blisters on feet, song in heart
manikaran--> rishikesh
Just completed an 18km walking pilgrimage to Neelkanth Mahadev near Rishikesh. As tired feet need a rest, I've decided to sit here and continue with my endless contemplation of what brings me to India time and again. In a land of so much suffering, obvious hardship and visible poverty, how are such overwhelming currents of joy, righteousness and contentment possible? I've been reading a book about Kashi (Benaras: City of Light) that poses these same questions about Varanasi particularly, but could be transposed to India as a whole. One interesting idea that grabbed my mind is based on the concept of mandala- a sacred circle. What we see here is only a microscosm, a representation, of something greater and more subtle. This can help explain why a septic waterway is also revered as a goddess, Ganga Mataji. And she IS a goddess and I will argue the point. Of course India is not the limit of this circle. The whole universe can be seen as a mandala. However, for whatever reason, the border here in India between the gross and subtle is more permeable. There seem to be many people and places that dance between the two, acting like portals to different types of understanding and experience. Like hotsprings that erupt from the earth, India's sacred tirths are physical places where hidden powers seem to bubble out. I don't know why it's like this, I just know what I've felt.
In yogic and tantric belief the individual is also such a mandala. There is an external self of body, habits, customs etc. but also a subtle self that isn't limited by such distinctions. In this context, all of my recent (and longstanding) grief over choices seems a bit silly. It's not to say that external things and people aren't important. They are infinitely important as ways to learn, ways to work through karmas and also simply to BE as part of the texture and flavour of life. It just seems to me that they aren't everything and that something will remain when everything else is taken away. Something other than name, stature, ego, beauty, health, camaraderie and wealth. So what is that subtle thing that creates these mandalas that we call ourselves?
This returns me to the beginning, thinking about pilgrims and myself amongst them. I guess it's my hope that in this land where the borders of experience are permeable, that I may gain some understanding of that subtle space.
On a lighter note: I was reading in my room the other day, with lovely fresh air floating in through the door. Suddenly I heard a noise and whirled around to find a monkey going through my garbage can. I yelled and shooed it out, slamming the door behind it. This is when another MUCH LARGER and ANGRIER monkey came out of the bathroom, between me and the now closed door. It jumped up at me so I threw "Benaras: City of Light" at it (such a useful book!) and leapt over the bed. Then, brandishing my rolled up yoga mat, I inched my way along the far wall and into the bathroom. I waited inside, giving the intruder time to work the front door open and make his escape. That was less than relaxing.
What else... say NO to the sauce! Why can't I learn to say no the sauce? Ugh, tummy.
Just completed an 18km walking pilgrimage to Neelkanth Mahadev near Rishikesh. As tired feet need a rest, I've decided to sit here and continue with my endless contemplation of what brings me to India time and again. In a land of so much suffering, obvious hardship and visible poverty, how are such overwhelming currents of joy, righteousness and contentment possible? I've been reading a book about Kashi (Benaras: City of Light) that poses these same questions about Varanasi particularly, but could be transposed to India as a whole. One interesting idea that grabbed my mind is based on the concept of mandala- a sacred circle. What we see here is only a microscosm, a representation, of something greater and more subtle. This can help explain why a septic waterway is also revered as a goddess, Ganga Mataji. And she IS a goddess and I will argue the point. Of course India is not the limit of this circle. The whole universe can be seen as a mandala. However, for whatever reason, the border here in India between the gross and subtle is more permeable. There seem to be many people and places that dance between the two, acting like portals to different types of understanding and experience. Like hotsprings that erupt from the earth, India's sacred tirths are physical places where hidden powers seem to bubble out. I don't know why it's like this, I just know what I've felt.
In yogic and tantric belief the individual is also such a mandala. There is an external self of body, habits, customs etc. but also a subtle self that isn't limited by such distinctions. In this context, all of my recent (and longstanding) grief over choices seems a bit silly. It's not to say that external things and people aren't important. They are infinitely important as ways to learn, ways to work through karmas and also simply to BE as part of the texture and flavour of life. It just seems to me that they aren't everything and that something will remain when everything else is taken away. Something other than name, stature, ego, beauty, health, camaraderie and wealth. So what is that subtle thing that creates these mandalas that we call ourselves?
This returns me to the beginning, thinking about pilgrims and myself amongst them. I guess it's my hope that in this land where the borders of experience are permeable, that I may gain some understanding of that subtle space.
On a lighter note: I was reading in my room the other day, with lovely fresh air floating in through the door. Suddenly I heard a noise and whirled around to find a monkey going through my garbage can. I yelled and shooed it out, slamming the door behind it. This is when another MUCH LARGER and ANGRIER monkey came out of the bathroom, between me and the now closed door. It jumped up at me so I threw "Benaras: City of Light" at it (such a useful book!) and leapt over the bed. Then, brandishing my rolled up yoga mat, I inched my way along the far wall and into the bathroom. I waited inside, giving the intruder time to work the front door open and make his escape. That was less than relaxing.
What else... say NO to the sauce! Why can't I learn to say no the sauce? Ugh, tummy.
posted by natalie at 5:48 AM
2 Comments:
It seems that you have a very deep interest in the spritual culture of India......
I like this metaphor of a mandala - i'm going to try and keep it with me and respond. RIght now it makes me think that there is a wire or band of vertical light (that's vonnegut) tracing its path around the mandala and filibrating differently in different contexts.
more to come!
sounds like a nice village town below.
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