22 Awake and Aware
Sitting riverside in the early morning, with a cold wind blowing across the plains, watching the moon go down: I’ve always loved the moon, a humble and unassuming part of creation, its light not it’s own, it serves only to reflect the glory of another. Today, being the second day of the waning, the moon was slowly descending towards the horizon, paling as it went, all around the sky lit up with the most subtle colours, blue, mauve, cream and peach, and as it approached the horizon, it began passing in and out between earth-bound clouds, changing shape as it went, and there was a great sadness and a great quiet.
Being present to each moment means being attentive to change, both on the outside and on the inside, and to be attentive we must be still. Obviously if we are busy, if our minds and lives are always full, if every moment is taken up with work and entertainment there will never be sensitivity, and we will never get below the surface of things; for most people there is only the surface, and they lost interest in that years ago, so that the only way they feel alive is through gross stimulation. And with minds grown gross nothing satisfies and busy-ness takes over, being caught up in the daily routine of action and reaction, living in the most superficial sense of the word.
We are just in the middle of the nesting season here in the wood and at the first sign of day a great rumpus starts in the trees nearby. With unnerving accuracy all the mynah birds send out a general hue-and-cry, and the squabbling of the day begins. There is a gathering point for the mynahs which is the acacia tree on the opposite bank and as they assemble there is much trouble, as the birds jockey for position, chasing from branch to branch, forcing the exit of the previous inhabitants. The acacia tree, which is in flower at the moment, leans crookedly out over the river and its lower branches drape the water. There is a flimsy nest just above the water-level, and as the commotion continues in the upper part of the tree, so a pair of pied kingfishers fly out at great speed and dart upstream, their necks outstretched and their wings sloping back, they fly off barely a couple of feet above the water.
Meanwhile the mynahs have assembled and in parties they fly off to the telegraph wires that cut through the countryside and from which they can drop in on breakfast. As they lined up this morning I counted 80 mynah birds alone, the majority of which live in just two trees in the ashram. They stay out all day, feeding on the plains, only rarely do we see them in the grounds, but when evening comes and the sun begins to set in all its splendour, they once again noisily assemble in the acacia before returning to the trees, arguing and fighting as they go – it takes a full half-an-hour for them to settle, and then night is upon them and they fall into silence.
If God exists, then obviously nothing is lost, and we are writing our lives in eternity: this surely means that there is a great responsibility to get to the heart of things, to find out what really is true, and to abandon illusion and deceit, to live without this urge to plunge deep is to sleep rather than to live. If nothing is lost then each moment is precious, a complete and utter gift from God, and consciousness of this calls forth a response from a heart that has opened in love. To have a heart that is sensitive to things and their passing away, is to have a heart of love, for learning to let go is part of learning to love. In seeking continuity and repetition we turn our backs on life, looking for pleasure and security. But pleasure is one thing and joy another, and only when all pleasure and pleasure-seeking come to an end does that which we call joy or love come into being.
we sit on bank
amid grass and trees
the sun going down
sky peach and blue
on further shore
in glowing water
a drama is enacted
dissolution of form
men gather there
clothes lit by lamps
bringing to an end
nine days of praise
Ganesh the elephant
embodiment of wisdom
is brought to river
with power gone out
then held up high
and carried to centre
he is left in water
as we walk away