Mayapura, India
Not A Night
There is not a night when the jackals don't howl. It is, for me, reassuring that nature is
still around. And wild. In the morning, when Corrado and I exit our
room at 4:00 a.m., aimed at reaching the Samadhi for mantras, the moon
is at some angle, seemingly jumping. With
each new pre-dawn period, we find him in a new corner in the sky, these days
diminishing in size.
There is a mist. A
chill. Some dew on the vegetation. Then
there's the samadhi itself, with floor tiles posing challenges for most
of us. Yes, it's a bone-chilling
winter/spring.
Meetings have begun, and I'm able to keep up some regimen
with the drama practices, morning and evening.
A marvelous presentation was done by Vaisesika on the topic of book
publication and sales. In the auditorium,
a new friend joined us—a bird, common to the area. He got struck by a rickshaw, according to the
rescuer, Arya. She was witness to the
bird's injury. She picked him up,
wrapped him in her shawl and brought him to watch one of our rehearsals, or at
least hear it. We were not aware of his
presence until after. He looked like a
prince in that colour of cloth.
Time passed, and then I asked Arya, 'How's the feathered jiva
(living being) doing?"
"I brought him out and he flew away."
I guess he’s been given a second chance—a second chance to
fly, take in the adventure, and then?
The rest is in the hands of you know who?
May the Source be with you!
5 km
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