The Spirit of Sedona

We were not sure if we'd make it to Sedona after all with my weird back problem. But we took a chance - rather we embraced positive thinking and bought the tickets to fly any way.

I had heard that Sedona is a magical place where artists flock from all over to catch their muses. Hurt people go there to heal and couples to find their romances.

The place has something called " Vortex". Scientists try to explain with the high magnetic fields this place possess. It is a hard concept to fathom- because I think it is a right brain , left brain concept too.

For example, we met a young waiter who was from Alaska originally. He tried many places and said Sedona has something strange- "Every time I had a problem and thought I have to quit, somehow it got resolved. No other place ever did that to me". WOW!

Sedona is about 90 minutes away from the Phoenix airport. When we landed at Phoenix a strange weather approached us. It was pretty warm and sunny, but then it started to shower and a huge rainbow greeted us with a big smile all across the sky.

With in ten minutes torrential rain, clapping of thunder sand frequent lightning scared the hell out of us. The desert city is not well equipped with this kind of strange rain. With in an hour there was flush flooding, the highways were clogged and traffic stood still. We were stuck and finally reached our destination resort seven hours later at eleven at night.

The drive was one of the scariest experience in my life. The two- lane highway, now pitch dark with high beams from the opposite lane cars and occasional lightnings made us dizzy.

Any way, through one such lightning spark I had a strange experience- the rocks revealed for a second, which I later learned was called "The Cathedral". It was magnifique!

The next few days were beautiful with lots of sun shine. We experienced the grandeur of Sedona. Red rocks and monoliths cradled by indigo blue mountain ranges far away, were splendid. The dirt is pink here, the cacti has pink rouge on their cheeks.

Tlaquepacque (pronounced as Lack pack) is a nice touristy spot with cobble stone pathways, Italian and Spanish flair. High end beautiful shops and galleries boast their tastes. I had a wish to interview a Native American Jewelry artist.

I had done my homework. Learned a lot about the basic history and designs like Squash Blossoms and so no. There was a web site that even invited to give a call to meet and speak with a real artist.

I did. The artist on the other end responded which in brief is very understandable - Ma'm if you are really not interested in buying my products that starts from $799, please do not waste my time. I have to make jewelry, write blogs, social net work, take pics, talk with dealers do marketing, bla bla bla

Exactly what I do in a much smaller less granderous scale. I understand perfectly, sir.

Still, my husband insisted that I try more.

I rather window shopped, bought myself a nice ice cream cone and enjoyed the natural Sedona that is free.

As I sat in front of those magnificent rocks and thought about the vortex, the Bell rock in front of me spoke.

Do not take Sedona for granted like a tourist, my child.


It showed me the power of nature, the beauty of nature in the darkness of night through those electrifying lightnings. There is a strange commonality and a fine message about life.

Interestingly, I realized that I could handle sitting for more than eight hours at a stretch with out pain that day! How did that happen? The vortex may be!

And did I meet a real artist? I'll tell about that in my next blog. So stay tuned and come back soon, in a week.

The Promises of Blues

God has a strange way of talking to you. I'll get to that in a little while. Before that  let me answer you. I can see in my mind's eye, you all crowding around me , my dear friends, you are curiously waiting to know - How are you buddy?

I know, it's been a long time I had written.

Well, the answer to your question- good, and not so good. It's kind of strange coming from me... many of you know me as "Ms. Positive".

This time I am feeling impatient. Though I am getting better each day, the progress is way slow. It takes me at least a couple of hours to warm up in the morning. Can't do my beading for more than half an hour at a stretch, which is hard, especially as many shows are coming for the holidays.

So, what do I do all day? 70% of the time I am either on my tummy surfing the web or on my back stretched out doing exercises.

I throw out my net to see whatever catch I find in the internet ( no pun intended) and come to the conclusion that the common doctors just shut your mouth with pain killers which really do not do much to heal or solve the real problem.

So what's the cure? I look into alternative medicine and found a balm , a ball and some knowledge on "creative visualization".

I became a disciple of Sakti Gwain, befriended and became face book fans of many hot shots in this line. I became a firm believer of The Law of Attraction.

And in the process while walking in my creative visualization path I met my God.

Shh.. it is a secret. But there are some secrets you want to tell the whole world , the reason why you write as Maya Angelou had said, I have to tell you this.

She is with in me, like a tiny glowing light with all the colors of the rainbow, or a flame, that I had seen first time in the Bunsen Burner in the  Chemistry lab as a kid.

She is also like a fairy with a pixie dust wand , like a fire fly that resides in the bosom of my heart. She protects me and guides me. She is part of my mother, who has left this earth, but left this little seed for me, in me. And this is what I'll leave for my grand daughter when I am no more.

It is a hard, abstract concept to fathom, I know, dear friend. It is hard for me to explain with words. I just feel it.

Any way, now does this God or fairy of yours solve your problem?- you ask- My tiny flame with in me just smiles.

So, what am I doing these days? I write. In my head, with out a pen.

I look out side in the late afternoon, I see that the school bus is dropping the children. The new school year has started. In my empty nest there are only memories of those lovely golden afternoons.

I think of my Montessori teaching days... those fond songs that the children used to sing to get to know each other.. those Back to school nights and Open Houses.

Thank God, now I don't have to worry about getting ready in the morning to hurry, with this back, to go to teach!

The long rays of the afternoon sun kiss me tenderly on my shoulders and with all the warmth, caresses- September has come, summer is gone for the year... now the days are going to be shorter.

In this journey with pain there are times when I feel relaxed. Like, when I hear the clanks of pots and pans. Oh, so my husband is putting them in the dishwasher or unloading them. It was my job for all these years. Not that he did not know how to do them, but I was too fussy and bossy too, criticizing that it is not done the proper way ( meaning my way!)

Now I don't care any more. I know that I am not indispensable.

A bunch of blue flowers greet me. They whisper the loveliness of life.

I come back to my work shop that I call STUDIO and hunt for my bead tray. The fluorite chips with its rainbow hue agree what the blue flowers had whispered. The indigo pearls promise good luck and the tiny seed beads giggle and nod - of course life is lovely. Its delicious. Crunchy!

I name this piece - "The Promise of Blues"

Epidural et al

It has been just seven days since I had my epidural shot.  What a difference in pain level.  The mornings are much better, I can eat now sitting down with the help of a Relaxo Bak chair pad- not for too long but for fifteen twenty minutes.  I am walking half an hour  in  three ten minutes time slots.



Today I went for a ride with my husband to the library and grocery but in forty minutes I was exhausted .  I am not pain free yet, There are two or three attacks every day at the pain scale of 7/8 but it is much better.

One  thing - I find myself easily in tears , I get too sensitive and I am  breaking down in sobs which is
so embarassing.  I am not like that.  My mind has become so fragile too!

I am reading a log t of books because I can be on my tummy only for so long to write, right?  So these are what I am reading, all from Amazon






  I come to realize that healing has to do with the other part of the brain, not the logical side.  There has been enough treatment done  logically but the other mysterious half is totally untouched.

This part of the brain deals with emotion, intuition, imagery and it has to take part now to heal me. I was reading this book named Guided Imagery, where the author shows how our brain really works with all the neuro motors, which is fascinating to me. 

See, when you are asked to touch your nose you can easily do it.  Now you are asked to salivate.  Is it that easy unless you think of a juicy lemon cut in half,  then squeezed onto your tongue?  You have to give that imagery to your brain.

This is because while the central nervous system governs voluntary movement, the autonomic nervous system regulated salivation .The autonomic nervous system does not readily responds to ordinary thoughts,  you need to give your brain the imagery  and then  it responds. (I think I understood it right)

Similarly, if you have the keys to open the secret doors you can lead your mind to do the healing.  Of course it is not that simple but it is do able and  a highly effective, safe system and I am  sure my  healing will come through that door.

So let me go deeper and tell you next time how I am doing with that.  In the mean time I am immersed in this study.

The Journey Through Sciatica

The Journey Through Sciatica

I am on this Sciatica journey, I don't know which station is this.  Lately the ride is bumpy, the climb is steep.  Are we there?  Did the return journey start?   Hope so...oh God! please ...hope so.


It is a journey of intense pain, only my husband witnesses what I go through in the morning , crawling all over the bed to find the right spot that'll pick me up.  He tries in vain and realizes that what he takes for granted is not an option for me.  He stands patiently with his stretched arms.  When I find  strength I throw my self on him.   Now he is the walker that back strides until I reach the the bathroom.  Then I am on my own.

Once I can walk I walk ( Newton's third law of motion)..I try to take advantage, fool the Sciatica monster and walk at least three hundred steps that take me ten minutes in the hall way.

The tea kettle whistles, the smell of toast is in the air.  I come down stairs to have my Earl ray tea... no not yet, I take a cup of milk and a Vicodin.  My last Vicodin was at 3 AM in the morning,. so  my leg muscles now wear out .The sciatica monster reminds me - after all you are still my slave.

I go upstairs to lie down.  An hour later I find I have some strength to be sunny side down.  Yes, I reside in the den these days, on the floor, on a child's sleeping bed  with lots of Treasure Trolls prints on it , some how it  escaped the Salvation truck donation box.

I open my lap top- ZZ on my page saver gives a big smile...You'll be fine- I hear the message.  I give her a kiss.

Friends want to come to drop food.  I push them away.  I can't sit for even ten minutes.  Yesterday it was so sweet of A (my husband) - he brought my favorite Thai food for dinner and lit a candle.  We missed a wedding today that I really wanted to attend.  This would be our way to celebrate.

I couldn't even sit to eat.  I threw a tantrum because there was no milk or something.  Why does he forget these things.  Tears  rolled down my face.  He was upset that I saw only what he could not do.

My god!  No.  My tears were coming from absolutely different source. I was touched at his tenderness, but the outburst was weird, out of my control.

My alter ego drew a chair and started defending him, how hard it is to see loved one suffering, don't you remember how helpless you felt when he had  the flu for two weeks last winter?

Ms Alter Ego  reminded me of the blog posts I read the other day from a Sciatica site, how a young 27 year old girl was suffering - not only physically, but mentally too as her marriage was falling apart, her career and self image... how the old lady in her eighties was handling it in India , taking care of her ninety year old invalid husband while their  grown up children were abroad in  U.S and Australia.... When you look down you find your misery is not so serious.

The Oriental Lilies have come out.  They peek- a boo their faces out with coy  from the Shasta Daisy bush -  Remember the October after noon last year when you planted us ? Here we are.  Where are you?.

Well, this evening if I can,  I'll go down and smell them before they wilt for this year.  It is getting pretty hot lately.

Yes, my MRI report has come.  A typical case of degenerated hernia



The gel between the two  spinal discs ooze out and  is tickling the Sciatic nerves.  The Sciatic nerves have poor sense of humor - so they made a big fuss and is flaring and trembling and throwing a fit.  A shot would be given to them soon Jul 22.  That should calm them.

66% of the patients recover with this shot.  I should too.  I pray for that.  And all who care for me when they do that too , it'll make a big impact.

To keep my sanity I do blog hopping all over the world.

The picture of the beautiful necklace is created by Emin. She  probably lives in Japan. I came to know about her work through blog hopping.  Just wanted to share her work as an appreciation of her art. Her website

At the End of the Tunnel

 Finally I am brought in front of the MRI tunnel machine.  The guy asked - "You are not claustrophobic are you?"

Yes, that lovely lady's been replaced with this cut and dry, matter- of -fact guy.  "You are going to go in  that  tunnel" - he showed me the tunnel.  If you feel you are passing out, squeeze this ball.  He gave me a tiny rubber ball with a tube attached. " And here, take these ear plugs ...the noise may be pretty..." he made a face.

"I can hear you fine though.  So.".

"Well, whatever."- Again another "attitude" face.

He leaves me.  I go in the tunnel.  I thank my friends who have gone through it, and were thoughtful  not to scare me giving me all the strength that it's child's play... you'll be fine.

But my weakness is- I am super imaginative, easily can bring thoughts that make me cry , shiver in horror or fly in joy.  So I try to bring all the images that make me fly like a kite, play with Zoe and all those darling faces blowing candles for my birthday.

Bang. bang, (Oscar the grouch banging on the garbage can thinking of a band)...HRRR... (you are now  dropped into Niagara falls)... Dhata, ghata, ghata ...in enormous loudness shaking my whole brain  like machine guns going on   ( as if  I am invited to the Iraq war or something)

I think -what if the machine fails now?   How long has it been?  Twenty minutes seems like eternity.  I succumb myself  to my fate trying to stay calm and recite "I'll be fine...I'll be fine..."

All on a sudden it stops.  Utter silence.  Uncomfortable stillness. Did the machine really fail and is stuck?  This is really scary.  But I must not squeeze the ball. I'll be brave.

Then tringa ling ling ling...goes the sound , as if I am on a tram going to my grand pa's house in Tollygung like I used to do as a kid in Calcutta.

The tram pushes me out to light.

The guy came out and said - you did good.

I knew it.  There is always light at the end of a tunnel.  No matter how much I am suffering soon it will pass.

I make drawings of earrings when the pain is sane, these designs are  mostly extensive , extremely elaborate wire work designs,( I'll show you one day when I can sit to take pictures).  My fingers laugh out loudly-" "Are you kidding?  You expect me to make these some day?"

"Yes- says my brain".

"Just wait until I can sit, I'll show you "- talks back other parts of my body.

Work-life balance

Recently I finished the book Women, Work and Art of Savoire Faire  by Mireille Guilliano, the best seller author of the book-French Women Don't Get Fat

I did not read the second book yet but  would like to share my impression about the first one-


Women Work & Art of Savoire Faire:

Guilliano already admitted in the beginning that this is not one of those How to books - ( How to bring killer traffic to your blog or Three best ways to find the most profitable keyword..).  This is a book of stories and annectdotes.

Well, now that I am done with the reading I find with a surprise that   I can not remember a single story - not a single one  really stayed in my mind- and it is only three days.  Rather, subconsciously I noted some important points for "success" that she mentioned  (even though  she mentioned that she does not like the word "success" really.)

1. Dreams and ambitions do change with different stages of life.  While having a red convertible sports car may be the dream in late twenties, in your thirty you might find that it has shifted.  Now all you want is a family and motherhood!  Therefore, enjoy each day with style, the French way, keeping this valuable advise in mind weave your life planning in bite size short term goals.

2. Take time for yourself.  Cultivate healthy habits, stylish grooming rituals, attractive manners, proper etiquette etc all along- as these are the gold stamps on the passport for making lasting impressions.

3. Define clearly what to expect from you and what you do expect too, both to your family and business circle.  Both circles will appreciate .  Always promise less, rather over deliver if possible.

These are winning styles- the French way  for maintaining  the work-life balance.

Did you happen to read any of her books?  I'd like to know your comments.

Irony of the Wedding Bangle

So, finally my doctor is convinced that I should take an MRI and see a spine specialist. Well wishing friends are relieved- good, at last the American Medical system is paying attention to their poor, suffering friend.

-But, do poke the MRI appointment  desk, they advised.

With in an hour at 1:30 pm the phone rang. - Can you come at 3:30 pm today?

I was only half way through my lunch sandwich...my husband yelled- Take it.

Okay- I gulped.

-Did you have brain, heart, spine surgeries before?. - No.

-Are you claustrophobic?

-What do you mean?
 
-Well, your body will be put through a narrow tunnel- tube.

How narrow?  But I gather all my strength and try to think of all the known faces that came out straight after an MRI.  I take a deep breath and say - I think I'll be fine.

-Well then come, no jewelry, no make up.

I can deal with that.

So,  after a million baby steps from  the top of the roof parking lot,  ( yes, everyone and their cousins are sick today probably, all are  here in this hospital), through the green belt ( checking out sign post arrows), down to the basement, finally we arrive at the registration desk.  My thigh nerves are really flaring angry now.

In a few minutes with perfect pronunciation I hear my name called -  Anindita Basu!  - by a cute looking nurse. I am impressed.

-No bobby pins, no jewelry, okay.

-Well...mmm  I have this wedding bangle that I can not take off.  See I was much younger, much slimmer thirty five years ago and I have never taken it off.

-Oh it's beautiful...why, sure.  Look at the design, must be 22 k gold?  - she calls a friend.

-Yes, but it is iron clad. 

-What?  Her eyes popped.


-Yes, it is very auspicious.  The iron part is believed to protect my husband from evils.  It is for his well being and I have never taken it off.

-How sweet.  Does he have one for you

No, but I don't say that to her.  I remember my feminist friend's remark- They are just iron shackles.  In those days men could marry several wives and live under the same roof with all of them, each wearing an iron wedding bangle for His Highness.  Damn it. Chauvinist pigs!  Why would a modern wife wear it? I don't.

But I don't see it like that. It is a sweet, auspicious, sentimental symbol to me. - Can't I just wrap it with a cloth or something?

-Honey, It is a very strong magnet.  Come see for yourself.

She is definitely much younger than me. But I liked her affectionate tone.

As I approach my wrist close to the tube - OH MY!!!

OUCH.  I have never felt such a gigantic pull.  The monster with its red lighted licking tongue looked at me - I WANT IT!

I understand. The nurse looked at me with all her tenderness.  - See, Sweety, You don't want to get burnt.  It will scald you.  Go to a jewelry artist and take it off. Then come here. We'll wait for you.

I took an appointment four days later.- Will you be there then?  I kind of got attached to her magnetic personality.

But she drew me away gently.  No, my dear, but whoever be there will help you.

I came home and went to my studio.  (see I call it studio- I AM the jewelry artist.)  Easily with my flush cutter I could cut the gold part. But the iron part is tricky.

My engineer husband declared that there must be a split in the iron part too.  His tool box arrived. 
The blue veins in my wrist , delicate under my pale skin makes him nervous.  But I am fearless.  -Yank it out - I say.  And with all his manly force he did.

I am free. What a sense of relief.  Now I can take it off when I wish.  I have gone through every security post to be ostracized, poked and touched in all private parts - yet I took it for granted for these thirty five years.

Now I am free.  I believe I'll always be wearing the protective bangle for him - visible or not: and I trust that he has it too for me - visible or not; each couple who love each other must be wearing such protective bangles - visible or not.

Yet, I pick it up.  How can I fix it so that I can wear it easily?  The vines of hope design on the gold glisten with glee.












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