FEATURE
My time at the barn always takes longer than it should It is a place for me to meditate as everyone else gets their food . It is where sheep gets some grain and the chickens eat cracked corn I on the other hand feel reborn ! I can ’ t sing like Bari Koral or Tim McGraw But I can hum in my heart with a draw .
BARN AUTHOR Timir Banerjee , MD
They announce their presence often with loud sound .
I often sit down to rest my feet and sip on a Leinenkugel My mind rests and eyes close and the hand loses tone and I am awakened suddenly by an angel A kitty cat jumps on my lap like a stealth lover Gently meows with its furry arched , “ love me ,” demeanor The bottle is in my right hand and the left reciprocates the loving gesture .
We grew hemp but made no money Our bodies are fatigued but thank God , the hives are full of honey Our barn is a place that is always busy Here you have to learn to relax and be loving to yourself and be easy There is a pile of bales of hay inside the doorway That is kept to feed the ewes with babies to make it easy for me to carry .
I placed a bench next to the stacks of alfalfa So I could sit and hear them baa baa There is hay on the ground all over the place If anything falls out of pocket it doesn ’ t make a sound If my cellphone falls out of pocket it can ’ t be found Unless I call it later after I recognize it to be missing .
The layers are in an enclosed place but they have room to run around They cackle and gossip at the slightest sound The ewes are in jugs further down With buckets of minerals and water filled containers that are tied down There are couple of roosters that are not confined
Thou art amazing and I dedicate my life to You forever ! I meditate , my mind becomes still and consciousness is free When the mind is at rest all sounds are silenced and peace cleanses all that is sensory , that at times is quite unnecessary That ’ s when you can hear the clapping of one hand and you know That is where you want to be , in the state of Mahamudra .
There are no flies to interrupt the sound of silence Cause I spread organic wasp eggs , that hatch To eat up the flies before they form in poop dregs This is where I dance and I sing much like the Nataraja This is the place where you can sing “ apple tree and honey bee or down the farm in ecstasy .”
It is here I find my Maker and he doesn ’ t care If I am at Simpsonville or Abuja I can hear Him in my heart and feel the joy He gives me He gives me strength in my old hands He claims me , he is mine says He
I will take him , he is in love with ME .
Dr . Banerjee is a clinical professor of neurosurgery at the University of Louisville .
28 LOUISVILLE MEDICINE