Zeena Singh For Eastern Mirror Sunday
Hello folks,
I believe that life has so much to give if only we cared to give a little thought to the most minuscule of joys (which we’d find so much of) only if we’d stop looking at the looming discomforts and discontents.
So here I am, to share with you the simplest joys in my life as I have experienced some time in my life and those that I take as I face each day, at a time.
Of the Wind beneath my Wings
“In Mighty gusts the wind today swirled around the beach, blew the sand..... The powerful things which would not bend, resisted... snapped and broke away....... ....And yet I saw a seagull rest upon the strength of the same wind. She spread her wings and gently leaned as if against her lover’s breast....”
Engulfed in gratitude once again, my heart I bare, hopeful that even as your eyes skim over, every encumbrance that you bear would be lightened, even if for just a while.No Shackles, no Bondages. Free, Buoyant and Happy. Air borne and Soaring. On the wing. Closely, this is how it has been, as I traversed through life from as long as I can remember. Scarcely ever do I recall putting on the ‘worry hat’. Never did I permit it to drown me. An urge of eagerness and readiness, motivation and keenness is what usually drove me, a force that hardly ever consented to weigh me down.
I’d face the bridge when I had to cross it. A little voice somewhere always helped me place a trust.... I just knew deep inside, that things would fall into place. I didn’t have answers as to how or when...and almost always it certainly did, someway, somehow. A Que Sera! attitude you could call the discipline I followed. A Juvenile philosophy? Perhaps so!
The lines of poetry above were recently written to me by my sister. Could I connect? Relate to it? A pondered ‘flashback’ says ‘Yes’, but how or why did I take this on? I have no rational reasoning. All I could understand was the pleasurable exuberance of carefree gliding, swooping, flying and soaring. So often, as I reflect, have I also let myself fall, swooping down, almost hitting ground, and then I’d take wing and be lifted. Yes, ‘be lifted’ I say as I couldn’t ever have picked myself up with such adroit deftness or at so precise an appointed time.
A realisation too invaluable, too enormously immense to miss or snub, today in exaltation, honour and adoration I spread my wings identifying with the Seagull and continuing to fly, soar, swoop and glide, resting upon the strength of the same wind, the strength beneath my wings. That strength, that has been carrying me through both the calm and storms of strong gusts of breeze the course of which was almost smooth-sailing forever lifted beyond the reach of the tempest.
Along with the lyricist I voice the lines:
“You raise me up, so I can stand on mountains; You raise me up, to walk on stormy seas; I am strong, when I am on your shoulders; You raise me up .....To more than I can be.”
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