Jaganmayi Himamshu has a passion to express the divine creativity through the field of Arts such as painting, sketching, sculpting and poetry. Jaganmayi currently has no publications and writes simply for the love of it. She holds a Master’s degree in Fine Arts from Savannah College of Arts and Design.
A yearning so deep, it has escorted this life’s sojourn,
This need for secluded repose ever so often;
For then comes alive, an inner world of creation,
Revealing its beauty and employing the mind, its artisan.
Embracing one into its peculiar calm vitality,
A state immersed in inspired curiosity;
The dance of ideas set against a vast space of naught
A juxtaposition so staggering, leaving the mind bereft of thought.
Asking nothing but to remain in its current of dance
Flowing, beginning and vanishing at a glance.
This ethereal rhythm that cares for no witness,
Finds a pale impersonation in the Aurora Borealis.
Yet this experience leaves not an intoxication,
But a sense of unconditional content satisfaction;
And a peace negating all care of duality.
As nothing matters, life is but a parody.
Oft mistaken for loneliness,
By a world accustomed to noise;
This calm silence and stillness
Renders its witness into a quiet poise.
But, short-lived is this beautiful state of mind
For it returns to the exterior world of quandary and bind,
Unable to hold on to this beautiful solitude,
It enters into isolation, among the multitude.
[For true privacy, belongs not to the physical realm of creation,
But is a gift of the inner cosmos, accessed only by devoted concentration]
Finding the Self
Who Am I?
Daughter, sister, wife, relative, friend
Several performances, performed for all every day;
Making a myth, of the actors’ existence.
Am I the body?
Born of cells, eternally changing,
Their present arrangement in time, its only validation;
Yet the once energetic cells remain, life departs.
Am I Energy?
Body moves because of energy,
Survival urges a symbiosis empowering the mind
But who decides this synergy?
Am I the Mind?
Fickle, being it’s only assured temperament
Entails much discipline, or chaos is imminent,
Who is it who disciplines?
Am I Intellect?
Decisions are made in constant succession
Consciously ignoring or persisting a point of no return,
Who is it being conscious of this play?
Am I Consciousness?
Being conscious of being conscious
I unintelligently play puppeteer to the human form
But, where is my source?
Being part of the whole
Bliss, consciousness, knowledge are my essence
Tracing my source to its source unceasingly
Can only conclude at infinity
From the Editor:
We hope that readers receive In Parentheses as a medium through which the evolution of human thought can be appreciated, nurtured and precipitated. It will present a dynamo of artistic expression, journalism, informal analysis of our daily world, entertainment of ideas considered lofty and criticism of today’s popular culture. The featured content does not follow any specific ideology except for that of intellectual expansion of the masses.
Founded in late 2011, In Parentheses prides itself upon analysis of the current condition of intelligence in the minds of these young people, and building a hypothesis for one looming question: what comes after Post-Modernism?
The idea for this magazine stems from a simple conversation regarding the aforementioned question, which drew out the need to identify our generation’s place in literary history.
To view the types of work we typically publish, preview or purchase our past issues.