Play on Stage

Finally it is over... This tiring pointless mud-wrestling at her stage. She was standing there surrounded by the aura of misery like a heavy fog.

I had faced it many times in various persons. Why is it SO difficult people to understand that if they really want a change, they have to change themselves; and if they plan to start the change tomorrow that tomorrow never comes. One has to start it right here, right now. Why is it SO hopeless to get that if they are applying the same habitual problem-solving-pattern they used for decades and the same heaviness (tamas) that brought sorrow results countless times, they ought to get the very same end again and again: multiplying the very same problem. Because they are not an innocent victim of circumstances, it is not a bad luck, not a curse; but built in the very fabric of what they are. Unless changing the relevant part of personality and approach itself, they struggle is just like that is of the man who is about to drawn and try to pull himself out by grabbing his own hair. He ought to sink deeper and deeper into the muddy bottom…

But no, they don’t get it… As some pervert masochistic ritual they love to taste it by discussing it over and over again like that alone would bring any change. Of course, without coloring its detail, like some tasty gossip, the theater would close… They should stop whining, come out of the labyrinth of misery built brick by brick by their very selves, face the reason, and start to work on the root-cause. Oh, that is not so nice. Instead they draw you into their stage, let play the drama with them. After all, acting alone is rather boring. Working alone is even worse…

So, they set up the scene, spicing with a pinch of hurt, just a little bit of clever dispute and false dignity, and you are right there in the mud. They are quoting some real or imaginary hurt, committed by you days before (that is still the better case…), when you were not bowed before their ego.

- I will start a new life tomorrow. But after all -she says- what you think is not entirely true. It is superficial. It is unfair. It is…

My goodness! This act always shocks me. WHY are you here then?! If it was totally irrelevant, you would not been here, would you? My words were just as much flown on air as thousands of others did. But you are here… The words (or they interpretation...) got stoppage by you; in you. You re-played that insult many times on the canvas of your mental cinema, colored it like a situation-game. You carried it for hours, for days. But it was untrue – oh, yes…

There is a nice story:

Two Buddhist monks, who vowed total celibacy not to even touch a woman, walk on the countryside. The weather is pleasant, the birds are singing, the sun is shining brilliantly after a refreshing rain. They reach to a small river, where they see a lady, who is rather frustrated.

- What disturbs you on this beautiful day? -ask the older monk.

- My old mother is sick and she called for me. But this small river is flooding and I cannot cross it; I fear it takes me.

The monks are thinking for quite some time, when the older one suddenly goes to the lady, takes her into his arms and carries her over to the other bank. The two monks continue their path, but the younger one becomes very silent and disturbed. They are walking for several hours, while at night they stop and set up a campfire. The younger one did not say a word during whole afternoon, but here it bursts out of him:

- We had made a vow. But today you touched a woman!

- Oh, brother! I left that woman at the riverbank long ago. Why are you still carrying her?!

Was it superficial? All right, then it tells something about my level, why are you still carrying it? Because it had something very true to tell you, my friend – about your very self. It did touch a sensitive point. May well be, my interpretation was false, but YOU found some truth in it that bothers you ever since. And instead of extracting it by taking this great chance to face with and understand something deep within you, you are standing here projecting your misery on me; continuing your old play.

That is perfectly all right, however, but I got bored of it. I tried to smile until now, but it is over. If anyone comes to me for help, I shall try my best. But it is enough to be a guest actor on other’s stage. So, one is really ready to work on himself when shares his problem, or we say a friendly farewell at the riverbank. Just as I leave all this stuff behind, now. And enjoy the soft touch of sunshine after the refreshing drencher, and try to accept and understand that we all are just humans. :)

Yoga - Here and There

There is something unique here. It is hard to grasp what I exactly feel, but I shall try now. Frankly, at home I did not really like yoga classes. For those, who are just a little bit sensitive, a class was a gathering of miseries, disturbed energies, unfounded hopes, desires, baseless expectations and prides. And only sometimes a little bit of real tapas (one of the ten yogic principles; meaning more-or-less: burning zeal in practice). More often than not it was just boring how the good teachers struggled to channel the distracted energies of the pupils – not to mention the bad ones... Classes were compromised; Compromised for the sake of ego.

First time in my life I have been feeling something different here… Have I changed, or the place is magical..? I felt this difference during my Buddhist meditation retreat, at the Iyengar Institute, and in my personal discussions with sadhus, who have devoted their entire lives to have access into the divine. In every bit of their teachings I feel some wisdom beyond expression, rooted in experiences of thousands of years of thousands of extraordinary minds; Rooted in age-old traditions of this land that are not partial imports but are at home here. And one can sense these living roots to the past. To the past where the irrational part of our consciousness was much more encouraged, when it was simply acknowledged as a valuable equal part of our existence. We had it, too, in the west. But we lost our connection to it to gain something else. 

Meanwhile, however, we remained the same human beings as we used to be, still having this ancient part of ours, deep within. And we leave it to be starved. We try not to accept its existence, but suppress it. Instead of real integration, when we ‘let our-selves’ to see the world from a vastly different point of view, and simultaneously express this hidden part through its own language; the language of conscious rituals, of powerful symbols/archetypes, such as, for instance, the fire, water, sacred animals, flowers, wonderful and terrifying visions, etc. Rituals, which clearly express our link to this organic world. Rituals, which after all for nothing else, but expressing that we all are part of the whole.

This ritualistic path of understanding is missing, even from the good yoga classes in the west (at least from those I used to visit). But it is all present here. The rituals, which are still organic parts of the present Indian society, shine in their bests when they are joined with deep intellectual understanding, uncorruptedly aiming the ultimate; that is, in the best yoga practices here. I feel some vast, pure force in all these classes, which is so powerful that it does not struggle with the individual distractions but aligns them with wonderful ease; or destroys…

Both the Theravada traditions and Iyengar’s yoga techniques are enormously powerful, pure, and divine. I feel my smallness very clearly when facing them. My most personal reactions, aversions, excuses, are all taken into account in the know-how of these techniques. For thousands of years they knew them… How unique I am? How unique a man is? Countless men and women went into the depth of their existence, in vastly different times and spaces, and yet, we all have been finding the same… Same weaknesses and strengths. What I think to be my most personal fears, progresses and fails are all explained in those holy texts in great detail, with no mistakes. This firmness of knowledge, this vast wisdom is just overwhelming. These ancient techniques know far more of me than I do of myself. This is embarrassing for my ego. It thought to be unique. Precious. But thousands of such tiny egos thought the very same, and thousands will, too, until they realize the truth: it is not like that.

Can the I (with capital letter, heh? :) bear it? It must. It must if it wants to carry on these paths. And they know it. Teaching is fundamentally different here. Masters know that those who remain in the class, they are serious students. They know that we all have taken a bath in the vision of our own hells and we all decided to go forward; That we are kind of over of a certain threshold. The very reason we all gathered here is to practice. Just to practice. For as long as it takes; For hours, for years, tens of years, tens of lives... So, they handle us accordingly as an adult; A matured adult.

These teachers are inhuman; Impersonal. Something immeasurably vast compare to any animated wisdom; A channel; Channel to the purity of existence itself. Both Theravada meditation and Iyengar yoga are hubs of this Light. And through them one can link to this eternal Light, the very same that was present thousands of years ago and shined for the ancient saints.

As It Is

I am sitting in my room and just over there is the garden bathing in the silver light of almost full-moon. A month after the monsoon started this country starts to look like a 'real land'. I mean the burned fields and pure hot rocks give place to life: the green color of life everywhere. Harsh sprawling green colors in various tones, calm the soul and says: We live again!

For days there is an impression growing in me; one serious difference between 'our' attitude and 'theirs' here. A fundamentally different approach to life. Certainly, this is generalization, and as such, it is oversimplification. Still...

Here they are opened up. Extremely social. We are more, much-much more individualist. We try to separate ourselves. In every level of our existence. Look at the cars, for example. Fancy design, luxurious interior which place of our body in full comfort. Perfect noise insulation. Soft music from the high quality sound system, and the car senses and judge by itself more and more situations (from the rain sensor to BLIPS) just to give us the illusion of separated perfect existence, the heaven. Everything goes as we would like to, and at last we believe for a moment that there is something eternal in this world. That this world is after all not a dark and cold vacuum, but a soft, warm home covered by beige leather on the seats and expensive wood on the dashboard. Or have a look to the shopping malls. Everything is carefully kept dust-free. They look pretty, harsh, and ever-new. Natural decay excluded... Brilliant lights, soft music, tons of goods to buy and finally you believe that you are happy. What do you really buy? Some stuff you need or satisfaction? To fill up something. Something that cannot be filled by this way...

Here the life and its tools are more rough. There is not enough resources to build up the illusion of everlasting goods. You feel the elements everywhere around: in cars, in homes. You are bound to encounter with masses of people everywhere again: at homes, while travelling, while working. The smells attacking you everywhere, too; smells of people, the heavy steam of trash water, and your own sweat. There is no illusion created. This is rough as life itself.

A sharp mirror. This roughness pushes you to face with reality. You are not separated, not alienated from the world, but deeply engaged with it. It is around and within you. In Europe you are bound to soften the environment otherwise you die. It led us to the creation of the illusion of security. What we are so stucked to. Here you can stay alive without altering the environment too much. For the price that within the natural tolerance of human body one has to deal with and accept much wider extremes. The roughness of life. No fancy car, no goretex cloth, no well insulated walls. You feel the cold of the winds, the wet of the rain, the burn of the sun, the ups-and-downs of existence. Hundreds of millions live like that.

But we humans do need some secureness, don't we? Where do they find it? Maybe inside? Inside... Beyond the complaining layer of personality in the layer of dreams and believes. And some special souls even deeper, beyond needs, beyond believes can face with what is there. The tranquil space of existence. Where everything is just as it is...

Brahmagiri

I am just walking towards a Shiva Temple by a lake. It would be nice-if it would not be so amazingly dirty... The bank of lake is full of trash, very distracting... People just come and through all kinds of trash over. This is one big minus: it seems to me that they do not even care at all about the close vicinity: if it is out of flat does not matter if there is fecal, rats, spoiled food, whatever. If it is under the window and you smell it all day, no problem-one can get used to it. :)

Suddenly I see an old couple just by the Temple. There is a huge park (not that dirty...) and roots of a big, old tree. Probably they were hired to dig it out. I sit down and watch them for about an hour, now. They are thin but determined. It is a melting hot day and they are full sweat. They are tired; it seems this tiredness has its roots in depth of decades... The man is angry with the wood, like he wanted to rip his all past out with it. They take a moment of brake-this is my chance: I jump and ask him for a photo. He tiredly agrees. His life-long fatigue burns into the film...

I thank him and give some bakshish, which I usually don't... As I turn back suddenly a Sadhu stands just in front of me by a holy tree. He has penetrating, deep eyes... Just out of instinct without thinking I show him the camera and 'asking' his permission for a photo. He nods. I watch into the viewfinder and I am almost blown away: his eyes are mesmerizing!

Then he calls me inside the deep garden of the Temple. We sit down by a huge tree giving deep refreshing shadow. I am a bit disturbed by the previous scene and do not look at him immediately. But I feel his gaze my side. I turn there and my suspicion was right: he has been watching me. His look is intense, deep, compassionate, caring. I calm down and the world opens; I feel the wind blowing the leaves of the tree, the rays of the Sun as fingers pointing the ground, and the beating flow of life.

He is Brahmagiri, a holy person since his age of 8yrs. Now he is just as old as myself. He studied English when he was a young child. He says that he will go to visit some Temple and he invites me. I ask him:
-Do you often go to distant temples?
He is silent for a while.
-No;
He looks around pointing the Temple, the tree, and his own body and says:
-Temple, Temple, Temple. Why travel?
...

-You know, I have come to India to learn yoga.
He keeps, staring at me, with not a single word.
-Would you teach me yoga? Asanas, you know...
-Yes, yes I do. Come with me tonight.
-Do you keep some class? -I am wondering.
-No. I have to go to Mumbai. I travel. Travel yoga.
He loughs full heartily. He stands up and mimics how one travels on bus, grasping the handles and fighting to keep balance on the moving bus.
-Keeping balance; yoga. You see? Everything is yoga! Bus yoga.
And smiles again.

Prologue II.

...a strong push draws me back to reality. We started to descend towards Mumbai and just passed a turbulent layer of air; Pearls of light here and there-but nothing spectacular. Where could this city be hiding? I would expect something more from a mega-polis whose population is nearly double of my home country, Hungary, and almost four times as much as that is of whole Finland, where I lived my past 4 years.

For a long time after that incident I did not try to find and follow any organized religion or consistent philosophical view. I felt some intimate relation with the reality, nature, or God if you like it, and that was all. But from time to time an urge came. I knew, or rather felt unconsciousnessly that there are much disturbance, unbalance in my mind-and they should be settled in some way. But decision did not arise until my MSc years. I was in the mountains for several days. When going downhill on one of the last days, suddenly everything was so clear: It's high time to start to consistently walk on a path. I also felt problem with my body: somehow there was not a smooth connection between 'me' and 'him'. I always used to live in my thoughts, in my mind. So, the path should be something which works with the body, which goes beyond the body through the body. It was settled then.

I knew only two of such ways: the far-east martial arts and yoga. I started with Tai Chi. After one year of practice I felt the on physical level this was exactly the one thing that I was seeking, but on philosophical level -I am sorry to say, but- the two teachers I found were not a match to my requirements. So, around 1996 I sifted to yoga. Ever since I have been practicing...

And at the moment the final result of this practice is that I am sitting here, 6000km from my home and five km above my destination, in the air. I am moving to India permanently, to a continent from which I know literary nothing, but some nice, deep philosophical/spiritual insights.

Prologue I.

So, it comes... The plane is approaching Mumbai (Bombay) airport after a roughly seven hours flight. In some sense my long-lasting dream has come true. All in my life I have been deeply interested in the so called 'deeper meaning of existence'-whatever it really means... As young child I got familiar with Christianity. I had studied the Bible, and try to understand its meaning through various churches and sects. I did not work out in quite that way; I remember when I used to arrive to 'Bible discussion' with questions filling both sides of an A4 sheet. They were really kind people. Really. But they answers did not satisfy me. In them there was always some kind of clear personal inclination: fears, hopes, anger, unhappines, etc. I felt less understanding, least facing with reality as it was than some dreamy hopes.

My last such talk happened when when we were discussing about the 'end of the world' which approaching soon and the lost paradise will return. We had a long discussion how peacefully we all will live there, easily harvesting on days, and happily singing by camp fires at twilights. And how happily the lion would lay by a sheep (this was especially one scene I could not grasp; I even discussed with my biology teacher whether it would be possible for a lion to live on grass-diet, but it seemed hopeless. And what about poor grass, anyway?!). Then he said:
-we will live a simple peaceful life. No rich and poor anymore, no useless goods.
-all right, I thought, it really sounds like a nice 'back to nature' dream...
-but I hope, he said, that God will not destroy everything right at armageddon. I hope He will let me try for some years driving those good cars, like Ferrari, Porsche. It would be foolish to destroy them immediately.

My God...

At that evening I told them that this all stuff is not for me. The world changes but we do not-it does not make any sense to me.