Painting: Melancholy By Edvard Munch.
It is not always that I get hit by a swirling bundle of surprise! A nice surprise that is. One night just before I was leaving to LA for what will probably be my last sathsang outside Seattle, I came upon this article in Google Web Alert: http://www.freewebs.com/chinswe/myblog.htm?blogentryid=3465788
This turned out to be not yet another story for the budding Ishas blog! As I was reading the candid (and almost funny) sharing from someone out there, I could not help the tears washing my cheeks. ‘Chiswe’ reminded me of myself in so many ways. Like this one for example: “gud (god)was tired and legs were paining lik hell” and “told swami that i am getting angry after yoga “. I was laughing my head out and I was crying in the sheer empathy of it all.
I don’t know the person who wrote the blog but I know that he was sharing his experiences of volunteering in the Madhapur center in Hyderabad. Well Madhapur is where we were living when we were in Hyderabad. And Madhapur is the Isha Yoga center which we helped to start from scratch. Try as I might, I cannot help feeling a strand of attachment to it. Any other sharing would not have touched me like the way it did just because it was not from the center which we helped establish. I knew that this attachment borne out of one’s action is far from the ideal which I am working towards. But I thought I would allow myself to relish the moment. It is moments like these that brighten up my own vagabond life. It’s living these moments that somehow numb my mind out of all the questions that tug my heart and my mind. But when I look at it deeper, it is also in these moments that I see in painful clarity the bleakness of my own existence and the source of all these questions.
“How long can I last here? How long can I make sense of the Routine and drag on? What happens if somebody in Chennai decides to confront me with my marriage? Will I give in? If I hold out, how long? I am continuously been confronted by the immensity of these questions that stare at my face. Boggled I am by the stunning non-chalance with which I choose not to answer these questions and leave my life to the wayward ways of time. “
How much longer? (I am shouting expletives to myself in my head!)
Shambho is all that I can say.
1 comment:
I don't know either.
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