Grappling With Concepts

Day 2I forget who now, but someone wise enough, I must add, mentioned the relation of neurons, thinking and math. I believe it was a conversation that ran between parents and the incredible pressure on the present generation to learn and learn quickly and get ahead and stay in the rat race with respect to school and subjects.

The conversation is quite marked and vivid. It went along the lines of backing off and allowing the natural state of the human body do its thing. I believe when a concept is introduced, no matter the age or state of mind, it triggers a neuron to be born. So this tiny cell with all its bravado and pride sits there in glory. Complete and alive and well, ticking. Doesn’t do beyond being alive, and so it occupies its place in the brain, oblivious to everything else that is growing or dead around it. It sits there, quietly. Waiting. Waiting for an opportunity to grow. For the right environment and for the light to shine on it, and then it will grow and flourish and will bestow its grandness and enlightenment on the brain that’s held on to it through the whole time.

Edited later:

The lines in quotes – I stand corrected. Scroll down for the comment.

I guess I just used my writer’s creative freedom :-) 


That’s how languages are learnt apparently.

That’s how a match concept is learnt I believe.

Neurons are born. They just don’t develop unless an age at which the conditions are ripe for its development happens.

Makes sense too when you think about it right?

So I projected that out to relationships and people and society, and I realize that we could probably apply it there too. For a concept to be accepted, internalized and to be acted upon, maybe one does the right environment, and what is right for me, may not be optimum for you, and vice versa. Maybe. Maybe that’s why some things just go beyond comprehension. Maybe that’s why some things will not make sense and why some will be oh so natural to me and not to you.


I agree with most of it. It makes perfect sense, the first part at least, and not necessarily that we are above it all, or them and that we are better, no, not that at all, its about them being buried in sand. Time matters, and how long they are buried and how they change while they are buried and how they are perceived by others from outside matters.

It’s a concept requires some thought and struggle depending on the frame of mind of the person struggling with.

Just like this one. 57f1f4435584826d428b491f3194b0b6

I am being told that there is reality and then there is reality. There is reality as we know it, some time ago, that isnt real anymore. Then there is Maya.

Concepts and why some can and will twist your brain into a knot, despite the wisdom of experience and knowing.

Fascinating, to say the least.


Black Clay from Nicaragua


This is what I got, awkwardly and then with smug shyness as he hugged me back.

This is what my son got for us, with a mere $15 he had in his pocket on his trip to Nicaragua.IMG_3487

The earrings are made of natural black clay, he adds. Two days after he returns and then in his usual nonchalant manner has forgotten that this lay in his backpack.

I hug him tight, overwhelmed and happy with his gesture.

My boy was growing up. He always cared for his sisters, in ways that I wouldn’t think of. To see him think of us and me and bring us back a token of his solo trip out of the country without us, was a sign of the future. When he would go out into the world and experience things and people uniquely his own. To bring back a token of his experience and to remember us while he lives in his moment.

That’s how men are, aren’t they?

Not expressive as a rule, only to break with select ladies in their life, to extend a token on affection as they beam their love, wordlessly.

..and then one day the tokens will stop. All good things do stop, they evolve and they slow down and then they shift and there really isn’t anything one can do, but watch, and hold onto the memories and hope that they are strong enough to last through time.

Like the black clay earrings from Nicaragua.

Childhood Dream: Kuchipudi Dance

There is inspiration to be found by peeking into others lives and looking at how they did what they did. What it took for them to achieve a goal or a vision they created for themselves and perhaps understand and learn to apply it to our own lives.

2013_Utsav 303

Meet Kavitha Cheedalla, a Kuchipudi dancer and teacher who started learning dance as an adult and along with her daughters and now heads a dance school in Norther Virginia, near Washington DC. Practice, grit and determination through pain and sweat. The only way to achieve and to be happy, basking in the glory of knowing you did it.

Hop over and read? and while you are there, do subscribe. There’s a lot more from where such stories came from!

Kuchipudi Dancer.