The worlds we create for ourselves

There is pink coleus, green shamrock and ivy, and bright red and yellow crotons sitting on my desk. The coleus leaves exude radiance when light passes through. Though they find their sustenance from water alone, they make flowers every now and then. Long shoots with purple flowers stand out against the backdrop of the coffee brown couch.

From the table where I sit, I can see many more plants. A white orchid that my friends gifted me is still in bloom, reminding me of the magic of friendship. From the library shelf, wandering Jews have created a little garden, their branches readily answering gravity, tumbling down in undulating waves.

Pothos occupies all sorts of places in this house, from bright coloured, painted bottles to pots of all sizes. They are the easiest, most effortless ones to grow – sunlight or dimness, water or drought, they thrive. They complain the least. Sometimes I think I want to be like them. And then I think, no. I don’t want to be like them. I am clear of my needs and wants, I make plans to achieve my goals and thrive in my own world. I thrive in the sunlight of desire.

From up here, I see Boston ferns – at least two pots. I see a few Pilea plants, too. They are effortlessly making tiny babies. Once I had to separate around ten babies from their mother. There are many more plants, and these days I have begun to think about the diversity of their appearance. Each leaf is different from its neighbour’s – in the colours, shapes, and patterns they possess.

I once read that the human mind is naturally inclined to liking the patterns in nature. When I learnt about the science behind the calming effect of nature on the human mind, I was not surprised.

As a child, one of my hobbies was to step out and wander. I have memories of observing the patterns on leaves, the shapes of bushes and how fallen fruit had a rather different taste after a few hours of being in the sun.

Perhaps my best memories are with nature. I gravitate towards the woods and trails rather than shopping malls and busy places.

When I moved countries, the hardest part was not getting my children acclimatized to new cultures and places, but letting go of my plants. Every time I moved, I painstakingly built my green world and realized that the process was equally pleasurable.

Our sweetest longings may be tied to pleasurable moments from childhood. The things that we seek for ourselves, perhaps tied to our past. Time flies, but in our effort to cling onto the past we try to make the transition to the present smoother by recreating snippets of yesteryears.

The worlds we create for ourselves today have elements from long-ago that we cherish.

From a hammock in the forest

From a hammock in the forest
 
My tired body sunk into a hammock
High on a mountain where trees grow
Where grass feels free to scale high
Where fallen leaves roam at ease
 
Sunlight came in selective bursts
The branches wouldn’t let them all pass
I received what I needed though
Enough to show me the long lines
 
In the stillness, silence came by
No holds barred, she motioned,
No strings attached, she hushed,
Take it all, you need it, she nudged
 
I soaked in the moment’s beauty
When wind turned the pages,
And the trees shed a tear or two
Of yellowed leaves falling gently
 
The green rustled and ruffled,
Like youth crying for attention
The browned ones danced about
While the wind held their hands
 
I wished that moment wouldn’t arrive,
But go on forever and ever rather
The joy of life is to go on traveling
Waiting for the best moment to arrive

Fallen leaves

Pulling up the blinds, my eyes fell on trees. Their leaves; golden yellow like sunflowers, flaming orange like marigolds, bright red like roses, deep maroon like certain withering flowers, and even green. They seemed to make haste. To fall. To break free from what held them together. To fly away, if possible. A deep sense of unrest lent heaviness to the autumn air. I stared longingly at the fallen leaves lying here and there, some in groups, some alone. And then, the sun, like an artist seemed deeply engrossed in filling up vast canvases of grass with its dynamic shafts of light, for a moment here and then suddenly there, a step ahead, and then, a furlong ahead, slowly but beautifully shifting its focus, taking me along.

What is it about them, the fallen leaves that makes me want to look at them again and again? And, when some of them glisten in the early morning sunshine, what is it that my heart longs for? 

It reminded me of home, to which I was bound in more ways than one, from where I yearned to fly away, afar. We had trees aplenty, leaves fell copiously, layer upon layer where I walked time and again. Beneath them I discovered life; throbbing with desire. 

The leaves are fallen, dead or so they said, but to me they were the receptacles of life; fresh and raring.

The leaves; I have always felt a connection with them. They link me to my roots, to my very being, to a simple life back home, to days when trees filled my life with more than just shade and fruits, with perspective, meaning, and depth.

Blissful rain

It’s drizzling here in Edison. Water droplets whispering soft. Touching the leaves, but not staying there as yet. They dribble down, the small channels, following the path shown by the drooping leaves. The leaves bathe in green. The most beautiful, the most soothing green. Afar, through the half-opened blinds of my neighbor’s, dim light flows tenderly, warm streaks that smile, cheer, and illuminate. The sky has pulled its white blanket on. The sun is under, sleeping in bliss. The lonely potted green cabbage in my piazza is overjoyed, its leaves refusing to let go the many drops of water that came visiting. Stay, please, don’t just go away.

They have come

How can I not celebrate?
How can I not rejoice?
For they have come
Much awaited, much loved,
But they took their own time
As if to tell us something
That we mustn’t take them for granted
It feels like April was here long ago
But not Spring, the most elusive one
Across the window, what was a bare wall;
With a few barren bushes juxtaposed against
Is today in a burst of sunshine
With the Forsythia friends in full bloom
I step into the patio,
To take in the beauty around,
And I am overwhelmed!
The browned grass turned green in a night
How could they not cheer up?
For the rains came down last night
With such passion, such vivacity
Showering new life on them aplenty
They say, the longer the wait, the sweeter it is
When the moment of fulfillment comes.