three surfers

15/12/2016

Earlier today I sat drinking chai and watched three surfers at play. Each of the three had his own strategic approach to the surfing.

The first, who seemed most accomplished on the board, simply caught every wave which came his way, big or small. He was totally non-selective, enjoying whatever the ocean offered up. Of course, he missed some of the best waves, through being out of position at the critical moment. He certainly got to ride a lot of waves though.

Another of the three took the opposite approach. He was waiting for the big one. In the whole hour that I watched, I only saw him attempt to surf two waves. They were both monster waves and his tactic might have paid off. However, my feeling was that his approach meant that he was not actually that well practised. The first of the two waves he failed to catch at all and the second he only managed to surf for a few seconds before being toppled.

The third man adopted a middle way. He ignored the smaller waves, waiting for something bigger. However, he didn’t take it to the extreme of waiting for the big one. Any reasonably sized wave saw him up on his board having a good surf.

Watching the surfers, I realised that we are all adopting one of these strategies with the opportunities that life offers us. Do we wait for the perfect relationship? Or engage with every possible partner who appears before us? Do we take any work opportunity at the risk of missing out on something better? Or do we sit around waiting for the ideal job to manifest? Or do we take a middle way, accepting reasonably good offerings without insisting on perfection, whilst also upholding some standards?

Whichever strategy we choose, it is always a gamble!

surrender

13/12/2016

I’ve just come from the waves. Here at Kovalam, in Kerala, India, the waves roll into the beach and break with tremendous force. I like to play in them, dive under them, jump into them, or best of all, abandon myself to them completely. Surrendering to a wave in this way is exhilarating of course. I feel that the wave is taking me. I am completely at its mercy. For a short while, I am not in control at all.

This surrender to the waves is reminiscent of the surrender on the spiritual journey. At some point, we must simply abandon ourself to life. We are completely at the mercy of existence, or God if you prefer. We are no longer feeling ourself to be in control.

Having survived the waves, the remarkable thing is that my whole being feels refreshed, revitalised. In that surrender, it feels like I have let go of all tension in my body and in my mind. And so it is with spiritual surrender, too…

promises, promises

10/12/2016

The Indian 1000 rupee banknote includes the words “I promise to pay the bearer the sum of one thousand rupees.” Under these words there is a signature and the word Governor, presumably referring to the Governor of the Reserve Bank of India – the nation’s central bank. This promise, it turns out, is not worth the paper it is written on. A month ago, in a surprise move, the Indian government declared both the 1000 rupee note and the old 500 rupee note worthless. Small numbers of the notes can, indeed, be traded in for valid currency at the Reserve Bank, until the end of this month. After that, it will be a broken promise.

Even with the best will in the world, promises often end up being broken. This is especially true of open-ended promises, like those on the Indian banknotes, or marriage vows and such like. Making such a promise merely shows a complete misunderstanding of the nature of existence. It assumes that one is in control of one’s life. It assumes one can predict all possible eventualities. Such promises might be made from a genuine naivety – out of ignorance of one’s own ignorance – but often there is an element of manipulation involved. We make a promise because we want someone to trust us. But psychology is cunning and words are often used as a substitute when the reality is lacking. Someone who feels himself to be untrustworthy will make a promise in order to hide this perceived defect. It might work for a while. The chances are though, as with these banknotes, that sooner or later the promise will be shown to be empty.

If you want to know who to trust, trust those who do not promise anything!

substitution

21/11/2016

I am in Salento, a small town in the heart of the coffee growing region to the south of Medellin, in Colombia. As the world’s best coffee comes from hereabouts, I felt obliged to drink an espresso. Now, I don’t often drink coffee these days, so when I do, it gives me a real buzz. I feel excited. My fingers dance over the keyboard twice as fast as normal. My heart beats faster than it needs to.

Experiencing all this I realise that we often, consciously or unconsciously, reach out for a substitute when something is felt as lacking in our life. When there is no authentic and meaningful face-to-face connection with another person, we turn to social media as a substitute. When there is no sexual intimacy, we turn to pornography, fantasy and masturbation. When we are not at peace within ourself, we turn to alcohol or other drugs. And when we have become so habituated to the world around us that it no longer stimulates us, we drink coffee.

There is a cost to all this substitution. Firstly, we tend to become addicted to our chosen substitutes. We become dependent on them. Then, if they are unavailable for whatever reason, we suffer greatly. Secondly, although these substitutes invoke similar feelings to the real thing, they are never quite as satisfactory. There is always something rather superficial, hollow and ultimately unsatisfactory in the sensations and emotions that they invoke. Thirdly, there is almost always a negative rebound after these artificially induced pleasures – a hangover follows.

However, there is something even worse about our tendency towards substitution. The substitutes themselves, and our dependence upon them, make it much less likely that we experience the real thing. We are so busy with social media that we forget to talk to the person sitting next to us. The fantasy sex makes us less sensitive to the delicacy of real intimate connection. The alcohol and drugs leave our mind dull and heavy and less in tune with our own, inner, delicacy. And that coffee, stimulating though it might be, in the end makes us less likely to see the world with the simple wonder of a child’s eyes.

waiting for Godot

22/10/2016

I have no plans. As I sit here and write these words, I have nothing at all in my diary: no appointments, no meetings, no dates, no trainings, no satsangs, no sessions. I have no travel tickets, no hotel bookings, no restaurant reservations. I have no job and no particularly significant relationship. My entire future, from this moment on, is a blank page. This is rare, even for me!

Most of my being is completely at ease with this empty future. Yet I notice that when the thinking mind looks at that blankness, it wants to fill it. Ideas of where to go and what to do keep popping up. In some sense, I could follow any of those ideas. However, I tend to only act when there is a felt sense of what to do, rather than just the cold, dry energy of a thought. When a real yes arises, it arises in the body, it is sensed as energy, a vital energy. And such a yes is not yet in me for any of the ideas that the mind has proposed.

So for now at least, I sit and wait. On the one hand, this waiting is as empty and meaningless as Waiting for Godot. On the other hand, the inaction is clearly the correct action, which can also be said of Waiting for Godot.

a quiet day at DIMA

03/10/2016

I have the good fortune to be a guest, for a few days, at the DIMA centre for conscious living, on the island of Mallorca. Last week there was a primal therapeutic group taking place here, doubtlessly involving much activity. In contrast, like the calm after a storm, today has been a quiet day. The centre, housed in an old finca – a farmhouse – is situated in the countryside, far from noisy towns or the busy coastal tourist areas. Consequently, it is peaceful here. Often the only sounds to be heard are the chirping of birds or the rustling of leaves when the breeze picks up.

Spending a leisurely day here, doing some simple chores and sitting silently, I feel my inner world becoming quiet too. It is so often this way: the inner and outer worlds reflecting each other. And how rarely we have quiet days! The outer world is often frenetic. It follows that the inner world is frenetic too; noisy, chaotic and fast-paced; busy, knowing no peace. So spending a quiet day here at DIMA has reminded me how important it is to seek out peaceful environments and make the time for quiet days. Only this way do we have a chance to find peace and quiet in our own inner world.