ice to be back in the ashram after a long drive from Boston to here, with a night’s stopover at the lake house (Midnights with the Mystic) in North Carolina, probably for the last time as it is being sold. This twenty-hour drive has been a time to think and recap what has been up for the last four months since I left the USA.
These have been a phenomenal four months of a variety of events and incredible intensity. The eventful trip to Kailash was immensely enriching and enjoyable. From then Australia, Malaysia, Singapore, Nepal — well for me, in many ways, it is all the wonderful people who stick out in my mind rather than places. Small things that people do but loaded with love and devotion is a lot more significant than the so called ‘great events’ of life. The eyes, the stance, a nervous twitch, the way one’s hands or lips arrange themselves or a teardrop, or a tremble of the hand or spine. All these and more stick in my mind and have stuck in my mind for the last few lifetimes. It is this accumulation of human tenderness that never allows me to slacken my trust in the hope of transforming human nature, though there is much in the world that is not desired of humans happening. Thus I plod on at a pace that is at least scorching for those around me. Well, a little more organisation is needed to handle the pace.
Of the many events of different shades, the trip to Kashi has been a stand-out. What a fabulous place and how filthy we have made it. It is a joy to see that it is still alive with phenomenal energy after all the ravage that it has taken. Distressing to see the political ploy to destroy it. The oldest city upon the face of this planet continues to live. Shiva’s favourite city exists in celebration of death and life. There is still enough ‘bhasma’ – cremation ash being produced for him and his ‘gana’ friends. A city that was set to the perfection of cosmic geometry and generated a light that incubated great beings of all sorts. Sages not only of a spiritual nature, but mathematicians, musicians, astronomers, men of science and literature and even Vatsyayana of Kamasutra fame. Another name for the city describes all this — Banaras.
The finest sort of weave comes from this city; the silks of Banaras are unmatched in design complexity and finesse, but a dying art. I am in the process of involving a top name in clothing in the USA in an effort to revive the fine art of Indian weave. There are over a hundred and twenty different weaves in India and many are truly endangered. Those who value these craft skills, enroll for ‘Save the Weave’ project. You think I’m crazy. These skills have lived through millennia of all kinds of upheaval and we as a generation should not be the cause of their demise.
Just came in late last night but have to be in Atlanta for an evening event. Flying a turbine powered helicopter for the first time since my certification.
Let us power on.