Jobs-To-Be-Done

I hired my sadness today, a poem I wanted to write,

In which I could once more showcase, the abyss I daily fight.  

The poem needed a subject, darkness came to my rescue,

Pathos stabbed me in the belly, as if waiting on a cue.

 

I hired my sadness today, to process and feel good,

If I can make sense of my suffering, don't you think I should?

When my words disfigure the page, the ink becomes less black,

So I promptly pour it in poems, though I know the feeling will be back.

 

I hired my sadness today, to dazzle you with my art and skill,

Unmindful that the wound scraped, could shatter me, or even kill.

The poem needs an audience, you love poems of agony and pain,

To catch your eyes I'll happily scratch, and fester the wound again.

 

I go through my days hunting, for moments of sadness and shame,

I perhaps need to sit with them more often, not get lost in the healing game.

On Coming 2nd

John Doe felt lonely, I figured he lived alone,

For the cracks in his society, he has to but atone.   

But when I looked at Ram Kumar, living in a family of four,

He too felt torn apart, with relationships gone sour. 

 

Almost all live together here, with families or friends,

Yet no one notices the foul smell, till the year ends,

The woman living by herself, post death of spouse and child,

Is literally unseen by the people around, is this a matter mild?

 

Each tie rendered asunder, is a soul that's lonely and sad,

It's a skeleton waiting to be discovered, while being inwardly dead.

Feeling alone brings sadness, that may morph to a depressed state,  

If we want to break this vicious loop, keep checking with your mate.  

 

Be the friend they can promptly call, when feeling blue at night,

That loneliness defines our collective identity, somehow doesn't feel right. 

The Friendship Files

Survive school or college together, chances become great,

That you'll become BFFs, proximity seals your fate.   

Even when older you can still attend, to opportunities to socialize,  

That you can't make friends at work or in neighborhood, is a pack of lies.  

 

When you notice someone of your vibe, be vulnerable and intend,  

Take actions to bring them into your fold, be caring and to them tend. 

Make them a part of your daily life, a regular book club or kitty,

And schedule a monthly zoom call, for those not in the same city.

 

Friendships can take many forms, why over family they must take a back seat,

You can switch jobs together or live nearby, it can get messy, it's not neat.

You may not be able to keep in touch, life often throws curveballs,

There's grace in making the first move, and breaking the imaginary walls.

 

I know how to revive and make new friends, I've learnt from the friendship files.

But of the one friend that I've lost for good, the distance stretches miles.

Black or White?

Bright light falls on me, I'm at my very best,

Showcased for others, I laugh and have to jest.

My light gets reflected, it can travel a hundred mile,

The mirror blinds vision, so I haven't looked in a while.

 

Darkness engulfs me, I with my shadow merge,

Hidden from others, baser instincts emerge.

Confronted with the abyss, no one dares to light a match,

The stakes are so high, that none can the black hole catch.

 

Dusk and dawn are liberating, I can finally myself be,

When others are equally hazy, there's no pressure to clearly see.

In the orange and red light, I am but a bundle of shades of gray,

The dewdrops capture delicately, the rainbow that's there to stay. 

 

Paint me in monochrome all you want, I'm neither black nor white,

The more I observe the grays in me, the more colors appear in sight.

Should I, Or Should I Not?

Poems of love, or poems of pain,

She lurks in the shadows, I'm the hero main.

Alexa kindled memories, I quickly changed the song,

Today I've been poked, excuse me if I paint her wrong.   

 

She keeps tugging at my heart, that's her cardinal sin,

She receded from my life, still this battle I couldn't win.

Perhaps she is suffering too, maybe there's grief in her art,

For she has cut me off totally, though we never did part.  

This has made me stronger, is a tale I've spun,

That reckless e-mail, destroyed my friendship for one.

Couldn't settle for less than love, aut Caeser aut nihil,

How to catch your eyes again, is now a battle uphill. 

 

I'm so sorry because of my love letter, you lost a dear friend,

To mend I write sonnets daily, without this time hitting send. 

Creating Luck

The door is not opening, have I knocked enough times? 

Do I need to master the art, of making lemonade from limes?

Let the door remain shut, can't I move to another door?

Unless I keep knocking, how will I know what's in store?

 

Knocking again and again is rude, disturbing many surely a sin,

If the road to riches is by trampling others, would it still count as a win?

Not being acknowledged comes later, I have to make the first move, reach out,  

Catch their ears amidst all the din, even if I have to my lungs shout. 

 

They say if one door closes, another will open soon,

What if the door I'm banging against, takes me to the moon?

Will I be happy with the other door, which lands me instead in a star,

Or should I barge through the door to sun, though my wax wings flying bar?

 

 Knocking many doors may lead to luck, not when you're aiming as high as me,

 Enough of waiting for doors to open, it's time to break, and fly free.

Sentience

The worm is hungry, at the other end an inviting odor,

The terrain in-between noxious, a single neuron inhibits crossing order.

That I can explain on the basis of a neuron, the behavioral response,

Makes me treat it as non-sentient, to be crushed as a sponge.  

 

The fly is courting and mating, there's a dopamine rush,

The dopamine inhibits the circuit, that makes it fly when I crush.

That levels of a neurotransmitter, can explain its readiness to act,

Makes me treat the fly as expendable, put them in the non-conscious set. 

 

The worm and the fly, are pulled between pleasure and pain,

Between a catastrophic loss, and possibilities of gain.

If chemicals and cells, can explain all their feat,

Are they conscious, have agency, can they choose or feel?

 

I think they are sentient, we can give them the benefit of doubt,

They suffer and pine like we do, though they may not cry out loud.

 

PS: This poem was inspired by reading this article today by long-time blogger-days friend Bjorn Brembs.

How Many Tabs Are Optimal?

100 tabs in my browser, I keep flitting from one to the next,

With each notification, I switch context, I'm monkey mind at best.

The Dionysian within me wants to jump, play all day around,

Can't stay in the same place for entire day, routines do not me bound.

 

I work with a single tab open, which leaves me deeply engrossed,

The topic is arcane and specialized, interaction leaves me grossed.

The Apollonian within me needs to hide, behind structure and routine,  

Only the home is a safe and familiar place, to venture out I'm not keen.

 

I can have 50 tabs open, organized in groups of 10,

Enable important notifications, take control of attention again.

I can balance my boundless energy, with calm and thought-through restraint,

Can schedule novelty on my calendar, daily make room to write and paint.

 

Between the monkey and the robot, lies a space for me to act,

I can be intentional about when to focus, and when to let dreams distract.

Eat, Move, Sleep- part 2

Eat the super foods, and you will live to see a hundred years,

But what if I don't recognize you, my brain constantly fears.

I read, do Sudoku frenetically, all to keep dementia at bay,

If only I had danced instead, that would have saved the day.

 

Move and hit the gym daily, to lower Cortisol,

Track like a maniac your steps, always be on a roll.

If you want the blood to flow, and vessels to dilate,

Laugh multiple times a day, with silliness mandate.

 

Sleep like a log for 8 hrs, it buffers against stress,

By conserving your energy, you can fight any duress.

If you are exposed to cold, and want to boost immunity,

Just hug a loved one regularly, let touch be in your kitty.

 

When you sing in a choir, or hear a poem, your hearts come into a sync,

Eat, move, sleep is fine, but live, love, laugh is the real deal- let that sink. 

Tackling Dissonance

I can win at this game of life, code my way to the very top,

Can go back to college, accumulate degrees, and never really stop.

I can publish my book of sonnets, put my money where my heart is,

I can abdicate all worldly aspirations, and just follow my bliss.

 

I must however raise a unicorn, make my Alma Mater proud,

Must become a world authority, not just one in the crowd.

I must write a sonnet daily, take time to hone my craft,

I must self-improve, not be satisfied with the unpolished draft.  

 

I am but a fighter, have picked up AI and stuff,

Am a self-taught psych expert, have read more than enough.

I am a poet par-excellence, who can invoke the muse at will,

I have made peace with the human condition, by heart know the drill.

 

My experience of life, at times doesn't fit, with my beliefs of who I am, must or can be,

At that moment I bridge the gap, by being flexible, and changing my definition of 'me'.

Here and Now

I have been swept awash in the past, with fear, hurt, rage and grief,

Many were never reconciled with, I dwelt on them but brief.

I pushed them deep in the recesses, of my unconscious mind,

They surface now and then in new contexts, how to suppress I'm in a bind.

 

 Healing feels like a loss of self. what I'm sans my patterns and quirks,

 When I start doubting who I really am, re-opening the wound works.

This accumulated energy is painful though, it holds a sway on me,

Will continue to dictate my reactions, till what it is I learn to see.

 

When I'm once more sad and angry, it's rarely about the issue or you,

It's old pain asserting its right to exist, not bound by what's in the moment true.

If I were to lessen its hold on me, I've to deal with the long-lost stuff,

Be aware of and accept what I'm feeling now, the pain of memories old and rough. 

 

The trauma that once kept me captive, if I process can set me free,

Each trigger is an opportunity to be in the now, and change what I'm unfolding to be.

The Clash of Mythologies - Part 2

Gods are on their Mt. Olympus, all is right with the earth,

At times they mingle with the mortals, and to heroes give birth.

A gulf divided Gods and men, that Prometheus tried to surmount,

Driven by passion, he tried defying fate, was on a torment at last count.

 

When Gods don't have all the answers, and Oracle of limited use,

You start asking your own self, what's all this for, what's the ruse?

Miles away, seated near the master, Nachiketa asks similarly Yama,

What's the secret of immortality, we are born again, how come?  

 

God is but one immortal, there's Atman in each of us,

The microcosm mirrors the macrocosm, the Brahman we are thus.

The gods permeate our body, are our breath, our speech and sight,

You can keep saying no to questions, till you get the answer right.

 

Gods may be indifferent and external, or they merge with us as one,

As long as we keep asking questions, we'll arrive at conclusions some.

Chicken or Egg?

It's not who you are underneath, but what you do, that defines you,

A painful reminder intentions are sterile, until you act and make them true. 

You may wish 'Sarve Bhvanti Sukhinah', believe yourself to be noble and good, 

All that will not exonerate you, if your actions didn't the test of time stood.

 

Don't judge a person, but his actions, is a dictum I hold dear,

If he repents and mends his actions, he can become better is clear. 

So if I want a couch potato to be healthy, should I ask him to daily walk,

Or revel in his new identity of a walker, and on his earlier identity baulk.  

 

If I ask someone to vote, they may vote to a small degree,

But if I ask them to be a voter, they'll internalize that decree,

And vote in large numbers, cause actions follow the self-concept,

If I want to change my actions, working on my 'self' works the best.  

 

You may re-conceptualize yourself all you want, at the end it'll still be true,

It's not who you are underneath, but what you do, that defines you.

The Clash of Mythologies

Fall from grace, then return to paradise, 

On the day of Judgement, from the grave rise.

Enjoy eternal heaven, or be condemned to hell,

Depends whether you sinned, or acted pious and well.

 

Only a single God exists, one life to live and pray,

He created angels and devil, like night and day.

There is another possibility, that there are more than a few gods,

You fall in one life and atone in next, the goddess gently nods.  

 

Nothing by itself is right or wrong, dharma depends on context and role,

The law of Karma keeps you in check, with the threat you may be reborn a mole.

All around you are brimming with consciousness, each soul potentially divine,

Infinite lives to master the cosmic play, and become godly and sublime.

 

Time here is cyclic, this world but one of many,

God is all around you, not patented by any.

This or That?

Isolation is terrifying, no one gets you,

No bridge to the other, except in moments that are few.

Isolation is exhilarating, you can't the other control,

No matter how close you get, it doesn't take a toll.

 

Meaninglessness is disorienting, you have nothing to lean on,

When nothing's sacred upfront, grounding frameworks are all but gone.

Meaninglessness is empowering, on each act you can put your stamp,

You can find meaning in your suffering, as to why you are in a concentration camp.

 

Freedom is a lifelong sentence, you are condemned to choose,

No one to pass the blame on, when in life's game you lose.

Freedom is a privilege, you can be an author of your life,

Continue smiling, even when the joker wields a knife. 

 

Death is an abomination, makes you tremble and wither in pain,

Death is the ultimate liberator, makes you choose life over and over again.

What To Do (In The Therapy Room)?

Interpret dreams, let them free-associate, look for that occasional Freudian slip,

Like an Indiana Jones excavate buried tombs, and let their ghosts be exorcised in a blip.

They may latch onto you, like they did to their parents, arousing feelings and passions in you,

They may be heavily guarding, what even they don't know, your mission to resistance breakthrough.

 

Monitor each phrase, keep asking what does it mean, till you arrive at their core belief,   

Let them challenge their thoughts, and when it changes how they feel, heave a sigh of relief.

Like Socrates ask many questions, paraphrase, listen deeply but sans judgement,

In the beginning your task to make connection, towards end letting go without sentiment. 

 

Look for stunted growth, accepting them for who they are, a potential waiting to be realized,

As per original plan, they were meant to flourish, it's not their fault if God downsized.

Just walk in their shoes, for a mile or a while, ease their pain without hurting your sole,

Jump into the encounter, without ifs and buts, bringing your body, mind and soul.

 

You've lost your way in the labyrinth, enough of techniques and doing,

Your presence is more than enough, all your life haven't you worked on just being?

My Walden

Meditate in awe of the forest, build a cabin by the pond,

When you center yourself daily, you won't react, but respond.

The illusion of busyness stripped away, fill it with food that you can grow,

Read obscure tomes to your heart's content, and wonder how little you know.

 

Nature acts as the faithful clock, you are a master of your time,  

Your actions answer to your own needs, nine times out of nine.

Needs reduced to a bare minimum, a bed, a desk, three chairs,

Cut-off from the world you muse, if there's someone who cares?

 

You have pruned but all connections, are in touch with just a few ,

Now free and unencumbered, does that decision you secretly rue?

The point of the experiment was paring, to get rid of all the stuff, 

Couple of years of living alone, and you're ready to leave in a huff? 

 

 The thought experiment is quite revealing, as all the masks I peel,

 Of programming, psychology, philosophy, only poetry remains, I feel.

Ready to Pay?

Buying Whey is not enough, if good health is what you care,

Pay daily with your morning walks, and do push ups, to be fair.

Steal time from work and meetings, there's a tradeoff to be made,

Invest instead in leisure and love- that's a price worth to be paid.  

 

You may have all the time in the world, leisure won't come for free, 

First pay the price by plunging deep, discover who you're meant to be.

When you start attuning to yourself, hobbies will like music heal,

But before you can rest and rejuvenate, 'Who Am I?' you need to deal.

 

Love won't arrive on cupid's arrows, you have to become a soul mate,

Lay bare your soul and innards, can't leave tenderness to fate.

Let the price of vulnerability sting, there will be rejections galore,

You have to still be ready to undress, not afraid of the wound in store.

 

Writing daily is not enough, if a poet you want to be,

Be ready to pay the price, that not many your poems will see. 

Liberation, anyone?

I hunt in a pack, track my prey, wolf is my totem god,

In the name of the wolf, I kill the elk, and even gods applaud.

I kill them with their permission, it's all for the greater good,

Their sacrifice enables I survive, not perish in this wood.

 

I farm near rivers, pray for rain, earth is my mother goddess,

I kill the plants, plant the seeds, regeneration is earth's prowess.

From the seeds springs new life, even cut-n-dried trunks regenerate,

I let the husk turn to compost, don't leave the rebirth to fate.  

 

I herd and roam, search new lands, Krishna is my patron god,

My flock may graze, till it kills the land, but Gopala frets not. 

I move ahead, the land lies fallow, it sure as sun will flower again, 

That I invade and plunder is a minor trouble, for the mountains and the plain.

 

All life is but violence, you need to sacrifice an animal or a tree,

For tree, the trunk or seed begets new life, for the animal, he is set free.

The Call

The forest is clenching closer, night looms ahead,

If I venture forth in darkness, I'll most likely be dead.

I've waited forever at the entrance, of the dangerous den,

The chant is becoming louder, if not now, then when?

 

Woods mock the faint of heart, the payoff is not clear,

If I listen to my brain, in this adventure I won't veer.

Many get inspired, few take a stance, it's a jungle, not a zoo,

A silent voice keeps whispering, If not me, then who?

 

The game teases and tantalizes, you're hungry, need to be fed,

For you I'll slay dragons, and with witches readily bed.

Treasures or ballads don't move me, but for love there is always room,

Your eyes gently tug at my heartstrings; if not for you, then for whom?

 

I might not be a hero, the quest not mine, but you're worth fighting for,

Now that you need, and have given the call, I won't dither any more.