Tag Archives: fasting

fast: poems to shiv ji and parvati

dear readers,

today i have completed 10 days of fasting, no on solid foods, no on processed anything, no on added sugars, yes on natural juicing, yes on a daily cup of hot milk. why did i fast? to get closer to the gods within. sounds cheese ball, right? but it works. yesterday, the tenth day of may and the tenth day of my fast, i could just pray. prism, kaleidoscope, sun rays to the dome, meditation, yoga, poetry, the practices i call home. i wrote these poems, for shiv ji and parvathi. late last night i got a call from moms. a blessed, rare, lucid conversation. i told her my poems. she told me that monday is shiv ji ka din. alignment!

for parvathi
what beauty is she
brown skinned neck
subdivided by black
waterfalls of hair
glance at her lips if you dare
there is gold inlay
within her cheeks
and oh, when she speaks.

for shiv ji
shiva
all i want
to do
is pray to you
play for you
the melody
of my thighs

and just because trick luv da kids, you know i have to include a couple videos. the first is maula mera, from the film anwar. i fucking adore this song and video, light eyed hegemony and everything. from 5:16 though, it’s next level, gets me loose.

the second is a song called try a little tenderness, by otis redding. this is a live version, he kills it, so tenderly. which is, i imagine, how the gods love each other. with fire and tender, both.

stay tuned for more,
roopa singh
poet-at-law

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rumi’s words: fast

dear readers,

what an amazing day, upliftment is in the air, parent’s finally sealed a deal on a house, brother just had a baby, little zoya.

back in oakland, about 5 years ago, the homie sayyadina gave me this pocket rumi reader. she was an mc, a startlingly smart journalist, clear eyed and freckled, light skinned she heckled all the boys, she could even shatter noise, we were on tour together, she was rooster calling to all the tigres from our dominican hide out, got back to oakland, she re-picked up a habit, foster kid u dig, last i heard it was a sidewalk for her. i remember when she lived on a house boat at the berkeley marina. shoulda seena’.

fasting

fast from thoughts, fast:
thoughts are like the lion and the wild ass;
men’s heart are the thickets they haunt.
fasting is the first principle of health;
restraint is superior to medication;
scratching only aggravates the itch.
Fast, and behold the strength of the spirit.

stay tuned for more,
roopstar

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January 15, 2009: The Segregation of Caring

**I’m heading to DC to cover the inauguration. Keep checking for images and stories.*

Dear Readers,

Fasting the first 10 days of 2009 cleared more than my complexion (though, that too), it cleared my head so my eyes could see clear through the ever clear of my code blue. A blue line in a red sky said Nina on the last track of Love Jones, and that’s what fasting was like, a body, honing.

Been thinking about the word: perfect. So far January, my birth month, has been about as perfect as perfect can be. Except for that nagging fear that sneaks up on me in the afternoons, or in the night, that something terrible is happening to someone innocent, and I can’t do a damn thing about it. Fucked up part about it, its true. Those people and those places are not so far or different from me and you. Here’s an idea I’ve been chewing on: The Segregation of Caring.

The Segregation of Caring:

A domestic scenario unfolds involving the unjust murder of one young man. An international scenario unfolds involving the violent occupation of a nation. Which do you care about more?

The neighbor you’ve lived across the street from for years dies. Princess Diana dies. Which do you care about more?

A democracy falters. A leader shines. Which do you care about more?

Look, it’s not possible to care about everything all at once. But it is possible to map what you care about, and why. In a world full of wack shit, isn’t it important to guage the sway of our emotions? Lest we be swayed off course.

But to get swayed off course, first we gotta have a course, a plan, a chart, a goal, a destination, a foal finds her mother because that is her goal, of course. Instinctively, we all have a course. Where am I going with this?

All the way to the finish line, the end, finito, full stop. Keep reading.

Stay tuned for more,

Roopa Singh

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