Category / Inspirational

by Sukh Chugh

Are we at war?

Back when wars used to mean something
People fought for causes
We were governed by our morals
We took up arms to protect others
Gave up our lives so that others could be free
So that others could worship in any way they saw fit
So that others could be our equals
Walk the earth with their heads held high, with respect

When did it come to this?
Now we fight for ourselves
We are governed by our hatred
We fight for revenge
To punish others
Because they worship differently than us
Something about the color of their skin
Or the way they tie their hair
Something as little as that
And we start a war with the world

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by Sukh Chugh

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.

by Sukh Chugh

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.

by Sukh Chugh

33

What kind of place is this my friends?

The sun rises only to set. We are born only to depart one day. Fortunes, generations, entire cultures, even life itself comes and goes. Is there anything that stays behind?

33 give their lives to unmask the anger of one boy. The boy becomes a man. His life, arising only to pass. Only to take away. Anger remains.

Tears flow through the country. Making us feel. Something within us comes alive. It gives rise to a new reality, a new compassion takes form. Our hearts race, reach out, and sometimes, tears actually leak from our eyes. In our despair we actually begin to feel what it is to be human.

What kind of a place is this?

Tragedies come and go, lives lost forever, yet the rest of us still find ground beneath our feet. One way or another, life moves on. The sun rises again.

Two teenagers pull guns out of duffel bags and destroy entire livelihoods. That was 1999. Twin Towers explode. A tidal wave consumes entire cities. A hurricane touches down to teach us that we are not invincible. And yet, here we are, invincible. A war destroys an entire country, mothers cry out. Leaders, steadfast in their charge, say that lives are not lost in vain, yet we do it again… and again, and again. That was Vietnam.

What kind of a place is this?

The sun sets. Sends us into darkness, only to beckon us again with the chirping of birds. It gives us rise only to set us down again. A pattern emerges. Light and Dark, joy and pain, exhilaration and disappointment, Love and sacrifice all tied together.

We chastise those who grasp at more than is needed, secretly wishing that our own reach was vaster than theirs. Lovers betray one another. The secrets that we harbor in our minds would betray everyone we know.

We send our children, our own flesh and blood, to teachers whose salaries we would never accept for ourselves.

What kind of people are we?

What kind of a person am I?

Trapped between trying to build a new life and submitting to my past’s patterns. Childhood memories still shape the decisions of my life. Unable to control all of my thoughts I see the direction of my life shaping itself. Was my destiny shaped with my birth?

Seeing suffering everywhere and still I am consumed by my own discomforts. I still find it necessary to smile, to laugh, and to enjoy despite all the chaos that intrudes this planet. I celebrate birthdays, promotions, and even unexpected (and unwarranted) moments of joy, despite not knowing what this entire experience is all about.

A soldier asks why 3000 lives weren’t honored like the 33. An Iraqi woman asks the same about 100,000. And me, I’m just trapped thinking about why someone lied to me.

But it does all arise to pass. And in doing so, hopefully there is hope, that it teaches us something. That it refines us somehow, makes us better at who we are, and at what we are supposed to be doing in this diminishing existence. Time passes by, we get older, nearer to the days when we can no longer remember. The moment is now. To rise up, embrace the sun, the warmth, the birds, and the calling for a new day. The sun sets, only to call for us again the next morning.

by Sukh Chugh

Silence

We sit in silence to grasp at the unknown, to touch love, to become that which breeds life. 

There is something deep within our natures.  A guiding light if you will.  A voice that always speaks of goodness.  A voice that is always moving us towards more love, towards more life.

Can we hear it?

Sitting in silence is an attempt to become in tune with my own self, with my own voice.  Now there is nothing to distract me, no noises, no conversations, no pre-occupations, there is only silence. 

Yet, I am distracted, still there is noise.  Now it is my own ideas, my own thoughts, my own day-dreams.  Even as I sit here all alone, in the dark, with no sound to stir me, there is still noise.  The mind reflects and reverberates all that it knows.  It regurgitates all that it has recorded.  My mind sits like a tape recorder attempting to empty itself.  I watch all the taped and dreamed conversations float by.

At least now, I know what dreams my mind dreams. 

Now that my thoughts have become observable, I can see in myself.  I know what my mind is thinking.  I begin to understand its patterns, and I see how it dictates my behaviors.  Now I can see why I do the things that I do.  I see my insecurities, my desires, my aversions.  I see how they keep me from being loving.

Silence and service become inseparable.  Silence is a way of cultivating ones tendency to love, Service is a way of observing that tendency in action.

For better or for worse, I know that my mind governs me.  I see that much of who I am is just a product of thoughts and emotions that float by.  How do I discipline my mind to respond with love despite any circumstance in life?  As an exercise, I try to bring my attention to the present moment.  My breathing is present here, my heart beating is present here, my body is present here.  In this moment a feeling arises, that I am alive, that everything is okay in life.  That everything is exactly as it should be.  Meditation becomes gratitude.

Quickly, however, my mind runs away again.  And a paradox blossoms: my mind’s running away is also a reality of the new present moment.  So I accept this new reality and consciously move my mind back to my body, to my breathing, and to my heart beating.  My mind finds its way back home again.

This exercise of bringing my mind’s attention back to the present moment becomes the anti-thesis to addiction.  The last thing my mind wants to do is to observe breath coming in and out of the body.  It would rather entertain itself with ideas, conversations, and dreams.  This exercise helps create discipline, it strengthens my mind.

The more I am able to cultivate this effort, the more I am able to sit with a still mind, the more I am able to respond to life in a manner that is free from my own fears, free from my own insecurities, free from my own beliefs or ideas.  It allows me to be available for others.  To approach each moment, each task, each person with a sense of freedom, a sense of openness.

To meditate, I would observe the world around me, the world inside me.  I would pay attention to where my thoughts wander, my heart beating, my breath coming and going, my emotions coming and going, life coming and going.  Me getting older one moment at a time.  I would pay attention to the world around me coming alive, the little noises that go unheard, the sights that go unseen, the beauty in everyday things.  I would pay attention to time, to see how long a second feels when I am living present in the moment, how long does one hour feel when I have nothing to entertain me, how long a day feels when I am just by myself, consciously doing nothing all day.  How long does one lifetime feel?

I might go for a small walk, just to observe the world around me, to see what is keeping everyone else so busy, to see why the world is moving at such a chaotically fast pace, to see if all this busyness is really headed somewhere or if it is just busyness for busyness sake. 
 
I would see who I am, see if I like myself, see if I can stand myself.  Maybe I would see if I am more than myself, or more than who I always thought I was.  But most importantly, I would spend my time just being.  Watching life takes its course.  

by Sukh Chugh

Thanks Giving

Not sure how it happened, but instantaneously, I was gifted with life. Not sure if I was ever deserving or ever worthy, but I was gifted nonetheless. Not sure if I asked to be here, but for some reason the entire universe conspired to give me breath.

Not sure how to give proper thanks, or who exactly to thank. There are so many. I thank the trees, I thank the stars, I thank the people I meet, I thank the universe, I thank myself, I thank “God”… but I still feel thankless. The gifts never end, it is impossible to catch up.

Not sure how to give thanks for the fact that I can give thanks.

And as my eyes overflow with thankfulness, I live my life knowing that all praise is to the universe, every thanks is to the universe, everything is the universe.

I suppose loving the gift received is one way of giving thanks, so I continue to love my life with unprecedented devotion. I am extremely fortunate, extremely lucky, extremely blessed.

May all beings be happy, may all beings see good in others, may there be peace. May love, truth, and compassion be the principles that govern our lives.

May we spend a few moments today and every day – Giving Thanks. As we spend time with our families, let us remember that many are without friends. As we partake in festive meals, let us spend one moment remembering that many go without. And as we finally lay down to rest, let us spend one moment contemplating the fact that we exist.

In devotion, peace, and unending love for this moment,
Imagine,

— Chughzy

by Sukh Chugh

Brushstrokes

I wish you could see the world from my eyes
Then you could see how truly remarkable everything is

I wish you could experience the magic of the moon
floating at the horizon

I wish you could hear things the way I do
How every sound is actually music

I wish you could experience growth through your own suffering
and elevate yourself to a space of peace

Move beyond the circumstances of your life
and exist as one with the universe

I know you are sad and depressed
I wish you could see that that is not your true nature

The masterpiece unfolds in front of us
on the tapestry of time and space
The universe is the ultimate artist

Each moment is breathtaking,
every place is ingenious,
you are the universe’s brushstroke

The existence of divine intervention can be realized through the beauty of a single leaf

I wish you could see the world through my eyes
Then you would see that there is nothing wrong

stop being so discontent with this world
so discontent with yourself
just be happy that you exist
all of life is a gift
all of life is art
all of life is poetry

You are a masterpiece. You are beautiful.

I wish you could feel the sunshine on your face
and know that the universe has created a star for you to bask under

Be grateful.

I wish you could feel the wind against your face
and experience the joy of being alive

I wish you could feel the love
and know how perfect the entire universe is

I wish you could see the world from my eyes
but I still find beauty in knowing that you won’t

— Chughzy

by Sukh Chugh

My Mother

Staring at the ocean gives me a splitting headache. Like someone has driven a nail through the center of my forehead. I think of all the other places on the planet that I would like to visit. Burned and pillaged because these damned idiots are so wrapped up in their ethnocentric games. I’ve heard that the land of Kashmir is a “heaven on earth”. If I stepped foot on it tomorrow I would be shot dead by both the Pakistanis and the Indians. Damned idiots.. giving me a damned headache… Screw em all… .. My Mother

Israel, another beautiful spot.. gives me a splitting headache. Jerusalem, who the … does it belong to… the Jews, who claim that Moses was there, the Muslims, who claim Mohammed had a vision there, maybe I should get in on the act. I took a dump on the west bank in 1996… IT’S MINE. Damned idiots. Nothing belongs to anybody…. Least of all land …. A place like Jerusalem should only be worshipped, not fought over or fought on.

… there are no countries, no religions… listen to John Lennon every now and then and you’ll understand how behind the times you really are.

My headache grows stronger, “Kill the disbelievers” ringing from my ears, past my temples into my scorching eyes. I’ll slam my hammer in your skull if you touch my mother’s children again. Plant mimes in my mother’s bosom, rape my sisters and daughters, torture my brothers again and you’ll feel my fist up your religious ass. That Muslim fellow you just killed.. happens to be me. That Jewish kid you just beat the crap out of.. happens to be me. You pillaged my villages, burned everything.

My mother… she gives me a splitting headache. She lets it all go on. Loving everybody and everything… you are too soft mother… you love your sons too much mother. as one son rips flesh off your arm, the other bites flesh off your back. Your sons wage religious warfare on your breasts… mother, you have no nipples left. Your most beautiful spots have been covered with scars and scabs. You bastards.. you have raped your own mother.

— Chughzy