Strangely Familiar

Two nights ago, I had the rare opportunity to look up and see the stars. Millions of them. They dappled the night sky like wayward sprays of silver paint. As I craned my neck back to try to see them all at once, a few winked wryly at me, reminding me of the many things I do not know and the many places I have not seen. They seemed to ask, “What have you learned, child?” and “Where will you go?” As they inspire us to reach, so these stars also humble us, chastise us for keeping our own lights on too bright such that we cannot see their luminosity. We are so bathed in the halogen glows of our own making that we cannot see that pure fire that surrounds us, the wisdom available to us, the beauty beyond us. (Thierry Cohen from Paris says, "Get out of town!")

Friends, I am constantly in awe (read: shock) of our ability to acquire, to possess, and to surround ourselves by things. I am also constantly torn between my own egotistical desire to own things and my higher desire to minimize, simplify, and become unattached. In another lifetime, perhaps I could live as a monk would, with few possessions and few earthly needs beyond basic sustenance. For now, I am still drawn to mindless entertainment and material acquisitions. Still, I offer my dream, my ~Two Cents~ Perhaps I've no right to speak Having been born in the spring of life Grown up in the summer And never having known a fall or winter, But I find it ever so strange how we do What we do with a face of false confidence of quiet hibernation And march like ants toward our certainties without even being able to look them in the face. For our brood we acquire ever larger houses Stock them full of trinkets and comforts. Things we may never use in our life times ... just...

Friends, After an interminable time, I finally found myself in nature again. I was able to soak up as much of the wild as my body could handle- and it was the most delicious feeling. I also find myself writing here again after a too-long hiatus. Maybe writing is like my woods; maybe my creativity is inspired only by nature, and I must go back into the wild to find it again. Here, I share a writing that reflects the joy I find in the simple act of being outside: ~Finding the Woods Again~ By Poonam Desai Yesterday, I walked through our woods, And found our names carved into the river stones. The pile of logs that housed our whispered conversations Still stands home to the spiders and ants We had long forgotten. The pitcher we used to water our garden Has since been reclaimed by the forest moss and vines. Time is far slower in this grove of trees And though we left years ago, it holds our magic yet. Do you recall When we played tag at the foot of the hill? H...

Hello friends, Today, I offer you a poem in honor of International Women's Day that I wrote last year. Hallelujah for the women who have come before us, and those who are paving the way now. ~ The Ground Beneath Her Feet~ each step is taken with a different woman's foot a sweet child innocent of pain the woman going to confront her fears a painted hong kong whore the shy lover me walking home a wizened hippie whose hair flows freely the woman who just can't leave a mother who knows whom her life is for a step. transform. a step. transform. now i walk through tahrir square, witnessing a revolution... step/transform now i carry water home from the village well my sari swishing around my ankles... step/transform now i run along the beach in blissful first world peace... step/transform now i walk in sure-footed confidence in the jungle that is my home... step/transform now i click-clack on the glass ceiling in my power-hungry he...

Hi Friends, My mind isn't always as glib as I'd like it to be, but every now and then, I get a nice trickle of thoughts that actually conveys what I'd like it to say. I haven't posted any paintings in a while, but I will soon! For now, I'd love to hear your thoughts on the next few poems I post. This first poem is inspired by a National Geographic article on vanishing languages. One part of the article described a man who was literally the last speaker of his language. http://ngm.nationalgeographic.com/2012/07/vanishing-languages/rymer-text There was such an exquisite sadness to this thought, of being the only one left to speak your mother tongue, not to be able to communicate in the language you learned the world in. Thus, this poem: ~Last Speaker of My Language~ It is far too quiet now In my prairie home I wander between hand-built houses Remembering the laughter of so many lives. Little pursuits carry so much Mean...

After what seems like months of nothing, I've finally been able to do some poetry writing, painting, and art making... my soul is delighted! Below, I share with you a poem I wrote this evening. For some reason I had the phrase "We lost everything in the fire" stuck in my head today- it was obviously something I needed to explore, and this is what I got: "We lost everything in the fire," they say. Haven't we all? Does not the fire of anger passion love consume us from our writhing insides to our crackling flesh? Bones burned down like house frames; wisdom and knowledge reduced to ashes  like hundreds of well-thumbed books; a bit of soul wandering about the ruins of our mind like a singed cat mewing at the loss. The earth is indelibly scorched... as are we when we burn and lose everything in our fires. (Poonam Desai, 6/10/2012) Beyond that, I also tried out a technique I learned in high school: transferring a...

Friends, What exhilarates you? What brings a fresh, blooming smile to your face? There are so many things I love in this world: cooking, hiking, painting, reading... but also rain! Rain has this amazing capacity to brighten my face and invigorate me, much like it does to the ashy trees that line a street, which suddenly turn vibrant green after a storm. I used to "shower" in the rain when I was little; and let's face it, if I had my own backyard, I probably still would. It was wonderful- feeling cleansed by nature's own bath. Once I climbed on top of my parents' brick mailbox and sat through an entire storm. I watched the birds fly frantically to find shelter, I heard the hot humming of Texas insects cool in the moist, chilly air. I saw sky darken, the lightning crack in the deep gray air, and felt the rolls of thunder reverberate through me. The sky opened and I was SOAKED from head to toe, just like the rest of my street. The pounding rain quickened and then ...