the power of art

17/12/2015

I’ve just been to the opening of an art exhibition, here at Auroville in Tamil Nadu. The artist is Aparajita Barai, of Beloved India. In her work, she is trying to revitalise the symbolic meanings of the Indian gods, goddesses, rituals and traditions. In particular, she reminds us of the relevance of this symbolism to our personal, inner, spiritual journey. The artwork is fascinating but what really struck me is the power of art to resonate in us, in a way that words don’t.

When I looked at one particular image, I wasn’t seeing artwork, or even a Hindu goddess. I saw a dear friend of mine. There was something in the purity and innocence of the figure, a divine delicacy, that spoke eloquently of my friend’s essence, much better than any words could. In the picture, there was a simple alignment of the sun above the head, a bindi on the third eye, a lotus flower over the heart, and the feet of the goddess, treading a narrow path. Each of these elements represents an aspect of the being on its spiritual journey – and to me, an aspect of my friend’s true self.

Like all of us, my dear friend has a shadow side and a vast palette of emotions, which she is not afraid to show. And if one allows oneself to be triggered or caught up in these more turbulent aspects, it is all too easy to lose sight of the essence of the other. The great gift of this artwork, for me, was that in one glance I saw right through the superficial turbulence and straight into the heart of my friend, into her being. And what a beautiful being it is!

dogfight

16/12/2015

There’s been trouble at the guest house: Two dogs, one bitch. And she’s on heat. One of the males is the more regular partner, the other has been coming in, sniffing around, chasing her. Unsurprisingly, the established male is none too happy about it. So these two dogs have been having a showdown. There is growling, snapping, barking and every now and again a ferocious scuffle. So far at least, the resident male has seen off the intruder.

The bitch, meanwhile, is unperturbed by the whole thing. I have the feeling that she doesn’t mind which of the two comes out as top dog. She will simply give herself to the victorious male when the whole thing is settled.

Usually, I don’t believe that violence helps anything. Watching these dogs, though, I can’t help thinking that perhaps they have a good way to resolve these competitions over sex. It’s so authentic, so visceral – no tricky mind stuff, no sly seductive manoeuvres. We human males have the same drive in us as these dogs. But our expression is usually limited to a word fight. Then we are not really putting our life on the line, so who knows how serious we are. Words are so amenable to distortion, corruption, in a way that bare-chested wrestling in the mud is not.

return to Tiru

11/12/2015

I have come to Tiruvannamalai, in Tamil Nadu, India. I was last here five years ago, when I gave my first open satsang series – once a day for five or six weeks, sitting on a rooftop terrace with a view of the mountain Arunachala.

I went back to visit the building and it brought back memories of those days, sitting with seekers, sharing presence and feeling the intensity and sincerity of their search. Now the building has lost its appeal. Other buildings have sprouted up in front of it, impeding the view. The building itself has a semi-derelict feel, with rubble lying around where parts have been demolished. The old entrance has been walled off and the newer entrance sealed off with corrugated iron. Now the owners come and go across the rubble, without any proper entrance at all. The place is lost to the world.

Seeing all that, I can’t help suspecting that there are times when my heart is similarly lost to the world. It is so easy for me to seal off the doorways, to retreat into myself. During those times, anyone looking at me would also see a rather desolate rubble field, not inviting in any way.

Times of retreat are needed though, as long as those doors open again when the time is right. This morning, walking along the street, the coconut seller smiled and our eyes met for a moment. It wasn’t a smile that was trying to sell a coconut. It wasn’t a smile of sexual attraction. It was a smile of being. And in that simple moment of resonance, the doorways were suddenly wide open again, the corrugated iron melted away, the rubble vanished. Life is beautiful!

good luck, bad luck

07/12/2015

I was just finishing breakfast this morning (including a very good chai, I have to mention) when a beautiful woman walked out of the restaurant. Her appearance grabbed my attention as surely, as unhesitatingly, as the scent of jasmine. She was followed closely by a man – clearly they were companions. We exchanged a cordial greeting and they wandered off. I was left thinking, ‘What a lucky man!’

Five minutes later I was walking along the road, my lungs full of clean morning air and with a spring in my step (aided and abetted by that chai, no doubt), when I noticed the couple again. Now the woman was sitting in a jewellery shop, absorbed in a range of necklaces. The man stood nearby, looking around restlessly, already bored with the shopping activity. As I strode past, as free as the wind, I was left thinking, ‘What an unlucky man!’

vibrant postscript

05/12/2015

A couple of days ago I spoke, in the Dawn Chorus series, about the desolate rice fields around Hampi. Today I noticed that one field has already burst forth in an abundant, vibrant, swathe of green rice plants. It didn’t take long! And, in some mysterious way, I feel my own body is also more juicy and alive today. Everywhere we look, there is a resonance between the inner and the outer…

a very large haystack

01/12/2015

The other day I was riding a motorbike, here in India, when a haystack caught my attention. This particular haystack was huge – as big as a house. Sitting on top of the haystack were a couple of men, lazily looking down on the world. How they got there and how they intended to get down was a mystery. Most remarkable of all, perhaps, was that this big haystack was on the move. At one end a small red tractor was edging cautiously along. The haystack must have been mounted on a trailer, though its skirt hung so low it was brushing the ground.

Seeing this haystack reminded me of the saying “looking for a needle in a haystack.” It strikes me that these days we have access to an unprecedented volume of information. The sum knowledge of humanity seems to be available on the internet. When browsing on-line, we sometimes chance upon something useful. At other times though, it feels like we are looking for that proverbial needle in a haystack – and what a massive haystack the internet is!

Today this saying also brings another connotation to me. Our spiritual journey is really a search, even if at times we don’t even know what we are seeking. Finding our way home, discovering who we really are, is also like looking for a needle in a big haystack. In this case, though, the haystack is constituted of all the ideas stuffed in our head – ideas about the world and, above all, ideas about ourself. Only when we find our way through this haystack in the mind, or better still, when we set fire to it, do we find that precious point within our being.