life: poem 2

evaluate not your life evaluate not your life, per perceived norms. there are many stories you know not. no scale is there to measure your life against. a wild flower as many in the unseen woods, or unique - what you are, you know not. it matters not. evaluate not, your life. embrace it. it is yours. yours truly. ~ vani murarka

life: poem 1

You and my life all that You have orchestrated in my life i find it all bewildering this, my life yet i feel that You love me and my life and i feel You have a vision of my life that is beautiful exquisite this, my life that You weave unfailingly this, my life despite me and my perplexity You love my life this life that You have created that You still mould this life that unshakingly with love You do hold ~ vani murarka

to my family ...

The bond that links your true family is not one of blood, but of respect and joy in each other's life. ~ Richard Bach

gratitude overflows from my eyes unspoken take me to your feet that i may speak to you, unspoken far from you my heart lies, sorrowful and broken yet with me, you are you say every moment, unbroken in the sorrow in the joy my friend you are my family and the truth in my heart remains unspoken untaken yet you know, and i know and we reach across to us and the bond that seemed unknown, sown again, unbroken ~ vani murarka

florence nightingale: an inspiration for art

In my last post, I shared with you this painting of mine and said that it took shape by itself as I let my hand move any which ways it felt like.

Its a rather unusual shape for a tree, isn't it? As it took shape, I realized it was a sub-conscious inspiration from Florence Nightingale.

How so?

Florence Nightingale was one of the pioneers of Data Visualization - of presenting statistics as images to make a point emphatically. She collected meticulous data on the cause of soldiers' death during the Crimean War and created this visualization below. This was way back in 1854! Blue indicates death due to preventable causes, mainly lack of hygiene. Red indicates death due to wounds in war. Black indicates other causes such as accidents.

---

---

This image taken from GuideStar International's Blog.

Thus via this data visualization she clearly showed that the majority of the deaths that were occurring seemingly due to war were actually totally preventable by practice of better hygiene. This made a persuasive impact on the British government of that time. It laid the foundation of incorporating hygiene as an intrinsic policy in hospitals. Here is a lovely short video on this topic, which tells us more about this somewhat less known aspect of Florence Nightingale. http://www.open.edu/openlearn/body-mind/health/health-sciences/the-joy-stats-the-lady-data-visualisation

The painting above was made during the days when I was a student of Data Visualization at the university. Regarded as a classic and pioneering example of the efficacy of data visualization, this image of Florence Nightingale's work came up often in stuff that I read and talks that I attended. Not surprising that it meandered into a painting one day.

So what is the point of this post? It is this.

The way art takes shape when I just let it flow - at times it feels divine. The myriad ways in which what I see and encounter in life has an impact on me is fascinating. The impact is many a times not in a manner and direction that one would conventionally expect. That itself makes life so much more richer.

~ vani murarka

---

The Vocal Tribe of Trees

When I paint or draw I mostly just let my hand move any which way it wishes to go. It is a discovery for me to see what is emerging. That is what happened with this painting too.

Once this painting was done, it seemed to me as if the tree, as a representative of the World-Wide Tribe of Trees is calling out and saying, "Hear me too! Hear me too!"

Trees are very very vocal. Only, their language is the language of silence.

Sitting quietly beside trees, one can't miss their banter. Listening to them intently and softly with your eyes, is so so ... There. There is no word for it. :-)

I love listening to trees. It nourishes my soul.

Listening to the language of trees takes me to a different world. A world that is also very real and exists everywhere; outside me and inside me. A world which in its silence, holds profound comfort and wisdom.

Listen, listen, O World. Listen to The Trees!

~ vani murarka

---

a gift to myself

There is a beautiful green meadow. Lush green rolling hills.

A mountain stream is gurgling by. Crystal clear water. Interspersed here and there are stones on which the water rises and falls and makes beautiful music. The water is so lovingly sharp to touch and elixir to the throat.

I am dancing, roaming on those hills, wearing a beautiful, very generously frilly white dress with large purple flowers.

My arms are spread out, head raised. I fill my lungs and my being with the air that is alive. The breeze caresses my cheek, then runs away, like a rabbit. Then it gets naughty. Entering my dress from underneath, it fluffs up my dress and tickles my legs. I laugh out loud and push my dress down and then dance around.

There, near the stream are soft yellow flowers. I sit beside them and gaze for long at the texture of their petals, caressing them with my eyes. The wind is playing music too. The clouds embrace the top of the hills.

I lie on my back and look at the blue ceiling above. Infinite in expanse. Infinite in depth. Two small bird friends fly by chattering, high up above.

My body is on the grass, my heart is in the sky and I am in every fiber of the hills, every blade of grass, the earth, the water, the stones, the flowers, the clouds, the birds, the air, the infinite expanse - dancing and invisible.

~ vani murarka

---

what is poetry?

words they are both poetry prose
how come in rhyme comfort arose?

broken glass pierces sole
but broken lines -
they soothe the soul

broken sentences
make poetry
tremors, cracks
of soul to see

there is comfort in being seen
greater comfort when i see me
gently move tip of my finger
caress cracks and let them linger

feel the faint hint of the chasm
outlet for lava from the bosom
put my lips gently on chasm
accept the storm that i can't fathom

break the lines
and put in rhymes
draw curves and spirals
song divine
a shawl of soul
to wrap round me
an open ground
to dance in glee

broken thoughts and broken feelings
shed by the soul at time of healing
fallen from one broken soul
herbs to heal another soul

words in poetry, don't feel like words
they are texture, color, swirls

words are simply just a channel
so waves from far to us may travel
that far beyond that is our center
poetry enables us to enter

divine magic, poetry
a gift for frazzled humanity
it is silence
it is song
it seems weak
but it is strong.

all creation, all there be
it all dances in poetry.

~ vani murarka

---