Whatever I said I didn’t mean it. This feels a good place to begin. A continual undoing. All endings are beginnings right?
I’m sat in padmasana in the Gurdwara, wearing a suit, chunni covering my head, the kirtan is playing, and a few aunty are probably giving the blonde girl the eye; ha it’s been a while.
We begin the Naam Simran, I close my eyes, palms to my knees.
I think of my two best friends who, in different ways, I have lost. I think about how a connection can be so indisputable and so confusing. I think about how we reverberate through each others lives and how we cannot ever quite foresee how we affect into the other and they will never quite see how far they reach within us. “The pull is always stronger than the push…” someone said earlier. What is it that pulls us at these moments, seizes us, makes us not the master of our own actions?
All my friends tell me I should move on… Everyone’s asking: and I’m tired, tired of the advice. Though it seems my intuition isn’t up to much. “It’s just that your instinct was wrong, they’ll be another situation and you’ll make the wrong choice.” Waheguru. I’m trying to dissolve this. I think of India, I think of you, I think of how simple it could all be. I can’t feel my legs and my arm tingles, a body sedated with langar and a sleepless night. I’m absorbed, I’m lying in the ocean singing your song, la la la la la la.
Kirtan. Cur-tan. A circle of eager yogi faces and bad tabla and bad pronunciation. I almost snort with laughter remembering.
“God is inside you”. Have you ever truly visualized this? It’s wild. No looking up, out or beyond, inside others, objects. Not even to a dristhi at the end of your nose or your palms or feet. A dristhi that drenches the whole body. Directed nowhere and everywhere, at the porous, the fleshy, the bones, and the vitalism that keeps you breathing. Is this where God lies? In the breath? Is God then not just the vitalistic element of life. God is in all that is vital, living. Why do we seek to fill ourselves to feel alive? Infused with vitality we are full to the brim. “For the moment forget about those you love”. And then I’m suddenly desperately alone. I- I- I am nothing “..no words…”.
A spirit that lives on: I’m ambivalent about this. How much do we say to make us feel better, to reduce the fear of death, and how much do we feel to be true. “I’m not an atheist”. If God, that is to say, the spiritual essence exists within us, and is what infuses our body with vitalism and is what infuses our creative endeavours like art, writing, music, yoga, then vitalism is the extra in addition to the biological – its the body without organs – its what’s left over. And too, loving is an excess, even if they tell us loneliness is pathological or gives you heart disease or whatever: it’s just the excess we conjure in our encounters. We’re already full up, but in the encounter the water levels change and we become all over again. This is a spirituality with no form or boundaries, it moves in and out and in-between.
I’m just not at all sure how to feel on the journey back as the sweet prashad rests in my belly. I think of my two best friends who, in different ways, I have lost.