TRANSITIONS

Many phases of our lives are transitions, whether literal of psychic. Generally they are both. Waiting to fly off to the US for our annual migration to So Cal for the winter and to fly to India in the spring, are always major transitions. It is the nature of transitions – since you are neither here nor there – to be stressful. I have done this so many times and yet each time I find myself over packing, nervous, creating tasks to do so as not to give myself too much time and space to get anxious in. There are only one or two things to do during transitions other than expecting yourself to be anxious and coping with it the best you can – meditation and yoga.

BEING ACTIVELY PASSIVE AND ACTIVE IN PASSIVITY, OR ONE ADVANTAGE OF AGING

  

Sometimes the body and brain bring you to a place where there are no words, no ideas, nothing at all to write about. Some people call it a ‘block’ but I call it rest. I used to freak out at it. What, no production on demand? No control? The will is powerless? Now I know these phases are to be honored precisely because you have no control over them. You simply have to let yourself be in whatever biological/psychic state you find yourself. 

Age has many advantages and the one on top of my list is precisely this learning to allow oneself the choice of accepting whatever internal or external circumstances one encounters in one’s journey through the day; to learn to actively surrender.

This does not mean one allows oneself to become a slug and a sloth. The inner barometer always lets you know when you are being one. Keeping that inner barometer well tuned is another of our tasks. For example I started this post with ‘sometimes there are no words or ideas,’ but managed in a rambling sort of way to come up with three very relevant (to me, and maybe to you) paragraphs. All I did was open a blank file, like a door, and entered it. The rest just sort of happened.

THE NEIGHBORHOOD IS LIKE A WAR ZONE TONIGHT

Diwali -- what a horrible festival! Brings out the worst in people when the crackers start going off. My mother has let loose a string of horrible abuses for the people indulging in such a mindless and barbaric practice and I have to admit I have been echoing her. Even my high tech ear plugs are not helping. I can't understand the pleasure people take in it. It was never this noisy when I was growing up, just a few exciting fireworks, sparklers and such, without the noise. I have never enjoyed it but unfortunately I get stuck with it each year on my way to the US. This blog is a whine, and like Donald used to say, 'a whine is a terrible thing to waste.'

TOMORROW WE LEAVE OUR LOVELY HOME IN THE MOUNTAINS

And head down to the city to my middle life, the one I got to in between our two homes. To my mother. Will keep you posted.

HOW I MADE OH MY LOVELY HANDBAG!

I had a paisley that just wasn't working for me as a scarf because of its colors so one day the inspiration hit me -- cut it up! (My sister in law was horrified that I did that!) But I don't just want to own things but have fun with them and let me tell you, i sure had fun, fun, fun with this one! first, Dhani Ram cut it up according to my specifications, -- he does a great job matching up patterns in the paisley -- and then I embroidered it. I just happened to have the thick and fine silken thread, multicolored wool that became the basis for the embroidery. Meera helped me here, as she always does, with my knitting projects, too. I had fun picking out the semi-precious stones to embroider on to it -- amber, lapis, natural ruby, turquoise. the hanging tassels are sterling silver wire bending that I learned two years ago in a jewelry class. I don't have pictures of it yet but Dhani Ram sewed little bags of the remnants to go inside the big to organize my stuff. There is something very satisfying and vain to know that no other girl (yes, I think of myself as a girl, now that I have graduated after my illness in which I was an old lady to girlhood!) has a bag like this!  I went from being a bag, to making one.

O MY LOVELY HANDBAG!

PHOTO OF OUR BEHTA PANI STAFF

Dhani Ram, far left, standing, is my tailor who helps me make patchwork quilts, jackets, hand bags. Yes, I made a handbag this year -- two in fact. That will be my next photo; next to him, Himmat Ram, in blue, our chawkidar or grounds keeper, great guy, takes care of and manages everything, responsible, honest, loyal, a lover of dogs. Next to him, his younger son, Lucky, and behind him, head showing, is our new driver, Uttam Singh. Then me and Payson, with our dogs, Foxy, brown, and Bhalli, jet black and skinny as a bean pole, like a thin silhouette, both with eating disorders. Bhalli runs away from food and has to be hand fed, and Foxy likes only snacks and has to be hand fed, too. Behind Payson, the guy in red, is Tek Ram, Master gardener, stone mason and carpenter who makes our furniture and carves wood panels for the front door, etc. Next to him in pale yellow is Anku, Himmat's other son. Standing with the baby is Raju, our master chef and Rijul, his one year old son who was born after two tragic still births. Seated and smiling is Meera, Himmat's wife, lovely lady who does her work silently gives me nurturing massages, loves and feeds the dogs in our absence. Bhalli loves to sleep with her during the cold winters, something she cannot do with us since Payson won't let me. Seated, also, in spectacles, is Tara, Raju's wife, who is not our employee but who visits occasionally with her son.