Mind Matters (2.a)

Today I am going to contemplate on the wonder of the human mind, that most intricate machinery, which is far superior to any machine we can conceive. And every human person is endowed with this miracle-machine from birth, and we carry it with us until we breathe our last. God has created the mind in such a way that it is not something palpable, and is not one of the body organs. This makes a great difference. If it were one of the organs, then it should also be “transferable”, and I would not have been surprised there would have been ‘mind transplants’ possible, and God’s wonderful creation might have been subjected to commercial venture.

Let me look around me, even as I sit quietly inside my room, my living room, or office, taking a good look at the different things neatly arranged; the table clock, pile of papers, the telephone, pen, pencil, stapler, paper weight, the computer, compact disks, the electric light, fan, the almirah, books, the wall calendar… It would be quite impossible for me to enlist all of them. There are so many things around me that most often I take them for granted. As I take a good look at all of them, one by one, I shall try to imagine the wonder of human mind which has conceived this, and given shape to it in this form. For instance, I look at the book; the creation of paper, printing technology, the labor of several people, of packaging, the concept of language… it is mind-boggling to even imagine the way how human mind has given expression to this great wonder.

The mind makes use of the human body to give physical shape to whatever matters; but let me also consider some of the evils that the human mind has conceived and given shape to – the weapons of destruction, the arms and ammunition, gun powder, guns, the bombs… instead of helping create humanity had also made use of the mind to create means of destruction. Everything that is evil in the world is naturally the fruit of human mind, just as everything noble and beautiful are also conceived by the mind. Behind every attempt to destroy the fellow human being, there is a tendency to be self-centered, to make sure that the fittest survive (I remember Charles Darwin’s theory of ‘survival of the fittest’).

Apart from the beauty in the world, which is the work of God the creator, if there is certain order, discipline and beauty in the human society, it is thanks to the ingenuity of the human mind. We know how to organize the numerous things in our rooms, in such a way that when I enter the room, I find it cozy and comfortable, I can locate the things which I had filed some days or months ago, I can have the joy of having all the things I need within my reach. I did not need to learn interior designing, in order to organize my living or office room. The human mind is capable of providing all the necessary data in order to make something beautiful. Is it not a wonderful thing to be able to bring order and discipline in the midst of chaos and disorder?

If I have to understand how the human mind is complex, then I need to open up an electric or electronic appliance, and see the different circuits and components inside. For the most part, I don’t understand how these are made, assembled, and the human mind is also capable of improving on them, fine-tuning them, and reproducing as and when required. From where did the human persons get the idea of venturing into the field of creating useful tools other than the one that the benevolent nature supplied? I spend time wondering at the greatness and uniqueness of the human mind, which has no limits. What does my mind seem to tell me here and now? Let me listen to it, and it may have something to tell me!

Dust thou art! (1.a)

I am going to contemplate on the miracle of my body today, the gateway, as it were, to my encounter with the Lord of my soul. The body, which we are told, was created by God out of mud, and to earth we all shall return! How true it is! Let me begin to realize that whatever be my name and fame, social status, educational qualifications, the great and important offices I hold, the kind of influence I can exert in my community, the number of person who love to follow my words literally, without ever questioning them, the amount of riches and wealth that I have made out of sheer hard work and labor, what am I at the end of it all! A few kilograms of soil, that is what I am, and that is what all of us will ever be!

I would like to spend an hour sitting at the garden, or at a quiet place where I am alone with the earth! Let my feet rest on the ground, the hard earth, and let me walk on the earth consciously telling myself that I am treading on the lives of so many of human persons, who might have died hundreds and thousands of years ago. Let me close my eyes for a while and imagine a pile of human bodies strewn on my path, and I am walking over them! Let me continue my walk imagining that the soil on earth is nothing but the composite of human bodies. Let me also remind myself that one day I would be trodden upon by the future generations. That is what I am!

Now let me sit quietly in a corner of the garden, take a handful of mud and hold it tenderly, look at it lovingly, because that is what I am, and that is what I would be after some years. This is what the people I love the most on earth are and would be after some years. The best and the worst that the world can offer me is nothing but a handful of mud! The greatest possessions I can claim power and authority over are but a few hands full of mud. Let me continue to gaze at the mud, the color, shape, smell and the kind of feeling they create on my fingers; the coarse feeling! Let me smell it and consume the smell of it and fill my lungs with it. This is what I am, this is what I will be!

As I look at the handful of mud in my hand, let me see the mud being shaped by a master craftsman into my image and likeness, let me take a good look at the image of myself before my eyes; the image is lifeless, it is as good as a dead body; there is no life in it! Let me pay attention to the continuous fine tuning of this image by the craftsman, who keeps on improving it; the painstaking task of providing the much needed contours to the image makes the craftsman sweat his blood out, but there is joy on his face. When it is done, I witness him breathing into the lifeless image, and I am created! Once I am in full shape, I see the craftsman no more. I see the marvel of my body, though it is made of mud, it is but an exquisite work of art!

Now it is time for me to move to my room, carrying in my mind the body that had been created out of mud, and remove all the clothes, and stand in the middle of the room. Today is the time for me to take a good look at my body, the wonder machine far superior than any that human beings were able to make. I make take about an hour to really see every part of my body, starting either from the top or the bottom, moving gently from one part to another! I might use a looking mirror to have a look at my face… let me take note of the many things which are in my body, about which I had not been conscious of… the moles, scars, veins, … Let me look at my body as if I am watching at the best art work in a museum! Let me explore the wonder of my body, slowly and respectfully!

Mini-Miracles

I had not been a firm believer in miracles, until recently! Perhaps the last two words might have made you think what could have changed my mind! Of late, I had been encountering small miracles, for which I have no explanation. I cannot claim that these miracles had a spectacular effect on me, or the people around me, but they have in one sense changed the way I look at myself, the reality around me, the human society with whom I constantly rub shoulders, and the power beyond me! What happens quite frequently these days may be termed by a skeptic as ‘pleasant surprises’, but for me they are mini-miracles, which point me to a power beyond human reach, and yet so close to us!

Maybe it would be clearer if I narrate what happened this evening. I had a wrist watch (a Japan made, Casio brand), which is available on the footpaths of the city for rupees 60. But the one I have, has a story: When I was asked to carry a camera bag to India from Rome in Italy, as I checked the contents in the bag, I found the watch sans strap. It looked good to me, and so after reaching home, I got it repaired, got a strap, paying the amount for which I could have bought a new one; but I knew it was used by one of the Jesuit companions many years ago, and I was privileged to wear it now.

Coming back to the original story, the connecting pin of the watch had fallen, and I had to get a new hook. Some days ago, the hook had fallen in the house, and so I could not use it for about two weeks. I had taken the watch to get a hook fixed on it to one of the shops. The shop keeper, after fixing a hook, asked me where the supporting ring was, and I told him that might have fallen. He looked for a similar black color ring, but he could not find one. After about ten minutes of searching for it, he gave up hope and told me to look for it somewhere else. As I left the shop towards home, something in me said that probably that supportive ring should be in the house, maybe in my room. This was not a fleeting feeling, but it was almost a surety. I was almost sure that it was there at home, maybe in my bag!

After reaching home, I went to my room, poured out the contents of my ‘reporting bag’ (as one of my friends had named it), and initially I could not find what I was looking for. When there were only the coins left, I found in their midst the black supportive ring, and what a surprise it was for me to find it back! I had not placed it in the bag, and it is possible that when the connective hook of the strap was lost, the ring might have come out of the strap and remained there. But to get it back after about a month, was not a simple thing. It was a miracle to find such a tiny thing, in the midst of so many big things.

Today one thing became clear for me: there are so many miracles taking place in and around me all the time, but most of the time I am not aware of them, and am not conscious of them. If only I take note of them, then they are sure to affect me, and even change me. Caught between worldly worries and preoccupations, I have failed look around me with eyes wide open; I hear the innumerable noises around me, but fail to listen to the song of the birds, the rumbling of trees, the whistling of the wind… What better grace can I ask of the Almighty today than asking him to open my eyes and ears wide open to take note of the miracles happening each moment of my life, and that they may draw me closer to the Supreme power beyond.

Miracle at your doorstep

The rain-soaked earth had a unique fragrance, which perhaps no perfume-maker can fake; nature has the copyright, and no one can tamper it. Thank God for it; the Americans may still be trying to fake it, or claim it (as they do, even for the things which have not been discovered or invented!). One needs to feel the earth, the soil still holding grains of rain, as if they were all too full with the sap of nector. The trees stood dripping drops of water, as if the small children after bath were standing with water dripping, waiting for their mother to wipe them. Nature had her own arrangement. Gentle breeze wiped the trees and hugged them gently, warmly.

The nocturnal creatures were in full form; the bats moved about frantically smelling the earth, sitting on the cold tree branches, and still wondering what magic has cast a spell on the earth that they were unable to realize it is the same earth they had known before. There was a silence in the midst of the traffic noise; one has to wade through the noise and din of the neighborhood, the fan, and even one’s own heart-beat. The silence can be heard so loudly that all other sounds may fail to compete with it.

No, dark clouds had decided to stay by in order to let the earth has its thirst quenched. The sun had let the childish pranks of the clouds take their turn, as he stood by looking tenderly at the earth he had been giving light for several millennia. The mighty sun stood helpless as the dark clouds showed their back to him, with tattoo marks, No Entry Zone! The momentary passing clouds dared to challenge the mighty sun!

It is not easy to feel the pain and agony of Mother Earth, as rain drops fall on to her lap, varying their pace and intensity, like the ayurvedic therapy with oil that fall on the forehead of persons drop by drop. But the earth stood still. Human beings have covered her body with a layer of impenetrable substance, cement and mortar, and the waters flowed lazily to the drains, but Mother Earth stood still thirsty. Luckily there were pores, through which she could try to wet her tongue. But it would take centuries for her to really quench her thirst.

One of the greatest miracles of nature is the rains; one needs a thousand eyes to behold the rains lashing on arrogant men and women, playing hide-n-seek with pavement dwellers, chase hopelessly those who had no umbrellas, drop heavily on the bald-headed, snap the little clothes that the women carefully wrapped around, give yet another chance for the lovers to get wet. You do not need to pay to witness this great miracle; all you need to is open the windows and doors, and you have a life-changing experience awaiting you.

Covered by a Crystal Carpet!

All around I see a white carpet of snow, carefully strewn on plants, housetops, on top of every conceivable object on the lanes and by-lanes of this vast city. It is a treat to one’s eyes, and as I walked along the streets, with hedgerows piled with snow, I stretch out my hand to touch them, and they immediately slip from my hands, as if playing hide-n-seek with me. Unadulterated white powder generously strewn, no human mechanism may be able to reproduce such artistry, such delicate work of love. But alas, there is hardly anyone to even take note of this wondrous miracle! Gifts of nature abound all around us, every day, and every hour and every minute, and we need a thousand eyes to behold her beauty, not out there, but here and now.

The greatest miracle-worker, nature, does not measure and give to the world; her gifts are always in unlimited measure, like a true lover showering all that he has on his beloved. He does not calculate and measure when it comes to self-offering. Nature gives all that she has, and the best gift that she could give to the world is herself, and is there anyone to receive them? As I walked along a park with lovely carpet of snow all around, so soft and so gentle, at times I felt indignant to put my foot on them! Oh, how can I be so cruel to stamp this lovely gift of nature? Fine crystal grains spread all around, shining in the soft warm rays of the sun. I would like to take this gift in both my hands and give it a gentle kiss! Oh no! I am too old to do that! I should be a little child to do that, and no one would frown at me; they would think that it was part of my childish play. But now, I have to be careful as to what others will think, how they would regard me if I were to do that. I cannot be entirely what I am as I behold nature; I have to be heartless and emotionless before her bounty.

Nature’s great gift lying in vain, unregarded, uncared, and the vast part with trees around, I can find hardly anyone. A gift is often exchanged only between people who care for each other; we do not give gifts to someone we do not like. Nature showers her gifts on us only out of her boundless love for us, and even if we do not treasure her gifts, is it not proper that we at least receive them with dignity and honor? What we can give her in return is a big question, we cannot enter into, but is it not human to treat her with love for giving to her gifts we surely do not deserve? The only people who really recognize this gift are children; I could see three children while walking along the road, play with snow, throwing it on one another. She becomes the object of joy and happiness among people, and probably that is the reason why she came down from heaven. Is it not true then that when she is down, the temperature is kept under control? How can we be so blind to take note of her in our midst?

If the weather is cloudy for days on end, then we look forward to the sun, and are very happy when he turns up (though science would warn us that it is not he who turns up, but that we who turn ourselves to him!), and we get out of our heated rooms, to be bathed in the natural stream of warmth and life. But when the sun light is too much in abundance, we hardly take note of him, and the gifts of nature that come in large measure become a routine object, like the church bell chiming each day at the appointed time, or the train passing by with a loud horn at a particular hour each day! Unfortunately we have so many things to keep us busy the whole day long, that even some of the most beautiful events and incidents of life become routine exercises, and we can care very less. There may be a year, when we may not find snow spreading a lovely white carpet all around our city, and then we may complain to nature what made her turn to us harshly, for denying the lovely gift!

Today I would like to pause for a while to reflect about the different gifts of nature that come to me unannounced, unprepared! They come to me so casually without much pomp that I don’t pay attention to them, and they may even escape my notice, and I may miss them forever. Today I go through my mind’s eye and enlist all such gifts that come to me freely – the air I breathe, the water I drink, the sunlight and the moonlight at day and night respectively, the cool breeze that soothe my drooping spirit, and enliven my heart, the blue sky that takes me beyond the horizon, the birds of the air and the flowers, plants, even a little grass has tidings of joy and happiness for me! They all make the world and my life beautiful, if I really care for them. Today I fold my hands in sincere reverence and love for nature, for her unconditional love for humanity! I do not dare to promise her that hence forth I will take her seriously, and accept her gifts with open arms; if I do that, then I will have to regret for making such a promise I cannot keep. I plead with her to bear with me when I am blind to her beauty, deaf to her music, senseless to her soothing sensations, tasteless to savor her sweetness, and give me the grace to accept her whole-heartedly into myself and be immersed by her love beyond all measure! (Brussels)