April 20, 2009

Happy Monday everyone, and happy birthday, big bro, Steve! This weekend Linda and I went to Auroville to listen to a speaker. Sraddhalu spoke on part of a poem called "Savitri" (Book 2, Canto 15). Linda said, "Oh, this guy," she was expecting Professor Aravinda Basu, one of the original ashramites that knew Sri Aurobindo (she had her dates wrong and he is speaking next week) "his mother was in the Ashram for 90 years." The guy, Indian decent, long hair, long beard, wonderful smile, read aloud the poem by Sri Aurobindo and after every line, he would stop and explain the meanings behind the words. A good deal of what he said was interesting, but try as I may, I found my mind wandering around to other things - the woman recording the event that looked remarkably like my head martial art instructor's wife, the man that walked in that looked like another teacher & friend of mine from behind (and I dared not look at his face, knowing it would break the illusion, until he spoke and I had to look), how if the guru cut his hair and shaved his beard he would not look like a guru and that's probably why he kept them on - for image's sake and being "in international demand" as the introducer had said (not to mention - what kind of purpose would all that hair serve in the heat of India?). Also, I'm left with a snapshot of the man, his face in complete horror, as he tipped the microphone onto himself while trying to itch his nose. At all other times, he played it mellow and cool, but for that one speck of a moment he showed how nervous he was to be speaking in front of these people. Then there was the woman with the heavy French accent that smiled an unnaturally large smile the whole time - did she smile like that at home when nobody was watching? It seemed so put on for the occasion. The children, oh the children, that were playing war, or something that required screaming and drumming, right outside and everyone tried to ignore it (because how can peaceful people get upset with children playing?) but it drowned out the mellow speaker and everyone was noticeably annoyed. Still with all the distraction, still, still, I picked up a few things said.

Sraddhalu held up two flowers in front of him - a big one directly in front of a small one - saying he could not know of the existence of the small until he understood the big one - became the big flower - then he would be able to see beyond his new self to the small flower beyond. There are so many things in our universe that we can not see because they are obscured by the things we can. Our overmind must find a way to vibrate to the same identity of the things around us to become aware of the hidden universe.

He said that there are three parts to us now - our physical self, our vital force and our mental force. I'm not sure where he went with that, but it got me thinking about how when a person dies, it is so confusing to us. Their body is there, the mind is questionable (what is mind anyway...), what is gone is the vital force. It's that pushing of energy that we relate to and need. We go through life with so much emphasis on the physical - face creams and outfits - as if it were the most important part of us, but once our vital force leaves, our bodies are discardable. So, I think that the main focus of meditation-centered religions is to find a way to strengthen our vital force. Likewise, I'd say western religions focus on the physical with all the rituals (think "body and blood of Christ") and the sense that after death you have to go somewhere - a heaven, a hell - since we're so attached to the idea of our selves needing to occupy a space. Then atheists, and the like, put their emphasis on the mental, only relating to the vital and physical in a scientific, fact-based sense.

The speaker also asked why we find things beautiful. Why is this flower, this painting, beautiful? It is because the flower is radiating from its vital force, some kind of meaning that we appreciate. It is the meaning hidden in the flower and the painting that we find beautiful. I suppose the more you try to understand in life, the more beauty you see in the world. Just looking at a ceramic piece or a painting, on top of the practical meaning, there is a connection to the colors that we, for some reason, find meaningful. I might be more attracted to a red and black piece, while you a blue and gold one, because we each relate to the saturation and vibrations differently. I don't know... beauty in meaning. It's something to think about especially when it comes to the people we find attractive.

I've needed a break from reading texts and biographies, so I've read two novels, also. "Drop City" by T.C. Boyle and "The Reader" by Berhard Schlink. I won't get into them now except to suggest that you read "The Reader" and not read "Drop City". Let me know if you've read either of them; I'd like to hear your opinions. I've started reading, "The Shipping News" by E.Annie Proulx, so let me know if you've read that one, too. I'm off for now! I think I'm going to create a walking tour for myself of all the streets with funny names: Captain Marius Xavier Street, Mulla Street, and L'ancien Hospital Street. You never know what you'll find around these corners.