Riveted

Riveted. Sometimes, we hear a piano played beautifully in a music store or catch a glimpse of the morning sun or  see a stranger with a lovely smile and for a while, we are riveted. 

The breath naturally slows down for a while. We are finally present - our mind's eye refocusing away from the constant blur. When I think about all the talks on the beauty and importance of the Now and how our mind has created ways to veil it, I pay attention to the moment's taste,  vision, touch...and I see clearly for a while.

May we be constantly riveted.

Passage on the passage...

This blog has been quiet and the daily entries of the trip to Mysore left unfinished, at least here. For my love of words, sometimes, the story spills like paint on canvass and whatever was meant to be painted is now covered in splashes of color. What was meant to be an impressionist painting has rightly morphed into abstract. Something like that.

Despite the incomplete journal entries, I was blessed with the opportunity to write an article about (one facet of) the experience.  It was a challenge even then, and although abridged, I am happy to share a small part of the journey out there.

The vastness remains in here. For both, I am grateful.

Here's the (shorter) online version: http://lifestyle.inquirer.net/49015/my-passage-to-india