A walk along the river

As one exited the retreat place, and descended down a set of uneven steps into the forest, the calm and tranquility of the jungle seemed to take over. A mud track led one further along the forest, where a hundred meters on, a narrow canal became visible. One could cross the canal and continue deep into the forest, or descend on the other side and reach a dry river bed. A traveler suddenly coming upon the dry river bed which seemed to extend interminably in either direction would feel an expansion in consciousness. It was a study in contrasts with the intimacy of the forest one had just crossed, and yet its experience was as vital to the enrichment of the soul as the experience of the virgin, untrod forest. In the vastness of that river bed, unsullied by any vestiges of human civilization, one was forced to confront one’s aloneness. And yet this aloneness was not claustrophobic. One could develop a deep, intimate relationship with this aloneness, get to know it, and to appreciate it; and within that knowingness, within that relationship something of one’s innermost self would be revealed.

The river bed was littered with boulders large and small, interspersed with smaller pebbles. These pebbles had been boulders once, and the boulders will become pebbles some time hence in the future. And yet unperturbed with the knowledge of their past or awareness of future they existed in the moment. Sun shone upon the boulders and as one neared a turn in the river, trees on the river bank cast their shadows – lengthening as the sun receded towards the horizon. One felt alone and yet blissful, not at one with all of nature but rather in an intimate relationship with her. There was a deep contentment and there was knowledge of the one who was feeling content. As one ambled along the river bed, that sense of contentment deepened and a feeling of bliss seemed to overtake the entire body. All the psychological tensions and human contentions that come from living in the civilization had been left behind. It was in such moments one realized what a burden the mind is.

Osho had once narrated a story of a child upon whose back a monkey had been tied, when both the child and the monkey were very young. Being young and not very strong, carrying the monkey was heavy burden. However, this burden did not lessen with time. As the child grew and became stronger, so did the monkey. As the child became an adolescent, the monkey also grew in years and in weight. As the adolescent became a youth, the monkey also matured. With his back doubled over with the weight of the monkey, the man was never able to walk straight. He would hunch, he would hobble, he would struggle in carrying the monkey on his back, but it never occurred to him to put the monkey down. He was so used to carrying the monkey around with him, that he did not even notice that he was carrying an unnatural weight upon his back, which was pulling him down. It seemed to him to be the most natural thing in the world to be permanently burdened with a monkey. But with age, as the monkey became bigger and more restless, the man started facing difficulties. His back was hunched over, he started ageing prematurely and he was in general sad and depressed.

One day, when things reached a nadir, the man went to see a famous Master who was visiting the town. He complained to the Master and wept bitterly about his life. The Master smiled at him compassionately and asked him to put down the monkey. At first the man did not realize what the Master was talking about. What monkey? How can there be a monkey on his back without him noticing? As the Master persisted, the man eventually came to his senses and realized that all his troubles arose from the monkey he was inadvertently carrying around on his back. With the Master’s assistance he released the monkey – and put it down. A sense of relief overcame him. For the first time in many years he felt light, he felt free. And yet it was a strangely unnerving feeling. He was used to the monkey. The monkey kept him grounded. He did not know what to do with this new found freedom! For the man, life without the monkey would take getting used to.

And isn’t it true for all of us? We go around in life with our own personal monkeys tied to our backs. We feed our monkeys with our fears and anxieties and worries about the future. Our back is bent over with the weight of this monkey and yet we persist in carrying it around, nurturing it and refusing to put it down. We complain of our lot, we weep bitterly and suffer sometimes in silence and sometimes in impotent rage. Yet we cannot summon the courage of putting the monkey down. Somewhere She smiles in compassion, looking at our antics. She allows us to struggle, in the hope that someday we will see light.

One walked on - devoid of thoughts, feeling a sense of calm descend upon oneself. Occasionally the shrill cry of  a cicada would pierce the silence, but it was an ineffectual weapon against a silence that was as deep and pervading. Like the ripples upon the surface of a lake, the sound would soon die down and one would be engulfed with silence that seemed to be in the natural order of things.

One more turn and one could see in the distance a fork in the river bed where the river branched into two. At this point, the river bed was interspersed with dry leaves. This part of the river boasted of a more than usual concentration of trees, which no doubt were responsible for the rich harvest of those leaves. The leaves seemed to glow with an inner luminosity as embers of dying sunlight from a sun about to set fell upon them and imbued them with a special radiance. There was something magical about those leaves. Fragile; their existence could be wiped out by a gust of wind or a single footfall, and yet there was something of the eternity in them. Perhaps their beauty was enhanced by the fragility of their existence.

Something of the melancholy of autumn described by Keats as “Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness” seeped deep within one, as one came to terms with the uncertainty of the existence of those leaves. And with it came an epiphany that all things arise and pass away. There can be relief in not knowing and calm acceptance in the face of uncertainty. Impermanence can also be beautiful. One can deeply feel beauty of an intimate experience, without wanting to hold on to it. Life can be a string of such beautiful moments, each of them arising and passing away in eternity, hardly registering upon the deep silence, and yet providing succor to the soul that is sensitive enough to look out for such moments.