the perfect chai

04/04/2014

I have just drunk the perfect chai. The mix of spices was ideally balanced. The quality and strength of tea was spot on. The flavour and sweetness of the jaggery was just right. The milkiness was optimal. The sun was shining, the air was warm and I sat in the shade with a gentle breeze blowing in off the ocean. This chai could not be surpassed. It was perfect.

Many factors came together in the chai. The most significant, though, was that I had made the chai myself. The preparation had been an unhurried affair – cracking the cardamom pods, crumbling the cinnamon, peeling and shredding the ginger. Then there was the prolonged simmering of the spices, the shaving of the jaggery, the blending in of the tea and milk powder. All of this was a simple pleasure in itself. That energy, of care, of love, was what really infused the chai. That meditation is what made the chai perfect.

Exactly the same is true of truth. We can learn something of truth from others, just as we can appreciate a chai made by someone else. Others can teach us how to seek truth for ourself, just as others can teach us how to make chai. Truth itself though – perfect truth – will only come in the wake of our own patient, caring, loving exploration.

a life of song and dance

01/04/2014

In the beach hut next door there is a family with a young girl. This girl is always singing. From morning to night, I hear her sweet voice creating a tune for every moment. I have not heard her talk at all. Whatever she has to say, it comes out as song. And when she has nothing to say, her song of life continues as musical scales.

She reminds me of a woman I once knew who was always dancing. Wherever she would go, she would dance, with flowers in hand. I never saw her walking, nor even standing still. Her whole life was a dance.

It feels to me that this girl whose life is a song, and that woman whose life is a dance, are living life beautifully, in tune with existence. For what is life if not a dance, if not a song from the heart?

festooned with desires

26/03/2014

I have just returned from walking up a nearby hill. This region is a home for Tibetans in exile, including the Dalai Lama, so naturally enough the top of the hill was festooned with Tibetan Buddhist prayer flags. These flags come in groups of five different colours, representing five elements. As they flutter in the wind, the intention is that they send goodwill out into the world.

This particular hilltop seemed to be rather overloaded with prayers. The strings of flags criss-crossed each other, forming a monkish obstacle course for anyone intent on reaching the summit. There were brightly coloured new flags, faded old ones; flags fluttering livelily, flags fallen by the wayside. Saddest of all were the tattered remains of flags which had been torn apart by the merciless thorn bushes.

Seeing all this, it popped into my head that these prayer flags were rather like the hopes, wishes and expectations, the desires and cravings, in the mind. For surely the human mind is laden with a mishmash of conflicting desires, some new, some old, some still fluttering boldly, some long ago abandoned and trodden underfoot, torn apart by the harsh realities of life. These desires are the real obstacles on our spiritual journey to the top of the hill. And how we are festooned with them!

coming down the mountain

23/03/2014

Today I walked on one of the high mountain paths hereabouts, at times on steep snow slopes. With only open sandals on my otherwise bare feet, it was a challenging walk. Coming back down the mountain, once the snow was behind me, I could feel my whole body relax. With that relaxation, I became like a child, playfully hopping from rock to rock, happy to be alive.

It feels good to challenge oneself, occasionally. But it feels even better to relax after the challenge, to return to a state of ease.

Coming down the mountain also reminded me of the Zen ox herding pictures. After the real work of the spiritual quest is over, after the ox has been tracked and tamed, one can simply return to the ordinary world. Even then, though, there are infinite mysteries to explore in life.

such beauty, such life

22/03/2014

It has been a beautiful day.

As the sun was sinking low on the horizon, I gazed upwards, at the snow-covered mountain top. There was a mystical silence in the air, despite the songs of the birds and the occasional human voice drifting up the valley. This stillness was alive, pregnant with life itself.

I feel blessed. To be able to walk the timeless trails hereabouts – through the woods, with dappled light adding enchantment to the wonders of nature – is such a gift. It is the gift of beauty. It is the gift of life. It is the gift of suchness.

Thank you existence!

does the dust ever end?

21/03/2014

I had acquired some old hessian sacks for us to sit on in the garden. This morning I was shaking the dust out of them, preparing for satsang, and the dust seemed to be never-ending. It reminded me of the Buddhist analogy of the mind as a dusty mirror. With meditation, we aim to wipe the dust off the mirror, so that the mind can reflect reality without distortion. I only hope that our minds are less dusty than those old sacks!

when the buddha comes to tickle

19/03/2014

I awoke early this morning. It was night outside, yet a bright moon, barely beginning to wane, was shining in a clear sky and the mountain ridges stood silent and still, unwavering, all around. The mood of the weather had changed completely from the storms of the day before. The festival days had passed and the riotous holiday makers had returned to the distant city. Stillness and silence had returned to this place.

Then it started: something began to tickle me from inside. It was subtle to start with, at first evoking a mere hint of a smile. But it was gently persistent. A little twitch in my belly. And then like a dam bursting the twitch turned into uncontrollable convulsions. It was a silent laugh, resonating with the deep silence of the moment. Yet resonate it did, a belly laugh the like of which I have not felt for months, going on and on in waves until the sky lightened with the coming dawn.

Now that the sun has risen and the birds are singing in tune with a glorious day, I know that something has healed in me. I don’t know what. I don’t need to know. The great sadness that has been in me for five months or more is no longer there. And that is the magic of life, the alchemy that can turn sadness into laughter and joy.