Ignorance

ॐ तत्पुरुषाय विद्‍महे

वक्रतुंडाय धीमहि

तन्‍नो दंति प्रचोदयात्‌ ॥

Om.  Obeisance to the Incomparable, Imminent Lord.

O Lord Of The Long Trunk, bless us with Insight.

Reverence to the One Tusked Lord, grant us Wisdom. 

It can be surprising how many perspectives one single moment can have and what we can learn from it, particularly in conjunction with other events in our concurrent interactions with the material world, if we just take a moment to look around.  This is one such moment in the dance.

It's 5:30 at an urban hub commuter rail station, the waiting area packed as a mass of people shift from foot to foot, waiting for the (late) call to the platform for their train.  A few people who frequent that specific time pace the gates, peering at distant train windows to try and recognize conductors and anticipate the platform, occasionally stopping to talk or signal to each other.

The call is made and the crowd moves as one in a stampede to platform 8.  The gate doors are wide but still too narrow for the tide, those in back jostle and break against the bottleneck, pushing those in front to keep moving even if there's no where to go.

One small woman, her attention focused on the conversation on her cell, angles in from the side at speed, cutting around dozens of people and wedging her way into the edge of the gate seemingly without a thought, trailing a large handbag behind her.  Once wedged into the threshold she pulls through, ignoring the crush around her and yanking her bag roughly through the tangle of legs and the frame of the gate without looking.  

She jolts to a halt as the bag doesn't come and a murmur of protest rises around her, and casts a doe-eyed apology over her shoulder then turns and yanks again, causing a squawk of alarm from the woman behind her, who tilts and grasps the door frame.

In a heartbeat the first woman goes from innocence to fury and shouts an accusation at the second, but she's quickly forced to face forward and keep moving by the pressure of traffic.

In the crush of the crowd, the second woman had been  trying to find her own way forward, impatiently waiting for her own chance to make it through the gate.  As she's about to pass through she finds herself shoved aside by a small frame wedging herself through the door, talking into her cellphone and seemingly oblivious to the people around her.  She bristles at the younger woman as the bag catches her behind the knee, nearly knocking her down.  And then the girl yanks again and only the frame of the gate keeps her from going down in the crowd as her leg is pulled forward.  Of course, that leg had to go somewhere....

There is a brief, loud exchange of accusations and glares, then both are separated for a few minutes as their place in the rush passes through the gates and down onto the platform.

As the crowd starts to thin further down the platform, woman 1 sees woman 2 across the platform and starts up a hue and cry of invective and allegation, claiming woman 2 kicked her and making general judgements on her character.  The second takes a full step back, her expression shocked, and replies that the woman cut her off and tripped her not once but twice, and when that doesn't stop the tirade shouts at the first to stop lying.  Woman 1 only backs tearfully down and gets into the car she had been in line for when a group of other passengers comes to woman 2's defense, backing her up.  Woman 2 ducks away too, walking swiftly down the platform head and shoulders bent.

As I walk down the platform I wonder at the first Woman's reaction and if she really had no awareness of the link between her yanking the bag and the result.  She had been apologetic for just an instant at first, after all.  Why assume a perfect stranger in such a crowd would simply kick her?

I took a seat and noticed the second woman sitting curled against a window, visibly upset.  The car is a 'quiet car' and so usually fills up first.  But there are plenty of open seats here, which means there likely are plenty more in the other 7 cars too.  I wonder what all the rush was about and if it was worth it.

I open the book I am reading, an examination of Patanjali's Yoga Sutras and several traditional commentaries, and my eyes fall immediately on this line:

"Ignorance is mysterious, since the question of how it comes to arise in the first place is bypassed...  ...by saying it is beginningless."

'I' is not this for any of us, not this bundle of neurons, biochemical impulses and reactions.  In this birth, I've understood this general idea for a very long time, yet in the process of turning away from the spiritual and focusing on building a career and supporting my family I still slid into a kind of waking forgetfulness, a kind of knowing while not knowing - a strange thing when I think about it.  It happens smoothly, invisibly, a part of the process of living in this world, unless you hold tight to what you know and practice it.  A couple of years ago I might have been either of those women.

Perhaps Ignorance itself is similar, perhaps it's not so mysterious.  One might even say it is inherent to the condition itself, the necessary price to participate fully.

Sri Shiva's 5 'Acts', one of which is Concealment, are also called 'Graces', after all.

~oOo~  Om, Namah Shivaya  ~oOo~

Small Things

श्री वक्रतुण्ड महाकाय सूर्य कोटी समप्रभा निर्विघ्नं कुरु मे देव सर्व-कार्येशु सर्वदा॥ 

O Lord Ganesha of the curved trunk and massive body, the one whose splendor is equal to millions of Suns, please bless me to that I do not face any obstacles in my endeavors.
 

Happy Chaturthi and Visarjan!  Ganapati Bappa morya!  Pudhchya varshi lavkar ya!  ^_^

Sometimes it's the littlest things that are the sweetest...

It's something a lot of Westerners coming into Hindu Dharma worry about in the beginning, when first going to Temple and looking for a community to worship among.  We may already have friends and family who are of Indian descent or origin, in some cases they may even  take us to the Temple we end up frequenting.  But there's still that worry...  are we culturally misappropriating, or will we be seen as doing so.  Will we be left out, ignored, or shunned because of the happenstance of our birth this time around, which truly makes us stick out like a sore thumb.  It can be so much harder if you are a more generally solitary and retiring person, socially awkward and anxious even among friends and family, and going to Temple alone. 

Like most Westerners coming into open worship for the first time, I tend to avoid days with crowds and stay in the back of the group, taking my turn at Aarti or other things only after most others have gone first - especially elders and children.  Except on rare and special occasions I don't wear a Tilaka unless a Pandit or someone else puts one on me, I often don't feel I have the right to wear one on my own and don't wish to draw any more attention than I already do.  Being raised Western, I was taught that is it extremely rude to not look someone in the eye when they are speaking to you, but being female I have found this gets me into some trouble on the rare occasion people talk to me - especially as I am not accompanied by a male.  This is because it's usually been older men who speak to me, for some reason, and in my exuberance at being acknowledged by someone mixed with the high energy of the Temple, I tend to become overly enthusiastic and babble.  It never occurred to me until one such person started becoming too familiar that my happiness and Western cultural habits might be interpreted poorly...

Some of it is generational I think, I haven't had such an experience with Indian men of my generation or younger, but the older generations seem to forget the norms of the culture they're in as easily as I forget the behavioral norms of the culture I am joining in order to worship Sri Bhagavan among others.  The problem is mine only, though, as this is their space where they can meet together as a cultural community, and they are very kind to allow me to come into such a private and sacred space and join them.  But it adds a whole new level of anxiety as I must carefully watch my own instinctive behavior and retrain myself in how I act in these places.  I look at it as a part of my Sadhana:  a lesson and practice in remaining Present and Mindful in all situations, controlling my actions, thoughts and speech.  I am getting better.

Still, there are always those that will suck their teeth and murmur around me in Hindi, assuming I don't understand a word - but I'm learning Hindi so I am starting to catch some things.  There are always those that walk right in front of me in a line, as if I'm not there.  It's sad because if anyone asked I would have them go ahead of me anyway.  But again, it is part of my practice:  humility and deference to others.  Any feelings I might have about such happenings is only my ego, which needs to be controlled and then set aside.

Of course that means any feelings are ego, and so the joy I feel at the little gestures of acceptance and inclusion must be included in this.  Still, such simple things can feel so intensely nice, and I wonder if anyone on the other side stops to realize how significant such seemingly small things can be to those of us who were not born into Dharma in this life, but had to find our way to it.

Those that are usually present on Monday evenings, the Trustees, the Pujari and ceremony Emcee all recognize me now, as well as some others who come on the days that I do if there is a festival.  They try to make sure I'm included in things lately, for instance inviting me to take a Tali Plate and participate in the Monday evening pujas everyone was doing during Shravan month.

These last ten days the Temple had Sri Ganapati staying during Chaturthi.  Last night they held their Visarjan.  We had already held ours at home the day before, I had assumed the Temple would have held theirs on the Sunday as well, so was a little surprised but very happy to see.  I had intended to leave after Aarti, but found myself pulled into the Visarjan procession circling the central mandap and floorspace.  I knew the energy that would be there, but it still surprised me.  And then I noticed that with each circle around, the Murti was being passed back to another person or family in the parade.  People who had already carried Bappa were starting to filter out of the parade and stand watching, so as the Murti neared my position I tried to slip out to stand with the others, feeling that I didn't have a right to carry Him in this group.  I hadn't been there for the Sthapana puja and had only been to one other day while He was staying, and I still don't wholly feel like a part of the community.

My attempt to slip away, even among a clapping and singing crowd, was noticed and foiled.  To my surprised embarrassment, there were the Trustees and Emcee gesturing and then gently pushing me back into the line, telling me I had to carry Him.  I tried to explain I wasn't worthy, but noise, language barrier and whatever else, they insisted that they were waiting for me and it wouldn't be complete if I didn't.  This ended me near the very end of the line, and I somehow ended up carrying Bappa in the last circle of the parade and then all the way from the Mandap to the separate room where the water had been prepared - there is no body of water near the Temple, so the immersion was indoors.

Final pradakshina of the tub of water was done, singing, to allow those who prepared the prasad to carry Him too, and then immersion was done by the Temple children.  It left me feeling warm and glowing, for a small time truly feeling a part of the community.  I don't know if I can ever communicate how grateful I am for that little gesture, that small thing, which was more of a gift than I think they realize.

Chaturthi last year was a time of such gifts and joy.  Chaturthi this year was no different.  I sincerely wish and hope that everyone else's Chaturthi was too.

ऊँ गं गणपतये नमः

Om Gaṁ Gaṇapataye Namaḥ

~Pranam