Shaku Selvakumar - Author

As dawn was barely breaking, I woke up and saw from my bedroom window,
a bright yellow orb hidden beyond the oaks and cedar.
I thought it was a huge Christmas light and little Sophie wanted to go out for her morning walk.
As we stepped out,
I looked up to see a luminous golden moon in fullness
against an iridescent blue sky.
What is seen by my feeble lens pales in comparison to the vision that unfolded before me.

Color me purple!

BraveCenter Podcast is now also available on Apple 💜

https://apple.co/47BfKzZ

The heart is a circle is a BraveCenter podcast offering hosted on focused on themes of inspiration, resilience, creation and sustenance.
Music, conversations, poetry, prose, art…so much to explore!

If you are on Spotify, look for BraveCenter with Shaku Selvakumar

https://open.spotify.com/show/7xpGGTPsOb4w0yFPGK4ovF?si=pSaB8A68TOy_YQDIBbQLWA

Link also in bio 👆🏽

Longevity

Very often we wonder if anything we create will last for a season, a lifetime or become a legacy.

Treasure and trash both exist on the same plane. The difference is that one is held and passed on through the lineage of time and the other fills our physical or digital landfills.

Every culture has its legendary creators who still inspire the present and shape the future.

Poetry, art, music, dance, cuisine unlock the codes of humanity. Storytellers through sight, sound, touch, taste and movement.

The performer, the performance, the witness; three strands woven into one.

We already know when we read something nourishing, when we watch something spectacular, when we create some singular, that it was co-creation.

We became the clay even while we were the potter.

We became one with play.

•••

The Scarecrow
Khalil Gibran

Once I said to a scarecrow,
“You must be tired of standing in this
lonely field.”

And he said, “The joy of scaring is a deep and lasting one, and I
never tire of it.”

Said I, after a minute of thought, “It is true; for I too have
known that joy.”

Said he, “Only those who are stuffed with straw can know it.”

Then I left him, not knowing whether he had complimented or belittled
me.

A year passed, during which the scarecrow turned philosopher.

And when I passed by him again I saw two crows building a nest
under his hat.

•••

Philosophy is the foundation for creativity. All that we gather, build and reveal leaves evidence of what we believe. When we disrupt that process in mechanical ways, the result lacks longevity.

“My dear, In the midst of hate, I found there was, within me, an invincible love.
In the midst of tears, I found there was, within me, an invincible smile. In the midst of chaos, I found there was, within me, an invincible calm.

I realized, through it all, that… In the midst of winter, I found there was, within me, an invincible summer. And that makes me happy. For it says that no matter how hard the world pushes against me, within me, there’s something stronger – something better, pushing right back.

Truly yours, Albert Camus”

Centered.

The ability to shut out the noise of polarized opinion and determine what holds true based on intuition and investigation.

Worry about “bored”
Don’t worry about “boring”
One is about dissatisfaction,
the other is about depth.
Endless seeking is an addiction.

Of sound mind

The definition of sanity is “one who possesses a sound mind”. The external cacophony that we invite intentionally and unintentionally is the source of dissonant programming.
Distorted sound waves lead to distorted vision. Seeing and hearing affects feeling and creating.
By constant immersion in digitally generated content we also lose perspective of touch and body awareness. Popular culture shapes our thoughts, our reactions, our expectations and experiences.

So inherently we are wading at the surface and with the superficial.

To retain sanity, one must embrace some form of solitude.

Everyone I talk to is dealing with creative exhaustion.
Reflection: Have we become so obsessed about gilttering tech toys that we are unable to read the room?
Are we over saturated with digital content that we can longer differentiate?

My article today in on how we revitalize our creative fire.

Link: https://medium.com/.selvakumar/overwhelm-is-a-creative-block-fe888b52f521

PEACE not Pieced
*****************
Everywhere I went,
I prayed for peace.

Was that enough as
houses were burning
families torn
children starving.

What is the point
of prayer, I thought.

What should I do?
How should I be?

helpless
help us

The fire that man
brings
was first for light,
was first for food,
was first for warmth
Just to ignite,
was not for fight.

Now fire has
contracted from
its life giving
generosity
to compacted
metal
that tears through
flesh, brick
and mortar.

Now fire
takes precision
aim
drones
humans
turned into
machines.

Now fire has
turned nuclear
which once meant
a single unit
to wreaking
devastation
across multiple
units.

Fire from friend
has turned foe.
Fueled by nations
in search for power.

but, what still
flickers is the
holy fire within
hearts that join
together
across every border.

one heart
two hearts
millions beating
together.

You are not
alone.

prayers
flow like whispers
in the wind
gathering
assistance,
turning
strangers into
friends,
arms invisibly
linked,
hands to hold,
to give,
to receive.

prayers flow
In different
dialects,
but voices
united.

kneeling,
standing,
weeping,
wailing.

in sacred
communion
an ever present
witness
to those who
must not be
forgotten.

cease
cease
cease
not
seize.

mend
shattered,
pierced
pieces.

Peace
Peace
Peace

©Shaku Selvakumar
The Ring of Remembrance

The heart is a circle ⭕️
The mind is a web 🕸️

“If we allow for it, the web that is spun by the mind can invade and cover the heart. When this happens, reality is obscured by illusion.

The heart is capable of emanation which is carried through sound and light. Transcending time. A conversation had through the heart years back can still be an evergreen field that yields effervescent fruit.”

https://medium.com/.selvakumar/the-heart-is-a-circle-242d70988b85

my latest article on

Holy Red!!! 🌺

Rain 🌧️
be gentle…

The rain that fell
after nine days
and nights,
kissed the sage, the esperanza and the
eternal rose.

Bloom,
Bloom,
Bloom

Give everything
back to the world,
rise up
and embrace
fall.

October,
I find your
precious
sweetness
coursing
through
the chalice in
my heart.
I pray
for kindness
I pray
for peace
I pray
for hope,
mercy
and ease.
May the
winds of
change
bring
gentle
reconciliation
to all that has
harshly
been
torn
asunder.

Above
and
below,
bloom
in
love,
Beloved.

©️Shaku Selvakumar
The Ring of Remembrance

The sky tells stories
of light and lines
drawn before time.
The earth tells
tales of cycles and
song to all who
listen.
What is held in ether,
carried by wind,
falls down to earth as
fire then water.

This land of my bones
with the sacred neem
and the steadiness of
the ancient alu maram

the aroma of
thengai,
mangai,
puli,
murungai,
nellikai,
karuvepillai

the sounds of
the paravai,
the incessant
kaaka,
the cooing kuruvi,
pura,
pacchai kili

the weave of
malli and
kanakambaram
in midnight
braids

the waft of
karpuram,
the tinkling of bells,
the auspicious
manjal and kumkumam,
the fragrance of
chandanam,
the calls to
prayer
to different Gods

this land where
I lay down my
foreign attire
and wrap myself
in the fabric of
my birth
and submerge
into the sea
of my mother
tongue

©️Shaku Selvakumar
Ring of Remembrance
September 2023

The River

One day when you finally stop running
You realize so many have been holding
And passing batons along the way
You recall faces you hold dear
Some are far and some are near
Lives that intersect in different ways
Sometimes for a brief moment
Sometimes for a little longer

Some still present others departed
But what is presence other than
A collection of wisp like memories
A recalled fragrance, an essential
Conversation
Brought back years later like the retrieval
Of long lost treasure
That could have happened
In the midst of the mundane
One morning at the breakfast table
Or one evening when the moon was full
When time lagged and the urgent
Took a backseat to the important

This river of souls
That runs through us
In turns, placid, turbulent
Raging through time
No longer held back
By landlocked boundaries

We are a collection of stories
Where nothing is forgotten
Just kept hidden
Of repeatable awareness
Of voices new and old
Past and present
Trying to be heard
Trying to predict a worthy future

Selvakumar, June 2013

PC: Vladimir Kush Art

*******

When children communicate, listen through the heart not the mind.

(something I wrote when my girls were little…)

The path of the wish is defined by the purity of the archer wielding the bow.
Even when it appears that the wish has come true, if it was crafted in greed and malice, it boomerangs in ways that will be clear later.
When a wish is in alignment with the fullness of a clear heart, it travels the distance and seeds true abundance.

This is one of my favorite Lucky caps which I’ve had for more than a decade.

I’ve often wondered about style. Whether it’s the interior of my home or what I wear or what I do, it boils down to this checklist:

>>does it represent my essence
>>does it bring me joy
>>is it useful or comfortable

Whenever my decisions hinged on external validation and approval, it would backfire down the road.
Artifice can only take you so far.
Hype crumbles because it has no ground to stand on.
What trends today becomes boring tomorrow.
There is a unique space that belongs to each one of us.
It’s up to us to find it ♥️

One of my favorite pots broke last week.
Kintsugi says, mend it with the gold threads of brokenness and turn it into your lived art.
I decided to make it into a bird bath.
Watching my feathered friends sipping and splashing in earthen ware as they try to beat this cruel cruel summer heat.

The morning
Sun
pays homage
to the serene
Sundari
while
the bells
sing Her praises.

Grant me the
wisdom to only
chase You
within me
and
nothing else.

♥️

The fullness on this full moon
is the cup that overflows from
the fertile heart ♥️🙏🏽♥️

Sophie
runs all day,
distracted by
every tiny
action.
Her young life
has just begun.
All
she seeks is
discovery.
Uncover
this,
recover
that.

Sophie
is full of
little fears…
of
little sounds
and big
noise.
Of the huge
world
outside
that
towers over
her.

Sophie is also
full of trust.
The way
she falls asleep
at my feet.
She knows
no other
way to
survive the
wild
unknown that
can turn on her
in a single
moment.

Sophie
is always in
natural state;
a place of pure
being.

I can’t help it. I’m a plantaholic.
This flowering pot of huge and colorful Zinnias is making my heart dance 💃

Life will always bring to us a mixed bouquet of sweet and sad.

Joyful endurance…one of the meanings of Zinnias as well as fond remembrance. 🌸

To arrive here and to be here, neither looking back or needing to know what lies ahead, requires a certain inner cohesion.
To walk with both, the inner child and the inner teacher, requires trust and the letting go of outer validation.
When I wrote about the Tribe, it was a reminder to me to seek and recognize wisdom that presents itself in those who live in deep comfort within their skin.

**********

You want to hang out with sincerity.
You want to sit next to kindness.
You want to have a drink with goofy.
You want to cuddle up with joy.
You appreciate patience.
You recognize generosity. This is the happiness of getting older,
Like cleaning your closet of sizes that
No longer fit.

********
Excerpt from
Be Still My Heart
©️Shaku Selvakumar

Renewal ♥️
Everything ordinary when seen through the filter of presence and gratitude becomes extraordinary.
This is the alchemical process that begets inspiration, insight, creativity and wonder.

Guru Purnima

Throughout life,
teachers have
appeared
in various forms.

In classrooms,
through books,
through courses,
through talks.

Presence
or absence
made
no difference
to
glean the
essence.

The wise ones have
taught with love in their
heart, untangled by
needs and
sending blessings when it
was time to depart.

Seen and unseen
Guided or serendipity,
to learn
cyclical patterns
found by the way
the tree
greens and dies,
the way the moon
waxes
and wanes.
dark
before,
the endless
night
dawns
with light.

Sacred gnosis,
the root of
knowledge
overflows
for all who
arrive with
a thirst so
deep.

the cup,
the chalice,
the holy
grail

belongs
to all
and
to
no one.

only
the
One.

This beautiful book of poetry of.youth
written by the equally beautiful is a sacred offering to the world. In its condensed form, the words wrap around the angst, loss, love, light and joy of a life that is unfolding day by day. Tea’s heart blooms through the discovery of the world outside while nourishing the sacred within.

Grab a copy on Amazon or Kindle.

The hibiscus 🌺 resurrects during Spring and Summer.
Luscious, majestic, benevolent, its presence is fleeting as the day.
Pink for friendship, red for vitality, purple for sovereignty, yellow for luck, white for purity…
My joy knows no bounds when these beauties bloom.
If they can arise, so can I.