river

I am sitting on a rock, on the bank of a river in India. It is a peaceful scene. For once I am far away from the clamour of people and machines and blaring music. Birds are chirping, and I hear the sound of the water, running over a little cascade. In the distance, I hear someone washing clothes.

Sitting in a place like this, one naturally becomes still, not just in the body – not just a physical stillness – but in the mind, too. The agitations of the thinking mind become subdued. And one begins, slowly, to melt into the environment. The boundary between me and the rock begins to disappear. Without thoughts, the sensations become like music, not needing clever interpretation, but just to be witnessed as they are.

And as I watch the waters flowing past, I begin to feel that timeless feeling, as if they have ever flowed thus. And this is the beauty of the river: it has a form which seems not to change that much, and yet the water is always changing, always flowing, always moving on. And for me this really symbolises life. There is the buddha nature, our essential being, which is changeless, timeless. And yet everything else about life is a flow, is a movement, a dance. Everything is changing, except that mysterious, un-manifest, essential part, which I call our buddha nature. It has many names, and if you get hung up on the name, you have missed it. But it can be felt. It can be lived. And here sitting by this gentle river, it once more comes to the fore within me.