waiting for the big one

22/03/2015

I’ve just spent an hour or so surfing with a body board – it’s a great sensation, being picked up and carried by a wave, without any real effort by oneself.

I noticed that different people seem to adopt different tactics when surfing. Some stay in the shallows and get a little ride on the remnants of each wave as the surf comes past. Some go further out but also try to ride everything that comes their way. Others go far out and bob about in the water for ages, waiting for the big one.

It struck me that this is indicative of how we live our lives. Do we play it safe and take a little nibble of the things life offers us, never getting out of our depth? Or do we take more of a risk and try to live it all more fully? Or do we go to the other extreme, and let all of life’s offerings pass us by, as we wait for the perfect one, the big one?

This is especially true with regard to intimate relationships. It is easy to play it safe, stay in the shallows and take a little nibble every now and then, without risking anything. It’s much more demanding, but also more rewarding, to wade in deeper and get more involved in relationships, risking being hurt in the process. And then there is the approach of waiting for the big one – saying no to every potential relationship as the opportunity arises, waiting for the right person to come into one’s life. This last strategy is a huge gamble. I know one woman, now in her sixties, who has never had sex, because she was always waiting for mr. right, who has never materialised, at least not yet. And if the big one does show up, one is still at risk of being hurt. In fact that risk is much greater because one has missed so many opportunities to gain experience in the art of relating, which is not easy for anyone. Despite all that, all our fairy tales promote the idea of the big one – it has endless appeal for our romantic sentimentality.

In case you are wondering, this is how the surfing went for me today. Mostly I waded out to the middle ground, catching the medium sized waves as they were breaking and also riding the surf of the larger waves, after they had broken. I enjoyed that for about an hour, and then the urge came to wait for the big one. So I swam out, beyond the point where even the large waves were breaking, and I waited. Amazingly, I didn’t have to wait long. After just a few minutes, I saw a huge swell coming in. Sure enough, it built to a massive wave. My last thought was, ‘If this goes wrong, it’s really going to hurt.’ Then all thinking stopped for a while, as I was picked up and thrust forward, just as the wave broke in a crazy, violent manner. Everything went white and all I could do for a few seconds was cling on to the body board and hope for the best. Luckily, I emerged at the front of the surf, moving fast, and rode it all the way till it deposited me on the beach. What a ride!

stay away from the temple!

19/03/2015

I was woken by the sound of explosions. It was still dark outside, the night had not yet given way to dawn. My first thought was that I was in a war zone. After a few moments, though, I remembered that I was in Kerala, in the south of India, so war seemed unlikely. Next my mind decided it must be some heavy construction work, perhaps blasting rock to make way for foundations. After a few more minutes, the mind started to question that – why would people be doing such work in the dark? Finally, the truth came, that the explosions were the sound of super-loud, ear-splitting firecrackers, heard from a distance of half a kilometre or more.

Later, walking along the road, I saw the cause. There was a ceremony happening at the local temple. And it seemed that part of the ritual involved deafening each celebrant with the sound of a violent explosion. Incredible India!, as the tourism slogan says.

What really amazes me about India is that this country, which is by far the noisiest on the planet, has also, more than anywhere else, been home to people who have explored the great silent spaces of deep consciousness. How existence likes to maintain a balance!

The lesson for me, though, is simple: Stay away from the temple!

a thorn in the soul

28/02/2015

There is a thorn in the sole of my shoe. It is deeply embedded in the rubber and, most of the time, I am not aware of it at all. Every now and then, though, my foot comes down on uneven ground with a little more pressure on just that spot. And then, ouch! The thorn is pushed up into my foot.

It occurs to me that the ego is rather like this thorn. It sits there, deeply embedded within each of us. Most of the time we forget about it, we have no awareness of it. Then life suddenly prods us on one of our trigger points and we yelp in pain. Of course, we are sophisticated, so that yelp comes out in many different ways: some sullen moodiness perhaps, or a bout of passive aggressiveness, or maybe out-and-out anger. An affronted ego has a considerable repertoire of expressions to choose from. Regardless of the particular flavour of the yelp, though, the ego is a thorn in the soul.

called to the temple

27/02/2015

I was familiar with the place, having visited many times over the years. And now I was being called again, as if by a sweet, mystical voice, carried by the wind. So I made the journey to the temple. I was not greatly interested in the ancient building though. I knew why I was really there.

I could not go directly to her, though. I had to allow my being to prepare itself first. So I sauntered around, admiring the old stone sculptures; tapping some of the delicate, hollow stone columns that ring like chimes; pausing with a smile in the hidden corner of the crypt where once a lover and I had copulated.

Eventually I was ready. The being was integrated, calm and receptive. So I went to her. I went to the old frangipani tree.

All frangipani trees are amazing – I have commented on them elsewhere – but this tree is even more special. Her trunk is as gnarled and twisted as the oldest of olive trees. She leans at an alarming angle. She is the grandmother of frangipani trees. Yet despite her unfathomable age, she is still producing a host of delicate, fragrant flowers, afresh every day.

She is the real temple in this place. To be near her is to be at peace. To touch her is to melt into existence. And as I do so, she lets go of one of her beautiful flowers, which drifts to the ground by my feet. Thank you for the gift, beloved one!

mistaken identity

25/02/2015

Someone I had never met was waving at me. I waved back, it would have seemed rude not to. As I approached though, she realised her mistake and sheepishly explained that she had thought I was someone else.

At least this woman did realise her error. Unfortunately, most of us are going through life without realising that we are mistaking someone’s identity – our own! Without even being aware of what we are doing, we create an identity for ourself, through our identification with a culture, race, language, nation, profession, sex and sexual orientation, name, home and so on. But it is a mistaken identity. That is not who we are.

I hope that one day we will all see our mistake and, like the woman today, say to ourselves with some embarrassment, “Oh, I thought I was someone else!”

when the shoes come off

06/02/2015

It happened this morning, as it always happens sooner or later when I am in India – the shoes are off. By shoes, of course, I mean whatever minimal footwear I am using in the first place. It could be a pair of sandals or flip-flops. This trip I am using Crocs, fake Crocs to be more precise. But there comes a day when my feet don’t want to be encumbered any more. It is as if they have a longing to be in contact with the earth, to feel again. Today is such a day.

Setting out along the sandy and rocky path from my beach hut, I noticed the delicious sensations in my feet. That was the least of it though. I also noticed that I had slowed down. I was no longer in a rush to get somewhere. Instead I was present with every step. And perhaps it was coincidence, but I also noticed that my heart was filled with joy. Perhaps it is not only my feet that are happy to really feel life.

Namaste

from meditation to dance

01/02/2015

I have been spending a few days at the Osho meditation resort in Pune, India. This afternoon I went to one of the silent sitting meditations, in the white marble meditation room. Emerging from the meditation, I heard Latin music playing and was drawn into a dance class in the open air buddha grove. There the body moved to merengue and salsa, in the shade of the magnificent bamboo.

This transition seemed to me to epitomise the art of living. It is wonderful to dance and it is divine to meditate. The real art, though, is in being able to slide seamlessly from one to the other.