SARAYU

SARAYU is the name of a river in India. It is the name of a spirit, and sometimes it is used as the name for wind - the kind of wind that catches you by surprise.

Nora Camps is a Toronto-based painter who renders expressionistic depictions of time, place and energy. Nora is not limited to painting – she executes on whatever project she dreams – literally dreams. The latest project is photographic. It is called SARAYU. Women, Nora says, are comfort givers, they are life and energy givers and in their actions they channel the spirit of the creator. They are representative of the holy spirit, though not necessarily as chronicled in the scriptures, but more specifically they are all that is warm, loving, gentle, kind and refreshing – SARAYU is every woman in every circumstance all over the world.

Here is a link to some of the opening night pictures taken by 17 year old M. Crean.

SARAYU Stories by Chirs Atack:

After a time of dismay comes the turning point
He sat on the park bench and tried to appreciate the life around him. He felt sick. Which meant, paradoxically, the radiation had done its work well. He could feel vitality draining away as the rogue cells – and the good ones too, the unlucky ones that had been in the way of the beam – slowed and stopped. His body had become a battlefield, littered with dead and the dying cells – and so it would go on for weeks, until the last fortress of disease had been battered into total submission. Sitting on the park bench, he braced himself for the struggle, and hoped for a sign. A light wind kissed him gently, and fluttered the living leaves above him like so many green flags of hope. Sarayu?

There is always further to go
She had won. Incredible as it seemed, she had actually won. Her heart was pounding, her body covered in sweat, but all that seemed remote, something remembered. Years of training – the blisters, the grey early mornings, the aching muscles – had magically come together to create this moment. Was her world to be different from this day, she wondered as she approached the platform where the other medalists were waiting? When your dream comes true, do you wake the next day to the bland reality of the rest of life? Or is the dream somehow renewed? Do you wake to a yet greater reality? When all is done, what is any of victory, any defeat, but a dream? With these confused thoughts she stepped onto the platform, as a playful wind ruffled her hair. Sarayu (natch)!

Dream of being alive, wake to find it’s true
She had been married to her computer screen all day – lost in the strange reaches of cyberspace, manipulating the streaming data which represented gold and silver, ships and carpets and jet engines. Millions of dollars had passed through her hands, fortunes parading before her eyes in an endless wriggle of lines and numbers that bloomed and faded like electronic blossoms of wealth. But now the markets were closed and she was swimming up from dark depths, becoming human again. Reaching the lobby she ran her fingers along the sleek marble, spun through the revolving doors and found herself in the spring twilight. A soft wind billowed out her dress and swept by in a whirl of lilac and birdsong. Sarayu.

If you have a SARAYU story to contribute to the project I welcome you to post it here