14 Confusion and Peace
I’ve just spent a week in traveling to and from the cities, with the blaring of horns, the crowds pressing against each other in the heat, the filth of pollution, the stupidity of office turmoil, the inexplicable laws and regulations of man. Is it surprising that in such an environment all mystery is lost? The mystery of life that can be known but not named has no place where everything must have an identity, where domination is the keynote. The contrast between the sanity of a quiet timeless existence, and the noise and rush of the city is quite shocking both physically and mentally. When you are in the midst of it, it is hard to see what it is actually doing to one, but when seen against a background of inner tranquility the full violence of the thing is evident.
Many times have I walked off this very-busy road and along the paddy track back to my kutir. The noise of the traffic fades away and is eventually drowned out by the rushing of water from the river that accompanies the path. Some of the paddy is now nearing maturity, and slender stalks sway under the weight of new-found cereal. By the time one has reached the first landmark – a group of peasant dwellings – the confusion of the road is fading. I always try to walk slowly, deliberately, meditatively, up this pathway, trying to be observant, quiet once more. At one point half way along my kutir comes into view – such a blessed place, a haven of peace – and then it disappears behind the jungle until I’m nearly home. There is a silence and dignity in this valley that the pettiness of man with his moments of confusion and disturbance cannot overcome.