Posted by: SPT | July 17, 2014

An Area of Rest

I just told myself, “In this experience of life, some are just beginning to awaken.” I say this as I am sitting on the grass in a NorCal rest area off Highway 99.

A soft, reassuring breeze reminds me I’m never alone.

Rather than ask if you have any questions, or seek to win your confidence over with credentials, I make a strong assumption that we are created so similarly that, despite our differences, we must have been created by the same entity.

Once I have that piece of understanding down, I lose track of myself as my mind loses footing and my body begins to float. I’m in this environment where everything is visually independent but spiritually connected, and I draw conclusions about my purpose and the purpose of my fellow beings. This “sandbox” in which we spend our daily lives is merely a small percentage of what is out there. But its significance in our day to day living is substantial.

I am, as well are others, defining our purpose. Each attempt is a reminder that I must accept how little I know and promote my willingness to learn more.

Instantly, I see things more clearly, but the whole vision fades into my rearview vision as I pull myself back to solid footing. I say to myself, “Don’t forget this experience. It’s too easy to forget, so keep on your guard.”

The way of thinking which I have adopted has been inspired by my past experiences in life. It is not mine nor I was the first to discover it, and I will not be the last to stumble across it. We each face this reality, “…we must!”, I tell myself. Because you and I are from the same creator.

Our pace, start time, and awareness are variables I cannot fully explain. I simply brush it off to the decisions we have been making day to day.

I ask myself, “Will this influence how I view certain role models or sages?” That’s an easy reply, I think to myself, so I verbally acknowledge, “Of course.”

But I always ask the wrong questions, I get distracted by what’s on the surface of things. The more revealing inquiry would address the capacity in which it will influence who I am and the person I want to become, and the factors which are involved in this separation.

There goes that breeze again, this time accompanied with a soft chirping in the background; what a relaxing rest area.

Posted by: SPT | July 17, 2014


Just food for thought:

Much human behavior is embedded into us and emerges as instinctual responses to environmental stimuli, this we know. Some even go far as tracing their ancestral lineage to determine what characteristics were common denominators to their genetic pool.

While this is often used to help explore who we are, it can also hint at why we feel at unease when we approach unfamiliar situations.

When considering the reality that many of our ancestors died at an age much lower than today’s average life expectancy, our lack of experience with old age becomes apparent.

I always think about time and how quickly it progresses and, almost as if to act out the scenes of my older years, I imagine my future self and wonder what turns life will have forced upon my path. Now I’m coming to the realization that there is much that society is still figuring out about getting older, I feel less in the dark. Or rather, acknowledging I have company causes me to realize I’m not the only one.

I can only imagine that my need for understanding as I grow older is only the tip of an iceberg… I have my lineage embedded into me, sure, but I must see that I am graduating into an age group to which my genetic makeup has yet to become accustomed. I am already experiencing a reality which is fairly new to my history, and thus I am a co-author to the future of this lineage.

This fear about the impact each of today’s steps have in bringing me closer to my future drives my anxiety through the roof. Accepting this feeling of unease, however, could be a defining moment. Seeing the relation between choices I consciously make and those based on instinct inspires hope and motivates me to act.

It especially inspires, because I know that my conquering this fear will embed the experience into my memory, setting a precedent that my actions were enough in itself. A lack of familiarity simply presents a new opportunity to go one step further. Perhaps that’s all that I need to know for now.

Posted by: SPT | July 17, 2014


I have this thought, that something is not as it should be. That I should be trying harder to succeed. I have this thought, a thought I must believe, that if I dismiss my thoughts, I will no longer be. See, these thoughts are lonely and they do need, they require more thoughts so they can believe, they have a faint sense of what ideas may seem, that a thought could produce an idea from dreams. These thoughts I thought were only temporary, but they had wrought an impression to be seen. An inspiring scene, I thought, from which one’s hopes can spring, I fought the obvious for so long but now I was keen.

Posted by: SPT | December 13, 2013

Two Thoughts Collide

Certain songs trigger lyrics from my lips, as if they were sitting there all along waiting for the right moment. Perhaps they needed inspiration, or the right catalyst, to emerge from their cocoon. (Tangent: Did you know butterflies drink blood?) But it’s not accurate to describe it as lyrics, for it’s not to any particular song; rather, it’s to the backdrop of my life. These thoughts are constantly forming and, as clouds do, they precipitate when enough has accumulated and the environment is just right. The songs, in a sense, create the perfect storm; two fronts, unable to pass without friction, precipitating a solution.

Recently, Hrithik Roshan and his wife of 17 years, Sussanne Roshan, separated. They announced this on a public platform, confronting their reality head-on. I respect this. Growing and maturing in the world of media, in whatever capacity, has to be a struggle. The limelight is always there at the wrong times, and privacy is a dream many cling onto with the same fervor that I cling onto my freedoms of speech. It’s an ode to the old-fashioned sentiments we grew into, a time when such things were encouraged. Even as they fade and slip away from our grips, we hold tightly as to prolong the inevitable–or perhaps, to fight the entropy. Certain things, I tell myself, should not change.

Back to Mr. and former Mrs. Roshan, I read a comment regarding their decision to separate that I couldn’t just let go. I found myself holding tightly onto the thought, allowing other thoughts to form condensation around it: “Personally, I always thought he could do better.”

“That’s quite a statement”, I pondered. I, too, once had this thought. It was based on purely societal values imposed on viewers far before I walked onto the scene, but I was no stranger to the conclusion. He was not only a burgeoning super star in the Bollywood Industry, one of the largest media organizations on the planet, but he also seemed to have a great story behind him. Although he worked very hard to achieve the body image he has today, he has also embraced the imperfections that he was born with in an industry that does everything but embrace imperfections. A respectable role model.

I remember watching an interview with him and his wife about, what feels like, a decade ago. She presented herself as a well-mannered, beautiful Indian lady that was dedicated to supporting her husband. Standing next to Hrithik, she represented both the supportive female role behind her husband’s success and the shadow that was attached to him. It was an odd juxtaposition, a reminder of how powerful she could be but also how significant her husband’s role was in her life. She mentioned during the interview that she thought her husband was so attractive and well-rounded that he could get any female. He blushed heavily and laughed it off, but it was clear he was surprised by her response. His wife, a clear supporter of his ambitions and proponent for his success, was now suggesting that he could do better than her.

To acquire perspective, I empathize with her and imagine how she must feel. But instead of letting go of that statement and understanding the motivation behind such a statement, I felt myself holding onto it with the same propensity I hold onto my ability to write, to express myself. This statement was not one that I could let slide under the radar; it was a combination of words that moved me and left an imprint in my mind.

“How is it,” I ask myself, “that she could have so much to do with the person he has become, yet think that he deserves someone else?”

There is much more to marriage than a comparison of where two people are in life. The factors we judge others by, merely surface deep observations, prevent us from having the insight we need for our own lives.

Marriage was once considered an old-fashioned approach to life, an event during which two souls would merge their existence for the betterment of each other. To me, Hrithik and Sussanne Roshan’s marriage was exemplary of this union, even if they didn’t know it.

I don’t deny the societal pressures placed on each of us. My aesthetics and socioeconomic status determine my potential impact, and I’m okay with this realization. But I’d be wrong to accept this as the influence for the major decisions in my life. The metrics by which I evaluate a life-partner will be my own, for aesthetics and socioeconomic status, and whatever other measures one uses, are simply temporary descriptors. The soul of the person I am trying to merge my own with, and its capacity to love and be loved, is the true core of what I’m chasing after.

How silly would I be to settle surface deep when my destination isn’t even a tangible one?

Maybe the commenter was right. Maybe Hrithik Roshan does deserve someone better than his ex-wife. But the way I see it, she supported him for 17 years of his life and helped him become the man he is today. Without her, he would not be the same person today, nor would he be the same person I refer to as a respectable role model. For me, their souls have already touched each other in a way that is levels above what a public eye can see. They certainly deserved each other (until now, for reasons only they know).

I wish them both the best, and I hope that their decision to head in different directions is one with which they are both happy.

Posted by: SPT | March 17, 2013

Psychic Abilities

I possess psychic abilities, because of you.

It’s true, I do.

I used to see one day at a time, perhaps two;
Now I daydream about my future, and I see you.

Hazy it may be, that is also true,
I see me sitting beneath a tree reading a book to you:

A story of magnificent sorts,
Maybe one I’ve written about us,
I see a fantasy beginning, and an ending to trust.

Posted by: SPT | March 17, 2013

Love Poetry

She doesn’t want to talk.

My heart, wanting to communicate, feels iron wrought.

I want to connect with her internally,
But externally she’s shot.

Full with desire, on most days my heart sees true.
But, this observation is more than a clue:
Adding distance shouldn’t translate to a feeling so blue.

Understand, I ask myself, and be patient,
For life is complex and misunderstood.

Even when she seems so far,
Know in my heart, I should

She’s a blink of an eye away,
And embedded in my heart for good.

I act upon my heart’s desires,
And I chase after my dreams.

Whether that love sprouts and blossoms into a tree,
And whether that passion has leaves in the breeze,
Should never matter to me.

If this moment moves me
To root and plant my feet
Or if it lets my mind free

Than there’s only one way to describe
The way I’m feeling: Love poetry.

I keep writing (and typing)
And count the moments until again we meet.

Posted by: SPT | March 17, 2013

Momentary Pause

I discovered something about me today… I want to refer to my discovery as a “writer’s momentary pause.”

I couldn’t write for a long time, because I had a writer’s momentary pause. Not a writer’s block, where one is searching for the right words but unable to express himself, but a writer’s momentary pause.

I’m not sure if I’m a writer, an artist, some weird combination of the two, or neither. I love to write and express myself eloquently, but I must admit the words are never my own. I may produce them, and my fingers might be behind each keystroke, but the thought and observations I have are dependent on my environment, the people in my life, and the emotions they bring or elicit.

For a while there, I wanted to write, but each attempt was disconnected and lacking cohesion. It made me think about the purpose of writing, and why I even made attempts. It placed a spotlight on the question of who my audience would be and whether they even cared. One would think the most pressing issue was whether I lost my ability to write altogether, but that wasn’t it. I simply needed a writer’s momentary pause.

I want to write again, and as a matter of fact, I wrote something today. Not because it felt necessary, but because it felt right. My heart and mind were wrenched, and I knew just the tool to fix the dilemma.

Sometimes I just need to have that momentary pause just to become cognisant of life again, so I can reconnect with my environment and the emotions that fuel my actions. I need to accept that I can’t control the pace or timing that life has, but I need to be willing to take advantage of the moments that I have control over.

This moment is mine.

Posted by: SPT | August 30, 2012

Trappist Words

Weary, and at a loss for words, I question whether I should write.  I’ve held back for this long, so couldn’t I hold off another night? Feeling Trappist within–silent and observant–but with no larger purpose to life other than to strive, I choose to hold back and analyze my sight. What could I, a humble servant of this light, say to shine? Wanting to reflect, I second guess time. 

Perhaps my switch is off and my back is turned, I laugh. Maybe it’s the blindness that keeps me drifting off path. I’m traveling through the concrete jungle, but instead of driving, I float like an inflatable raft. I cannot control the waters, but I swim and I last.

Weary, and at a lost for words, I question what to write.  “With this world and all of its wonder, what if I blunder,” a repeating thought in my mind. In describing the sights and smells I experience, I lust after the perfect sequence. Of the combinations to choose from, and the infinite possibilities I could run, what If I wrong under this sun.  What if Mother Earth had not been capitalized, or priority wasn’t given to foresight? Would my half-life decay quicker than I fought?

Questions asked with no answer or right, because even their answers could never be bright. Dimmed responses to open-ended lines, a summary of my philosophical flight, keep me company at night.

Posted by: SPT | August 30, 2012

Cloud Pacing

Deciding where to hover, I cloud around.


Floating by the landscapes I revered, I now consider my scenery an aesthetic sphere with physical objects responding to my sensory fears. I know too well the ambition I call my drive is near, but so much is still unclear. The absolute ways, the irrelevant phase – combined, I see myself in a daze. This momentary state I place myself in is taxing my emotional ways. “Already decide,” I tell myself. Why hesitate when I choose to wait, “Just begin your day.” 


If only it were that easy, for I speak with queasy thoughts about concrete flow charts. I stand in front of professionals with a sway, and even though I feel confident, I always say: “Excuse me today.” What about my life made me this way?


Professing my love, I hand off my trust. Clueing in others on the imperfect lust I contain for both life and my relationships, a must for me, is nestling. Serious ‘ships and lifelong exercises encrust the layers from which I dust off my past, so I add a new chapter to my fast. Giving up the elements in my caste which made me sad, I feel connected to my stance. My soul is flawed but I move forward with my jaw, biting away for the hopes of tomorrow’s weight. Keeping in mind I no longer can tell time, I weigh the gravity with distaste for the orbit in which I rotate. 


“Acknowledge the origins of your safe,” I consider, “for it holds your heart’s desire in space.” An expansive mason jar which I call my universe, disconnected from its eternal pace, I case the situation and approach my predicament with a bold face. 


Feet shoulder-width apart, I stand upright and lace my actions with a progressive grace. Movement is not as important as the counting of days and the impact I’ve made, for I’m held back by these two in life’s race. Distance matters as much as first place, thus I chose to slow my rate, for there is no competition in the ways we determine the value of our spiritual ways. The finish line can arrive with last place, a simile for the time it takes to reach the pearly gates. Actions mine consequences in a resourceful way, so I remain conscious of the various directions that my outlines trace.


I am only matter in space. But no matter what I occupy, my dreams I forever chase.



Knowing a destination needs to be chosen, I pace around my room. Sliding about, I let time past me with no focus on the “now”. The basic questions in life trouble me, causing internal strife, but my approach is controlled and a reminder of human plights.

Posted by: SPT | May 1, 2012

Number Motherflippin’ One

(This is an attempt to explain why and where I think our society is failing)

We think individualistic only.

Society and everything that it consists of trains us to become soldiers of personal warfare, rather than a fighter for a greater cause of good. We as humans have become so fenced in with our “my property” viewpoints, that we’ve allowed for it to change the way we advance as a whole. That says a lot in itself, and we should be aware of what that message is. We are working towards an environment where each individual is motivated to empower only him or herself rather than think of the greater good for the collective group. By training to fend for ourselves, we’re limiting our ability to work together and thus reap the benefits of collaborative work. It’s not a matter of achieving more work, it’s the matter of wasting precious resources toward a cause that is misguided and destructive.

The biggest question humanity faces is “What is our purpose?”.

Although such a question has no specific answer, it has many responses which humanity can agree is acceptable for the time being. Until we answer the larger question of “what created, and for what did He create us” we must focus on the needs [and wants] of our population. If we are to continue to exist, then our focus must turn to the conditions of our existence, and the equality of conditions for our population.


Because one of the responses which humanity agrees upon is that whatever created this environment, this massive universe which we cannot even explore beyond our galaxy, also created all of us. So we are responsible for honoring that lesson, especially as we obtain food&resources from this environment to continue our sustainability. We exist together, so it’s high-time we remind ourselves of our connection to each other.

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