Strangely Familiar

No, sorry. This is not a tribute to Kermit the Frog, though he certainly deserves it. This is about me and good ol' chlorophyll. I have found that some of the best metaphors for what I am going through in life can be found in plants. Everything is cyclical in nature, but random, too. Maybe you'll get stepped on by a toddler's unsteady foot; maybe that cute bumblebee will come over to you and choose to spread your pollen; or maybe you'll get picked by a girl who wants to put you in a vase on her shelf. Whatever it is, whatever happens, plants are resilient! Each winter they die a little death, and come back full force in the spring. No chubby baby foot will keep grass down for long. Picking a flower will never kill a plant (although, I do not believe we should be picking flowers, period- a story for another day). They're so simple, yet we are so like them. (I'm not calling humans simple, calm down). So here, in wintry Chicago, away from many of my loved ones, I

As many others do, I love being in nature. I adore it and relish the moments when I can sit and be within it. It's lamentable how living in a city can displace us from nature so profoundly, to the point where a tree or a flower can seem out of place. We must seek it out, protect it, and remember that we are no different from the beetles, squirrels, wolves, and rock-leaf-river... we are bound together. (Zion National Park, Utah- P.Desai, 2009) ~ A Wild Thing~ What is it about the wild that draws us in- like a magnet? So consistently. Have we never seen a honeysuckle or a field of clover? Have we never felt the sweet sting of tall weeds or the laughter of rain? Have we never smelled lavender when it was still a bush in the ground? Or shuddered a thrilling shiver at a coyote's howl? Maybe... maybe not... but this I know: When we come in contact with the wild, We remember. We remember the wild, free side of ourselves. The innocent. The untouched. The pure, primev

Being a doctoral student and pondering my own future research has led to some interesting questions for me. Aside from How am I going to get up in five hours and make it to that meeting on time? and Which coffee shop will have the shortest line and  be the most satisfying at 6:45 am? I wonder about other things, too: What is at the core of research, science, and discovery? What is it that we are really after? Why is there a such a deep seated need to provide empirical evidence for something? I can tell you lack of sleep is going to have some pretty nasty effects on me if I keep it up- I don't need an article to make me understand that. Yet, we need the research; we need something to trust in that is indisputable. Ahh... so we're looking for something that is indisputable? If you have read The Celestine Prophecy  by James Redfield, you may get what I'm talking about here (if you haven't, put it at the top of your reading list- NOW!). We are searching externally for ans

There is a thrill in starting something new and a deeper thrill in revealing a part of myself to others. Right now, I am in raptures! After having journaled, written poetry, prose, and (some) short stories for years, I am proud to share them with you. After having photographed, painted, scribbled, and sketched my way through life, I am excited to show them off a bit (paintings get lonely on walls). I'm happy to get feedback on the poetry and art that is posted here and I'd love to hear your thoughts on some of my thoughts. I bid you adieu with this stunning thought: "With our lives, we make our answers all the time, to this ravenous, beautiful, mutilated, gorgeous world" (Victoria Safford) Tickled to death to be here doing this, Poonam