Shantideva and me

-

 

Sometimes I wonder what I would have looked like to Shantideva.

Probably another restless man distracted by quiet ambitions, dreams, thoughts, memory, longing, and the noise of ordinary life.
A man trying to hold onto things already disappearing.

And yet, I think I would have sat quietly near him.
Not asking questions.
Not seeking miracles.

Just listening.

Because there is something about certain people that makes your mind grow silent around them.
As if they had already walked through every confusion you are still struggling to name.

The older I grow, the more I admire him.
Not because he sounded wise, but because he remained gentle in a world that gives people every reason not to be.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Cherry Blossoms Of My Thoughts

-
Down by the river On, and across the dark rocks Drops of life In full beauty, Now with spring The cherries blossom In the thickets of the streets Along the hopes of time I walk… Looking for a familiar face In the crowd, you stand Among the cherry blossoms of my thoughts Now, beside a barren tree, I rest Basking in your love. Cherry blossom in the air Beauty against the wind of times To love is transporting Beautiful, but hurting Painful, yet not lasting Here, but ever changing Will we ever die? And forever live? Passing thoughts, pressing moments Moving crowds, falling blossoms Rising hopes, dying reality But, for now In the spring of hopes, In the blossom of flowers, In the dew drops of mornings, In bosom of your warm thoughts Life moves on, ever beautiful…
Read more

My First Krackjack Smile

-
It was when I was in class four that the year was 1992, and krackjack biscuits were all the rage that I fell in love with a girl. At the age of 12, one’s heart is still tender with your brain still knitting its lobes that you discover an extraordinary taste for biscuits. In 1992, krackjack biscuits went very well with our class four taste buds. Students with rich parents would buy krackjack biscuits and send them over to their best girls. And the best girls, in turn, would give them their best smiles that made the boys think they owned a fraction of the world, which was hardly true. Boy, that was some age! For the rich little guys, though… On a Tuesday afternoon with the sun high up in the sky, class four students were out in the open with the Dzongkha teacher telling tales of pancakes and old folks. I, for one, didn’t agree so well with the sun and the heat. I would go all red in the face and sweat to some acceptable degrees that I almost hated my Dzongkha teacher. A girl ...
Read more

Down the wayside puddle

-
In   monsoon, the raindrops In rhythm And your feelings Flow Down the wayside puddle Straight into my thoughts At once wet And then, warm Feelings rhyme In raindrops You, me and This poetry in music Dissolve Down the wayside puddle…
Read more