high rise

it's been some time since i was able to visit this blog.  i must admit there was this seeming lull in my mind's meanderings. there were lots of thoughts and feelings and impressions but there is no "push" to compel me to write.  they say this really happens. i don't want to force myself to write. i know if i do it then things will not come up sounding honest.  while getting one's thoughts, feelings, and impressions written down, one must have that exhilarating and liberating feeling of release, a "birthing" process, so to speak for the mind's meanderings.

there must be joy while writing the mind stuff, an equal gladness as when one is already reading the words that "birthed" those ideas in the mind.

we've moved office.  the management found it necessary to go to a better business district.  they are following the old adage "birds of the same feather flock together".  if you want more money, you have to go to where money is the primary item.  like attracts like, as they, the business-minded, the money experts, often say.

yet, this is not about money. this is about me suddenly finding myself holding office in a building more than 30-storeys high.  i was asked to find my niche in the 17th floor, a far cry from the 5th floor spot i was accustomed to at the former place.

after about a week, we are all settled in the new building.  now, there was this time, probably the first saturday in the new place, when i managed to get a seat very near the building's glass walls overlooking the world outside.  it was about 2 am and it was still very dark outside. the thick glass wall does not even permit one to see the lights of the other neighboring edifices.  i had to press my face against the cold glass and cup my hands by the side of my face to be able to glimpse the world outside.  looking at the lighted offices from the buildings opposite us, i know we were not the only ones doing business at this unholy hour.  when i looked below, i can see the pinpoints of light from vehicles worming their way to an early traffic. these images evoked in me a feeling of sadness. this darkness.  this cold night. there's not much work on hand so i became a bit sleepy.


after about an hour, i noticed this faint orange glow as i stared on the plate glass.  it was an orange ribbon of light against that blackness.  morning is breaking forth.  the sun is slowly moving up. dawn ...  it was beautiful to behold.  that glorious light, minute-by-minute stretching its carpet over the horizon. orange, then a bit yellow, then golden, the buildings' silhouettes appearing, the blackness slowly diminishing, greying, surrendering to the light.  and that light, sunlight, expressing itself, drawing the curtain of night, claiming its dominion over this phase of time, turning gracefully to silver, then white, oh glittering white. revelation follows, the objects of the outside world starting to be seen. i gazed at the sky. it is blue. the clouds are for now just faint wisps of cotton. sailing silently. their gentle dance betrays the wind that blows.  i no longer need to press my face against the plate glass. everything is clear. even the spears of white sunlight had pierced the glass and pierced me as well. i can see my gray shadow seated on the carpeted floor of the office.  i stood up and looked down below. i can see the vehicles now. and the trees and the greenery. and the houses of the adjoining residential village. i can see the streets and the sidewalks. and on those sidewalks i can see little dots moving in all directions. hurrying. trying to beat time. little dots. people on their way to their appointments of this day. from where i stand i see them. little dots, little people, little lives. and yet i know, if i go down there and mingle with them, these will become big lives, some will be gigantic lives even.

i looked at the vast panorama sweeping before me. behind one of the tallest buildings peeked the sun majestic. light that binds us all.  immediately this sudden remembrance came to mind. the old masters and sages had said -- once one is able to rise to the consciousness of the Infinite, one will be afforded the True View of Life. one will be able to see the True Nature of Existence. i thought to myself, if this 17th-storey view of life awed me at this time, what more if i am able to rise to that level of consciousness that the Sages have referred to?

they say that highest view of Life is attainable and this is what every one must strive for. when one gets this Clear View, then one will have arrived. one will know. one will understand. one can say with conviction that there is just One Life.

the masters and sages have tried to describe the nature of this Life -- Sat-Chit-Ananda.

Truth-Consciousness-Bliss.

walt whitman's questions

there's not so much my mind can meander about during these past weeks. i  just tried to sort things out for myself. after work, at home, after tinkering with the new guitar and the ukulele, i just idly sat by and let time pass before me.

tried to introvert. or introspect. or go inside. within me. tried to go to the core of being.

the Old Masters and Sages often tell -- happiness is within.  pure happiness is within.

i endeavored to seek this inner joy.  unadulterated joy not caused by outward influences but emanating from the real Self. from a communion with one's true identity. one must spend time to do this.  one must devote time..  one must

we must.

one bleak, dreary, rainy, wet day just this past week, i sat alone in my humble little house.  i instinctively opened my copy of walt whitman's masterpiece, leaves of grass.  my eyes focused on a particular section in one of his poems there.  the poem is titled a song for occupations.  the lines were these --

why what have you thought of yourself?
is it you then that thought yourself less?
is it you that thought the President greater than you?
or the rich better off than you? or the educated wiser than you?

(because you are greasy and pimpled, or were once drunk,
or a thief,
or that you are diseased, or rheumatic, or a prostitute,
or from frivolity or impotence, or that you are no scholar
and never saw your name in print,
do you give in that you are any less immortal?)


i pondered over these, walt's questions, and they made me feel good when i honestly tried to answer these questions.  they made me smile inwardly.  and made me feel confident.

and on that day, that bleak, dreary, rainy, wet day, i felt assured

i am not any less immortal.

the day within me is fine. is warm. is bright. is cheerful.

i am not any less immortal.

parting with an old friend, ..goodbye dear guitar

just the early week of june, one of the bigger musical instrument stores here celebrated it's founding anniversary.  prices for all instruments on sale were slashed for as much as 50% off the regular price. upon knowing this, daughter and i immediately rushed to the place.  this is one opportunity we surely don't want to miss. 

it has been months now when she took a fancy towards learning to play the ukelele and she was really urging me to buy her one. when i visited the different stores, i found that a ukulele is almost priced as a regular guitar and some even are priced higher. i told my daughter i'd defer buying her one till i am able to afford a respectable piece. i don't want to gift her a so-so instrument.  it is not that often that she asks me for something and i'd like her to own a very good uke, one that she'd surely cherish and enjoy.

so there, the Infinite had answered my prayers thru this store's anniversary sale.  i was able to buy the ukelele i wanted for my daughter at 40% off the regular price. problem is, since i was able to save and thus has this extra money on me, i couldn't help but look at the other instruments.  my eyes just couldn't come off this beautiful, steel-stringed guitar lying just by itself by the corner of the store. i picked it up and wrapped it in my arms. i caressed its fretboard and smelled the fresh aroma of wood and paint and thinner and varnish.  just fresh from the guitar factory.  50% off!  i slid my thumb over the six glistening steel strings.  i heard the crisp sound vibrations of steel against the firmness of the flesh of my fingers as i plucked each string. hmmmm!! 

i closed my eyes. i saw my daughter's old guitar in my mind's eye.  i saw it's old body decorated with the graffiti written by her classmates one time she took it to school with her. i saw the colorful stick-on designs she had pasted on it.  i heard the old guitar's voice in my inner ears.  i saw the marks of my fingers and my daughter's fingers on its worn-out fretboard.  i saw the cracks in its seams.  it is a very dear friend. an old friend. and i recognized it is tired. it needs rest.  and this is the best time to retire her.

i hugged the new guitar and went to the cashier.  my daughter and i will have to establish new friendships now. with the ukelele and with the new guitar.  the old guitar, our dear friend will retire, but the music will still be there. 

the music is within us ....