Passion…unbridled

Sometimes I go back to read what I wrote a while ago

Nostalgia unfolds, I feel the memories flow

I try to remember the circumstances in which I had created

That specific piece of writing, was I feeling anxious or irritated

Was I pessimistic, disillusioned or despondent

Or was I feeling centered, calm and content?

*

Sometimes the day is etched sharp in my memory

Something significant had happened in my life history

My experience I had felt compelled to memorialize

In words so poignant they still bring tears to my eyes

Sometimes I remember the younger me

Who had penned something with the kind of audacity

That has faded away with the wisdom of age

My writing rarely reflects outright outrage..

*

My verses offer me a window into the past that is my own

And an encouraging reminder of how much I have grown

The next popular treatment is not going to be the fix

That you are hoping for, don’t expect it to nix

The bodily disturbance that has developed over years

There are no simplistic solutions here..

*

Those weekly injections that are being perceived

As game-changers for weight loss are not as benign as believed

And an ability to procure them (due to heavy demand)

Shall make you gain the lost weight, you must understand..

There are millions who can benefit from that class of medications

But using them to offset an unhealthy diet is not a recommendation

*

Popping a pill to aid you in falling asleep

Does not give you the restorative sleep that is deep

Using a pill in place of good sleep hygiene

Does not offset the effects of late-night screens

*

You can take all the multivitamins out there

They will not cure your fatigue, be aware

Poor diet, stress and lack of sleep are to blame

For your fatigue, those are the monsters you must tame..

*

Miracle cures are usually too good to be true

Learn about them, but take them with a grain of salt too

I had not realized how ubiquitous artificial intelligence had become

I thought using AI to help write anything would be unwelcome

Then one day, uncharacteristically I happened to glance

At the acknowledgment section of a book by chance

And in the sea of names that meant nothing to me

I spotted a paragraph dedicated to chatGPT…

The author described how the AI tool he had used

As sounding board for ideas, as an inspiration, a muse..

This was a huge revelation that even an author well-known

Was using artificial intelligence in an effort to hone

His writing- and this is when AI is still in its infancy

Soon most authors would draw inspiration from something like chatGPT

*

Maybe someday I would be relying on an AI assistant

To help me generate interesting content

Perhaps in a few years that would be the norm

And I would be one of the millions to conform

To the use of generative AI in creating books

Until then around me for inspiration I would continue to look

When an unpredictable event turns life upside down

When the daily rhythm of life cannot be found

A new rhythm is established as you try to reclaim

Whatever normalcy you can, though life is not the same

If you look at the brighter side you see

That you have some free time unexpectedly

To think, breathe, and feel an overwhelming sense

Of gratitude in the midst of misery intense

*

In the aftermath of a natural disaster I find

Myself with some time to unload my mind

In my usual life, I am unable to take things slow

These days there is nowhere to hurry up and go

The luxury of time that I yearn for has been handed down to me

Under the worst of circumstances, but despite this irony

I am inclined to savor it and catch up on rest

This is how precious moments I can utilize best

When I was in medical school I was taught

The dictum that brain cells or neurons could not

Regenerate- and with injury and age were bound to die

So I assumed my brain power would decrease as time went by

New connections in the brain were thought to be formed

Only in childhood, in learning something new, adults would be outperformed

By children, therefore I thought learning a new skill would be

A waste of time and an exercise in futility

*

Recently this myth has been disproven by scientists who state

The brain can form new neural networks and create

New connections between neurons to help us learn skills new

At any age, and after an insult to the brain cells too

*

With this concept of neuroplasticity I’ve lost my excuse

To not learn a new skill- I have more brain power to use

Than I thought I had, so at something new I should try my hand

I hope new concepts my plastic brain cells would understand..

After a catastrophic event, you go through

Waves of despair punctuated by waves of hope too

One moment all news is doom and gloom, the next

Piece of news warms your heart and mind that are vexed

You remind yourself to take it day by day

You know things could have been much worse anyway

Your daily routine you sorely miss

Getting back to that predictability sounds like bliss..

*

At the end of the day hard you try

To find hope anywhere under the sky

To any uplifting news you desperately cling

Every movement towards healing is a positive thing

You realize why when Pandora opened her box of troubles there came

Along with the misery, a fairy with “Hope” as her name…

When the monotony of life appears unbearable

And nothing in my daily routine seems able

To get me inspired, I sit down to examine minutely

Where I can tweak things to bring novelty..

*

I start by browsing through the library shelves

To find a hidden gem of a book that delves

Into uplifting themes of friendship, love, perseverance

The “feel-good” read that brings satisfaction immense..

*

I bring out some crisp sheets of paper or a new notebook

For the smoothest writing pens I look

So that when I sit down with pen and paper I am inspired

To write, blank sheets get my imagination fired

*

Creating art is a manifestation of luxury

Of time that is not available readily

I refresh my art supplies and procure

Colored pencils and pens so I can ensure

When I sit down to create art, my flow

Is not restricted by supplies running low

*

Sometimes all this requires effort intense

In that case, I practice dance moves under the pretense

That I am on stage, though my mirror is the only witness

Dance invigorates me and relieves my stress

*

If I could be perfectly honest, in my fantasy

I would travel to an exotic place to break monotony

But traveling on a whim is the prerogative of only a few

Therefore with my real life solutions I continue

(I can’t bring myself to take pictures of the devastation)

You’ve been feeling bad about your life, and then

Things are placed into perspective when a horrifying event

Tears through your community- a hurricane so devastating

That trying to grasp its enormity is discombobulating

And through your tears, you feel like laughing at your selfishness

There are much worse things in the world to process…

*

You are shell-shocked, not knowing what to do

You need to keep your wits about you too

Without which the disaster you would not survive

Lend a hand, be resourceful, be grateful to be well and alive

*

As I pray fervently for all of my community

As we all work together to rebuild in rekindled unity

I put the “little” issues behind me

And focus on this disaster’s enormity

When it comes to aging we are scared stiff

Of “looking old”, it almost appears as if

Looking young as we grow older has become

A requirement- signs of age are unwelcome

No one wants gray hair and presbyopia glasses on display

Facial wrinkles should be made to go away

Under-eye bags must be concealed

The dreaded cellulite must never be revealed

While inwardly our bodies feel the inevitable decline

Our external appearances must not reveal any sign..

*

When masking signs of aging becomes the norm

You experience intense pressure to conform

The only gray-haired person you cannot be

Among your peers with hair dyed expertly

Facial expressions are traded for smoothness of skin

You keep getting botox or fillers, you cannot let the wrinkles win

You spend incrementally more time, energy and money to maintain

Your youthful looks, but you know there is no gain without pain

You spend so much time in trying to look younger than you are

That you spend hardly any time on the most anti-aging tactic by far-

Exercising regularly is one of the few ways to maintain

A youthful appearance and to stay sane

Amidst the mass hysteria of never looking old

Why not own your age, and let life at its own pace unfold

Growing up, the importance of neatness had been drilled into me

So I worked hard on my penmanship, tried to write neatly

Tried to draw symmetric figures, and to color within the lines

Tried to keep my desk organized in order to align

The virtue of neatness with achievement and success

Over neatness and organization I continued to obsess

Throughout childhood, into early adulthood

Later, in medical school I understood

That neat surgical incisions I was less likely to make

And that trying to be a surgeon would be a huge mistake

At the same time, I finally came to terms with the realization

That I would never be the poster child for organization

*

While I can be neat and organized when needed, neatness

Does not come naturally to me, I actually thrive in relative mess

When things are too organized, I feel uninspired

To stir my creativity, a little disorderliness is required

I don’t want my books stacked in a corner neatly

A book scattered about us more likely to be read by me

When I paint, I smudge color outside the lines

(I would rather not paint than remain within lines confined)

If in an orderly sequence I was forced to write

Writer’s block I would have to continuously fight

*

For some people cleanliness equates clarity

and brings calmness

For me, excessive organization leads to anxiety and distress

I feel the pressure to be perfect in that case

Challenging imperfection that I’ve learnt to embrace

*

In the midst of mild disorderliness let me thrive

Let me think, be creative, feel alive!

A while ago I decided I would be

The most authentic version of me

I would live life on terms that were my own

I would reap the fruits of seeds I had sown

So I worked hard on shutting off external noise

Tuned in to myself to find my authentic voice

Tried to distance myself from herd mentality

And started living life with intentionality

*

I seemed to be making the right moves, and yet

No reward for my efforts I seemed to get

I had thought being authentic would be the key

To my being successful eventually

But that was definitely not the case

The disappointing reality I had to face

Was that success was continuing to elude me

I was stuck in my own bed of authenticity..

*

One day it finally dawned on me-

That even though I was living life differently

My expectations were the same as before

I craved for recognition more

And therein the problem did lie

I wanted my work to be in others’ eyes

My “authenticity” was not authentic after all

In the same old trap I had managed to fall

*

If I am on a path of authenticity

My measure of success should not be

Judged by a yardstick others have applied

Both progress and success, I myself should decide

Sometimes staying on the same track means

Letting possibilities, better or worse, remain unseen

Sometimes the path itself is telling you to step away

How do you resolve this dilemma anyway?

*

The familiar route feels comfortable, you do not

Want to rock the proverbial boat, it requires some thought

To wade bravely through waters unknown

You know this decision you have to make alone

*

You can ask others for opinion and advice

But you know in your heart this would not suffice

You know that the ultimate decision

Hinges on your gut feeling , your intuition

*

So take the leap if it feels right

There is always a battle to fight

Whether you amble along the old path or take

A brand new path, both are tough choices to make