Call it privilege
Bias, Prejudice, Politics,
Call it what you like.
But whether it’s a little voice,
Or a big one.
Suffering is suffering.
So much is drowned,
So much, we simply tune out
to hear the familiar drummer
But to place our ears to the ground
For the voices that have yet to be heard
For the soft drops of tears shed in hidden spaces.
Amidst the cacophony of the voices we know,
The voices we’ve been told are more important,
than the ones who are missing.
Could we not listen, just a little further?
A little deeper?
Could we not seek out the words held thick
in the still air of silent neglect?
Could we not seek to hear the voice
we were told never to value
never to love
never to respect?
For some voices,
we are told,
matter more than others…
Bairavee Balasubramaniam, 2015
Image: Autumn edition 1925 - our new guide to rose culture (1925) (20163159620).jpg By Dingee & Conard Co; Henry G. Gilbert Nursery and Seed Trade Catalog Collection [No restrictions], via Wikimedia Commons
Image: Mt Charleston Blue Butterfly.jpg – By Corey Kallstrom/USFWS (Flickr: Mt Charleston Blue Butterfly) [CC BY 2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons [Digitally Enhanced by the author under license terms]
It’s a tender process, one that requires you to dredge up your deeply rooted fears, vulnerabilities, anxieties and sources of Shame. It asks you to face up to your fears and to speak them out loud. It asks you to recognize your fear of consequences and act anyway.
It asks you to take a leap of faith in the pitch black of night
Not knowing if you’ll fly, fall, break, burn, be reborn ..
All of the above, more, or nothing at all.
~ bairavee balasubramaniam ~
Image: Belly dancer playing with a veil at the 2012 Las Vegas Age of Chivalry (8104140497).jpg By Frank Kovalchek from Anchorage, Alaska, USA [CC BY 2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons — digitally altered for this post
many paths, many truths
each claiming to be the most ideal,
the ultimate path to the divine..
the ultimate path to humanity..
the most representative ….
of our time. Now.
And yet there is a need to step aside …
For the wheels of time teach a powerful lesson:
A different name, a different game,
time and time again
the same kind of claim
passionately, provocatively, profoundly,
the One that will save …
time and time again ….
a cycle is born, peaks, then ends …
a Zeitgeist emerges as part of each new age
one we collectively seek to emulate
if it hurts, one we hate
in support, in resistance,
here and there a different kind of truth,
paled in the shadow of the one hymn all are called to sing
of the greatest path Now.
that we all need to follow lest we miss the Mothership
the magic Ascension trip
there is a part of me that wonders
if our love for the collective
waking up together,
the desire to be One…
i wonder if it forgets time.
for in the next age, another Song,
then another …
we tell ourselves they build on each other.
as we dance in the trance of the music of utopia.
the cycle repeats with a different song each time
but the dancers keep dancing
but what happens if we cease to follow?
if we refuse to dance
and step away
like the eagle rising over the rain clouds
what we if simply say
we’re at it again.
there’s no magic ideal,
no special time,
that hasn’t meant more than every other second in the Universe?
what if we stopped trying to push,
into being an utopia of a faraway dream,
the New Age equivalent of a
spiritual rat race?
what we if simply say
Sometimes less is more,
More or less,
Sometimes to get real fast,
You’ve gotta go real slow..
Sometimes to get somewhere,
Stand real still…
and – 3, 2, 1, ..
Nope, still no go.
Funny old world,
Topsy-turvy doesn’t quite cut it,
That’s logic we get – we can predict,
Where truth is stranger than fiction,
Where stillness is the prerequisite to right action,
The old world won’t make sense in the new
Once you shake hands with the stranger,
in the Mirror – hm, seems rather familiar?
Normalcy bid Adieu.
It’ll never be the same…
Not now? not ever?
There’s just no going back…
The old ways just don’t make sense …
Dissolve, Dis-illusion, Dis-assemble,
The words of fear and decay,
Yet without death never shall we see,
The Soul that Body Sheaths.
The Secrets that Matter Keeps
The Truth that is Concealed,
In Form, In Structure,
Waiting for The Big Reveal.
The Moon, the Sun, the Stars align so
My Goddesses of the Sky, of Serpent and The Old,
Ajima-Harati-Dhumavati-Kali they stand with Strength Untold,
Watching over me as I crumble,
My ego tumbles,
My desires shatter into dust,
As the Pisces Moon’s Secrets Unfold.
Karma Ceases, Ties Dissolve,
Ownership is Renounced,
Through Pain a new Freedom,
A New Vision, A New Birth,
Through Death, Decay, Formlessness,
In the Watery Womb of Chaos and Surrender,
A Pathway is Born.
And The Dark Goddess Smiles.
She Says: Now, My Child.
Stripped of your Certainty
You Stand Before me … Naked