A thought

Was there a time in the history of humankind when there was no thought? Every thought has a birth and death, does it not? Must it not then follow that there was once no thought, and then the first was born? What was this first thought, I wonder...

Today's was an Eckhart Tolle morning, and there are two thoughts he left me with that I'd like to share:

1. Make the present moment your friend, not your enemy.

2. When we act according to the highest light we can see within us, more light finds its way in.

On Stopping the Train

I stole this from a blog post I just read. Still reeling from the impact of it:

X : Her internet connection should be taken off!
Y : Why?
X: She seems to have time only for checking her mails during office hours resulting in total negligence at work.
Y: Well, if she looks out through her window watching a train passing by, will you go and stop the train?

A Suspension of Belief?

As I meditated this morning, many images flashed past the mind (clearly the goal was not being met). One that came particularly unexpected was that of me on the Lakshman Jhula. I have a vivid recollection of my visit to Roorkee when I was perhaps 6 or 7, from where we headed up to Rishikesh and Hardwar to pay homage to the Ganga.

The Lakshman Jhula is a suspension bridge, built across the river. I distinctly remember my feeling of deep fear as I walked on it, desiring nothing more than to get off it, even as I held on to someone (I cannot remember if it was a parent or a cousin now) for dear life. The view was spectacular, but how was I to tell? My eyes were tightly shut and opening them for a second came with intense fright. How was anyone to assure that there was no need to fear?

The analogy seemed particularly potent this morning, as I realized how I have oft done that in life as well - held on to someone or something for 'dear life', stubbornly shut my eyes, and wished myself off 'the bridge'. Acceptance and surrender are immense lessons to internalize (it is possible my struggle is greater than others'... I can barely imagine others being as petrified as I was that morning!).

How then, may we open our eyes to the truth that the walk may be shaky, but we are held in life's great hands, and thus protected by powers we are too small to comprehend? How then, may we open our eyes to the view so spectacular, the Beauty that lies before us in its supreme vastness? All that is needed is to let go. And yet, how very hard that is... despite the rewards that await us - not just at the other end, but along the journey as well.

You get it when you need it.

I'm sitting in the Srishti office right now, feeling rather full after my morning cuppa, plateful of papaya, dosas for breakfast, and yet another cup of chai. The thought of lunch struck me all of a sudden, and rather frightened me in that moment! Yet, instantly the realization dawned that although the thought of food was unwelcome right now, in a few hours I'd be back to relishing the orange flavors of lunch at Srishti. A happy coincidence that when I need the food, I will have it. At the right place and the right time. Perhaps that is how all things in life work. We get what we need, when we need it. Just that we may not always know it.

The Cocktail Party

Unidentified Guest:
Ah, but we die to each other daily.
What we know of other people
Is only our memory of the moments
During which we knew them. And they have changed since then.
To pretend that they and we are the same
Is a useful and convenient social convention
Which must sometimes be broken. We must also remember
That at every meeting we are meeting a stranger.

Edward:
So you want me to greet my wife as a stranger?
That will not be easy.

Unidentified Guest:
It is very difficult.
But it is perhaps still more difficult
To keep up the pretence that you are not strangers.
The affectionate ghosts: the grandmother,
The lively bachelor uncle at the Christmas party,
Your childhood years in comfort, mirth, security -
If they returned, would it not be embarrassing?
What would you say to them, or they to you
After the first ten minutes? You would find it difficult
To treat them as strangers, but still more difficult
To pretend that you were not strange to each other.

As I browsed through the book store at Bangalore airport, Eliot's The Cocktail Party caught my eye. I'd never seen this before, and a love for Eliot's writing brought me to purchase it. A masterfully crafted play, that provides a little of everything - poetry, drama, and a tad of philosophy, as you can perhaps tell in the excerpt above. I definitely recommend the read.

refining the mind's eye

thinking about photography led to an insight which, if i have mentioned before, do forgive my most un-photographic memory:

i've often said that in a photo, it's the responsibility of the photographer to bring out the greatest beauty in the subject (as opposed to it being the subject's problem). so when a photo is technically good, but not flattering to the subject, i'd say it was a photo ill-taken. the ongoing effort then has been to refine that photographer's eye so as to capture beauty to the highest degree possible, with every scene, in every circumstance.

it's true that there's no way to determine 'best' or 'highest' in any objective fashion. and so the most i can offer is that i do the best/highest as far as possible, given my current and ever-changing state of knowledge and experience, and with single intent.

should translation from the photographer's eye to the mind's eye be so hard? so that all that is captured, iteratively, is the beauty that is utmost?

[clarification: i refer to translation as from being with a camera to being without a camera. just as the photographer's eye attunes itself iteratively to seeing the greatest beauty, so would i like the mind's eye to attune itself iteratively.]

@sonoma coffee cafe

once again, berkeley is blessed with mysore weather (i call it thus because for the entire 10 day period i was there, i only saw this kind of beautiful, cool, cloudy, breezy weather). i am in a new cafe i decided to explore recently, especially since it's at the halfway point from school to home. and i cannot get enough of being here... i sit in a comfortable armchair all the way at the back, next to a tall, glass window outside which tall, green plants sway in the wind. a charming crimson-colored orchid sits beside me, on a charming window sill, generously allowing me to partake of its beauty. i might have enjoyed the view more if there wasn't a shell station at this intersection :), but for now, it will do. the lighting in the cafe is warm and cosy, with classic orange counter lights. the fans are on (even though it isn't particularly warm weather, i would say) but they add to the mysore feel overall.

as i walked here after my last monday of classes, presentations and what have you, i pondered again over the analogy of this world being a movie, and us being actors. i remember that when i first read this analogy, i just didn't see it. as time has passed, and i have grown, i've noticed how a detached 'witness's' view of this world can indeed feel like a movie. so far, i always thought about this from the point of view of a movie-watcher - to see how i could take a stand high enough that i could see it was all just play. today, it occurred to me that if indeed this is all a movie, then while it is good to be aware of that fact, i should also realize that i am an actor. and thus, my dharma becomes to do justice to my role... to fully immerse, albeit with inner awareness, to experience the joys and sorrows that come with this role to the fullest, to be mindful, to be me in every moment.

on detachment

the struggle to understand detachment has been long. also, it's one of those things that is oh, so easy to converse about, yet so hard to experience and truly understand the import of. a steady, ongoing effort it has been, nonetheless.

three years ago, i remember talking to a friend about 'missing' people when they were gone. i then found it strange and incomprehensible that he did not know what it meant to 'miss' a person. he was happy they were there, but not unhappy that they were gone. i don't know if i told him this, but i did judge him to be insensitive and unemotional then :). an immature idiot on multiple levels (me, not him - duh).

but today, i understood. it was a discrete jump, even, i would say. as i said bye to p&d today (for the summer), i realized that with all the love i felt for them, and with the gratitude for their being home to me away from home (in addition to the immense entertainment i derived from their presence), i was in a state of peace and contentment as i saw them drive away. strange that two years ago, my attachment to them was greater for lesser reason. and in that moment, it hit me, what it was like to love, to bid adieu, and not to miss. it was called acceptance.

how bizarre are these moments, when we find a starkly different self residing within. i still feel lightheaded from this discovery of a fundamentally alien being. it will take time to acclimate.

"lack of modesty"

i'd like to record a key insight that discussion with friends brought today. as i now remember it (and my memory for conversations truly is pitiful), everything (in a certain context i am now too lazy to specify) came down to a 'lack of modesty'. i was reminded repeatedly of blessed are the meek..., realizing how key it is to be humble, how much the resulting openness helps us grow, and how much it improves communication and understanding with others as well.

there is a lot more food for thought that arose from this conversation, but i'd like to think that this post will be enough to ignite further meditation upon it. it is time for some silence now :).

is it really necessary?

i've expressed my thoughts on speech in an earlier post. while it had been easier for me to understand the first two gates - of truth and kindness, it is this morning that i came to grasp the value of the third gate - "is it necessary?" certain speech may be unnecessary for varied reasons - it may pose a barrier to greater growth - of ourselves and of others, in different ways. the most obvious reason i can think of is that speech necessarily comes in the way of silence, and the power of silence is not to be overestimated. it is this obliteration of words that allows me to go deeper into those parts that i cannot yet frame, in words.

this morning i lent my ears to a stranger i have once met, who shared details of her life she would not share with an intimate friend. it was an investigative journey for me as well, stemming from the desire to understand the forces that brought about her outpouring (and the forces that sparked compassion and empathy within, especially toward one i did not know). sometimes when we speak, we cloud our view with words. and sometimes, the mind may use words as tools to drive us against reality. silence helps to get to the core. and gosh, is it addictive.

doing the best we can?

a long, long time ago, c asked me a question and posted it on her blog here. for days, i almost commented on her post but not quite. i thought about it on and off often enough, but it largely remained as much of a question as it was to begin with. at one point, i decided that we did try to do the best we could. and indeed, that was the best i could do :).

today, i am glad that i'd let the question brew peacefully within all this while. the answer (well, the best i can do for the present) lies in the core of these enlightening words by byron katie. admittedly, these are things i have thought about for months. but admittedly, i needed more to get to my answer. these were it:

Sin, too, is a concept. Think of the worst thing you ever did. Go into it as deeply as you can, from the perspective of the person you were at the time. With the limited understanding you had then, weren't you doing the best you could? How could you have done it any differently, believing what you believed? If you really enter this exercise, you'll see that nothing else is possible. The possibility that anything else could have happened is just a thought you have now about a then, an imagined past that you are comparing with the real past, which is also imagined. We're all doing the best we can. And if you feel that you've hurt someone, make amends, and thank the experience for showing you how not to live. No one would ever hurt another human being if he or she weren't confused. Confusion is the only suffering on this planet.

dignity

at the end of the day, that's what it's about. and it's a rather easy call to make - to be loving when subject to hatred, forgiving when subject to injury, and always, always holding one's own. dignity, i think then, is the best wolf to protect from hunger at all times :).

epiphanies big and small

there are big epiphanies and small epiphanies. each blog post, in some sense, contributes at least a tiny little epiphany. sometimes, these are bigger than tiny. and sometimes these are big. in the last six months or so, my two biggest epiphanies have been - slowing it down and stepping out. neither, in and of itself, is a very deep or difficult exercise, but both, when practised more and more, bring ceaseless fulfillment. if there has been any positive change in my life of late (and there has, considerable), both inward and outward, i attribute 80% of it to these two concentrated exercises.

i may say more at a later point, but there is work to be done, and for now - i'd just like to take refuge in knowing you understand :).

happy wednesday!

to be or to have?

a dear friend wrote me a thought-provoking and insightful mail the other day. while i still meditate on it, i thought some of you may like to read. i offer her (untouched) words to you here:

"I have started reading a new book about quantum thinking. There was a very interesting part about the distinctions between the ego and the real self. One of them was the distinction between 'to be' and 'to have'. It says the ego believes that the only way for it to be peaceful and happy is to have: to have power, to have knowledge, to have a girl/boyfriend, to have money etc. Without these it is not worthy. Whereas for the self it is most important to be: to be a loving person, to be sensitive, to be good, to be nice, to be trustworthy, to be knowledge itself... these are lasting qualities, when they are acquired once, they won't go away. Even if the conditions change, 'to be' will always stay... I was really influenced by this statement... I guess it should be our aim to focus on 'to be'..."

real is beautiful

you know when the moon seems larger than life? when it seems closer to the earth than usual? when it feels like you could reach out and pluck it out of the sky? i did not know why that was the case until recently. when a dear friend told me it was merely an illusion, i felt cheated out of a blissful notion of the moon's beauty. when i expressed the disappointment, i received a response that planted a seed deep within: that there was beauty to behold despite the knowledge of this truth. that one did not need to fool oneself into fooling oneself. there. that was the beauty of it.

:) years later, when i recalled those words today, i felt a spring in my step (it was on my walk home). i don't know why i'd felt cheated really, because i agree whole-heartedly. the beauty of life is not in imagining things to be one way or another. it is simply in perceiving it as is. it takes so little to be blown away.

remember einstein's words? i clearly (and happily) belong to the camp that considers every little (and big) thing a miracle.

food for thought

as i fasted today, i feasted on this thought: will the frequency with which i write begin to wane, and when? i feel that i am headed to a place where the karma of writing will soon (and somehow) be resolved. there will be no more (new) thoughts to articulate and contribute, indeed no more to resolve. words will come from outside, and find their way through. nothing, i pray, will be generated from within.

your favorite thing about you

last evening was dinner with d. the food at fellini's was excellent (linguini carbonara and chocolate lava to share - please consider both) and conversation stimulating. i don't know anyone who has more energy to radiate and it is truly always a treat to behold. i'm so glad we're friends :).

we talked of many things - god, books, music, stanford, berkeley, and much more. it was really a very long, very engaging conversation. dinner lasted three hours, i think. one of the things she asked me was "what do you love most about yourself?" because i was taken by surprise, i asked her to answer that question first. she said she loved that she was so positive in life, about everything. this is true, by the way, and very worthy of loving most, imho :). when i came back home and asked a the same question, she said, "my kindness". your accompanying modesty was unnecessary though, a. if it is truly what you love most and you know it is so, you will never let go of it. and that thought is beautiful! a asked me the same question then, and again, one answer found clear expression: my yearning to love all - the animate and inanimate - as hafiz does in his poems.

and so i urge you to think, too, (and share, if you will) what it is you love about yourself. don't be modest. make no bones about it. think of all the things you love. then, also, be gentle about the things you don't yet love but want to love, and see where that exercise takes you.

thanks, d. you don't know the kind of monster you've created with that seed of thought :).

i dream of oneness

quite literally, in fact. i share with you this dream i had last night:

i'm in a long and windowed room, and it's cloudy and dark outside. wherever i am, there's certainly peace in the air. there's no one else in the room, except for a voice at the front of the room, where there is also a board. my attention is on the board; i don't see the speaker at all. there is a horizontal line on this board, and that is all. he (the voice) says it represents the earth's surface, that we live on the earth's surface (above the line), then get subsumed by its interior (below the line). he goes on to say that as human beings die and become one with the earth, so other human beings rise up from that same earth. and if we think about those that we love, we realize that their ashes transform into the bodies of others, and so we should love them too. perhaps you too can follow the argument to conclude that, indeed, we should love everyone. because we hail from the same source - this ever-giving earth, because we come from past lives and feed into future lives.

i've been determined, of late, to wring joy and positive energy out of every waking moment, it is true. i can hardly voice enough pleasure at the realization that even non-waking moments can be the source of such understanding. some of the dreams i've had (and remembered) in the last few months have really been just that - a tremendous source of insight.

the tree of thought

last semester, we did a project with english teachers at berkeley high and one of the teachers told us about research that showed that an individual needed (on average, i suppose) seven different meetings with a word to be able to incorporate it into his/her vocabulary.

although i haven't counted to verify this for myself, this is perhaps true also for new ideas that come our way. sometimes, in our life's meanderings, we must meet an idea several times before it finally becomes a part of us, of our lives.

perhaps the moments we think are idle are not really so. like a tree, perhaps, the seed is first sown. and gradually, the leaves come out, the tree bears fruit. as we walk past a tree we think it is idle, don't we? but it isn't - it's really growing, just not at an immediately discernible pace. perhaps our sparks of insight are just the same. perhaps like the tree these too are growing? and perhaps we only take note of them when the first leaf comes out, when the first fruit begins to grow, until it finally ripens. that spark has then matured into an understanding that is then subsumed by the soul.

to love, to understand

i'd like to share the insight that came to me in this wednesday's meditation session - it's true that it is easier for us to love some people over others. often because we find we have more in common with these people that we love more, that we understand them better in some ways that we find important to us. it should follow, then, that to love those that we find more difficult to love, we just need to make a more concerted effort to understand them, to understand where they come from, what beliefs lie behind their actions, how we may better relate to these beliefs, etc.

the other day, s said something about my disagreeing with him. i told him that i did not disagree, i just did not understand well enough. the line came spontaneously, and later, as i thought about it, i realized that it spoke to the core of the problem. each time i'd harbored any hurt or unpleasantness, the problem was a lack of understanding - sometimes at a superficial and easy-to-spot level, and other times at a much deeper level.

the lessons i take away from this insight are two-fold:

1. whenever i wish to love someone a little more, i have only to try and understand them a little more. understanding then becomes the practical aspect of loving.
2. whenever i find unpleasantness crop up within, i have only to tell myself that it stems from an inadequate effort to understand. directing my energies towards understanding then does a lot of good.