Calligraphy & Apple Fonts

A powerful talk by Steve Jobs on how to connect the dots in life. For example how his learning calligraphy as a school drop out informed the fonts for Apple computers. And subsequently raised the bar on all computer fonts. And this was ten years later after he picked up calligraphy. At the time he was doing calligraphy it seemed like a pointless indulgence. It did not feed him or pay his rent. He had to sleep on the floor of a friend's dorm and walk to Hare Krishna temple for one free meal a day. But yet he continued to study what inspired him. Not what was prescribed (ie formal schooling). But at that time when he was learning calligraphy he did not know how the ancient art infused with subtle beauty would inform his fonts at Apple. But it did. Ten years after when he founded he reached back to this experience. So he urges us to have faith and follow your heart. And to keep in mind that you can only connect the dots LOOKING backward. But not looking forward.

Similarly when at 30 he was fired from his job, he realized later that that freed him into one of the MOST creative periods of his life. He was after 10 years after founding Apple and then getting ousted, a beginner again. He had immense freedom and he went back to doing what he loved - computing and founded Next and Pixar. Again the firing only made sense looking backward - as it freed him into his next phase of creative growth. At that time it happened he said it was a public humiliation. And it was awful and he tried very hard to get his job back.

Mao's Last Dancer

When I saw the ad for this I thought it was gonna be just another dance movie. But this interview convinced me otherwise. Maos Last Dancer is a true story of this brilliant man and his long and complex journey from a remote village in China to the glamorous world of ballet in the US. In particular his descriptions of how poor his family was that they often went to bed hungry and how his mother stoically encouraged him to leave her for a better life was particularly moving. The movie did not disappoint. It is a story that seems to have kept very close to the voice of the author. The dancing was brilliant at many parts. But it did not take away the deeper suffering, anxieties and sacrifices that a person makes when trapped between two opposing ideological masters. One who represents your past. The other who represents your future. Ultimately Li Cunxin follows his heart and stands up for what he feels is true to his craft. That dancing ballet in the US makes him feel more free.

Rediscovering Ben Okri

I first stumbled onto Ben Okri when I was on vacation in Malacca. I remember I was staying at a beautiful resort built into the sea inspired by traditional Malay huts/kelongs. I remember very clearly that there was a poetry book in that resort room and a beautiful poem by Mr Okri touched me. I remember i had read it over and over again. It was so beautiful. So moving. And I remember making a mental note that I will read more of his works. Till today that had not happened. But a recent radio session on great Nigerian writers brought him back to my consciousness. And in this short reading cum interview Ben Okri speaks about his mother's stories and how his mother's stories were always hidden lessons on morality. Lessons he did not get when she told them. But stories that he kept alive in his head and whose lessons he pondered on for many years. And then finally got sometimes after 20 years. He also talks about how his mother taught him to ask questions while his father taught him to answer them. In one short anecdote he captures the yin-yang duality beautifully and how as a greater writer he was able to access and use the duality. He also talks about the stories in our collective consciousness and how in some cultures there is a belief that there is a story among the stars waiting to be told. And when a writer connects the dots and writes this story magic is born. He says some call it inspiration. But he finds that materialistic. He rather see it from a more poetic plane.

Shen Wei

Last night I went to the Kennedy Center to watch Shen Wei dance theatre. It was a moving experience. Shen Wei seems to have successfully done what very few intercultural artists have achieved - a seamless fusion of the aesthetics of east and west. I tend to be somewhat skeptical of intercultural work which many times tend to be 90% western with 10% eastern accents via costumes or some adornment. Not true intergration.

From Shen Wei's work it was not clear where the ballet movements ended and where the eastern meditative elements began. The dancers were predominantly westerners and all have a certain aura/energy to them - individually and collectively. They were not your traditional ballerinas - neither were they your karma sprouting western spiritualists. They like the performance defied classification. They all seem to have like Shen Wei the choreographer lived in multiple cultures and have used that experience to inform their dance and movement work.

Shen Wei used his travels through Cambodia and the Silk Route to inform and inspire his work. Its funny - how I never saw the transformation of identify pre-travel and post-travel. The person you after you had visited a country with a rich history or a complex past is not the same person who started the trip. The way he used his photography as background projections to the choreography was harmonious and true to the energies and moods he was seeking to capture and convey. I felt transported and mesmerized. I was not looking at the dancers per se - it was such an integrated experience - where music, lights, design, costume and movement came together in a beautiful whole while comingling eastern and western energies. The piece that really moved me was the final piece with the topless dancers - the dancers were so unselfconscious. They exuded a sense of purity. And through their very slow movements eventually seem to evolve in sculptures. At a certain point I felt like I was looking at a painting from the classical period. I felt like I was in a museum studying a huge painting in front of me which was slowly drying into deep stillness. After I went home I kept thinking about it. And today I realized that I had experienced something deeply resonant. An artist who had so deeply integrated two cultures within himself and then is able to reach into this point of integration to create his works of art. I feel like I was at the cusp of a new movement. In thinking. In analyzing. A new paradigm that has managed through art to recaliberate a new equilibrium and a new paradigm on what it is to be global.

Crafting An American Beauty

The Smithsonian Craft Show was on this weekend. I caught it today - the last day of the show. And my was I glad I went. I have great respect for craftsmen and artisans who can produce amazing works of art with their hands inspired by unique visions in their head. With the arrival of machines and artificial means of production I always wondered how little one man artisans like jewelers, furniture makers and dress makers survived. How do they market their amazing work? How do they retain creative control and a sense of ownership in how their work is marketed and to whom it is sold? After today's show I still don't have answers to these questions. But I was deeply inspired by the crafts that I saw and the artists who I had met. The first stop was at a hatter's display. It was full of beautiful handmade straw hats in very unique shapes. They were exquisitely designed and had an integrity and originality to their form that I had seldom encountered. It was wonderful to touch, feel and wear some of these hats and chat with the artist who made them. I also met two jewelers who were working with very interesting materials and finding ways to create wearable art. I bought three pairs of earrings after having a great chat with each of these jewelers. Attending the crafts exhibition also showed the depth of American crafts tradition in its diversity. And how many of these artists seem to be inspired by the rugged Americna landscapes that they inhabit. One of the artist told me that the lake near his home was a constant source of inspiration for his design. It struck me that these were original thinkers who were not pandering to mainstream media or magazines on fashion, design or architecture as a way to build their clientele. Many of them seem intent of finding their market through more innovative outlets like the crafts show. The Crafts show was also curated like an intimate private party in someone's house - someone who had amassed great artists and then invited his friends over for tea to celebrate their work. For those who ask if Americas have any culture - don't be fooled by the mainstream media. Shows like this are proof that the pioneering spirit and unique vision of American artists is alive and very well.

Early Morning Spring Walk

Today I woke up feeling I had to go out for a walk. Nature was beckoning. Indoor exercising has never been my thing. But I was forced to do it during winter. But running or walking outdoors has always refreshed my spirit and my body in a profound way. I responded to this call before my lazy mind crept in with excuses - its a bit chilly outside, its a bit too early (630am), you might not make it back in time for your breakfast meeting etc. I resolutely bounded down the steps and ran outside before the list of excuses grew any longer and trapped me inside my home. And God - it was a beautiful spring morning. I felt indeed like I had run out into a temple of God's best creation. The sun had just risen and it was still low and mellow in the sky. The birds were chirping. I had missed the birdsong terribly during winter. I walked briskly up to my favorite area filled with old row houses all immaculately conserved and cared for. All the owners had planted beautiful flowers and plants outside their homes. The treelined street had a quiet beauty and integrity. As I walked I could almost feel myself blossoming alongside the flowers and birds. I had missed the green of the trees, the green of the grass, the green of lush vines creeping up the brickstone. And I did not realize how bleak the winter had been and what a surge of relief I had felt when the trees turned emerald green and vast stretches of brown earth came alive with grass. This was something I had taken completely for granted having lived in a very green Singapore a big part of my life.

My best friend had given me a beautiful pink Ishuffle sometime ago and I had downloaded the most moving and spiritually infused music into it from my vast and rather chaotic music collection. And walking thru the quiet streets of georgetown with this music felt like taking a walk with my special friend. Another good friend of mine - Sita Jameson - a powerful chanter/singer had also given me her music. And listening to it while walking also brought me closer to her energy - her strong Shiva voice in her little lithe feminine frame. It also invoked in me the mountain energy of Santa Fe. In one short crisp Spring morning walk the different threads of my past came together. A harmonious convergence of the energy of true friends, sacred mountains, lush foliage and angelic chanting via a nifty pink device. I think I just experienced the most perfect Saturday morning in Georgetown.

A Tree Looking for A Home Meets a Artist Looking for A Tree

From the first time I saw my new apartment, its high loft like ceilings with strong angular ceilings inspired me. It felt like a cross between a church and a modern museum. I felt inspired to reach up to the sky in this space. But I also realized having such a space was quite alien to me and to a degree that intimidated me. To do justice to a beautiful interior space with high ceilings I knew needed something majestic. The image of a tree kept appearing in my mind. Its strong brown branches - like powerful tentacles seemed to call out to me. But I did not know where to shop for this tree/branch structure. Or how to transport it into my home. But practicality has never really stopped me from pursuing something. So I kept the vision firmly in my head. And a corner in my house empty for this sculptural beauty.

Today morning I went for a walk in my neighborhood. It was a beautiful morning - at the perfect temperature of 7 degrees celcius. A bright sunshine, birdsong and a crisp clear blue sky greeted me. Just a week ago it has been too cold and the side walks filled with snow and ice. Walking or driving had become quite dangerous. But much of the snow had since melted and I could stroll around and inspect my neighborhood. The snow blizzard had wrecked havoc among the trees. Many tree branches had fallen. These fallen branches had been swept to the side and were waiting to be cleared away by the city's trash removal company. When I looked at these discarded trees I felt sorry for them. Like victims of the snow storm - separated from their mother tree with whom they had until recently been a proud family. Maybe I could offer them a home? Along the canal near my home I caught sight of what I thought would be the perfect fallen tree branch. A sizable chunk of branches from a tree had broken off.

I got hold of a workman and got him to haul the huge structure to my home. This piece of beauty was over 3 meters high with beautiful tentacles all spread out. I did not want to break or saw off any of the branches. I worked with two guys to orientate it up a few flights of stairs and into the narrow door of my house. It was such an energizing act of creation. I loved every minute of it. Eventually we had to saw two of its branches so that it could balance on its own without being nailed or tied with strings to the wall. The whole energy of the space in my house has changed since its arrival this morning. I am curious to see how this tree evolves into a element of controlled wilderness in my home.

Writing in a Single Breadth

Yesterday marked three months since I moved to DC. It also happened to be the first birthday I was celebrating in snowy DC. DC was experiencing its worst snow blizzard in many decades. There was a snow storm warning from morning till 10pm last night. I had woken up with mixed feelings - the idea of staying indoors and watching the snow pile up for another day in a row was not exactly my cup of tea. The city had shut down for the past three days and I was beginning to feel restless.

In some ways the snow storm brought back childhood fears of thunder storms which would make me run to my mom's room and snuggle up to her. This memory helped me handle my irritation at myself - related to this gnawing feeling of anxiety. An anxiety that pervaded my day and made me unproductive.

Before the storm I had planned birthday drinks with a group of friends. But the weather Gods unilaterally cancelled it. However, throughout the day I was inundated with calls, emails, facebook wishes and skype conferences. From London, Singapore, Australia, Santa Fe and New York the wishes flowed in ceaselessly. It was sheer joy to see my friends on skype and to hear the energy in their voice. My birthday became a time to celebrate all my friendships and recollect my global adventures.

The day also presented a beautiful opportunity for reconciliation and reconnection with friends I had drifted away from. Friends who used this day to reach out. It was wonderful to reconnect and refresh a bond that once had meant so much to both of us. And to remind oneself that life is short and differences, petty or otherwise, should be treated with a generous spirit. In the course of speaking with one such friend I had mentioned how I always committed to writing a blog entry quickly - typically under 2 min. Not overthink it. Not overdraft it. I felt that when you redo things the essence of the first instinct is lost. So until and unless I feel ready I don't write a blog. My friend on hearing this said this is the zen way. My method was similar to the calligraphy masters who did their piece of calligraphy in a single breath and single sitting. No matter how big a canvas they were working on.

My neighbor realizing I was "stuck" at home assured me we can still have drinks. Just that it would be at my place. He came over with a bottle of wine, got the fire in the fireplace going and handed me an envelop. His calm gestures were strangely comforting. The envelop contained a jigsaw puzzle of alphabets. The alphabets once arranged coherently will reveal my birthday present he said. How imaginative !!! I struggled to put the words in some order - my mind was all foggy from being cooped up at home. The words after much help from him eventually read The New York Review of Books. He had gotten me a one year subscription to this beautiful literary supplement. I was THRILLED !!! And touched. My birthday turned out exactly how I had hoped for - the warmth of great friendships, love and laughter in the midst of a raging snow storm.

Snow White

There have been many changes in my life since I last wrote. Some on the physical plane while others were on an intellectual and spiritual plane. But the most profound change was experiencing snow. Not as a tourist would. Not as an outsider looking in would. But as a resident who sees how the rhythm and tension of city changes when it snows. DC has been experiencing historic amounts of snow this winter. We had 22 inches during Christmas and a blizzard yesterday which dumped over 27inches in various parts. Traffic came to a standstill and the airport shut down. The media whipped up a frenzy with snow warnings. This led to empty shelves in grocery stores as people stocked up on food.

The few times it had snowed in DC I had waited for it eagerly - like a woman waiting to be reunited with a lover. And I had always planned an early morning walk so that I and the snow filled city could share an intimate moment. Before the city stirred. Before the shops opened. Before the powdery white snow turned to slush. Seeing everything covered in snow and breathing in the crisp clear winter air always left me invigorated. Inspired. And in some strange way I always felt courageous - for walking out in the snow on an early morning before any of the snow has been shoveled away. Today morning I sat in the only cafe that was open in Georgetown looking out the large windows. A stranger came up and asked me whether I was enjoying the view. I was surprised by his question. I was so engrossed looking out of the window that I hardly realized the intense expression I worn on my face. I was mesmerized by the sight of folks running in the snow. Every time it snows extreme sports enthusiasts seem inspired to run outdoors. This time a pack of 7 runners almost identically attired - in blue and black lycra - were running in the middle of the empty road on a thin layer of snow. I saw the exhilaration in their faces. I admired their firm long strides on a harsh terrain. I felt the joy of their run. It was like a beautifully choreographed dance by a pack of elegant long limbed men. Putting up a joyous performance for us ordinary mortals. Mortals who could only manage to nurse their steaming lattes in the arms of a beautiful french cafe. While silently cheering the runners on.

Sacred Art on Sacred Grounds

23rd October was a magical morning. Two days ago my friend had responded to a random musing of mine - that I wanted someone to take photos of me in my favorite temple. The Kali Temple in Serangoon. Marcel, a very creative and intuitive soul from Holland jumped at the opportunity. Little India is a magical oasis in the early morning - before the crowds flood in and the shops open. It is deeply quiet and if you are able to get there for the morning puja - quite magical. We managed to get there early. Something about the light that morning (not too harsh sunlight) and the energy of the temple blew both of us away. The moment we stepped over into the temple from the street - we felt enfolded in the arms of the divine. I could see Marcel felt what I felt. He knew how to photograph without asking questions. He knew there were things that lie beyond words. Feelings and energetic vibrations that need to be felt and maybe captured in a creative work of art. One of the photos captured the essence of our experience. Among the priests and a small handful of devotees it felt natural to be dancing for the divine. As opposed to posing for a photographer.

Half Man- Half Woman

Yin Yang. Masculine-Feminine. Thandava-Lasya. Active-Passive. Many ways to describe the concept of duality. To me the most profound and intense manifestation of this is in the figure of the Ardanariswara. I first fell in love with this image in the great Chola temple of Gangaikondacholapuram. The inherent beauty in the half-male and half female form struck me. It was truly harmonious. Unlike the split personality or half-man/half woman mime artists that you see. I acquired a beautiful chola bronze sculpture of the Ardanariswara a few weeks ago. However, I still did not know the mythology behind the figure. And how it came about. Rama, one of elders in my family and a deeply spiritual being had come to visit me. He took one look at my sculpture and said that it is a very profound piece. It encapsulates a deep and important philosophy in Hinduism. But he was unable to break it down for me beyond affirming my choice.

A few days after that I was in the Ceylon Road temple in Singapore. It was a few days before Deepavali. While buying my archana I saw a little write up about the Kethara-Gowery Nonbu. A fast that Goddess Parvathi had observed for 21 days for her Lord Shiva. According to the poorana, the Goddess did not want to be separated from her husband. Ever. He approached a great saint who advised her to fast for 21 days. At the end of the 21st day, Lord Siva shown his grand appearance and accepted her prayers. He gave her half portion of his appearance and that was the birth of the Artha Nareeiswarer. The temple had organized for its female devotees to fast for 21 days before Deepavali and to break the fast on Deepavali at the temple with a Linga Puja. Beautiful !!! Although I did not partake in the fast I went to the temple on Deepavali to partake in the linga puja and to see Lord Shiva and Parvathi take a procession around the temple decked out in the finest.

The story also explains the power of fasting. Fasting is a central feature of Hinduism. My mom is vegetarian (a form of fasting from meat) on two days of the week - Fridays and Sat. This has been consistently doing this for over 50 years. Nothing drastic like turning vegetarian over night. But something steady - like giving up meat and rich foods twice a week in honor of the divine. Many of my other relatives fast regularly for various Hindu festivals and events - like Navarathri, Kanda Shasti and Karthigai - special occasions on the Tamil calender. I never understood why.

It seems that the glory of fasting is splendid. Prayer combined with fasting brings long life to husband and wife. Family bonding will be enhanced. It brings good wealth and health too. I suspect that fasting helps one focus on the reasons why one is fasting. The wish that one had placed before God. The constant reminder throughout the day reinforces the positive intent and affirms the goals you are seeking to accomplish. Today these are called positive thinking and the "Secret."