hermit's chronicles

When you tell anybody that he or she is not the doer, there are two immediate reactions: ‘This is fatalistic’ and ‘If everything is happening by itself, why should I do anything?’ The problem is, even if you want to, you cannot not act. Try out this experiment. You lock yourself in your bedroom and decide you will lie down on the bed and not to do anything at all. You think, ‘So everything just happens by itself, huh? We’ll see.’ Your experiment begins now. Suddenly…you hear a tap dripping. You have decided not to do anything at all but your programming hates dripping taps. So you decide you will turn off the tap and then begin the experiment. You are just back in the room after turning off the tap and about to resume the experiment and guess what. You hear a child wailing. Now, the way you are built, you simply cannot bear to hear a child cry. So you decide you will quieten the child and then begin your experiment. You do that and then come back to resume your experiment. And then ...

The beauty of the Bhagavad Gita lies in its compassion for the spiritual seeker. Lord Krishna is the Guru, Arjun is the typical spiritual seeker. Arjun is in turmoil - full of doubts and questions and, like all seekers, burdened with a zillion misconcepts. Lord Krishna plays the perfect Guru - at times patient, at times cutting and at all times compassionate. He is a spiritual surgeon who cuts to heal. Fondly-held concepts are peeled away and the Way is pointed to again and again, from this angle and that, using down-to-earth examples. A glimmer here and a glimmer there till there is blazing light that annihilates the darkness of ignorance. The other beauty of the Bhagavad Gita is, it serves you wisdom customised to your programming: if you are a bhakt (given to devotion) it will endorse and consolidate your devotion; if you are a karma yogi (given to action), it will urge you to go forth and act; if you are a gyan-margi (given to contemplation), it will make you contemplate deeply ...

Life’s been kind Ya baby you’re mine Swearing vows Forev'ever… But honey y’know In life you n’er know All y’can say is We’re together… …As of now As of now, as of now Why does it always have to be As of now? Nothing’s forever Nothing at all Everything’s true Everything’s real As of now Merc in the driveway Villa in Spain Wraparound babes Ragin’ fire in the groin Honey they’re all mine All mine, oh yeah all mine… …As of now As of now, as of now Why does it always have to be As of now? Nothing’s forever Nothing at all Everything’s true Everything’s real As of now I think I’ve cracked The Open Secret Found the gateless gate To Reality Think I’ve finally understood Life's big myss'terry …As of now As of now, as of now Why does it always have to be As of now? Nothing’s forever Nothing at all Everything’s true Everything’s real As of now - shunyayogi

Leonard Cohen's If It Be Your Will

There is so much irony in relationships. Take parents, for instance. I read somewhere that you spend half your life ingesting your parents and the other half digesting them. Take marriage. Each partner works so hard to realign the other’s programming to match one’s own. And then, if and when the other becomes more like one…why, they obviously become boring! How ironic: a romance that was born in resonance fizzles out as an echo. Then take children. We want them to be like us, see them as an extension of our own egos. We preen when they look the way we do; we gloat when they like what we like and when they do what we do the way we do it. Then comes payback time. With horror we realize they picked up not only what we considered the best in us but also what we hated most about ourselves. And guess what, they are around all the time to remind us of it. (Of course the tangy irony in this is: having ingested us, the poor darlings are trying so hard to digest us!)

Every spiritual seeker will tell you about the ecstasy and the misery of the flip-flop: a period of lucid clarity and being-ness followed by a spell of dark doubts and denseness. And of course the seeker wants one and not the other. His misery is compounded by the fact that the more he wants the lucid state to continue, the quicker it slips out of his fingers. The more he strives to get it back, the further it flees from him. Nothing in existence is without purpose - though the purpose may be one that the mind cannot fathom or the 'me' ever know it. So, it follows, that the flip-flop serves a purpose too. The key word here is acclimatization. Console yourself with this concept: The flip takes you to a new base camp; the flop acclimitazes you to that stage of your seeking. Just a concept, okay?

It was six thirty in the morning. The three school-going brothers were sleeping on separate divans in their room. Their father believed only asuras (demons) slept on after sunrise and he had his sadistic devices for waking them up: bhajans on All India Radio, switching off the fan at seven in summer... Today it was the radio. Filtering through their sleep was DV Paluskar's bhajan (devotional song) 'Thumak Chalat Ramachandra' playing on Bombay B radio station. Someday MS Subbalakshmi would seep into their sleep, on other days bhajans by Purshottamdas Jalota and Sudhir Phadke. The boys slept on, doggedly fighting off the bhajan intrusion with hastily reworked endings to their ongoing dreams. They slept on, oblivious to the new programming that was being inputted into their existing programming.