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Published: October 17th 2013
These days are slipping right through my hands These days turn out nothing like I had planned Powderfinger “These Days”
Forget your perfect offering There is a crack in everything That's how the light gets in Leonard Cohen “Anthem”
I am living in a beautiful space (a house) on the outskirts of a village called Solahnu (population 123), an hour by walking track (no road) up a steep mountainside from the town of Jibhi in Bangar Valley Kullu (Himachal Pradesh India). How I got to be offered this opportunity is a long story, but suffice to say this is my fourth time in this valley since 2009 and my mind's eye has fancied being able to do just this kind of thing since that fist visit.
I am doing nothing and everything. My days are empty and full.
Today I woke at 5am and let my mind wander. I got up at 5.30 to stop my mind wandering, not that it was a big problem. But I notice that as the days advance in this
shanti place, I actually start to crave my meditation practice (which
is a bit of a non sequitur no? Meditation ought to lead to less craving of anything!). So up I get with some enthusiasm and go to 'my place' downstairs for a sit which lasts about 50 minutes.
Birds are tweeting outside. The sun is just showing itself over the mountain range across the other side of the valley. The sky is clear and blue. Now for my first
chai for the day. I make a lemon honey ginger mint tea and sit at the computer to see what overnight
gmail traffic has come my way. I play an album by Hariprasad Chaurasia (Power and Grace). I get one nice confirmation from a new friend I have been trying to contact since meeting two weeks ago in Manikaran. That brightens my day.
In one email, my brother suggests that I track down the
hijra we refused to pay 200 rupees to just before he left for Delhi two weeks back: “I realised that life has got considerably harder exactly since we denied that group that donation at the bus stop. Since that time there was the missing bus, the terrible taxi drive to Delhi, the broken down plane,
two missed flights, a noisy destructive rat in the house, car problems, a rejected manuscript. Nothing major, just difficult. Can this be squared up?”
I start working on this blog.
By 8.15am, the sun is streaming in on the verandah which invites me to do my
hatha yoga.
I try not to think too much about the reward at the end of the yoga – my
nasta (breakfast). I love my breakfast with more passion than a good buddhist ought – but I am not a good buddhist – in fact, I only partly describe myself as buddhist. I call myself a 'buddhist existentialist agnostic' if you want to know. Maybe its the same thing. But I digress. My breakfast is fastidiously prepared the night before – oats, milk, grated apple and ginger and coconut, dates and raisins, almonds, cinnamon, and I will top it off before consuming with mung sprouts. I eat slowly whilst reading from the latest book I have scavenged from those in the cupboard here .
The sun is warm on my legs sitting here on the verandah. I see that Bendu, wife of
Narendra (son of Rana who owns this house) is working in the terraced fields below, cutting the grasses for winter storage.
After some time, having risen early, I simply lay down and take a 10 minute nap.
Its now late morning. I think about taking a walk along one of the many mountain trails and also make a rough plan in my head about what I will prepare for the day's main meal. I decide I will do a
Nan bread with a curry of roasted eggplant and
paneer (local cheese) and veges. But first I will just do another story for my fortnightly contribution to the Bhubaneswar magazine/ paper “My City”. This is a semblance of work. Oh, and I finish this blog. Busy morning to be sure.
Everything seems to be in its place.
Ah Paul, your routines are what makes you no?
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ajmal
non-member comment
hi
nice reading your blog...maybe we get to see each other on your way down south...I will be in goa sooner or later...will love to catch up !