Trees

Fresh Air for All?

Mixed Fiction

Mister, why would you cut down trees?

The sound of an axe against the giant tree’s trunk breaks the quiet air, chopping it off into pieces, bit-by-bit, the air is stunned.

Mister, why would you cut down trees?

The fragrance of the giant tree’s old life, full of a mixture of rich air, earth, water, light and love, now bleeding, sharpening the axe with every hit, giving-giving-giving with every touch, revives the stunned air then.

Mister, why would you cut down trees?

Them sparrows, squirrels and owls, eagles look at from a distance, them lizards, beetles, butterflies, bees, run towards a new shelter, them ants keep crawling for they know they must find a new path for the giant tree is being hit by a sharp message.

Mister, why would you cut down trees?

The creepers and crawlers were cut down first, they are lying in a bundle chopped off there and there, life in their slippery veins still taking in the thick grim air moving around the tree. The air hugs the tree tightly, now and then, and every time it does, the axe gets stuck in the trunk, stunned by love.

Mister, why would you cut down trees?

The fungi and lichen that sat on the giant tree’s trunk and branches, meditating for ages, open their eyes to observe carefully everything, every hit, every drop, every turn of the air around the giant tree. It observes and becomes one with the slow killing, seeing, dying along, yet living to pass it on.

Mister, why would you cut down trees?

The giant tree is about to fall down, the birds know it, and so does everyone that is alive there, but the man doubts and waits. The man pushes and picks the axe again, in a hurry for a solo reason. The giant tree sways a little, it is ready, look, hear, it comes down kissing gravity.

The man shudders, for the giant tree is down and it says nothing, it cries not. The air feels heavy, almost dead and the man senses it not.

Mister, why did you cut done the tree?

“For fire and to build a house, a garden, a giant building, a bridge, a highway, a dam, a runway, a platform on which one can stand and address thousands and thousands, explaining them the many ways to live a better life, a peaceful life, a cleaner life with fresh air for all.”

Fresh air for all?

**Love is in the air.**
[Source – Pixabay]

Somewhere, a seed comes alive and is gently caressed by the sun-soaked bright air and the rich wet earth; and so, like it happens every time, with the very first step that the seed takes, it knows of love.

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Beauty in Perfection and Vice-Versa: The Japanese Take

Posted on August 14, 2021 by Jagriti Rumi Art Beauty Cherry Blossom Fairy-lore Garden Japan Life Perfection Spiritual The Mother Transient Trees

Book Review

Seeing through a lens that sees things as it is, in its truest form, looking at a broken feather as a feather, not denying its reality, not giving it a quality, experiencing the moment quietly the Mother wrote about Japan. She wrote about its perfection/ beauty-loving people, the value given to nurturing kids, the dedicated women, the Japanese restrained-balanced-subtle art and the transient life.

Roof of the Daiunji Temple in Kyoto, painting by the Mother. (Book cover) [Photo by Jagriti Rumi]
The Mother on Japan [Photo by Jagriti Rumi]
The Mother on Japan [Photo by Jagriti Rumi]
The Mother on Japan [Photo by Jagriti Rumi]
The Mother on Japan [Photo by Jagriti Rumi]

The people, she observed, not via reactions, but by silent selfless actions showed how much they cared for someone; happy to persevere they worked to fulfil the task at hand, devoted harmoniously and absolutely in the present moment, aware about nothing else.

Taking long walks to a garden in spring or autumns and spending time there or climbing the steep stairs to reach the monastery at the top of the hilltop, the people (of every and any class), she noticed, believed in beauty and peace.

“…very simple people, men of working class or even peasants go for rest or enjoyment to a place where they can see a beautiful landscape. This gives them a much greater joy than going to play cards or indulging in all sorts of distractions as they do in the countries of Europe. They are seen in groups at times, going on the roads or sometimes taking a train or a tram up to a certain point, then walking to a place from where one gets a beautiful view.”

“For instance, in autumn leaves become red; they have large numbers of maple-trees (the leaves of the maple turn into all the shades of the most vivid red in autumn, it is absolutely marvellous), so they arrange a place near temple, for instance, on the top of a hill, and the entire hill is covered with maples.”

“Well, an artist who goes there will experience an emotion of absolutely exceptional, marvellous beauty. But one sees very small children, families even, with a baby on the shoulder, going there in groups. In autumn they will go there. In springtime they will go elsewhere.”
The Mother (Questions and Answers, The Mother on Japan 12 April 1951)

**Image of the Buddha, painting by the Mother.**
(*The Mother, Paintings and Drawings*, Sri Aurobindo Ashram Trust, 1992) [Photo by – Jagriti Rumi]

While reading about the 1919 flu and how the Mother fought back the negative, dark energy, one thinks about the present pandemic and hopes to win like the Mother in the end.

The glorious cherry-blossom trees in bloom – pink, white, vivid joyous pink – and the narrow paths that take one to wonderful places, with old Japanese houses on both sides, presented the Mother with a paradise puzzle…

“Then you go wandering around – always one wanders at random in that country – you go wandering and all of a sudden you turn the corner of a street and come to a kind of paradise: there are magnificent trees, a temple as beautiful as everything else, you see nothing of the city (Tokyo) any longer, no more traffic, no tramways; a corner, a corner of trees with magnificent colours, and it is beautiful, beautiful like everything else. You do not know how you have reached there, you seem to have come by luck. And then you turn, you seek your way, you wander off again and go elsewhere. And some days later you want to come back to this very place, but it is impossible, it is as though it had disappeared. And this is so frequent, this is so true that such stories are often told in Japan. Their literature is full of fairy-lore. They tell you a story in which the hero comes suddenly to an enchanted place: he sees fairies, he sees marvellous beings, he spends exquisite hours among flowers, music; all is splendid. The next day he is obliged to leave; it is the law of the place, he goes away. He tries to come back, but never does. He can no longer find the place: it was there, it has disappeared!… And everything in this city, in this country, from beginning to end, gives you the impression of impermanence, of the unexpected, the exceptional. You always come to things you did not expect; you want to find them again and they are lost – they have made something else which is equally charming. From the artistic point of view, the point of view of beauty, I don’t think there is a country as beautiful as that.”

The Mother (Questions and Answers, The Mother on Japan 12 April 1951)

Complement this short spiritual post with similar posts – The Journey and Sri Aurobindo.

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Walking A Gatha

Posted on May 26, 2017 by Jagriti Rumi Changing Free Light Mind Mountain Music Ocean River Rocks Search Shadows Times Trees Walking A Gatha

Flash Fiction

**Dancing shadows and light…**
[Image by Kanenori from Pixabay]

Walking straight, walking on the mountain listening to ‘The Times They Are A Changin‘ I saw nothing, neither the trees nor the rocks, neither the shadow nor the light, and just kept walking ahead. Mountain spoke, I didn’t hear, until I bent a little.

It said, ‘You will reach your destination, you will, for sure’, and happily I smiled, crossed my hands behind my back and continued walking.

Swiftly I moved forward, there was no stopping me. Dashing ahead I crossed jungles after jungles, I played with the shadows and the light, I didn’t even wait for the wind.

Like a curse, definitely a curse, a disaster hit me – I started panting. It had never happened all this while, why now?

Then I remembered faintly of what the mountain told me… I pleaded it to guide me again, the mountain listened. It said, ‘Know patience and its power’, I bowed down and stopped walking. I stopped for the first time in my journey; I learned the art of deep breathing. Ages passed there; then I left in search.

In search of what I was looking for. I was looking for what I was in search of.

**Sing and walk along the river.**
[Image by Sergio Cerrato – Italia from Pixabay]

Familiar with the pace of the trees canopying me, stopping and listening to the rocks and their untold gathas, attuned with the shadow and the light, I kept walking when I reached near a ferociously musical river. It carried along the ocean’s depth and waves’ nimble notes… ‘Will merge with the ocean, I do not wait for anyone’, replied the river to my question – ‘can you please let me pass?’

So I changed my path and followed the river. Who said you can’t? Change… change and move ahead.

Right where the river met the ocean, where it all seemed to end, where the trees, rocks, shadow and light all disappeared, music stayed by my side and showed me a narrow, slippery way to cross the river. I stepped in, the water was cold, but shallow and so I could cross easily.

With joy and cheer I continued along, I danced on the way, I slept peacefully and then walked leisurely. I sang, the tune echoed. My mind envisioned a valley of flowers and pink clouds when suddenly I tumbled down.

I was hurt. My dream shattered and cold winds bruised me badly. It started hailing. Troubled, I shouted angrily… who knows at whom?

The weather opposed me and pinned me down, I accepted defeat.

Lying half dead, I waited for the weather to change…

When it did, I woke up and saw as the fog disappeared that there was a huge mountain standing in front of me. I couldn’t stop smiling, a new journey was going to begin.

**Majestic, towering and free!**
[Image by Joe from Pixabay]

Climbing the mountain I listened again to Dylan’s ‘The Times They Are A Changin‘. I didn’t know it, but I was free.

I have always been free.

Listen to ‘The Times They Are A Changin’ by Bob Dylan now –

And read the lyrics here.

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Creepers Meet the Trees

Posted on January 1, 2014 by Jagriti Rumi Believe Clouds Colours Creepers Forest Life Meet Reverberation Spiritual Stories Sun Rays Trees Velvety Green Waves

I believe in the waves. Everything in the universe is in the form of waves. The connection never breaks. Reverberation happens. Do you also feel it? It is amazing, but most of the times beyond our understanding, often leaving us frustrated.

Like when something is in front of us, we know that it is but we can’t find it.

I saw something that caught my attention, I saw some creepers climbing high and meeting the trees’ branches. The light green coloured creepers united with the brown coloured branches and the contrast between these colours and the dark green coloured tree-leaves looked so perfect, as if the scene was painted.

I don’t know if the union was meant to be or not. It was just wonderful, the creepers slowly crept on to the big trees; first the trunk and then the branches and then making a green velvety blanket with the leaves, like a slow wave.

**Capturing sunshine.**
**[Source – Pixabay]**

The clouds move beautifully you know. They dance. They don’t stay at one place. We should also learn it. I mean we should keep in mind the fact that nothing is permanent, everything shifts from being to non-being. The clouds allow the sun rays to pass through it, only sometimes the sun rays decide to stay back and be with the clouds. The clouds change in colour when they are about to rain.

What a grand way to leave, to change into droplets and become a seed and come alive and then to meet the sun rays once again.

When a dancer performs and a singer sings and a musician plays and a painter paints and an architect builds, and a scientist thinks and a mother smiles – it is in a wave form. Like the velvety green wave we see in the forest, when the creepers meet the trees.

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