Being a grandpa is pure, distilled joy. I recently experienced the good fortune of grand-fatherhood. Here is what I wrote for the baby boy ‘Shlok’…..
(a welcome song)
it’s a cold night in New York,
bleak brick and window facades,
that criss-cross like an argument without purpose
time stands frozen in expectation
and then a whiff of warmth
a small muffled cry
of a life just begun
like a silent arrow shot into future
of life’s intent
to keep moving, keep going
i am a whiff of warm joy
when i see frozen wait and expectation
i curl up, warming every lap with love
central park sleeps
amid its barren trees, waiting
for the snow to melt
for the snow to melt and life to thaw
for the crushed roots to grow again
trees to wear twigs,flowers, birds, music, magic;
love will make it all happen
i am here to make it all happen
i am life’s longing for itself
life will go on with its intent
now that i am here
When was the last time you admired your garden? Or like many of us you have been busy planting new seeds? We spend a large chunk of our lives adding and acquiring objects material. Then another chunk dusting and polishing our precious collection. When was the last time you enjoyed the bliss of your bounty? Or like many of us you don’t have time to pause and simply immerse in the warmth and richness of your surroundings.
If you and I enjoyed what we have, we would lose the desire to collect, acquire, own. We don’t live, we own. We dust things because we own them.
You don’t need to own the garden to enjoy its rejuvenating life force, colours, scents and all.