I’ve done some shit in my life. Some good, some bad. Some people I may have helped, some people I’ve definitely hurt. Made some friends, some enemies. I’ve improved, deteriorated, loved, feared, laughed, danced, fought. Gave everything up for a while, took it all in later. Some people disappeared, others hung around. Some things I’m proud of, like that day when we all came together to rest under a blue canopy while rain fell all around us. I didn’t make it rain, but I did help put up the canopy, and we all came together as one.
Author / Sukh Chugh
Echos of us
You walked up with a friend
I was already there
leaning up against the bar
On impulse I bought your drinks
It didn’t matter
you would have stayed anyway
The conversation was great
We talked about things that didn’t matter
like bartenders, waitresses and cheesy guys at bars
and about things that did matter
like happiness and being right there in that very moment
I wanted to say something about your smile
how it could make someone very happy
We laughed, I remember
I touched your arm and at one point you put your hand on my shoulder to adjust your outfit
I pretended I didn’t notice
Eventually you walked away
fading into the crowd only leaving a trace of that smile
I smiled back
We both knew we would meet again
Strawberry Shortsticks
8 years later.
Somehow time had passed, the sun had come up, gone down, the trees, the birds, and even the wind had come alive, then slept. He would fold into it all himself, at times observing, feeling separate, at times unaware of its manifestation and a part of it completely. It wasn’t that it was a perfect life, it’s just that there had been so many perfect moments that it felt that way.
He watched her body expand and contract with each silent breath. With his hand placed on top of hers, he wished his wife congratulations on yet another anniversary. ‘We survived another year’ Joseph whispered to himself. In previous years he had always chuckled and Helen had always laughed heartily, even though they both expected the same line year-after-year. Today, inside a quiet hospital room, Joseph watched the last eight years float by in his memories.
The Silent Rose
At the airport, as my eyes took in the words of a melancholy novel, I sat next to a couple that didn’t speak to each other during an entire meal. It wasn’t a hostile quiet, like two people deepening a divide between them, this was a softer quiet, like two people relishing in the idea that they had another to be quiet with. I never glanced directly at them but they must have become aware of my attention as their noiselessness quickly became palpable like a thick air hovering around them. Each movement they made: a grasp at a cup or the bite of a sandwich, seemed to occur with the utmost concentration and precision, as if quieting their actions would somehow make them more invisible when it fact it only made them more apparent. Their silence standing up against the noise of the world.
Threads
”Just as the threads of the Universe, Love is neither created nor destroyed.”
Nowhere
I saw my own thoughts
suddenly men didn’t seem so evil
they just seemed stuck
everybody wants to do right
but how do you give up a dollar when the man next to you is grabbing two
i stood next to a man with nothing and gave it all up too
it felt good for a minute
but the scenery changed
and so did my truth
now i’m trying to make something
just so i can spit it back at the world
like that would mean something
still don’t know why we do it
filling empty holes with empty souls
i write like i got a choice in it
but i was brought here
moments, people, places all flowing like a plan
well, i’m here
what kind of place is this exactly?
i look around and see nowhere.
Travel South
I travel south. Clouds, continents and people pass.
A brighter future, a different past.
The path, the trajectory is already cast.
I meet the destiny
that awaits me
time and time again.
Broken peaces.
Many times before.
Many times on knees,
but still they condemn me.
Now I seek the passing of moments,
but now my memories they betray me.
They Keep me.
There is one, he keeps me.
Where I veer, he steers.
Still, I wait to clear
a brighter future, a different past.
Wasted Years
Wasted years.
Spent on being bitter, wondering how things could have been, worring about all the little things. So much time passed. I used to think that only if you fall can you get up, but the more I fell, the more I just kept falling.
It took a gust of grace to lift me up; to show me that what I was looking for was around all the time. The trees, the birds, the winds, they were always whispering.
Wasted years, searching for a path. Wondering when the inspiration would come. Wondering when I would be myself again.
I stumbled into a new home and realized that there was a hand at my back this whole time.
I had forgotten just how many people, how many moments and how much love had gone into making me into the person I am. I had forgotten, that each moment is a miracle. I know that all of us have the same story.
Wasted years, thinking about how I could get ahead. Comparing myself to others. Scheming, plotting, trying to make a name for myself.
It took the poetry of Kabir ringing in my ears during a full moon night to realize that all of us, at the center, we are all the same. We are all searching for the very same thing.
Wasted years, so many relationships I’ve squandered. So many people I’ve hurt along the way. Each person I’ve met came with a gift, holding a flower in their hand. The next time I hope I come with open hands, ready to receive all that you have to offer.
It took a leaf on a tree to show me just how many years we’ve wasted. Building bombs, weapons, scare tactics, making each other afraid of one another. Competing for just about everything. As I look at that leaf I realize that I just want to spend the rest of my life feeling grateful, does anything else really matter?
Wasted so many years, on myself.
It took three months to October to show me that I could have given so much more. I could have washed more dishes, made more sandwiches, greeted more guests, made the floor just a little bit cleaner. When I’m 90 with three months to go, I don’t want to be feeling this way. So I’ve got to give, more than I’ve ever given before to take advantage of the years that are just wasting away. To save the rest of myself.
Orange County Human Relations Award
The Orange County Human Relations provides programs to eliminate prejudice, intolerance and discrimination. Each year they recognize and honor outstanding people in our schools, communities or police departments for their exemplary contributions to human relations in Orange County. This year, one of the award recipients will be Sukh Chugh from Be the Cause.
More on all the Award Recipients receiving awards at the ceremony on May 7, 2009:
http://egov.ocgov.com/ocgov/Info%20OC/Departments%20&%20Agencies/OC%20Human%20Relations/Human%20Relations%20Awards/Awards%2038%20Recipients/Awards%2038%20Recipients
Of course its an honor to be selected as a recipient of this award. But, more so than it highlighting the efforts of one person, I believe that the award really highlights the efforts of the entire Be the Cause community. The volunteers that participate in our many projects quietly and at many times without recognition slowly shape the well-being of our community. It is easy to pin my face as the poster child of these efforts because maybe I helped start it all, but in reality, these days, its the silent and yet dedicated force of all the countless volunteers that makes the benefit to the community really happen.
The Orange County Human Relations has been doing amazing work for decades to bring people together. To be recognized as part of their heritage is a true honor.
San Diego
It was only two days, but it felt like everyone I met was family.
We went straight to the temple where I was supposed to talk for an hour and a half on the merits of serving others. Somehow the words found their way from this neo-cortex, through the microphone, through gas and dust, onto ears and into hearts. I shared stories about the beginnings of Be the Cause. I told them my own story which somehow was also their story. We were all searching for something deeper in our lives and somehow we were all led to this same moment. I shared with them the stories I had heard, of a universe so vast that it was incredible and yet its magnificence didn’t trump the size of our own tiny little hearts.
In moments I could feel myself tearing up as I remembered the story of a little homeless boy we met one night in India. At times when I looked up, I found that my tears were somehow falling off the face of someone else. At times we all laughed simply because the words that were coming out seemed so ridiculous.
A few aunties took copious notes, but I knew that what I was saying was already known to them, and more importantly was already written in their hearts: That all we need is the courage to give, and in that moment the entire universe opens up for us.
Afterwards they asked questions. About my life. About how certain projects came together. Someone asked about finances, someone always does. Someone asked about happiness, and yes I admitted, it can be cultivated.
She came up to me afterwards stating that for a moment she felt she wasn’t alone. She cried for a moment standing there with me, I felt it too, that kinship, that togetherness, that love in the room. It made me a little strong and a little weak at the same time standing there in that temple. A little honored and also a little unworthy to be receiving such emotion.
A few of my new friends wanted to sit in silence so that we could end the afternoon the same way we started it. Fifteen minutes rolled by and it seemed as if more was shared in those silent moments than in the hours prior.
Later that night, when a few of my new friends decided to drop by after dinner, I would discover that they were serving much more than they had led me to believe. We discussed ongoing projects and brainstormed new ways of getting people engaged. We planned for the next day, where a repeat performance was requested for a younger audience.
The next day, I sat in front of kids and adults alike. The stories and the accompanying jokes seemed to work a second time around. Even the QnA felt similar, except this time the questions were more personal. I realized that every family is the same, they are all concerned about my marital status. Being single has allowed me some freedom, sure, but sharing stories of my married couple friends that do more together than separate quickly brought the point home: wherever you are, however you are, you can serve.
The drive home was rejuvenating. I felt as if I was leaving home to return home. Thank you San Diego. If anyone is interested in connecting with the Jain Community of San Diego please send me an email.