69 The Pathways
The pathways that lead through the forest used to be swept every day but it was soon discovered that if the debris were cleared up then the paths were prone to being washed away, as there was nothing to stop the erosion caused by the rainfall. Now therefore they are left alone for the most part, strewn with bracken as they are, which means that the paths survive, but also there is ample cover for many undesirable creatures. The day is so arranged here that in the winter months one has to descend the hill in the morning – and reascend it in the evening – in the dark. I have been given a torch, better by far than my own, but still hardly adequate for the job. Walking slowly down the narrow winding paths in the morning is quite an experience, cutting one’s way through the noises of the night, some of which continue regardless, while others are suspended, perhaps in curiosity, perhaps in fear, by the shaft of light passing through their midst.
It is equally perilous walking by day, and you have to be especially mindful of where you are treading or it may be you come across a column of ants migrating from one part of the forest to another. These columns are protected by ‘outriders’ who zealously bite anything that threatens to cross their path. On a couple of occasions I’ve been bitten by one of these fellows and it can be quite painful – one time my foot became so swollen it was hard to walk, but thereby one soon learns to be careful. It’s surprising how the fear of pain can give rise to such high levels of concentration. Besides the ants the main problem is the leeches that come out any time it’s been raining and attach themselves in a most unwanted way between the toes or on the shin. I was sitting in meditation one day when I felt something move on my leg, looking down there was a widening fresh red circle on my nice white sarong, and a bloated worm on my bed – I went and dropped him back in the jungle.
Still, if one is careful, the paths are a delight to walk along with the rich red clay soil sometimes interrupted by spreading roots, or by placed rocks which shore up the paths where they descend the hillside. There is something very quiet about these paths, maybe because one must go so very tentatively, and their twists and turns, though by now so familiar, always unfold as though for the first time.
Two tailor birds tonight
arrived as was their right
to perch in nearby tree
not far away from me
the branch on which they’re found
is few feet from the ground,
is lit up by my light –
it’s quite a pretty sight!
to keep from cold night air,
their bodies warmth to share,
they sit close together
this tailor and his lover
they’re silly birds, thought I,
to stay, and not to fly
to higher branch, where they
safe would be till day
as evening comes to end
I lay down and commend
my friends to God, may He,
from danger keep them free.