Srishtiscape - Escape for a moment 💛

Discover the transformative power of stillness in life's rush. Embrace tranquility, find joy, and share the beauty of the journey on the Srishtiscape podcast.

Everyone deals with insecurity from time to time. It can appear in all areas of life. It's normal to have down days

Often,

I fear, worry and self-doubt.

Questions like Am I good enough,

Am I doing enough

Am I worthy

strikes on my door heavily, making me insecure

Until one day, my brave self knocked on that door and said:

This perfection you crave is a disguise for insecurity

Don’t let perceptions of others

Dictate your reality or cause insecurities within self

Just be you, regardless of your trophies or insecurities.

You’re a dose of sunshine and glitter

Just decide to live, love, and be deliriously happy from this moment forward.

From that minute, I turned my Insecurities into strength

Because I am Smart,

Talented and Pretty enough.

All my fears, worries, and that perfection I craved

Were nothing but disguise for insecurity

Just decide to live, love, and be deliriously happy from this moment forward.

In life, we are given trials. We can either be stricken down by them or become strong and grow because of them them. The poem talks about how people, like trees, grow and reach their true potential by overcoming adversity. It is through struggles, like a tree fighting through forest growth, to reach the sun, that we grow and discover our true potential.

The tree that never had to fight
     For sun and sky and air and light,
But stood out in the open plain
     And always got its share of rain,
Never became a forest king
     But lived and died a scrubby thing.

The man who never had to toil
     To gain and farm his patch of soil,
Who never had to win his share
     Of sun and sky and light and air,
Never became a manly man
     But lived and died as he began.

Good timber does not grow with ease,
     The stronger wind, the stronger trees,
The further sky, the greater length,
     The more the storm, the more the strength.
By sun and cold, by rain and snow,
     In trees and men good timbers grow.

Where thickest lies the forest growth
     We find the patriarchs of both.
And they hold counsel with the stars
     Whose broken branches show the scars
Of many winds and much of strife.
     This is the common law of life.
- Douglas Malloch

Ep 3: Close your eyes and visualise as I recite Daffodils by William Wordsworth.

I wandered lonely as a cloud

That floats on high o'er vales and hills,

When all at once I saw a crowd,

A host, of golden daffodils;

Beside the lake, beneath the trees,

Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine

And twinkle on the milky way,

They stretched in never-ending line

Along the margin of a bay:

Ten thousand saw I at a glance,

Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they

Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:

A poet could not but be gay,

In such a jocund company:

I gazed—and gazed—but little thought

What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie

In vacant or in pensive mood,

They flash upon that inward eye

Which is the bliss of solitude;

And then my heart with pleasure fills,

And dances with the daffodils.

630 frames is a metaphor being used in this poem, meaning being different than self and trying to fit in. Here's the transcript of the poem: 

After 630 frames, 

Now I'm accepting myself It has taken time, many years, people and  630 frames.

Dripping with self-love, Trusting the greatest power,

Withdrawing and prioritizing my need for the solitude and my higher self.

It purely took the wisdom, the faith & the virtue of letting go.

Now, it's finally the time to accept. 

After 630 frames,

I'm accepting myself It has taken time, many years, people and  630 frames. 

- Srishti Verma

Hey guys! In this experimental podcast, I am reciting one of my favourite poem by Robert Frost- Stopping by woods. Sit back and relax!

Whose woods these are I think I know.

His house is in the village though;

He will not see me stopping here

To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer

To stop without a farmhouse near

Between the woods and frozen lake

The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake

To ask if there is some mistake.

The only other sound’s the sweep

Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,

But I have promises to keep,

And miles to go before I sleep,

And miles to go before I sleep.

-Robert Frost