Our Spiritual Companions

Tags

companions, journey, music, satsang, walking

On most mornings, she doesn’t sleep much past six o’clock in the morning. It means that I am up with her too, so that Mom gets to sleep in for an extra hour or so. It also means that if I didn’t wake up before six o’clock, my morning meditation opportunity is pretty much gone. Why? Because it’s tough to sit and meditate with an eight month old puppy who is solely focused on play when she first wakes up in the morning!

So, one morning, instead of forcing her to settle down so that I could focus, I decided I would play with her first and then sit for my morning meditation. A funny thing happened after the first few days. One morning, she decided to come and nap next to me while I was meditating. A few days later, she decided she was going to curl up in the space in front of me as I sat in lotus. Some days, she would actually come sit in my lap as I was sitting – yes, it was tough to focus on those days. 

It has been a few months of this new morning routine now. You could say that I have found a new spiritual companion who “sleeps” while I meditate. I play with her when she wakes up, and she naps while I meditate. It’s a good harmony. She has taught me that it is sometimes better to bend to the new flow of life and create new accommodations, than to create unnecessary stress by persisting with old routines.

In relieving external stress, I have also found new companions within. Some mornings, the non-stop spiritual music that plays in my home-office during the day, becomes my inner companion. The sound of music is sometimes accompanied by the moonlight that is still in the sky as the sun rises slowly. Some days, the companions are the sparkling brilliant colorations of the sunset from the previous day, as it reflects golden orange off of the clouds, and glistens bright blues off of the thin sheets of ice that are floating on the lake waters.

Some mornings, sound and light transition the heart into nothingness. When you return, you know that you have been with that companion which defies description through words. You come slowly awake, and are grateful that the physical world is mostly as you left it, as evidenced by the puppy who is still fast asleep at your feet. And yet, once you experience the company of sound, light and nothingness, there is a renewed awareness of truth, permanence and joy within you.

Celebrate. You have taken another step on the path with your spiritual companions. 

Kumud

P.S. Join us Sunday, December 6 at 9amET for a chat with our #SpiritChat community on twitter. I will bring some questions, we will play some music and gather for satsang with friends, old and new, and walk a few more steps on our path. Namaste – @AjmaniK

 

 

 

Finding Our Own Path

Tags

discovery, freedom, walking, zen

Walking in nature has grown to be one of my favorite outdoor activities over the past four or five years. This invitation to walk the local reservation came about suddenly one day as I was driving to work. That was then, and this is now. Hundreds of miles and thousands of photographs later, there are still new paths that remain to be walked and new experiences to be had on the frequently traveled ones. 

Nature has taught me much about life and shown me some glimpses of its inner workings during my walks. The variations of the seasons and how one season’s end is a preparation for the next. The contrast between the stillness of the water in the lagoons and the rush of flow in the river after the snow melts. The trees that grow taller every year so that they can carpet the ground with leaves every autumn to provide fuel for the forthcoming spring. This, and much more, has unfolded on the many paths for me. 

Such is the nature of the physical paths that have unfolded for me over time. It is hard to imagine that one could really walk in deep harmony with nature without experiencing a parallel spiritual journey within. Nature does not promote any path to the walker. It provides a new canvas every day and invites the sojourners to bring their imagination to paint a new path with every step. Some of my most satisfying walks have been where I simply wandered and let the sounds of the river and the play of sunlight among the trees be my guides. May every day bring a new way — that seems to have become my mantra.

According to Osho, ‘The Way’ is a good description of the philosophy of Tao. There is no goal — there is only the way or the path. 

Each moment, wherever you are, you are at the goal if you are on the path. In Tao, there is no talk about moksha, nirvana or enlightenment. The spiritual work is that you have to find the path, the Way. 

So, what does the Way look like? How do we find it? How do we know that we are on it? The challenge of this approach, if we choose it, is that we have to find our own path before we can start walking it. It cannot be given to us by anyone, or walked for us by anyone. There are no footsteps to follow, or leave for others. This may be disconcerting to many who have had a ‘religious’ upbringing, and yet it is an opportunity for great freedom of exploration. The variables are courage, risk, and adventure. An adventure of self-discovery, and of the path itself. 

There is a blue heron that I have often stumbled upon during my walks. She shows up at different locations in the reservation depending on the season and the hour of the day. She invariably sees me before I see her, and starts to leave before I can take a picture of her. So, I stopped trying to photograph her. Then, one day, without preamble, there she was. Standing still on a log in the lagoon, for what seemed like an eternity. It was as if she knew that I had stopped trying to ‘capture’ her, so she stopped trying to escape from my presence. That was a really good moment on the journey, for I felt that I was one with the goal and the path. 

And so, we keep walking, keep discovering, keep on letting the curves and bends of our path unfold before us. We draw from nature as we learn more about ourselves and our heart’s capacity through direct experience every day. It’s a great way to feel alive, isn’t it? 

Kumud

Join me and the #SpiritChat community, Sunday August 16 at 9amET as we continue our journey and cross paths on twitter yet again. Namaste – @AjmaniK

One of the sights on one of the many paths in the Valley Reservation

On Voluntary Simplicity

Tags

healing, simplicity, volunteering, walking

A thirty minute walk around noon – the wind was calm when I embarked, and was even behind me a bit when I went out. But as I turned around in the far cul-de-sac in the new phase of the development, there was a distinct shift… and I was suddenly walking uphill, the wind picking up and biting into my cheeks, scuffing my lips, tearing up my eyes till they bled salt. And yet, in the midst of all this, I noticed that the mind had been strangely be-calmed, focused by itself without any effort on my part. It seemed like the mind had been frozen into a simple single thought, a single goal, a single ideal.. to somehow will the body, make it endure so that I would get back home, walking head-first through this freezing change…

Voluntary Simplicity and Walking Practice

And as I made the turn to home in that half circle that has the infinite at it’s center, I somehow decided to keep on walking, still head-first into the biting wind that might have now even picked up a notch… for I knew, or at least hoped, that the worst was probably behind me. I voluntarily walked in the belief that most of the rest of the walk that would unfold, unplanned as my ‘route’ often is, would be filled with the grace of the full-moon rising. I took refuge in the knowing that there are two phases to every journey…

The two simple phases of life are of light and darkness, like the waxing and the waning fortnights of the moon. The two phases are like the wind beneath your wings that uplifts you, and the same wind that turns on you and cuts delicate icicles on your face. Very often, we voluntarily keep walking, knowing that at the end of every phase, is an opportunity to change direction. On that thanksgiving morning, I walked with the simple truth that there is indeed a finite end to every waning, and even to waxing.

And as I walked with a half frozen smile, it dawned on me that every big and small journey, every walk that I choose to take, unfolds for me, something new. It is akin to every walking and sitting meditation that is now a part of my spiritual practice. How much more simple can a voluntary practice be? You wake up, you sit in a comfortable space, you relax the body, you focus on the heart, and… that is all. Voluntary simplicity. Every walk becomes a cycle within a greater cycle…

Simplicity of practice comes from what guides us, who we sit and walk with, and what we walk towards, or away from. Simplicity is when we become volunteers in working for, and with, joy, peace and light. It is the wholeness, the holistic nature of the process, that heals and uplifts us, and those around us. It is in volunteering, that we become like the light of the full moon, which finds its best expression when it is reflected in the clear blue lake of our arisen, awakened, conscious heart.

Kumud @AjmaniK

P.S. What do you find simplicity in? Is your practice simple or complex? Does your practice feel voluntary or…? Join me as I host a twitter conversation on “voluntary simplicity” with the #SpiritChat community – Sunday, November 25th at 9amET / 7:30pm India. Dress warm, as we will walk some old and new paths… and who knows, we may even share some Thanksgiving day stories…

On Flowering Lightness

Tags

flowers, lightness, spring, summer, walking

It had been a busy spring, and an even busier summer. Family. Work. Travel. Family Travel. Work Travel. And I had slowly gotten away from my regular, almost daily walks on the trails that rarely faired to inspired me to pause, write, take photos, and much more. However, as had often happened before, I knew from personal experience that Nature is patient. And that she would be waiting for me with wide open arms whenever I returned.

And return I did, over the past two weeks. Slowly but surely, like a caterpillar seeded with the knowledge that its truth is to be a butterfly, I emerged into the forest again. The trails welcomed me back with open arms, especially the small ones that were now camouflaged by the overgrowth of summer. As I walked the narrowest ones closest to the river’s edge, the embrace of the tall shrubs forming archways on both sides of me was unmistakable. And with every walk, my heart felt a little lighter, as it found its way away from the heaviness of the world.

But where were all the flowers? The ones who with their sudden appearance around familiar bends, would create a surge of joy and elevate the heart? The yellows surrounding blacks on tall sunflower stems, the whites and blues on short stems staying close to ground? I must have missed their comings and goings as I was busy with the outer world, I thought. Or maybe there were some new surprises in store for me, I surmised. Unfazed, I kept walking in the faith that lightness would bloom in other, yet to be revealed ways.

One of the “trails” forms a figure eight. One loop goes three-fourths of the way, around the river and the other loop, forms the inner arc of a kidney-bean shaped lagoon. A roadway forms part of both the loops, in the form of a long border. I usually walk both loops on any given day, on the advice of a #SpiritChat friend who told me a while back that “walking figure eights energizes the heart” (thank you, @SarahsEnergy). On this day, I first walked the river loop, and then crossed over to the lagoon.

As I approached the lagoon and its still waters to my right, I happened to glance left as a flash of pink and purple caught my eye. It was a single hibiscus plant, with blooms opened towards the sun, hosting some tiny visitors. Aha, I thought. A new flower. I knew that there would be at least one new bloom somewhere that would lighten my heart. As is my wont, I paused to record my ‘discovery’ and take a few photos. But that was merely the preview of what was to come. As if on cue, around the next bend that first arched towards the lagoon and then away from it, was an entire ‘field’ of hibiscus flowers. Hundreds of them, forming a ring around a pond out of which arose tall, branchless, trees (roots of trees?).

A heart-lightening, healing, inspiring sight if there ever was one. And as I kept walking, there were hundreds more. One pond after another. It was as if their seeds might have rained down from the skies in spring, and now they all bloomed in unison at mid-summer. The ‘discovery’ reminded me of what happens sometimes on the inner path. We develop a practice (walking), we get energized by some ‘results’ (flowers), and then we fade away from the practice when we feel that our ‘progress’ has stalled. The outer world squeezes our space, our time and our commitment.

And yet, we know from having personally experienced lightness and joy, that the practice can lighten us again. So, with grace and with remembrance, we return and we recommit. We renew our walk, our practice, by reclaiming a small fraction of space and time. We commit to simply walking in lightness in every step, lightness of heart, for the simple joy of being on our path. We learn to surrender our search for the flowers and the fruits, and let the path embrace us.

It is perhaps in our commitment to simply walk, that the fields of flowers bloom without, unbidden, to remind us of the lightness that can flower within us.

Namaste,

Kumud @AjmaniK

P.S. Join us Sunday, July 22nd at 9amET / 630pm India on twitter for our weekly conversation with the #SpiritChat community. Many of us love flowers and are flowering in the company of each other. Come join us. Namaste.

The first hibiscus…

A hibiscus “field” rings the pond