I was once was walking right beside the Ganga and the warmth of a wonderful sadhu's eyes asked me to greet him. "I had seen you earlier beta, but it is not appropriate for us to just approach you. I'm glad you said namaskar (hello). Please join me when you have time. "I have class now Baba. Where can I find you?" "I am always here. Right by the tea stall. Ask anyone for me. That is where I stay."

Late afternoon, I meet the softly orange-clad old man with eyes as warm as sunshine and skin aglow with the fire of metta and the coolness of karuna. "Where are you staying dear?" he asks. "On the opposite side, I reply." "Ahh, it is different there. Many ashrams. Business. I prefer this side so much more. This Mother (he points at the Ganga) has been my home for 40 years. It's different here. Suksham. Shanti."

We walk further and sit at the base of the silky smooth waters of Ganga. He takes his blanket and sets it on the cement pier . "Please sit." How could I sit on the shawl of a saint? He looks at me and says, "Trees are here to provide shade for their children." I close my eyes and take in his presence. This smiling man, who has made this river his home. Who amongst the bustles of crowd, strangers, and the carnival of gurus, lives outside with the Ganga as his home and no naam-nishaan (mark of possessions). "See this coat here," he takes out a black down jacket, "a boy from Japan bought this for me." All my needs are taken care of here. My Ganga takes care of me.

He kindly shares, "Remain like the Ganga, nirmal and pure." I too wish to flow like the Ganga.

We sit longer and as the sun sets and coolness begins to linger, the saint asks me about my dinner. "Beti, tu mere ghar ayi hai, main tuje kilake hi bhej sakthaho (Beti, you have come to my home, let me make sure you have eaten." "Just fruits Baba, I'll have just fruits." The old saint swiftly gets up and folds the blanket. We walk and he finds the fruit vendors who treat him well. "Bananas?" "Yes, two will suffice." "Here take some more." "Anything else? Take a papaya too." He hands me a bundle of fruits, and I see him buying another bunch of bananas. I reach down to get some rupees out of my purse, but he won't allow me to pay. As a grasthi (householder), can I accept? "You're my daughter, and you are coming home, these fruits are my duty." He then hands me 5 or 6 more bananas. I have quite enough fruits for dinner! I wait and see what they're for. As we walk, I see him smiling and feeding every cow that comes our way. I share in the delight of feeding our neighbors and feel the blessings radiating from these being. As night creeps in, I cross the bridge to settle into to the place I am calling home.

5 months later I am still holding the question, "How do I remain like the Ganga, nirmal and pure?"

I ask a Vipassana teacher about stillness and am grateful to receive a reply.
He explains: You are not going for stirta--steadiness. What happens to water when it becomes still? It becomes dirty and diseased. You must flow. If a river is flowing fast enough, whatever drops in eventually drops out. The river throws it out.
In Vipassana, we constantly watch the sensations of our body...our thoughts are changing, our emotions are changing, the entire physical structure is changing. What happens when an emotion gets stuck? What if I hold on to something (sadness, pain, desire, weakness)? It gets stuck. I have not let my experience flow. I have held on to it. I have held on to a concept of something. I have created a Beyond (in Access Consciousness Speak), and I have locked my consciousness into something that does not stick....so flow, let events and experiences arise. Do not hold on.
Me: But what about continuity? If I am travelling, can I actually experience steadiness?

Teacher: See, external continuity is helpful. You can see yourself through deepened interactions with others over a continuous time. But internally, we must flow. For the mind to remain pure, it must constantly be flowing.

And what to do with a cup that is overflowing? Share. Let others drink and empty yourself.
 

Posted by Prachi Murarka on Sep 10, 2014 | permalink