How to Cut a Pomegranate

'Never', said my father,
'Never cut a pomegranate
through the heart. It will weep blood.
Treat it delicately, with respect.

Just slit the upper skin across four quarters.

This is magic fruit,

so when you split it open, be prepared

for the jewels of the world to tumble out, 

more precious than garnets, 

more lustrous than rubies, 

lit as if from the inside.

Each jewel contains a living seed.

Separate one crystal.

Hold it up to catch the light.

Inside is a whole universe.

No common jewel can give you this.'

Afterwards, I tried to make necklaces

of pomegranate seeds.

The juice spurted out, bright crimson, 

and stained my fingers, then my mouth.

I didn't mind. The juice tasted of gardens

I have never seen, voluptuous 

with myrtle, lemon, jasmine, 

and alive with parrots' wings.

The pomegranate reminded me 

that somewhere I had another home.

Imtiaz Dharker 

Vulnerability by David Whyte

Vulnerability is not a weakness, a passing 

indisposition, or something we can arrange 

to do without, vulnerability is not a choice, 

vulnerability is the underlying, ever present 

and abiding undercurrent of our natural state. 

To run from vulnerability is to run from the essence
of our nature, the attempt to be vulnerable is the vain 

attempt to become something we are not and most 

especially, to close off our understanding of the grief 

of others. More seriously, in refusing our 

vulnerability we refuse the help needed at every turn 

of our existence and immobilise the essential, tidal 

and conversational foundations of our identity. 

To have a temporary, isolated sense of power over all 

events and circumstances, is a lovely illusionary 

privilege and perhaps the prime and beautifully 

constructed conceit of being human and especially of 

being youthfully human, but it is a privilege that must 

be surrendered with that same youth, with ill health, 

with accident, with the loss of loved ones who do not 

share our untouchable powers; powers eventually and 

most emphatically given up, as we approach our last 

breath.

The only choice we have as we mature is how we inhabit

our vulnerability, how we become larger and more 

courageous and more compassionate through our 

intimacy with disappearance, our choice is to inhabit 

vulnerability as generous citizens of loss, robustly 

and fully, or conversely, as misers and complainers, 

reluctant and fearful, always at the gates of 

existence, but never bravely and completely attempting 

to enter, never wanting to risk ourselves, never 

walking fully through the door.