11 September 2017

Love the Men

I love the men who write
Who take the space and time
To catch the words
That sing the songs of their souls

I love the men who dance
Who celebrate the beat of life
Through the holiness of their divine bodies
I love the men who dance with others

I love the men who cook
Who handpick their ingredients, savour them
Orchestrate a fine meal
To satisfy, to feed, to impress, to nurture, to indulge 

I love the men who play
Who embrace the children they are

I love the men who laugh
Whose chuckling bellies soften with heat

I love the men who joke
I love the men who prank

I love the men who make promises
I love the men who show up

I love the men who listen
Who hear us with tender compassion

I love the men generous
Whose gifts are genuine and limitless

I love the men who cry
Who open their hearts and share
Who are strong, who are open enough
To stand vulnerable and bare

I love the men alive
I love the men colorful

I love the men being
Human, in all the glory, beautiful.


Amal - Sep 2017

Celebrating Freedom


As I was catching up with an old friend, counting my blessings and expressing gratitude for my life in its current setup, I realized that a huge part of my joy at the moment is owed to a drastic decision I took three years ago. I had been working at a well-paying prestigious company in a fairly decent role and I was really good at my job. One evening after work, I realized I no longer felt heart in my job and just like that, decided to quit, give myself a break from Corporate and travel around, do what I want.

I had no plan, the universe seems to have had a plan for me and all it asked was for me to trust it and jump in, or rather jump out into the outer world of infinite possibilities.

Three years later, today, with backpacks full of stories of the magic, the tragic, unconditional love and much wisdom, I find myself a grounded roamer - if there is such a thing. I still don’t have a plan and I’ve found that I had dropped the desire to seek one. I take it one day at a time, one phase at a time, one wave at a time and whatever life brings, I embrace and accept as I learn to open my arms wider.

Practically speaking, what I love as a full-time yoga teacher is that I am my own boss; I dictate my own timings and set my own schedule. I give myself days off when I need to. I draft my own contracts and agreements. Set my own terms. I work with people I’m generally comfortable with and if we don’t click I know life takes care. Instead of reporting to anyone, I express gratitude to the Divine. Instead of feeling like I’m slaving for a company, I feel I am at service to myself and people. Instead of reporting to the mind, I flow with feeling. And it works. Not only do I enjoy my “job”, it also puts food on the table.

What I love even more - I trust in infinite abundance. Whether a student attends my class or someone else’s is of little concern to me, I know that life has enough for all of us. If this is meant to be my path, it will be, and it will be so successfully, and I have a strong feeling it is.

Sometimes I bump into old colleagues and they ask if I miss Corporate or my old job, and without hesitation, my bright face saying it all even before my words, my answer is, “no”. Quitting that job from a place of calm, wisdom, trust and surrender, was the BEST decision I made in my adult life. It emancipated me from the bondage of duality; “right” and “wrong”, “good” and “bad”, “partners” and “competition”, “us” and “them”, and it liberated me from thinking I needed someone above me who is paid more and “wiser” to dictate how successful I am as a being. It freed me from tying my success in life to a yearly appraisal. Now, life gives me appraisals, yet reviewing my performance without judgement, without punishment, with utter compassion and nurture. The inner voice within is my mentor.

I take a moment today to celebrate my freedom. It hasn’t been an easy nor smooth ride, yet very much worth it. I am grateful for all those who supported me, all those who opened doors, and those who shut them. I am grateful for faith, for infinite abundance, for joy, for wisdom, for play, for love.

May all beings be blessed.

Om Namo Narayani.

Love,
Amal - Sep 2017

27 August 2017

Listening

I search
For the temple
Of silence
So I can listen
To the parts of my heart
That need to heal

I search
Humble
Head surrendering to Heart
Bit surrendering to All
Child surrendering to Amma

I search
I might be there
There might be in me
I don't know
Hush
Hush
I just need to
Listen

Amal - Aug 2017

23 August 2017

Wild Ego

Love me wild
Love me loud
Scream my name
Love me proud
Blast out
Your passion on all the walls
Speak up your words high and clear
Without unsettling doubt, no trace of fear
Drop this shyness you hide your love behind
Open your chest and boast with pride
Paint the skies in all my shooting colours
Unleash the primitive, untamed lover
Sing my song
Hum my tune
Flung open your chest
Howl at the moon
Love me with crave, with hunger, with lust
Love me with craze, make no sense if you must
Thirst for my waters like you desire your drugs
Enter me, immerse in me,
Saturate, intoxicate
And stay
Reside
Here
Build your home in the light of my warmth
In the shade of my madness
Stay
And I
Will breathe
With you
I
Will rain on you
With magic
Till I melt
Into dust
Into mud
Back
To where I came from

Amal
Aug 2017

13 August 2017

No Rush

San Sebastian, Basque Country, Spain

No rush,
No rush,
Discard your map
Chuck away your plan
Dump your expectations
Slow down, slow down,
No rush,
You're on the golden path
Of nowhere to go.

No rush,
Pace your steps
Savour
Whatever your eyes fall upon
Whatever emotions infiltrate your fragile, tingling body
Whatever beds your weary feet
Whatever thoughts visit your delicate ears
Savour the tears, the laughs, the joys, the fears.

No rush,
Slow down
Inhale colours in all their shades
Let them melt in your mouth
On your skin
Between your cells
Till they fade
Into the next miracle
Of things that Be
No rush,
You're there
You're always here.

Amal
July 2017
=========
This poem, which I was inspired to write one late night at San Sebastian, was showcased as part of the CoLab exhibition by Malja, Bahrain on 13 Aug 2017. To see the video made by Summer Ameen, my CoLab partner artist who also helped inspire this piece, click here.

04 August 2017

To Sami



I don't understand
This grief
Timid
Like a puzzled child
Trying to find comfort-
A compassionate hug
In warm arms
That don't judge my mourn-
I can't fully grasp it
I probably
Don't need to

It is
What it is;
A river of tears
My heart is pouring
Out through the wells of my eyes
Down the valleys at my cheeks
Where they sit
And dry
To salt
And silence

It is
What it is;
A few memories
Of peeling mushrooms
Baskets hosting piles of pomegranates
Savouring French music from an old radio
Sharing old photos buried in dusty books
Rumbling a roll of strong words in a husky voice across your busy desk

I guess I loved you
And I felt your tender heart
Through all the uncertainty
I guess I loved you
Perhaps I saw into you
And in my heart
Though it didn't look so
You were my friend
And I loved you,
My friend

I still don't know
Why
I cry
But I shall grieve you
And offer your memory
A delicate bundle of flowers
Because
This is what it is.


Amal
August 2017

02 August 2017

8 seconds


I won't wait much
For you to wonder
Whether it's a good idea
For you to come upstairs
Or not
My compromise was me suggesting
And there are 8 seconds to reply
There are 8 seconds to either jump in with enthusiasm
Or sulk in doubt
And I don't have much tolerance
For the uncertainty of doubt
I,
A queen, master of my own bedroom,
Lioness of my lush den,
Wind beneath my very wings,
Gypsy,
Nomad,
Captain of my tipsy ship,
I,
Have little time to waste
Expecting expectations
Thirsting to be swept off my feet
Into a whirl of lustful passion
I have little time to waste
Widening a pair of eager eyes
Up towards you
Awaiting response.
In 8 seconds:
I can melt in my own eyes in the mirror
Lick my own wounds
Kiss my holy feet
In 8 seconds
I am reminded
I'm the one who loves me the most
And it's not just okay
It is a pleasure.


amal
August 2017

31 July 2017

Monster PMS



I have the urge to burn all the bridges
Smash all the plates
Howl from the top of my head
Plan an immediate, angry escape
Scream at you, that I can’t stand this
But I can’t stand that
My body won’t let me
My heart won’t let me
Wisdom won’t let me
And I know it’ll be a mess
And I’m not bothered to clean up a mess
So can we just take a moment
To stare at each other’s eyes,
Hearts,
And soften?
Can we bow to each other’s feet
And be reminded
We are together to serve
To play
Flow
Love?
Please.


amal
July 2017

30 July 2017

Worshipping You

San Sebastian, Basque Country, Spain

I see You

I feel You
I recognise the marvel that You are
And my every word
My every thought
My every step
My every path
Every dance
Every poem
Every connection with one of Your divine children
Every embrace
Every drunken intoxication
Every time my eyes shine wide open
My every foolish fit
Every childlike chuckle
Every sigh of wonder
Every cell that tingles
Is there
Is
To worship You.

*****

I am but Love

*****

Om Namo Narayani


amal
June 2017

07 May 2017

Wild Gypsy


**Wild artist**
I can relate to all artists living in a world of internal mental chaos made by having the sensitivity to observe the details of every motion, emotion, thought and physical trait within them, within their surroundings and within fantasies their imagination weaves as it gets fed by infinite details of details. I can relate to the artists obsessed with expressing themselves within their vivid worlds, through their art seeking a way to capture, understand and share their experience of life. I can relate to the body (mental, emotional, physical), being overloaded by stimulants, the nervous system flaring up with “aliveness” and the flow of energy within it. I can relate to feeling the taste of pleasure on one’s tongue without the physical presence of the pleasured.

**Wild gypsy**
In my head, in my rawest, most honest view of myself, in my mind’s eye, I am a gypsy; big wild hair, layers of accessories from all spaces, flowy dress that dances in the wind, jingling anklets echoing the music of my unresting steps, voice loud and clear and in love with its own sound, sings, bosom on fire with desire for passionate, lustful, romantic, uninhibited love making with myself, with the world, with life. Wild gypsy, unstoppable, uncontrollable, uncapturable. Wild, dramatic, life gushing out of my every pore, every hair, every curve, every breath. Life, drunk with life.

**Wild being**
Wild gypsy lives her life as a form of art making, the latter a form of love making. I paint on the walls of my life and they are no longer walls, they are windows to further possibilities. My every string of words is poetry. My voice sings as the wind carries my dancing body across the vast, expansive, lush ballroom that is the Earth, the playground that is the Cosmos. I paint and sing and dance and paint and sing and dance and paint and sing and dance till my body is saturated by its achieved potential, drenched in a sea of sweet sweat infused by the scent of wild loving. I float, carried by the sea. I float. I surrender. I let go. I melt into the arms of the Divine. I defragment. I become all that I loved. Pieces of me live in all the details. I am no longer. There just is. Wildness.


Amal
May 2017

04 April 2017

Love Untainited


 
I never hated you
I just hated the parts of me exposed with you
I was never angry at you
I was angry at my own madness
I never feared you
I feared what I was about to become
I never didn't love you
I loved you always
The first glance
The last touch
Before we met
After we evolved
Through it all
Beyond it all
Love has always been here
In very particle that makes things what they are
Untainted by the gibberish
Unshaken by drama
Love
Pure
Like a bird's song at one's window.

amal
April 2017

09 March 2017

Dark Armpits

In the mirror
I used to see
A large forehead
Pimples
Dark armpits
Dry, course curly hair
A round jelly belly
A big butt
Uneven eyebrows
And a sensitive soul
And be ashamed

Now
I look in the same mirror
And see
The same large forehead
Pimples
Dark armpits
Dry, course curly hair
The round jelly belly
The big butt
Uneven eyebrows,
All crowned with a few sprouting grey hairs
And a sensitive soul
This is the geography of this body
The natural topography of its surface
Which I look at
With neither a sense of ownership
Nor aversion
Towards any of the traits of the temple that is my body
To the divinity that is my soul
Nothing
But absolute beauty
Sincere gratitude
OM Shanti

amal
March 2017

28 February 2017

Come Home

by Fletcher Prentice

Come home with me
“Home”;
A blueprint in my mind
A world of potential colours
A world of possible cuddles
Of passions and dreams and joyful tears

Come home
To that place we aspire to be
With every inhale filling our lungs with excitement
With every exhale spreading the joy of fantasizing

Come home
Home;
A bundle  of past flowers
Healing treasures from the present
Showers of gifts to pour

Come home
I will fill our bathtub with the garden petals
I will sprinkle lavender oil in the corners
I will skip and twirl as we dance in the kitchen
I will sing our childful morning song for you, with you, every morning
I will admire the sweet silence every afternoon
I will light a candle
Every evening,
Every night
To celebrate
The world of love
That is
Our home


Amal - 23 Feb 2017

أَنْظُرُ إليّ


أَنْظُرُ إليّ

أَنْظُرُ إليّ
وأرى أنا التي تراها فيّ
وأراك أنت فيّ
وأرى الكون كله مزيناً بألوان قوس القزح وعطر الورود وطعم العسل وأنغام البلابل وآفاق الأحلام ونشوة الرفقة ودفء القلوب وعذوبة الضحك ورقة التفاصيل وسحر الصمت وسعادة الوجود الغامرة
وأحب كل ما أرى


أمل - فبراير 2017