Tag: writing

🌲🌳🌴🎋Magic So Sublime 🌲🌳🌴🎋

“Do you see anything dramatically different today?” I quizzed the husband. He looked around him. We were standing outside the home before setting off on a walk. He looked blank, looked around, and then settled for his safe-bet. “Did you cut your hair? It looks good!”

I rolled my eyes. Honestly! 

“Nice try, but no!” Then, taking pity on him, I gave him a hint. “It is more to do with the immediate surroundings.”

He paused, looking up at the roof. Yesterday’s rains had us both rattled a bit. It isn’t often that we get up to the sounds of heavy rains lashing against our windows. It is a beautiful sensation, but a little fraught for us this time, since the last time, we found a pool of water had managed to seep in. This, after the roof repairman had stomped on the ceiling repairing things for sometime already. 

“Not the roof either! Look at the flora and fauna.” I said.

“Ahh – okay – that is easy.” Then went on to gabble on about flowers blooming, some plant surviving till I stopped his rambling, and said, “It is okay to give up, you know?”  

Then, with a dramatic flair, I pointed to the cherry blossom tree that only a day ago was fully white filled with blossoms. To be fair, I did not see it while it was raining. But one day later, it was there fully clothed in fresh green leaves – not traces of the tree in full bloom from just a day ago. 

How I wish the tree would tell us when it would do this? I would love to just set up a time-lapse video and sit watching it in slow rapture. When do you think the leaves actually sprout? Has anybody actually seen a leaf grow? This has to be some of the most sublime magic on the planet. 

🌸🌸🌸 Oubaitori in Spring Time 🌸🌸🌸

I felt a pang for the beautiful blooms of that tree – gone so quickly and completely, and then remembered that a month ago, it was bereft – a tree in abscission. Beautiful in its starkness, then resplendent in its white blossoms, and now lovely in its fresh greens. It is no wonder that cherry blossoms have captured the hearts and minds of philosophers for centuries – the simple lessons of enjoying the beauty of the moment, the oubaitori to bloom and sprout at your own pace.

The Mantra of Mass Misery

It was a beautiful weekend after a rushed week. On a whim, I decided on a walk by the bay. The waters of the bay with its myriad reflective powers, always helps to bring on the magic of expansive thinking. No two moments are the same here – the shimmering colours seldom fail to invoke that glimmering feeling of hope, the waves helping us think of the ebbs and flows of life. 

Meanwhile, out there, the world continued its dip further and further into its dystopian gloom, and I felt only something as powerful as nature itself would help. As I watched the birds titter and start their early morning songs, I mused on the callings of power. 

Promises, Promises

How ironical it was that every fascist dictator who came to power, rode on a promise of better times – often divisive slogans, and increased prosperity to certain segments, only to be followed by a regime running on a mantra of mass misery. 

After all, a prosperous populace is a demanding one. They want accountability, progress, intellectual discussions, better this and better that. They want to achieve prosperity, feel valued, etc – all the things abhorrent to total power. 

It isn’t even a month since the latest one assumed power and already society is reeling from the clutches of the many pronged tentacles of misery. It seems anything related to the finer and higher order thinking of humankind is not to be spared:  Art, education, humanitarian aid, medical aid, international peace. 

For once we get people worried about the daily grind, they would not have the power or splunk to protest, would they?  If they do, the next rule in their book states to create more and more distractions so that strife and misery are so widespread, no one is keeping track anymore. Keep moving their attention to the base of the pyramid.

It is astounding how so many fascists do not even bother to change that strategy, for it has worked every time throughout history. Every time the vulnerable and the gullible get taken in by promises of prosperity, till it comes back to bite them. Every time. 

“Voldemort himself created his worst enemy, just as tyrants everywhere do! Have you any idea how much tyrants fear the people they oppress? All of them realize that, one day, amongst their many victims, there is sure to be one who rises against them and strikes back!”

― J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince

While musing on the world’s spiral into fascism, my attention was brought back swiftly to the skies where a war was waging between a hawk and a couple of crows. Maybe the hawk had attempted to take a chick or attacked the crow’s nest, but the crows weren’t having it. If I hadn’t seen the savage anger and relentless driving away of the hawk by the crows, I might never have believed it.

Just like that, nature had shown the way out. Humans have spirit. We may not feel like we have much agency over what is happening now, but when things get out of hand, wouldn’t we, like the crows, rise against the hawks in our lives?

Exploring Handwriting: Cursive vs. Digital Age

Cursive superpowers

The white board was littered with alphabets and numbers. We were discussing the different ways in which people wrote their numerals or alphabets. 

“How come nobody seems to like cursive writing as much anymore?” I said, and off we went writing our little cursive numerals and alphabets like artists swirling their best hieroglyphic characters.

“Is that an ‘I’? Truly? I have never seen an ‘I’ like that before!”

“Wow – that ‘J’ is wild! No wonder teachers moved away from cursive. “

“Well, there is a lost skill – imagine the superpowers teachers had deciphering everyone’s handwriting and essays.”

Hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia anyone?

That was true. It is a superpower. Writing fast was a superpower too, one that was made easier with cursive. How beautifully could we go on in one pen stroke for a word like pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis? How many people suffered from hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia back then compared to now (fear of long words!)?

“I think in terms of the keyboard locations when I spell a word.” said a much younger colleague, and I drew in a breath – the places where generational differences get you is truly mind-boggling. But then I realized their generation spent more time typing things out in word documents, or in chat screens than any other generation preceding it, and it was only natural for their brain to associate the keyboard with the spellings..

One person said that when they added numbers, they imagined them as dominoes being added together. “Were you a gamer?” 

“Yes!” they said, looking a little sheepish.

The Cognitive Processes of our Brains

Truly, the brain is such a multi-layered immensely capable and adaptable organ. Neuroscience must truly be fascinating to study and research. How many visual thinkers were there among other species? What percentage were analytical? Many would possess kinetic intelligence. Once we stop only thinking of the narrow spectrum of human intelligence, the world becomes that many dimensions more fascinating. I peered into the bookshelf at a book that has been on my tsundoku shelf for ages: ‘How the Brain Thinks’ and resolved to read it soon.

The picture of the brain was on the front, and I smiled as I thought of a friend who told me that they don’t like eating cauliflowers because it looks too much like the human brain. What was that type of thinking called? Visual or Associative.

Knights of Rain

“Don’t you feel like a Knight of Rain?” I said. The words must have sounded somewhat garbled for the rains were lashing, the winds were whipping, and the trees were swaying somewhat alarmingly.

The husband shouted out a response lost to the elements. It sounded like ‘WHAT?!”

“I moved so I could use the wind’s direction to my advantage. “I said, don’t you feel like a Knight of the Rain?”

He lifted his umbrella momentarily to give me a withering look. A mistake. For the winds elegantly made an upside down lotus of the black umbrella he was holding, and he danced to right it again. I saw a neat few buckets of water making use of the interlude to rain its droplets all over him. 

I smiled. “Using our umbrellas as shields, we make our brave foray into the wild world frenzied up by the elements.”

I heard some grunting and tutting, but nothing more.

This year, the rains have been particularly sparse. Yesterday was only the second day of proper rainfall, and I’d yearned for it. Obviously not wanting to miss the fun, I dragged the husband along for a short stroll – in my defense it was not as bad when we started out. There were no warriors required then – merely prancers. Every little raindrop whispering its presence out to the world craving for its sound.

I’ve always loved the piece by YiruMa with the sound of the rain in the background.It feels like the magic was music was just waiting for that sound to make the transition from beautiful to sublime.

If They Could Do It, So Could We

🌲🌳🌴🎋 I peeked out from the umbrella at the branches of the pine trees and willow trees swaying and dancing in the rain, I felt the joy building up inside me – if they could do it, so could we! 

🦅🐿️🐦‍⬛🦢I heard the sound of the winds and the rains against our flimsy shields of cloth, and marveled at the wood ducks enjoying themselves in the waters. When the rains stopped, they took just shook themselves off, with a little dance, didn’t they? If they could do it, so could we!

🐳🐟🪼I felt the trickle of chill water droplets that managed to shimmy past my umbrella’s shield and my jacket’s hood to slide down my neck, and gurgled a bit. I peered out. Were we lost – where were we? If the lost fish could find their way to the streams, and the streams to the rivers, and the rivers to the mighty ocean, so could we!

Who needs raincoats when there are rain quotes?

When finally the pair of us stepped into the home, one euphoric, and the other helpless. “Wasn’t that the most marvelous walk in a long time?”  collided with “Only an idiot would step out in this weather.”. It was like watching hydrogen peroxide mix with yeast and water. The laughter shaking out of our systems with the rain droplets. 

“I need a change of clothes before heading out now.” he grumbled but I caught a smile, as he shook his head and said, “A walk in the rain!”

Who needs raincoats when one is busy looking for rain quotes?

“Some people walk in the rain, others just get wet.”

– Roger Miller

Sonder and Saudade: Reflections on Travel and Books

Sonder

Traveling anywhere in the holiday season brings this fact to the fore. Airports, railway stations, bus stops, freeways – every place is packed with people, more people and more and more people. It was faintly unnerving at times to see this many people out in the world, all seemingly busy doing their many things. How many of them thought deeply, what did they do to occupy themselves, earn a living, attend to their loved ones? How many of them were loving and giving, and how many selfish and cruel?

That feeling of realizing the sentience of our fellow beings can be especially acute when traveling in crowded places. There is a beautiful word for it: sonder.

But wherever you were: one thing was apparent. Business was thriving. Clothing stores, eateries, perfumeries, jewelry stores – they dotted every city, country and airport. One time, I remember gazing out the window as we rode from one end to the diagonally opposite end of the city, and seeing shops after shops after shops. There was an apparent unending need for clothing and electronics, for consumption. One cannot help wondering about the ecological impact of all this, but there you are. ‘Better’ means the old has to go somewhere, and make place for the new. Maybe the next wave of innovations will be in making biodegradable plastics, electronics and clothing. After all, the waste that we are generating now can hardly be a scalable problem.

Lack of book stores in all the airports, cities

Even as I gazed out through the window taking in the local sights though, one thing sent a pang through me: the lack of bookstores anywhere was truly tragic. I felt their absence keenly. I had asked my siblings to fit in a visit to the bookstore. The only one in the vicinity was a little like a wild goose chase. The shop had moved they said, you cannot see the billboard from road they said. When finally, we found it, the reason was apparent. It was tucked away underground, as if hidden away from population. Only if you truly had the magical three things, could you find it: the will, the means, and the luck.

The bookstore had a passionate but regretful owner. “No space madam. Only so many books!” He said, gesturing apologetically to the small collection he had. To be fair, the little store had a fair amount of shelf space for children’s books (maybe those are the ones people are actually buying), but other fare was slim pickings. They were a few translated classics (which was a new section I admit) – it was heartening to see A Hundred Years of Solitude translated into Tamil. We picked up some books including a Tamil version of 1984 to donate to our local library in the USA.

The Hidden Bookshops of Timbuktu

But it all felt like the hidden bookshops of Timbuktu.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Timbuktu_Manuscripts

How many malls, streets covered with stores, and yet for intellectual stimulation, one had to either go scrounging or online? It was the same in many airports too. Perfumes, alcohol, watches, jewelry, clothing, chocolates, coffee, burgers: you could find these everywhere you turned, but good old fashioned books were tucked away in a corner (if at all), and hard to find.

What would it take for every coffee store, every clothing store, every jewelry store to have a reading nook that people could browse and buy books if they wanted? Wouldn’t that be marvelous? A tiny art nook that one could spend time creating their own art and craft while others shopped? I know reluctant shoppers would gladly accompany their friends and family if they could be tempted with the right incentives.

Was that utopian thinking?

Image: The beautiful hotel in which we stayed in Zurich that had a large marvelous library in its lobby. My heart sang, my spirits danced, and my soul settled, here in the presence of greatness!

Saudade

Our own town in US lost its bookstores to the great Amazonian sweep a decade ago. But luckily stores like Target or Costco still have a small pecking section for those really wanting to buy books or see them before picking them up.

Oh books! When did you go from being ubiquitous to precious to rare?

Could this be referred to as Saudade? That feeling or yearning for lost experiences?

Inspirations for Writing

Talented Inspirations

I recently read The Firework Maker’s Daughter by Philip Pullman

I’ve always wondered about the series of books that are titled thus: Galileo’s Daughter, The Clockmaker’s Daughter. The appeal of the daughters of men with interesting careers is an interesting premise. For so many years, women were denied the opportunity to consider interesting careers.

Like Elinor Dashwood (of Sense & Sensibility fame) says of women and careers:

“You talk of feeling idle and useless. Imagine how that is compounded when one has no hope and no choice of any occupation whatsoever”.

  • Jane Austen, Sense & Sensibility

If ever I am grateful for anything, it is that women’s talents are now nurtured and recognized. After all, talent does not distinguish between the crude lines drawn out by humanity – it does not care about race, caste, creed, sex, religion.

Fascinated as I was by the book, The Firework Maker’s Daughter,  I loved the colorful cast of characters, and  what is required from them to succeed in their profession. It also got me interested in the writing style of Philip Pullman – his was witty, whimsical, and oh-so-light.

Pullman on Writing (Source: Wikipedia)

“I have stolen ideas from every book I’ve ever read. My principle for researching a novel is ‘Read like a butterfly, write like a bee,’ and if this story contains any honey, it is because of the quality of the nectar I have found in the work of better writers.” 

  • Philip Pullman

A better imagery for writing I could not think of. If one thinks about it, life itself presents all the inspirations we want. Even when is in the midst of the Thanksgiving week-end, and may be busier with spending time with family, friends, trips etc, the inspirations are all around us. 

If you are looking for that November spark, look at sparkling fireworks of Diwali, the colorful trees of the fall foliage around us, the many friends and family one meets during November’s Diwali & Thanksgiving  seasons to gain your sense of well-being, gratitude and inspirations!

Halloween’s Influence: Understanding Fear in Stories

“Arrgh!” 

“Gosh! Dude! You scared me!”, I said, leaping neatly into the path of a bewildered looking biker on the trail. His eyes grew wide, and he wobbled spectacularly before regaining his poise and balance, and then smirked. 

I suppose it was funny. A scrawny fellow like the son is hardly the sort of fellow to make their mothers leap out of trail paths with their scary stories. But it is nearing Halloween and we were discussing the themes of horror in their English Literature class. 

“What are the elements of a horror story?” I asked.

His answer made me jump, leap into biker’s path, earn b.look from biker as he regained balance and then a smirk for additional points etc. 

I must admit that when it came to quakey finds, horrors take the biscuit. Stephen King is all very well in the daytime, with soothing cups of tea, warm music etc. But otherwise, no thank you! I still prefer the glow of humor, the comforts of friendships and love, good old fashioned topics like (science, nature, history, psychology, travel), and mild adventure in my reading fare.

Horror in Literature

What made the class interesting was their discussion on not just horror, but how it affected the different parts of our brains. The amygdala (the small pea sized piece of our brain) is known for the fear response – that is the piece we share with reptiles, he went on to say and I listened in awe. Our prefrontal cortex is where we process what the amygdala sends us, to appropriate a response. 

“I think you should research it up a bit more before quoting me though!” he said, giving me a stern look.

“What if I wrote that you asked me to research it, so folks know it isn’t the Gospel of NeuroScience instead?” I said, rolling my eyes, and he laughed at that and agreed. So here goes, folks: please research this piece on your own. 

How interesting to sit in a class, watching a 90’s cartoon show about Courage, The Cowardly Dog in the Chicken From Outer Space. 

Then to analyze how the different parts of the brain were affected by the fear response? I can’t think of a better way to spend a Wednesday afternoon. I would have loved to be a fly on the wall in that class (risking a horrified teenage set of kids screeching and swatting at flies notwithstanding), and I was full of admiration for their teacher who had taken the trouble to come up with a lesson like that close to Halloween.

Boggarts & Dementors

The whole conversation on fears and the horrors of our psyche reminded me of another conversation from a few days ago on boggarts and what shape each of ours would take. Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban has always been one of my favorite books – it addresses so many themes – how not to judge someone based on first impressions, how the truth can be life-altering, the importance of friendships, conscience, etc etc. But this book specifically addresses fear and our worst experiences in the form of boggarts and dementors.

This YouTube video on the SuperCarlinBrothers Channel on Why It Is Wise to Fear Fear is an amazing one in this context:

Harry’s WORST FEAR Explained | Harry Potter Film Theory

Halloween is the one time we acknowledge fear as a society. It also comes with a good antidote to fear: the ability to allow for whimsy and creatively live our lives.

We turned around after our walk, and the biker, much fortified after his own little fright, gave us a wan smile as he made off in the opposite direction too.

The Shape of Ideas: Creativity Unveiled

“What is nice is knowing that there is a fount of ideas – and even if many ideas seem taken, there is always a variation in the workings of the human brain to make it different.” 

“It is astounding – the volume of work produced.”

The husband and I were taking an evening walk discussing creativity, imagination and the origin of ideas. He was talking about one of the musical maestros of Tamil cinema  and their seemingly eternal bouts of inspiration. 

“I wonder if they worry about it running out on them, though.” I said, looking contemplative as I admired nature’s work around me. No lack of inspiration there! Every tree a different shape, every plant a different marvel, every soul a different temperament. 

“I suppose they would have the same trepidation or initial hurdles when they set out to create, and then obviously their levels of genius means that the ideas that do come to them are a class apart, but I suppose they must have their moments of doubt. “ said the husband looking thoughtful.

I hmm-ed at this. I do feel that just like the intelligence factor, there is an ingenuity factor (You have what you have and then those who work with it, sit with their abilities, nourish it, develop it, and try to wrangle it into industry reap the benefits). 

When I saw this book, The Shape of Ideas – An illustrated exploration of creativity –  by Grant Snider , in the library, I picked it up. Partly because I expected it to be whimsical but also because the origin and nature of ideas has always intrigued me.

The Shape of Ideas: An Illustrated Exploration of Creativity: Snider, Grant: 9781419723179: Amazon.com

51kUrTbxX0L._SY522_

How many of us have wondered about the origin of ideas? It is marvelous when we are graced with an idea. Especially one bursting with imagination, but for all the good and bad ideas humanity has come up with, we don’t really know the origin or the process to generate more of them. It is almost as if the unknown is bordering on the magical.  

Sometimes, we need a chock full of ideas to pull out a good one. Sometimes, it is the joy of an do-nothing day that gives you an idea that makes you smile.

This book is a marvelous read – it is full of whimsical ideas, endearing comic work, and neatly classifies the different areas that the shape of ideas tread: Inspiration, Perspiration, Improvisation , Aspiration, Contemplation, Exploration, Daily Frustration,Imitation, Desperation and Pure Elation.

As an example of the kind of art you can expect to see in the book – here is one on Drawing the Moon 

img_3666

We have all heard or understood various versions of the inspiration vs perspiration speech from our teachers, mentors and parents. 

On some level, we understand that being smart or talented or intelligent means nothing unless you are also granted opportunity, have perseverance and cultivate intellectual development.

But how do each of us use all of this to create a rich inner life that translates to one of beauty and enriches the life of those around us? 

“The most regretful people on Earth are those who felt their own creative power restive and uprising, and gave to it neither time nor power.” – Mary Oliver

Read Also: What is Your Friend

Numinous Navarathris

Navarathri

The Navarathri season is behind us. That is to say, the garba dances, the spontaneous bursting into carnatic music, classical dancers getting their Vijayadashami classes, the crowded shamiyana’s with pujo crowds, the golu hoppers, and the first wave of festive wear for the fall season is all behind us. The statues that got to come out and get put on display are all wrapped up, and put away in their cozy confines for another year.

There are many golu aspirants who raise the bar every time. One particular household we enjoy has a side-show gleaming with inventive playfulness. In every golu display there are stories jostling on the orderly steps waiting to be told, but skipped over – possibly waiting for the next year. For there is too much going on for dolls and their stories to be told and listened to. I can imagine and appreciate the whimsical nature of life wanting to be preserved as tradition. Then again, for a country such as India, there is rarely the time for slow pursuits such as mythical story telling sessions over long evenings these days. What was earmarked for that, has morphed into rushed sessions, oodles of food, music and dance bursting at every corner, and like life itself the dolls with the good stories sit quietly – watching, waiting their turn. Ready to amuse, educate and entertain if asked, but purely on stand-by.

img_3393

The Golu Tradition

Golu – as the tradition of the display of dolls is known, is rumored to have started in the 14th Century during the height of the Vijayanagara empire. The royal families of the era particularly around the Thanjavur region were taken in by the opportunity to display their dolls, host gatherings, etc. Slowly, they had musicians and dancers from the local temples over for performances, and it became a time when children were initiated into the Arts. Vijayadashami  became a day of artistic beginnings and blessings. 

In many of the homes we visit, we hear stories of the dolls being passed down from generation to generation. One friend told me that her vegetable set came from her great grandmother – handed down to her grandmother, who brought it to the US in the 60’s, and then passed it to her mother and how she plans to give it to her own daughter one day. I peered at the misshapen vegetables and felt a stirring for why the tradition appeals to so many. There were no perfectly preserved, larger models there. The vegetables had warped surfaces much like the farmers of the time might have produced them, and an artist had rendered them with the best clays and paints available to them. The greens were greener than the vegetables could achieve, and the reds made them look like they were blushing. Very fetching.

img_3493

Why tradition settled on 9 days for Navarathri, I am not sure. But I presume it had something to do with the agricultural cycles of the time. A lull in the work periods between harvest and planting cycles when the plants were at their strongest, and therefore a time for a bit of fun.

What I Wish It Could Be

As a child, I longed to take the golu dolls down from their shelves to play with. But of course, we weren’t allowed to do so. My own grandmother had given them to my mother. It seemed so pointless to have this many dolls all sitting there, waiting to be played with, but out of reach. This many stories waiting to be enacted. We were only ever to touch them the day they were taken out, or the day they were wrapped back in old newspaper and stowed away. A touch of pathos about the way they’d have to nestle back into the wooden crates in the old garden shed about them.

It has been a dear wish of mine to one day make a puppet based theatrical show of this. You know – properly make the dolls come alive, hop off their little shelves, and have them enact their stories. Vishnu’s avatars don’t need another year of standing there – they need to be out there telling you how much one ought to be doing in the face of evil vying and holding power. So what if you have to impersonate half a lion or a fish or turtle for noble purposes? That would be an apt election-time story wouldn’t it?

Make a funny skit or two about how the demon Ghatodgajjan ate his way through the season, or the din to wake Ravana’s brother, Kumbhakarna from his 6-month slumber to fight the war in the Ramayana. Enact the wars with paper mache swords, and bubblegum shaped missiles that could be eaten afterward. That would be cool.

A silly song about the cricket playing Ganesha statues maybe?

Wrap the session with all the Lakshmis being totally brave, daring, intelligent and charming. That would be brilliant.

Embracing the Tranquility of a Summer Evening

The day could have been better. My to-do list gave me reproachful looks all day long as I took care of many different things and accomplished nothing. It was time for this and time for that, not yet time for this-and-that, and oh-so-past-the-time for this-or-that. Finally, I wrapped up for the moment and headed out. It was a beautiful summer evening after all, and moping about not doing the work was not going to get it done. 

That’s how I found myself that beautiful summer evening, doing yoga in a friend’s garden that she had kindly invited us to. The sun’s rays danced through the maple leaves in the west, the mild breeze provided much required respite and made the italian cypress trees in the east look like they were dancing and swaying to the breeze too. 

The pink bougainvillea in the south leapt from fence to tree with such freedom of spirit, that I couldn’t help feeling a bit wistful at not being able to boldly leap and catch hold the way those plants did. How did creepers know whether they’d make it to the next branch? There must be a bold vision and a willingness to let go of safe harnesses that we never really stop to think about. I wonder how that feels – it certainly seems to be something we struggle with as adults more than as children. 

To complete the bucolic yogic scene, was the neighborhood black cat. Well-fed, preening its coat, gleaming in the evening sun and stretching every now and then to show us what a good stretch looks like, she lay there looking perfectly happy with the way her evening was going (or her days were going) by the looks of it. 

I told my friends about the state of to-do-ness that had ailed me that evening, and how the evening completely transformed it. My friends seem to have been in similar states of mind – and it all came spilling out the moment I said so. 

We smiled and drank in the scene: The cat did not care, the trees continued to sway, the leaves shone and the parched earth settled down to a cooler evening, the birds above made their way home. The purpose of life was right there, for those willing to take it.

The best part of the evening was the various angles from which we took in the garden – upside down, sideways. While breathing hard, while taking deep breaths. I tried taking the picture of the garden upside down, but of course all our tools seem to want to correct all our ‘mistakes’ and would not allow me to. So, I rotated the pic manually to retain the beauty of the world seen upside down.

upside_down_garden

Dancing in the wind, with the sun on my face.

Playing hide-and-seek and eating a treat.

It reminded me of Dr Seuss’s quote on looking at life

Fantasy is a necessary ingredient in living, it’s a way of looking at life through the wrong end of a telescope, and that enables you to laugh at life’s realities.

Dr. Seuss