Brushstrokes

Brushstrokes on the canvas of my life… The hues and shades of joys and sorrows, of pain and passion, of tears and desperation, all have lent fire to my quill and these brushstrokes paint the portrait of my soul… The benevolent and omniscient has given me perspective and the inimitable joy of a spectator at all times… The heartthrobs and heartbreaks, the hits and the misses, the mirth and the melancholy all paint these brushstrokes… Life is a journey of the soul, refining it in each encounter with the self.

Yes, each experience is, I believe, an experience of our own self and refinement of the soul.

We can either be bitter or be better when we experience life.

Whatever happens happens, because it has to happen, and it has to happen in that particular way… Let life flow on like a stream and let me be a leaf floating on it.

Prostrate at thy feet, Lord Guruvayoorappa, I surrender…