On your bike

Trudi drew me a picture and wrote me a poem. A kindhearted gesture. You Rock my fellow artist.

Trudi Murray Art and Illustration

illustration of riding my bike by Trudi Murray

The best way to travel.

Is there any other?

Out in the fresh air, the sunshine all around you.

Under the gentle trees you go, through the park to town.

Are you going from A to B? Or are you simply riding for the joy of it?

No matter.

The breeze on your face will be the same.

Your heart will beat that little bit quicker.

The road will rise to meet you, with a smile.

Come for a ride with me.

*This blog post is for artalexiusr, who asked for it a while back. Anyone else got an idea? This could be fun! If I like your idea, and it resonates, I’ll draw you a picture and write you a poem. Send me an email to trudi@trudimurray.com – I love getting emails. Go on, send me one.  It’s nice to get them 🙂

PS: I always wear a…

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Telling a tale I don’t know of.

KATHA

Let go. Let go. Let go. I did just that. No rules, no imagery just the subconscious guiding the fingers, just nothing, may be not even my subconscious. There are things which just happen sometimes, and one may never know why. A few things which I may not even care if they look good or not. That’s not the purpose. Its like talking to yourself through a canvas. If you know what I mean.

I may never put it up for public viewing, in a gallery or I just may. I don’t know why but after doing this I am still struggling to come back.

Woman

PIPASA

Pipasa

No amount of painting by me or anybody can ever do justice to the most beautiful of God’s creation. Woman. The source of mystery, wisdom , strength and so much more.

I painted it over a mix of loud heavy metal, rock and roll, Guns and Roses, Nirvana, The Doors and liters of coffee. While writing this Osho comes to my mind who said

“‎One of the deepest feminine pleasures is when a man stands full, present, and unreactive in the midst of his woman’s emotional storms. When he stays present with her, and loves her through the layers of wildness and closure, then she feels his trust-ability, and she can relax…”.

 

The Light has no Shadow.

I fell for reading philosophy very early in life, If I remember correctly when I was 12 or 13. A book which somebody gifted my granddad and since the title said something about Gurus, I happened to decide somehow ( I don’t know maybe it was the blue cover on the book or something else which attracted me) to glance at the first page which led me to the second and before I knew it I was hooked. It was not a very complicated proposition, a simply put book with lots of quotes and some cool logic, with which it tried to explain the need of a Guru. I later mentioned to my granddad about me reading the book and he asked me a few questions about the book to make sure I was not fooling around and when he was convinced I did read the book, I could sense he became a little amused and surprised that I could comprehend the matter discussed. He must have told during some family sitting all my uncles and aunts and my parents, because then I started getting a lot of books as gifts, and close family started to treat me with a little more ( how do you put it, like I was some strange young mature boy). Well I enjoyed the attention and found it cool.

As I grew in life I could sense this love for books philosophical was there to stay. As I grew I read a lot of Osho and Krishnamurthy and later Francis Bacon and other Big and small names. But to confess somehow I had hit a wall. Osho I could understand and Krishnamurthy too but most others I just could not comprehend. I just could not make head and tail of what they were saying. I decided to be a little organised and categorised my quest into Eastern philosophy and Western Philosophy and further in Ancient Medieval and Modern. I organised my book shelf in the same manner and planned my reading in a fashion that I will pick up book each from both shelves and give an hour to each every day.{ I could not get a formal education in the subject since I had planned to finish college and join the Army, which I did. (I carried my books on all tour of duties and read where ever I could).}

I tried making sense out of existential philosophers like Jean Paul Sartre, Martin Heidegger. To tell you the truth I lumbered “Being and Nothingness” by Jean Paul Sartre for a long time wrestling with the content but mostly it was just dead weight to me.

I also had this strange habit of visiting most religious places, talking to all kinds of ascetics and Monks and Sadhus and Babas and Aghoris, and priests. To understand practices and cultural beliefs and question everything. But my wall just would not fall.

Well the easiest thing to do is formally get an education, to sit in a lecture hall and sit and listen to a professor who may lead and guide and bring my wall down. Which circumstantially I was not inclined to do. I also would not concede to the fact that my love for the subject is ill placed. So I read on even when I could not understand.

However several years back as a young Captain, commanding a Company, I had just returned back from an all-night operation we had launched, and after debriefing the company I was sitting in the early morning hours on a small machaan ( sort of a platform in the trees I had got made for myself ) sipping tea, and looking at the jungle beyond. It was all strangely calm, after an all-night downpour which left us soaking wet. (I had still not changed). Somehow I remembered a paragraph of Sartre’s  “Being and Nothingness” and I could understand everything in the most Lucid manner. I asked the boy serving me tea to fetch me the book and I tried reading another paragraph and I could understand that too, too tired to continue I changed and went to catch up some sleep.

Later that evening I realised what had happened, in that moment of tired , sleepy, almost slumber state I had for some time let go of my preconceived prejudiced conditioned mind. And in that brief moment when I could see the book and decipher it as it was and I could understand. In that brief moment I just became a witness, of myself and the witness has almost superhuman possibilities.

You see I had just been introduced to myself, and I was pleased with whom I met. The witness was me. As soon I understood that there is a distance between whom I think I am and who the witness is, I could sense that there is more to me than just the me I thought I was. It’s difficult to put it into words.

You see when the witness watches it watches the flower for the flower, with no meanings attached, other than the flower itself. The sweetness of the essence of the flower remains just that , the essence of the flower, and in that moment itself.

The walls are gone now, and I am so lucid, for in me is the light and the light has no shadow.

A tribute to greed peddlers.

FOR WHOM

For Whom

“Global warming is happening now. The planet’s temperature is rising. The trend is clear and unmistakable.

Every one of the past 40 years has been warmer than the 20th century average. 2016 was the hottest year on record. The 12 warmest years on record have all occurred since 1998. 

Globally, the average surface temperature has increased more than one degree Fahrenheit since the late 1800s. Most of that increase has occurred over just the past three decades.”

Source courtesy: http://www.ucsusa.org/global_warming#.WSbyEmiGPIU.

“2008 Financial crisis”

Source courtesy: Holier than thou greed ridden financial system.

The list can go on and on.

I pay my humble tribute to the greed vendors, through my work. I wonder what business do the child of the future have to look up in hope to the hand that provides, when all it can do is peddle poison.

(Pun is intended).

ArdhBhaag

ARDHBHAAG

ARDHBHAAG

Varanasi has a soul to itself. And most ancient cities have but there is something different to this city or town or whatever one might muse it to be. Spend some time on the Ghats and you will realize that there are some feelings you just can’t express in words. I came across this man sitting and just gazing into infinity. Just watching him can send you into a state of Mesmer, and I thought I have to somehow capture the stare, that look. The strength which a man’s eyes may or may not elude. But then constitute the whole of humanity in its stare.

And thus I painted, The ‘ArdhBhaag’.

The strange case of invisible monkeys.

 

A very long time ago in India, in a village there lived a young man. He was known for the pranks he played on his friends and neighbours. His antics sometimes went little too far from being just harmless jokes. But at least he and his friends were happy. But now it was becoming more and more difficult for him, since people in his village had started avoiding him. He, himself was bored here.

Near the village there lived a great sage who also ran a Gurukul (School) in the great traditions of India. The school due to the fame of the Guru (the great sage) received students from all over the world. The guru was greatly revered by all due to his wisdom.

So one fine evening it came upon him that he must now go to the Gurukul and play his pranks there, he may even outsmart the Guru and in the process, who knows he may learn a thing or two. Next day early in the morning he took off for the Gurukul to meet the Guru. On reaching the Gurukul he saw the Guru sitting under a huge Banyan tree, meditating. He touched the Gurus feet as a mark of respect and sat down on the ground waiting for the guru to open his eyes.

The Guru on finishing his meditation opened his eyes and asked the young man the purpose of his visit. The young brat tells the Guru that he was here to learn Levitation.  “Levitation” the guru tells the young man, is not something to be learned, it is a stage which one reaches after years of meditation and following a very strict lifestyle. And the Levitation in itself is not a means it is just a milestone along the way, it’s just that it is hyped since it looks miraculous.

But the young man will have none of it; he kept insisting that he wanted to learn just that and nothing else. The guru was getting late for his classes and thus told the young man that he was busy as he can see and that he can spent some time in the Gurukul and help with the chores. And later the Guru will teach him a DIY, presto, quick way to Levitate. The young man thought that there was no harm; he was getting free food and lodgings so he stayed.

Months passed by and the Guru did not get time, the young man too could not get to the Guru and kept doing sundry jobs at the Gurukul like washing clothes, brooming the grounds, tending to the Gurukul farms and so on and so forth. And then one fine day when he has had enough, he    confronts the Guru somehow and requests him to teach him now since he has spent a long time waiting to learn the Art of levitation. The Guru again asks him to spend  some more time in the Gurukul and wait for the day he will be taught Levitation.

More than a year passes by and the young man has had enough so he goes again to the Guru. The guru sympathetically asks him to sit down. The young man was mighty elated. The guru tells him that there is a certain mantra which if chanted a certain number of times will give him the power to levitate. And then he can levitate at will any time he chooses. The guru calls him near and chants the mantra in his ears and tells him the number of times he has to repeat the mantra. That’s easy! The young man thinks to himself and as he gets up to go and start his chant, the guru adds a warning;

“ remember as you begin to chant do not let any thought of a monkey or an image of monkey come to your mind, if it happens then you have to start chanting from the beginning”

That’s easy the young man told the guru and walked towards a tree to sit and start.

 A few days passed by and the guru also started to wonder about the whereabouts  as he could not find the young man around the usual places he used to be found. And then one morning he saw the young man walking towards him tired and all freckled up. He looked as if he had not slept for days may even skipped a few meals. He has aged a few years in the last few days.

He came and sat at the Gurus feet . The great sage asked him after offering him some water “ have you learned the art” finally.

The young man staring into nothingness replies “ No ! O great sage, but I am seeing monkeys everywhere, they are all around me . They sneer and laugh and refuse to leave my company. When I started the chant , I was confident that I will finish it in a day but after the first few chants a monkey thought came to my mind. Then I started again and this went on for days and now every where there are monkeys of all colours, size and shape. Even now as we speak, although you cannot see but I can see monkeys behind you, on top of you , In fact O great sage you have started to look like a monkey too.

And then it hits you like a ton of bricks, “hey do I have my own monkeys which do not let me do anything, do I see them all the time around me?? do I debate more and more with my own monkeys, monkeys in my head. Have I not bargained for them because I thought I was the smartest guy, who could figure it all out better than most and keep the most glamorous of the results for myself. ” . Because only the empty vessels will be filled and the full will be emptied. The day I feel I am full, I stop the process of receiving from the universe. 

You know what I discovered , just knowing why, what, when and how the monkeys exist is getting rid of them. 

Smother’s Day

APRAJITA mod size

Aparajita

I have re-blogged this post . And reading the original post I had to dedicate my painting to the feelings expressed in the blog. I am not going to write anything else on this post, since the original post says it all. I pay my respects with my painting .

deconstructingdoctor.com

residency slide show 003Mother’s Day is fast approaching, the first Mother’s Day since my mother’s passing. I am trying to get all of the dread out of they way so that day doesn’t feel so bad when it gets here. I bought fake flowers and made an arrangement for her grave. I did that last week. So that’s done.

The cemetery where my mom is buried is a sea of fake flowers. Every grave has an arrangement in varying degrees of sun-faded hues. I think it is supposed to be comforting and beautiful that every soul is recognized, but somehow it makes me feel even more sad. It is a facade. You can leave those fake flowers for months without changing them if you wanted to, no one would know the difference. Then you could walk away and forget them for a while. As if.

I am the worst kind of daughter. I…

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