stolen horizons

One of my close friends says that I have ADD. Short for attention deficit disorder. My mother tells me that I never liked it when someone talked to me for too long a time. That is quite true. Sometimes I wake up bored and agitated because the dream has lasted too long. Half my tea-time is spent trying to go back and remember the stupid story backwards.

Yes, there is an alarm inside me which goes 'lets get out of here', whenever the other is going on and on and not on and off. Silences are like oxygen for me. Music also gives me space to feel my breath.

When I first went to attend the ten day pranayam shibir of Ramdeo Baba, I was dismayed to hear him talk non-stop. 'Just learn to tune him out,' advised my sister. Since his frequency didn't change much, it worked.

And how do we learn to tune out visual noise, living in a city? One has to look ninety degrees UP to look at the moon. Some of us forget to do even that, our necks rebel.


Which is why I love this picture of the mountain. The silence begins with your feet, on the bare earth. And Arunachala is so full of promise, the way he sits, with a straight neck of a royal, touching the kingdom of white clouds. A silent, blissed out Guru, my mountain.