Black iris

Fortune curled a lock of luscious dark hair around her long fingers.. Lying on deep velvet cushions provided so thoughtfully by luxury, she was the last of the spolit goddesses.She opened her luminous black eyes to look into the world below. She had made an unusal choice today. The home of a shop keeper in the busy streets of Bombay , with little space to sleep or cook , the man and his wife lived on little but with much happiness. Fortune was indeed the goddess of the rich and powerful. Watching the chanpagne flow , cavier being eaten up by dogs and debauchery on the most elegant cruises, bored her. Turning her eyes on the lives of common people brought her staisfaction, another underpaid petty god she had met recently. When Fortune gazed at common people it brought them flashes of unexpected luck , this she hurriedly covered up by turning God's attention to minor floods or accidents so effortlessly caused by her distinguished friend Catastrophe.
Life on Earth held a distinct allure and Fortune had fallen prey. She had found a most exciting tale as she watched the goings on in the house of the Prince and Princess of Gwalior. Busy bestowing riches on the royal couple, Fortune noticed their maid slide out of room , quitely and smoothly.Excited to be watching her very first adventure, she followed the maid through the sprakling corridors and open halls , across green lawns and finally to the plain servants quarters.The grey aging building was had little rooms for each of the personal servants of the royal couple. The rooms were airy, clean and sparse. The maid hurried up the stairs silently praying that there was no one who would report her presence in the quarters during work hours. She approached her room , looking to check if there was anyone watching , she turned the key in the lock, entering her and closing the door immedately behind her. Concealed in the folds of her saree it was clear she was holding something precious. She hesitantly brought her hand foward , dazzling red beams of light filled the room , glinting of the bare walls and catching the afternoon sun that streamed in through the open window. Caught off gaurd the maid stared agape for a precious few seconds. Quick to snap back to the risks her faced, she backed into a corner away from the window , her plams covering each other and attenpting to hide the intense light. In the corner she uncovered an egg shaped stone , it's hand polished surface rich with color as deep as the blood of a young lamb. She drew a hanky out of a drawer, concealing the stone preciously in its heavy folds, guarding all light from eascaping .Its shape and splendour were remeniscent of the Kingdoms of old.
The eyes of Fortune watched steadily as she hid the jewel in her drawer, it would surely be found in the first search! What was she doing? did she not know that she could be hung if she were found out? Was she so naivee, as to believe that they would not search her quarters.? After the princesses marriage, she had travelled with her , forming a part of the royal retinue sent by the princesses mother to ensure the well being of her daughter.She would not be the first to be searched , but her absence today would give her away. It would indeed be a shame to see one so young and daring hung for treason and thievery.

anger a medicine ?

My nerves are burning with anger, I need to flex my arm because I feel each joint is numbed with the burden of his irrational behaviour. 'How could he?' is the one thought that sears my taut brain , burning a hole in my regulated thought process and filling with we impulsive retribution.
I box my way out of my anger, hurling my disbelief and reliving my chargin, with different descriptive phrases. I lash out with many plans to make him pay for his deeds. I imagine him suffering the shock I suffered.
Anger consumes me , ego controls my thoughts and guides me to reclaim lost face. Each action takes me away from the problem , building a demonic castle of his misdeeds , a wall of protection around me and a field of broken glass between the two.When Im done ranting I must walk barefoot ,ego in hand , to reclaim the relationship.Somehow I do it everytime. Common sense prevails over ego.
I think that pushing  each relationship to the level of maximum tolerance may not be the answer to addressing a mistake but we all try it. Another method we use, is catching the person off guard, reminding them that we were right and theyr were grossly wrong . When someone repeats a mistake, it hits home harder and we fight back with vengence, we may be hurting ourselves more and it may be time to step away.
If we could vent our anger with grace, it would be the best solution we could find. A clear demonstarion of hurt, distrust and an explantation of what happened without repetetion, will make us think clearly and ensure that we dont alienate the other person. We use repetetion to emphasise the situation , with growing emphasis the other person senses built up hatred and switches off.
Bringing your anger out as another emotion , expressing it without physical violence but still in words and in volume may work as therapy. It will communicate to the other person , who you are and what you need. It will help you face the problem. Expression of anger, if controlled can be used to build a relationship .Walking away in anger and composing yourself to address the problem again ,is quite unnatural and resembles an act.
It is true that we often need to get away to think , but when we have much to say , walking away because we are angry may not be the solution. It is in anger that we find love and humour. It is also here that we find our most secret fears and it may be here that we open up those fears to the ones we love, allowing them to see what causes the problems we live with.
Reaching out and reaching within to reach out , is a process of constant self understanding , it is best that we allow our dearest ones to be a part of who we are at every stage. Apologising becomes easier and sometimes truth finds ways of exhibiting itself without the artifice of a confession.
If we look at anger , crying, love and jealousy as expressions , and ways to communicate, we may conquer some of our fears.

repetitive art as therapy

A hundred lines repeated one following the other, sometimes one better than the other and some lighter more delicate with growing involvement, and some plain and just , but each drawn to take your mind away from this world of problems is a line in a definite direction. Patience , time and therapy are achieved in half an hour with just rewards of a calmer mind. A therapy well followed and built upon, reminds us that we yearn first for our inner peace and then for material gains. 

The latter , obliterates all manner of peace.In the many plans to secure our future we are unsure and unsteady.

Decisive action is not natural to many. Inaction is quite impossible. It is this specific moment of action that I study.To act almost at the point of thought creates the best results. A studied philosophy of the mind , helps eliminate contrived thought , creating pure understanding.

It is in this process that we apply line therapy. Lines , curves, pictures all drawn for the single purpose of finding yourself result in unusual creative output, breaking visual barriers and freeing cyclical thought process.

When we obsess over our problems, we go over them again and again. In repetitive art, the the mind gets a break from repetition , as it watches the hand repeat lines. By compensation the mind is freed of its burden and becoming light again.

taking your time

The stock market is not the most interesting subject to start with but its the one thats on my mind today. Im trading intraday and Id like to make the big leap to big numbers.
The biggest problem I face is buying at the right price.
Every morning I enter my buys at 8:45 and watch the market from 9:30.
Choosing one stock and following it is just as painful as choosing 4 stocks. The smiles come out when the market goes up and the worry lines start forming when the lines start moving slowly.
The thrill in making money is well compensated by the pain experienced in earning it.
Cutting losses is the best lesson I have learnt from trading.
You can earn back everything you loose, but u need to have a good intution and you need to find that steel in you.
Finding your courage and patience are two lessons so well learnt in the last few months, that Im beginnning to think that trading builds character. Trading has brought me face to face with reality , making me faster and intutive. I wish we were not cautined against trading soo much , the stigma of gambling and betting run very close to the stigma trading bears.
I am about to make my first loss in 3 months and Im waiting to take the call, every paise counts. I believe I will be wiser tomorrow.