Cheryl Snell's Blog, page 29
July 22, 2011
July 20, 2011
Prisoner's Dilemma
My sister's and my book of art and poetry on game theory is now #60 on Amazon under Themes and has been selected for their 4 for 3 sale. Nice!
July 18, 2011
WLBKS Super Summer Secret Twitter Sale
Writer's Lair Books has a message for its tweet peeps: 48 hr Super Summer Secret Twitter Sale! $8 books. #wlbtwittersale RT to get your code for a second book for $6 here
July 17, 2011
In India, nearly five thousand years ago, lived a boy nam...
In India, nearly five thousand years ago, lived a boy named Eklavya, the son of a tribal chief of the kingdom- Hastinapura. Eklavya was a brave, handsome boy, loved by all. But he was not happy.
"Why are you so unhappy, Eklavya? Why don't you join your friends? Why are you not interested in hunting?" his father wondered.
"Father, I want to be an archer" replied Eklavya, "I want to become a disciple of the great Dronacharya, the great tutor of Archery in Hastinapura. His Gurukul is a magical place where ordinary boys are turned into mighty warriors. I want to be a warrior, not a mere hunter, so please allow me to leave home and become the disciple of Dronacharya."
Eklavya's father knew that his son's ambition was not an easy one, but gave his blessings and sent his son on his way to Drona's Gurukul. A Gurukul (Guru refers to "teacher" or "master"; Kul refers to his domain, from the Sanskrit word kula, meaning extended family.) is a type of ancient Hindu school, residential in nature with the shishyas or students and the guru living often in the same house. The students resided together as equals, learned from the guru and also helped him with chores such as washing clothes, cooking, etc.
When Eklavya reached Dronacharya's Gurukul, the disciples were shooting arrows in the yard. Eklavya looked for Drona. Where was he? Without Drona, the boy's journey would be meaningless.
The man was standing near a tree busy instructing a boy, who was none else than the third Pandava prince Arjuna. Eklavya approached Drona and bowed.
The sage was surprised to see a strange boy addressing him. "Who are you?" he asked.
"Dronacharya, I am Eklavya, son of the Tribal Chief in the western part of the forests of Hastinapura.Please accept me as your disciple and teach me the wonderful art of Archery."
Drona sighed. "Eklavya, if you are a tribal hunter, you must be a Shudra, the lowest social community according to the Vedic Caste System. I am a Brahmin, the highest caste in the kingdom. I cannot teach a Shudra boy."
"And he's also a Royal teacher," interrupted Prince Arjuna. "Our Guru has been appointed by the King to train us, the princes and the highborn. How dare you come inside the Gurukul and seek him? Leave! NOW!"
Eklavya was stunned at Arjuna's behavior. He himself was the son of the chief of his clan, but he never insulted anyone below him in such a way. He looked at Drona for some kind of support, but the sage remained silent. The message was loud and clear. Dronacharya also wanted him to leave. He had refused to teach him.
The innocent tribal boy was deeply hurt by Drona's refusal. "It's not fair!" he thought miserably. "God has given knowledge to all, but man alone differentiates his kind." He left the place with a broken heart and a bitter taste in his mouth. But it could not shatter his ambition to learn Archery."I may be a Shudra but does it make any difference? I am as strong and zealous as Drona's princes and disciples. If I practice the art everyday, I can surely become an archer."
Eklavya took some mud from a nearby river. He made a statue of Dronacharya and placed it in a secluded clearing in the forest. He believed that if he practiced before his Guru, he would become an able archer. Thus, though his Guru shunned him, he still held him in high esteem.
Day after day, he took his bow and arrow, worshiped the statue of Drona, and started practice. In time, faith, courage and perseverance transformed Eklavya the mere tribal hunter into Eklavya the extraordinary archer of exceptional prowess, superior even to Drona's best pupil, Arjuna.
One day while Eklavya was practicing, he heard a dog barking. At first the boy ignored the dog, but soon he stopped his practice and walked toward the barking dog. Before the dog had time to close its open jaws, Eklavya fired seven arrows in rapid succession into the dog's mouth. The dog was uninjured even with its open mouth full of arrows.
Though Eklavya was unaware of it, the Pandava princes were also present in that area of the forest, with their teacher, Drona, who was instructing them about some finer points of archery. When they suddenly chanced upon the arrow-stuffed dog, they all wondered who could have pulled off such a feat of archery. Drona was amazed too. "Such an excellent aim can only come from a mighty archer." he exclaimed. The party set off to find the remarkable archer. They found a dark-skinned man dressed all in black, his body besmeared with filth and his hair in matted locks. It was Eklavya. Dronacharya went up to him.
"Your aim is truly remarkable!" Drona praised Eklavya, and asked "From whom did you learn Archery?"
"From you my Master. You are my Guru," Eklavya replied humbly.
"Your Guru? How can I be your Guru? I have never seen you before!" Drona exclaimed. But all of a sudden he remembered something. "Are you not the same hunter boy whom I refused admission in my Gurukul some months back?"
"Yes, Dronacharya", replied the boy. "After I left your Gurukul, I came home and made a statue like you and worshiped it every day. I practiced before your image. You refused to teach me, but your statue did not. Thanks to it, I have become a good archer."
Hearing this, Prince Arjuna became angry. "But you promised me that you'd make me the best archer in the world!" he accused Drona. "Now how can that be? Now a common hunter has become better than me!"
The sage too was upset that his promise to Prince Arjuna was not going to be fulfilled. He was also angry with Eklavya for disobeying him.
"Where is your guru dakhsina? You have to give me a gift for your training," the sage demanded.
Eklavya was overjoyed. A guru dakshina was the voluntary fee or gift offered by a disciple to his guru at the end of his training. The guru-shishya parampara, the teacher-student tradition, was hallowed in Hinduism.
"Dronacharya, I'll be the happiest person on earth to serve you. Ask me anything and I will offer it to you as my guru dhakshina "he said.
"I might ask something you won't like to give me. What if you refuse the dhakshina I want?"
"No! How can I, teacher? I am not that ungrateful. I'll never refuse anything you ask, Dronacharya,"
"Eklavya, I seek to have your right-hand thumb as my guru dhakshina" he declared.
Silence fell on everyone, even Arjuna. He looked at his teacher in horror and disbelief. How could their teacher make such a cruel demand?
For a moment Eklavya stood silent. Without his thumb he could never shoot arrows again. But the teacher must be satisfied. Eklavya drew out his knife and cut off his thumb!
He betrayed no signs of pain, and held out his severed thumb to Dronacharya. "Here is my guru dakshina, Drona. I am happy that you have made me your disciple, even if I'm a mere Shudra hunter."
The sage was humbled. He blessed the young archer for his courage. "Eklavya, even without your thumb, you'll be known as a great archer. I bless you that you will be remembered forever for your loyalty to your guru." He was grieved but his promise to Arjuna was not broken.
The Gods blessed Eklavya and despite his handicap, he continued to practice archery. How could he do so? When one is dedicated, one can make even mountains bow. With practice, Eklavya could shoot arrows with his index and middle finger and his fame spread far and wide.
When Drona came to know this, he blessed the boy silently and begged for divine forgiveness.
Eklavya is still praised as the most loyal and brave student in the epic of Mahabharatha.
"Why are you so unhappy, Eklavya? Why don't you join your friends? Why are you not interested in hunting?" his father wondered.
"Father, I want to be an archer" replied Eklavya, "I want to become a disciple of the great Dronacharya, the great tutor of Archery in Hastinapura. His Gurukul is a magical place where ordinary boys are turned into mighty warriors. I want to be a warrior, not a mere hunter, so please allow me to leave home and become the disciple of Dronacharya."
Eklavya's father knew that his son's ambition was not an easy one, but gave his blessings and sent his son on his way to Drona's Gurukul. A Gurukul (Guru refers to "teacher" or "master"; Kul refers to his domain, from the Sanskrit word kula, meaning extended family.) is a type of ancient Hindu school, residential in nature with the shishyas or students and the guru living often in the same house. The students resided together as equals, learned from the guru and also helped him with chores such as washing clothes, cooking, etc.
When Eklavya reached Dronacharya's Gurukul, the disciples were shooting arrows in the yard. Eklavya looked for Drona. Where was he? Without Drona, the boy's journey would be meaningless.
The man was standing near a tree busy instructing a boy, who was none else than the third Pandava prince Arjuna. Eklavya approached Drona and bowed.
The sage was surprised to see a strange boy addressing him. "Who are you?" he asked.
"Dronacharya, I am Eklavya, son of the Tribal Chief in the western part of the forests of Hastinapura.Please accept me as your disciple and teach me the wonderful art of Archery."
Drona sighed. "Eklavya, if you are a tribal hunter, you must be a Shudra, the lowest social community according to the Vedic Caste System. I am a Brahmin, the highest caste in the kingdom. I cannot teach a Shudra boy."
"And he's also a Royal teacher," interrupted Prince Arjuna. "Our Guru has been appointed by the King to train us, the princes and the highborn. How dare you come inside the Gurukul and seek him? Leave! NOW!"
Eklavya was stunned at Arjuna's behavior. He himself was the son of the chief of his clan, but he never insulted anyone below him in such a way. He looked at Drona for some kind of support, but the sage remained silent. The message was loud and clear. Dronacharya also wanted him to leave. He had refused to teach him.
The innocent tribal boy was deeply hurt by Drona's refusal. "It's not fair!" he thought miserably. "God has given knowledge to all, but man alone differentiates his kind." He left the place with a broken heart and a bitter taste in his mouth. But it could not shatter his ambition to learn Archery."I may be a Shudra but does it make any difference? I am as strong and zealous as Drona's princes and disciples. If I practice the art everyday, I can surely become an archer."
Eklavya took some mud from a nearby river. He made a statue of Dronacharya and placed it in a secluded clearing in the forest. He believed that if he practiced before his Guru, he would become an able archer. Thus, though his Guru shunned him, he still held him in high esteem.
Day after day, he took his bow and arrow, worshiped the statue of Drona, and started practice. In time, faith, courage and perseverance transformed Eklavya the mere tribal hunter into Eklavya the extraordinary archer of exceptional prowess, superior even to Drona's best pupil, Arjuna.
One day while Eklavya was practicing, he heard a dog barking. At first the boy ignored the dog, but soon he stopped his practice and walked toward the barking dog. Before the dog had time to close its open jaws, Eklavya fired seven arrows in rapid succession into the dog's mouth. The dog was uninjured even with its open mouth full of arrows.
Though Eklavya was unaware of it, the Pandava princes were also present in that area of the forest, with their teacher, Drona, who was instructing them about some finer points of archery. When they suddenly chanced upon the arrow-stuffed dog, they all wondered who could have pulled off such a feat of archery. Drona was amazed too. "Such an excellent aim can only come from a mighty archer." he exclaimed. The party set off to find the remarkable archer. They found a dark-skinned man dressed all in black, his body besmeared with filth and his hair in matted locks. It was Eklavya. Dronacharya went up to him.
"Your aim is truly remarkable!" Drona praised Eklavya, and asked "From whom did you learn Archery?"
"From you my Master. You are my Guru," Eklavya replied humbly.
"Your Guru? How can I be your Guru? I have never seen you before!" Drona exclaimed. But all of a sudden he remembered something. "Are you not the same hunter boy whom I refused admission in my Gurukul some months back?"
"Yes, Dronacharya", replied the boy. "After I left your Gurukul, I came home and made a statue like you and worshiped it every day. I practiced before your image. You refused to teach me, but your statue did not. Thanks to it, I have become a good archer."
Hearing this, Prince Arjuna became angry. "But you promised me that you'd make me the best archer in the world!" he accused Drona. "Now how can that be? Now a common hunter has become better than me!"
The sage too was upset that his promise to Prince Arjuna was not going to be fulfilled. He was also angry with Eklavya for disobeying him.
"Where is your guru dakhsina? You have to give me a gift for your training," the sage demanded.
Eklavya was overjoyed. A guru dakshina was the voluntary fee or gift offered by a disciple to his guru at the end of his training. The guru-shishya parampara, the teacher-student tradition, was hallowed in Hinduism.
"Dronacharya, I'll be the happiest person on earth to serve you. Ask me anything and I will offer it to you as my guru dhakshina "he said.
"I might ask something you won't like to give me. What if you refuse the dhakshina I want?"
"No! How can I, teacher? I am not that ungrateful. I'll never refuse anything you ask, Dronacharya,"
"Eklavya, I seek to have your right-hand thumb as my guru dhakshina" he declared.
Silence fell on everyone, even Arjuna. He looked at his teacher in horror and disbelief. How could their teacher make such a cruel demand?
For a moment Eklavya stood silent. Without his thumb he could never shoot arrows again. But the teacher must be satisfied. Eklavya drew out his knife and cut off his thumb!
He betrayed no signs of pain, and held out his severed thumb to Dronacharya. "Here is my guru dakshina, Drona. I am happy that you have made me your disciple, even if I'm a mere Shudra hunter."
The sage was humbled. He blessed the young archer for his courage. "Eklavya, even without your thumb, you'll be known as a great archer. I bless you that you will be remembered forever for your loyalty to your guru." He was grieved but his promise to Arjuna was not broken.
The Gods blessed Eklavya and despite his handicap, he continued to practice archery. How could he do so? When one is dedicated, one can make even mountains bow. With practice, Eklavya could shoot arrows with his index and middle finger and his fame spread far and wide.
When Drona came to know this, he blessed the boy silently and begged for divine forgiveness.
Eklavya is still praised as the most loyal and brave student in the epic of Mahabharatha.
July 16, 2011
July 14, 2011
Guru Purnima
This morning my husband said, "It's Guru Purnima," and a passage from Shiva's Arms flashed through my mind:
Alice...muttered into the embodiment of the slippery culture she had married into. She had expected Ram to explain something intricate to her about this god, something that would make sense of the contradictions.
Here's what my husband told me:The July full moon is observed as the day sacred to the memory of the great sage Vyasa, who wrote the Mahabharata. This day also marks the onset of the rainy season, a good time to begin spiritual lessons that will extend into the next four months. Celebrants wake up at 4 a.m.on Guru Purnima, to meditate and chant intensely (Japa).Dhyaana moolam guror murtih;Pooja moolam guror padam;Mantra moolam guror vakyam;Moksha moolam guror kripa. After bathing, they worship their Guru, or his picture, with flowers, fruits, incense and camphor. They fast on only milk and fruit the whole day. In the afternoon, they sit with other devotees and discuss the teachings of their Guru.
Keep a good thought for your favorite teacher this weekend!
July 13, 2011
Ganda Berunda
I was looking for a title for a poem written to accompany this painting by my sister
Colors ran inside me.
I could not spit them out.
They exhausted me
and when they let me sleep
it was a sleep lit by nightmares,
a key unmoving in a frozen lock.
It would be years before
the key clicked open
on an image of what my life had been.
I should have listened to my colors,
the red beating of their wings
I was stuck until my friend, historical writer Rosy Cole, suggested Ganda Berunda, after the bird associated with this story, via Wiki:
The Berunda Bird took physical form in the Narasimha incarnation of Maha Vishnu. After Narasimha has slain the demon Hiranyakaship, through the taste of blood, Narasimha did not let go of his dreadful form and the demigods were even more afraid from the supreme lord now, than before the demon. Shiva, the best friend of Vishnu, thus incarnated himself as sharabha, half bird, half animal. With his Wings, representing Goddess Durga and Kali, he embraced Narasimha and pacified him. Out of Narasimha (Vishnu) merged out the most fearful form of Ganda Berunda, having two heads, fearful rows of teeth, black in complexion and with wide blazing wings. The destructive energy of Vishnu/Narasimha in the form of the two-headed bird, began to fight fiercely with shiva-sharabha for eighteen days. After the eighteenth day, Sri Vishnu was finally able to overcome his infinite fierce energy, and regained control over it. In order to save the universe from Vishnu and Shiva's fiercest forms (Berunda and Sharabha), Vishnu stopped to fight, and now Sharabha easily tore apart the two-headed bird. Narasimha himself displayed now his peace, and Shiva finally merged back in his usual form. Alternative endings are, that shiva-sharabha was torn apart by Berunda; Or that Sharabha manifested goddess Durga which devoured the bird.
All good metaphors for the struggle to create! Thanks, Rosy.
Colors ran inside me.
I could not spit them out.
They exhausted me
and when they let me sleep
it was a sleep lit by nightmares,
a key unmoving in a frozen lock.
It would be years before
the key clicked open
on an image of what my life had been.
I should have listened to my colors,
the red beating of their wings
I was stuck until my friend, historical writer Rosy Cole, suggested Ganda Berunda, after the bird associated with this story, via Wiki:
The Berunda Bird took physical form in the Narasimha incarnation of Maha Vishnu. After Narasimha has slain the demon Hiranyakaship, through the taste of blood, Narasimha did not let go of his dreadful form and the demigods were even more afraid from the supreme lord now, than before the demon. Shiva, the best friend of Vishnu, thus incarnated himself as sharabha, half bird, half animal. With his Wings, representing Goddess Durga and Kali, he embraced Narasimha and pacified him. Out of Narasimha (Vishnu) merged out the most fearful form of Ganda Berunda, having two heads, fearful rows of teeth, black in complexion and with wide blazing wings. The destructive energy of Vishnu/Narasimha in the form of the two-headed bird, began to fight fiercely with shiva-sharabha for eighteen days. After the eighteenth day, Sri Vishnu was finally able to overcome his infinite fierce energy, and regained control over it. In order to save the universe from Vishnu and Shiva's fiercest forms (Berunda and Sharabha), Vishnu stopped to fight, and now Sharabha easily tore apart the two-headed bird. Narasimha himself displayed now his peace, and Shiva finally merged back in his usual form. Alternative endings are, that shiva-sharabha was torn apart by Berunda; Or that Sharabha manifested goddess Durga which devoured the bird.
All good metaphors for the struggle to create! Thanks, Rosy.
July 12, 2011
Reflection in a Cracked Mirror
Insomnia, a reinvention
of what had gone before.
I felt for connection in blind corridors,
long and labyrinthine, full of whispers.
Who's there? I worried
from within the room's glass eye.
Maybe I was dreaming.
The facts were hard
to parse and sometimes lied.
I did, too, and confused by what
my reflection said. It held a revelation for me
but the glass distorted it.
The outside bore down
and entered through a single blue
fissure. Each brush stroke
had been its own allegory
and could not reconcile the break.
It arrowed in on a thin red line
to splinter our embrace
and again I was alone.
of what had gone before.
I felt for connection in blind corridors,
long and labyrinthine, full of whispers.
Who's there? I worried
from within the room's glass eye.
Maybe I was dreaming.
The facts were hard
to parse and sometimes lied.
I did, too, and confused by what
my reflection said. It held a revelation for me
but the glass distorted it.
The outside bore down
and entered through a single blue
fissure. Each brush stroke
had been its own allegory
and could not reconcile the break.
It arrowed in on a thin red line
to splinter our embrace
and again I was alone.
