I am leaving India today and as is the norm, words rush in to fill the anticipated void.
Why does India crack open the spiritual process? Why are saints, rishis, and spiritual aspirants beckoned to “The Mother” that is India? Why does the heart sob for the pain of self reflection when your naked feet tread upon her belly?
Perhaps it is because India is the edge of life. The precise location where one greets death. Death beyond the body...death of the minds constructs, patterns, compulsions and fears.
WHERE DISORDER BIRTHS THE CHAOS OF CREATION.
India can not be contained by words. She demands the tears of surrender. She deconstructs your life while requiring you to trust her. Leaving you worthless and empty; she tends your bloody wounds with the tenderness of the mother. India is the cradle from which the yearning heart fills to overflowing. Where the fullest expression of oneself takes root.
If your longing can not be put away; if you are willing to risk what you heretofore have imagined non-negotiable, you may have the thirst which only the desert can quench. One warning, don’t look askance at Maa, for she is serious. If you summons her, don’t expect civility. Discomfort is the blanket she tosses upon you in the blackest of nights, while reaching her thin delicate hand across time to ensure you walk the path. India-Beyond Words.
Leaving the mother. I used to cry tears of despair when I said good bye to the Mother. Never sure when I would again touch my forehead to her feet. Dragging myself away from her left me exhausted and fitful. Her complete disregard for the form of absolutes left me bereft. Could I stretch across oceans to touch the hem of her sari? And so I let her burn the fabric which was my life...and now I call HER home from wherever I find myself.