83 The Mountain
[Tara Nivas, Tiruvannamalai, Tamil Nadu] The hermitage had been empty for quite some time when I moved in and it had a quiet and stillness about it that I immediately found very attractive. The watchman, who looked after the property, was fussing around, opening doors and windows, and assuring me he had given the floor a ‘full washing’ the day before, but as the light streamed in it was obvious that his attentions had not stretched so far as a ‘full dusting’ or a ‘full cobwebbing’, so after putting my bags down I set about cleaning up. One of the problems of having a thatched roof is the amount of dust that rapidly accumulates on everything below, and it took a long time, and a number of improvised dusters to clear it all up.
After putting my few possessions neatly into place I made a cup of tea and sat out on the verandah admiring the view, for there directly in front of me was the mountain, a most sacred presence, and it lay across the plains like a god reclining at ease in the heavens.
There’s a mountain at the bottom
of my garden, and though it’s true
my garden is not so special,
the mountain is remarkable.
Alone it stands, by day, by night,
forever it abides in silence.
If clouds come obscuring its crown
it simply notes they are passing.
If all is clear and sun beats down
so as to bake its cool white rock,
it bears it all without a frown
there is nothing that disturbs it.
Out from its cliffs the swallows fly;
eagles rise up high in the sky –
from this mount they ask for nothing,
its presence is enough for them.
At its feet there man has settled
in confusion: buying, selling,
living, dying; the wheel of life
rolls on – and still it is unmoved.
O God, Mountain God, what kind of God are you?
That first evening I so arranged things so that I would be able to sleep on the verandah. I always sleep outside if it’s at all possible these days, indeed its true to say I spend as much time as I can outside, finding the open skies so much more welcoming than the dark and claustrophobic atmosphere of being within one’s own four walls.
It was lovely that first night with a clear sky and the sounds of the countryside around. Scorpio was rising in the east, and the Southern Cross and the Plough were at either extreme near the horizon. I lay down so happy and contented. Then just before midnight I was awakened by something shining in my eye – the moon had appeared over the mountain, and its cool light illumined the garden throwing strong shadows here and there, and the whole scene was enchanting and it seemed to me there was a certain peace and harmony in this place.
While the present unfolds the future,
if I float gentle and timeless,
then the past rolls it up again
and the world can remain boundless.
To come to this state understand
what confuses the mind is fear,
when there is fear of time and change
the mind itself cannot be clear.
Clarity comes from acceptance
of this world just as it were made;
when you can watch it pass in peace
where is the need to be afraid?
When you’ve freed yourself from bondage
and you live each hour in silence
with eyes open to come what may
you can once more join in the dance.