THE GENTLE EARTH

I move through the world, not in haste, not in fear — but with the quiet knowing that I am out of place. I walk among ants, watching them scurry, each step precise, each task urgent. I marvel at their rhythm — but I do not follow. It is not my way. I sit with the dogs, warm and loyal, their joy simple, their world small. They welcome me in. They make me laugh. But I do not stay. It is not my home. I wander further, through forests of faces, cities of voices, and deserts of silence. I listen, I learn, but I am still a stranger. You see, I am an elephant. I do not run with wolves, or swim with fish. I do not fit in just anywhere. I belong to a herd I’ve never seen — a rhythm I’ve never heard, but somehow, I know it exists . Somewhere out there, there are others like me. They move the way I move. They pause where I pause. They walk through life, not in lines, but in waves. I’ve been without them for so long, I wonder if I’ll ever find them again. I wonder if I’ll even recognize them when ...

If you thought wrapping buildings in fabric was a novel art form pioneered by Christo and Jeanne-Claude, welcome to India, where we’ve been doing this for centuries without fanfare, press releases, or international exhibits. Just a few weeks ago, I was standing in the humble town of Virinjipuram, right in front of an ancient Shiva temple, when I stumbled upon a rather "artistic" sight: a temple car covered head to toe in thick, industrial-strength fabric. No, this wasn’t a new art installation, but an old-school way of keeping dust, sun, and rain from making the wooden cart look like driftwood. Apparently, India’s been on this “wrapping things up” game long before anyone in Berlin or Paris ever thought of putting fabric on famous landmarks. We just call it protection . Christo wrapped the Reichstag in Berlin; here, we wrap temple cars in “Can-We-Make-This-Last-Another-100-Years” fabric. Christo and Jeanne-Claude-Reichtag building unknow artist-Virinjipuram temple car The Subt...

From the sky to the sea, I’m lost in between,   Where the clouds gift me patience, and the waves make me keen.   I stand on the shore, stripped bare of my load,   Yet something inside still clings to its road.   My feet, they touch earth, my skin feels the breeze,   But my greedy soul won't surrender with ease.   I’ve shed all my burdens, my shoes, and my dress,   Still, I carry a weight I cannot confess.   The world offers leisure, the stars lend me peace,   But I long to give back, to offer release.   What have I given to match what I've claimed?   I dream of a gift that my soul could have named.   Let me plant a seed where the soil meets the sky,   Let me raise up my hands and learn how to fly.   For the earth and the sea deserve more than I take,   And my heart will rest easy when I’ve learned to remake.

Once, I stood tall, content in my skin, A world of my own where joy would begin. Now, the presence lingers like a silent thread, Weaving through thoughts, filling my head. Of the power I held, now slipping away, In seeking the words, my peace I betray. But remember, dear heart, who you once were, A flame that burned bright without needing a stir. Let love not consume the strength you possess, For in your own light, you'll find true happiness. Yours truly, Yourself