Dr. Krishna sits upon the hill looking down into the valley. Sounds from the village waft up on the hot breeze. Life seems to go on despite all the suffering and fears, he thinks, glimmers of hope leading them into the future like carrots before mules.
He has been on his rock for three days already, sitting in meditation, in prayer, in deference and servitude to All There Is, emptying his cup that it might be filled, saying 'yes, i am here' to the gentle winds that whisper of compassion and wisdom to all beings. The doctor doesn't remember sitting, doesn't recall why he didn't get up and is not inclined to leave his seat now. Time passes. Life is a pulse. The universe rings like a bell. Harmonious.
A number of people have passed by, but have not disturbed him. Water, bread, a spicy samosa, these have been left for him if he should need to feed his body. They are untouched. A voice sounding very much like his mother drifts in and out of his clear awareness, "You have to eat and drink ... that is the way of the body ... to neglect this is foolishness." He knows this too, but there is no desire, no pang, no compulsion. He will eat and drink when the time comes, he notes, promptly letting the note float away on the breeze.
Despite the pure awareness in which he sits, the long and lanky brown man sitting on the rock recalls suddenly the words of a prophet repeated by a fellow villager below; he lets them linger in his mind, instead of letting the words go:
If a man is virtuous—if he does what is right and just, if he does not eat on the mountains, nor raise his eyes to idols; if he does not defile his neighbour's wife, nor have relations with a woman in her cycle; if he oppresses no one, gives back the pledge received for a debt, commits no robbery; if he gives food to the hungry and clothes to the naked; if he does not lend at interest nor exact usury; if he holds off from evildoing, judges fairly between a man and his opponent; if he lives by God's statutes and is careful to observe his ordinances, that man is virtuous—he shall surely live.
Hmmm, reflects Dr. Krishna, about to let the thought go: An ethical life sows goodness and makes doing the right thing easier. There is wisdom in compassion and compassion in wisdom, the soft valley wind agrees.
"Cast away from you all the crimes you have committed, and make for yourselves a new heart and a new spirit!" cried the villager to the crowd. They will be needing a whole lot of carrots, smiled the doctor. I sit here now in prayer and meditation for them, may they all be forgiven, may their burden of sin be erased, may they start life anew now, may they be soft and generous, may they loose their anger and disputes with each other, may they see life as it truly is and be filled with joy, be filled with a joy that can never be taken away, Dr. Krishna blesses.
Now distracted, he turns, drinks some water, nibbles mindfully on the bread and leaves the samosa to the mice that have eaten most of it all already. He knows that he will be getting up and heading back down into the valley at some point, but not yet. After his break, he returns to his seat and settles back into his rhythm with ease. Somewhere down below a heavy bronze bell rings. Dr. Krishna smiles at one last thought, "If only we could be as a child's simplicity, his cup empty, his trust great, his fearlessness of life infectious", then he lets this too, go.
He has been on his rock for three days already, sitting in meditation, in prayer, in deference and servitude to All There Is, emptying his cup that it might be filled, saying 'yes, i am here' to the gentle winds that whisper of compassion and wisdom to all beings. The doctor doesn't remember sitting, doesn't recall why he didn't get up and is not inclined to leave his seat now. Time passes. Life is a pulse. The universe rings like a bell. Harmonious.
A number of people have passed by, but have not disturbed him. Water, bread, a spicy samosa, these have been left for him if he should need to feed his body. They are untouched. A voice sounding very much like his mother drifts in and out of his clear awareness, "You have to eat and drink ... that is the way of the body ... to neglect this is foolishness." He knows this too, but there is no desire, no pang, no compulsion. He will eat and drink when the time comes, he notes, promptly letting the note float away on the breeze.
Despite the pure awareness in which he sits, the long and lanky brown man sitting on the rock recalls suddenly the words of a prophet repeated by a fellow villager below; he lets them linger in his mind, instead of letting the words go:
If a man is virtuous—if he does what is right and just, if he does not eat on the mountains, nor raise his eyes to idols; if he does not defile his neighbour's wife, nor have relations with a woman in her cycle; if he oppresses no one, gives back the pledge received for a debt, commits no robbery; if he gives food to the hungry and clothes to the naked; if he does not lend at interest nor exact usury; if he holds off from evildoing, judges fairly between a man and his opponent; if he lives by God's statutes and is careful to observe his ordinances, that man is virtuous—he shall surely live.
Hmmm, reflects Dr. Krishna, about to let the thought go: An ethical life sows goodness and makes doing the right thing easier. There is wisdom in compassion and compassion in wisdom, the soft valley wind agrees.
"Cast away from you all the crimes you have committed, and make for yourselves a new heart and a new spirit!" cried the villager to the crowd. They will be needing a whole lot of carrots, smiled the doctor. I sit here now in prayer and meditation for them, may they all be forgiven, may their burden of sin be erased, may they start life anew now, may they be soft and generous, may they loose their anger and disputes with each other, may they see life as it truly is and be filled with joy, be filled with a joy that can never be taken away, Dr. Krishna blesses.
Now distracted, he turns, drinks some water, nibbles mindfully on the bread and leaves the samosa to the mice that have eaten most of it all already. He knows that he will be getting up and heading back down into the valley at some point, but not yet. After his break, he returns to his seat and settles back into his rhythm with ease. Somewhere down below a heavy bronze bell rings. Dr. Krishna smiles at one last thought, "If only we could be as a child's simplicity, his cup empty, his trust great, his fearlessness of life infectious", then he lets this too, go.
