Letting Go

Growing up and letting go,
Flowing like the clear stream,
From tip of the fall,
To the vast ocean,
Life is all about letting go.

The seed in the soil,
Lets go to the sapling supple,
Innocent, soft, and naive.
The sapling lets go to the huge firm tree,
Giving shade to the travelers weary.
The tree lets go her flowers and the fruits,
And then after years of giving,
She lets go herself to the Mother Earth,
Mingling to the dust, from where she came.
Letting go for another seed, another sapling,
Fruits and Flowers anew,
With colors more vibrant,
And songs more melodious and novel.

The infant lets go to be the toddler,
The toddler lets go to the teen,
The teen, to the adult, and then to the old.
Finally all lets go to the finality of death,
Just to open up new possibilities,
Of new generation, better and more beautiful.

The whisper of the hidden hopes of the expectant dawn,
Lets go to the crimson quietness of the tired dusk,
The throbbing heart of arduous passion,
Lets go to the awareness of the transience to unfurl,
Into the cold spread of the reality of pain.

In this game of letting go,
Its exciting to be part of the roller coaster,
Letting go the hope, equally with fear.
Letting go acceptance, equally with rejection.
Letting go pride, equally with embarrassment.
Letting go all that a man can have,
Letting go all that a man can be.

It is that surrender to the mere suchness,
The suchness that I was when I was born.
The suchness, that I will be when I die.
The suchness, that I was always before I existed.
The suchness, that I will be eons after I die.

All this play is a transient rising tide.
It will rise, and then gain fall,
Mingling into the eternal train of the line of eternity.
Nothing matters,
At the same time,
All that is - Is just this. And nothing else.

In this practice of letting go,
Somewhere deep inside my heart,
A deep ridge is sown,
With love, understanding, compassion, openness and courage.
In this breaking apart in openness and surrender,
I absorb the nectar of being alive,
In all its color, sound, smell and appearance,
Knowing for the first time, every moment,
Yet again and again,
Who am I, and who am I not.
Engulfing the eternal expanse of life,
Within me, All that his human, All that is life.
Both in its exquisite zenith of inspiration,
And it its darkest nadir of existence.

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Copy Right © All rights reserved - Samrat Kar

The Rendezvous with the Eternal

In his studio ancient,
With hammer, chisel and his family of tools,
Was Simoni working on his art.

Around him were sculptures he made long back,
There were men, women, tigers, and tulips.
All in white deeply gazed Simoni busy at his work.

Suddenly Simoni was distracted with the angry gaze,
Of the tiger and the rhino.

And the eyes of disdain,
From countenance of stale old statues of men and women.

Surprised at the anger and hatred, he looked deep into their eyes,
Trying to make out the reason.


Looking into the eyes of the tiger and the rhino,
Simoni, observed in him the ebb and flow
The spasm of the pain of rejection.
Discerning deeper, found he a deep seated need,
Deep down his heart,
To be embraced in the all accepting warm embrace.
He found in him, the infantile craving of a motherly hug -
A symbol of acceptance and love.

Taken aback was he,
To confront face to face,
His weak, emotional need - his handicap.
And that superstition of meeting that need
From the tiger and the rhino in marble.
He was like a child looking out for a crutch.


Then suddenly hit him the wind of the fragrance of acceptance,
From the tulip, silently watching him in adoration, by the side.

He felt immensely comforted by the solace of kinship,
He was wallowing in the wave of love.
He felt strong and happy.
Discerning deeper again he was stunned at this new found strength,
The strength which was just an incarnation of a deep seated weakness.
A weakness of the ardor to be accepted,
From one and all, and the tulip included.
It was again that weakness of a longing of embrace of love.

And then, once established in that strength,
He could sense the tinkling of the hope,
A hope of a constant adoration from the tulip.
And then there was fear hidden under the hope,
"Hope she never leaves me alone"

In all his unrest with the gaze of the tiger and the rhino,
The amorous advances of the tulip,
And the disdaining looks from the stale old men and women,
He discovered the barriers in him,
That was crippling him and weakening him,
That was obstructing him to become fully who he is.

The barriers would get dissolved when he is deep in his work.
When deep into his art of chipping away those extras from the marble rock,
To shape it to the most beautiful angel,
He remembered there was that infinite wave of love,
That he created within himself,
Out of his skill, passion, creativity, and toil.
He remembered that the Eternal Loving Embrace
Was already within him,
And he was the source of that,
All along his journey of creation.
He was the source, and the world was just a reflection.

He realized that neither the beauty of the tulip
Was dependent on his adoration of her,
Nor, his sense of being loved and accepted,
Was dependent on the whim of the tulip.
For that the hatred in the eyes of the tiger and rhino,
Might be self created, or the objective truth out there,
But that does not matter to him,
As he is already fulfilled in love and acceptance,
Creating that wave of passion for himself, and his art,
Deep inside his heart.

No, Simoni is not indifferent to the tiger of the tulip.
Simoni, stands in acceptance and love,
For all around him.
He might not be fraternal,
He might not be part of the group.
But, he stands there entirely fulfilled,
With no needs, but a bag full of gifts,
Gifts of love, acceptances, compassion, respect, humility, and wonder.

He returns to his sculpture,
In white he was chipping the bosom of the angel,
Being able to see through the beautiful heart of hers,
Beneath the luscious curves.
An angel who was his heart, his creativity, his passions, personified.
Who was bright, youthful and brimming with joy.
The angel was in no need.
But was existing only to give.
For she was the Simoni's fulfilled and Joyous Heart.

Simoni went in trance,
Amidst the sound of his chisel,
And the softness of the presence of the angel,
Deeply engrossed in his work and toil,
He had a passing thought -
Was this the Rendezvous with the Eternal?

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Copy Right © All rights reserved - Samrat Kar