that I did in the library , fun, creativity and loads of hard work...good happy times...

We play games. Thanks to the path breaking book authored by Dr.Eric Berne by the same name “Games People Play”, all of us, or at least most of us have some awareness of this. The blame game is one The victim game another. The martyr game is another. The high judge is another. So now that you have started thinking on these lines. I am sure you are telling yourself, “No way, I don’t play any game”. Or you could be saying “Ok I blame at times, but I am not a victim” Or you could be saying “Hey every one plays games” Oh Yes, we play games. And no matter what, these games run (and ruin) our lives and our thoughts. It is only that we don’t or can’t recognize the games that we play. Ok, so this is what happened. My daughter is in her preteens! She is the sweetest, mildest and most tolerant soul in the world. But she has her pet peeves and triggers (don’t we all?!). That’s where the father and daughter clash (I have different clashes with her!!). He openly mocks her, and p...

A few words spoken in consolation, a reassuring hand is all that I can extend. A stranger facing an extraneous situation. I observe the reddened eyes, misty with tears that refuse to fall. Head bowed down, a tremulous smile.... A smile on the face...I look closer. How does one smile through what she has borne? She left with Him on a holiday, but returned with only memories of Him. Like in a dream...or a nightmare... Heart Attack they said. They had barely boarded the train when he laid down in unease, never to open his eyes. Youth and age has no mercy with death. The inevitable hand does strike us as and when it pleases. The young boy who smiles shyly from the couch knows... yet does not know what has befell him. Does one really understand at any age? When age and time is sufficiently endured, the death knell doesn't sound so ominous. But what does one do when the youthful are snatched away? We see the pain in their loved ones. The smile on her face and her ready w...

I have been mulling over this for some time How tolerant are we towards those who have greater difficulty grasping concepts and understanding facts? Yes, I do mean those who We Perceive as "not as smart".   Are there stupid people or only stupid questions? I dont believe either exists. Any one with children will know that they can ask a zillion questions, each one logically/illogically connected to the previous one. Yet from their perspective and  from their grasp of reality they have every right to ask and clarify. My daughter is an eternal questioner, and some of her questions defeat my cognition. The only answer I give her at these times is that "I am not a walking/talking Encyclopedia"( that reminds me this summer I plan to get her onto some serious Googling for her answers besides the many encyclopedias she keeps reading!) Questions are a way of learning/ exploring/ understanding. What if an adult asks questions? I find asking questions and sayin...

How different are the written and spoken forms of your first language? If you want children to become familiar with their first language, which form would you look for in children's books - formal or informal? Why? "Uh OH " is my first reaction.  I am the last person to even comment on mother tongue/first language. But then I read the second question and I embraced the word "familiar". Oh yes, thats something I want, can do for my kids! Ok, let me rewind a bit, not a lot, but enough to give you a background before I venture into how I see children picking up language through books. I have learnt English, Hindi, Tamil, French and Sanskrit!! And I loved every bit of it. Hindi was tough. Growing up in suburban Chennai, where all the Hindi one heard was confined to the four walls of a classroom and your Hindi teacher, who had this innovative technique of fining us 50p for every non-Hindi word/sentence spoken in class, ( which converted into a term end Party!!)....

Sometimes we come to a point in life..I call it the Uuuuugh times. When we question why we are unable to focus? Why we are so distracted? I assume it is all the negativity that is associated with the job that we are given and how we percieve it. I accept. Any job requires a certain amount of positive approach. The problems inherent are to be solved and not looked as a liability. Though at a conscious level this is something I tell myself. I know unconsciously I am bogged by the negativity. Why am I cribbing so much? I have a bum job at hand. I am the Ladies club Secretary. If any of you have done this, then you would know it is not an easy task. Coordinating some programme for 100 ladies, is a big responsibility and if it is a job that has been thrust on you by virtue of the fact that husband  is senior and no one else is available (thats what they say!), then you feel absolutely short changed. I have another distress. I am non-hierarchical, by that I mean I dislike having...

What are we afraid of? Afraid that we may not be giving our best to our children Afraid that we are not helping them realise their potential. Afraid that they will not make the right choices Afraid they will commit the same mistakes that we did Afraid that we may be judged as inadequate parents Afraid... Afraid What is fear that we use subtly and sometimes so blatantly? Isn't this the fear that raised us? Why pass it on to our future? Why make our children a reflection of ourselves? Can they never make mistakes? Should we never make mistakes? Why teach righteousness, when nothing is black and white, and everything is in shades of gray? Why this anger? Where does it come from? Who is it directed against? What is education if it cannot make a person self confident? Isn't education a system of comparison? Are we teaching/learning life skills? What use is this redundant education? Where is this pursuit taking us if we cannot live this moment in happiness? ...

It’s about burning bridges. I don’t want to bore one and all about my past, my history, but I have this chronic problem that I land up burning bridges… Please don’t think I am some naxalite… The bridge I talk about is the one we create when we pass from one phase in our lives into the next. I can very clearly de-mark things into neat categories. Every category has a bridge linking it to the next stage, and these are the bridges I am talking about. Bridges are great as it marks a mental spot where and when we make a paradigm shift in many ways. A shift in perspective or a shift in maturity, a physical move in terms of space, or a mental move in terms of feelings/thoughts/insights. I like bridges. For me these bridges, that I can so clearly visualize, were gigantic in terms of dimension and depth. I look back and literally see how I changed and altered at every such bridge… But the people who I met and who were such integral parts of every phase are no longer any part of me. That is ...

Sunday was a day to relax, the next day being Dasami was an off day for my husband. So I could be rest assured he would be more relaxed. Translate that as: I become hyper! I have to plan an outing, can't loose this opportunity, and there is much to see in Kanpur. It is the place where the 1857 mutiny happened and it is quite historic. Yet the place we decided to go, read that as I decided to go, was the JK temple, also the Radhakrishna Temple in the city centre. Built by the JK Singhania's of the Tyre fame. The pictures looked quite beautiful, and since these are auspicious days, I thought starting off our sightseeing sprees with a temple is a good idea!! Its a long drive from the airforce station, at Chakeri, off course in India it is not the distance that is actually relevant, but the traffic. I knew we were heading to the city on a Sunday and and on an extended weekend. I anticipated traffic, and we got it. Loads of it... Here in Kanpur there are 3 ways of reacting to traff...

I am an Auto Mom. That means I do my bit and leave it at that.I am not the type to record every little footstep, word, profundities that my kids expound. Not that I have anything against those who do that, no offense please. I am actually too lazy and I guess any type of routine bores me quite soon, leaving me to drop it and look for some thing else, more entertaining.( And they say kids have attention deficit!!) So I started recording what my first born was doing. That lasted about 5 months, then intermittently till she was about 1 year and 3 months. The last I recorded was that she had taken her first few steps....and then it's a blank;...I mean my record book! She went on to walk, albeit with great many falls and bruises, and also went on to talk, still continues to talk. So much so that she has started complaining to Dad that I don't show any interest in what she has to say any longer. (But sweetheart, you must understand my attention span is very short..poor girl I know I...

I feel I have been tossed from an ocean into a fish tank. Trying to constrain big dreams, and attempting to transfer these dreams into the confines of a smaller playground. (It’s like asking me to play football inside the house!.) Wherever I turn, I see a wall. You may say these are walls inside my mind. How true! And so I force myself to find inspiration, in people, in objects, and in minute things. Hoping that in the process of discovery, I will be inspired once again to challenge the world. What is an inspiration? A person, a book, an object, a thought, an event, or an experience? Most commonly we find inspiration in a person. They are the ones we want to emulate. It may not be the entirety that we admire but a facet, some aspect that we aspire for. I have a few in my life. Sudha Murthy for one; simply practical, effective and immensely altruistic. As I read about her and her proactive work, I realize any inability is only in our minds. My father is another. Psychology has a word fo...

I read the article by Stephen Fry, posted on a favourite blogspot of mine. It is a letter written to his teenage self...I skimmed through it. I have one word to say...Mind blowingly Honest!! It's so true that adult hood is too much hype. Many of us wish, we could remain in our adolescent misery! Atleast back then, age was an excuse for lack of maturity, mistakes commited and general scapegoat for most actions. Adulthood rips the cocoon apart! You only have yourself to look upto. Marriage and children furthur isolates you, as you become wholly responsible... hey, hey..whoa...let me not get carried away on those serious lines... What would I really tell my teen self...here goes... What I know now if I knew back then... # No matter how old you are, Parents will continue to treat you as if you are a teenager, irrational and impulsive...the only difference is that they will take your spouse's support to endorse it as well! So don't care; be yourself..it doesnt make a difference...

I have no place to call my home. Why...I have no place to even call my house !! That's because we are moving lock, stock and barrel, shifting to a new city. Posted out, being the technical term...and...I tell you it's not a very pleasant phase to be in. I find myself desperately reading up articles on how to cope with change, and how to handle stress. Brisk walk and breathing techniques have already recieved adequate attention from me. My partner reassures me, that moving cities and displacement is the third most stressful event in our lives, which follows spouse death and divorce... (I know I sound morbid...bear with me...but read on...my insights might be valuable if you share my predicament too!) For a short time, I remain now, in my parents house, nee.. Home , and I am transported back to my childhood and teenage days. I hold no connection to the city I have left. While this city that I was raised in, and this home that I lived in through my growing years, is my shelter. I ...