My Enlightenment, Part 2 “Many Flames”
❂
He was already seated in the same spot when I emerged.
I took my place beside him, vowing silence until prompted.
We sat in this silence as the sun moved upwards
watching the shifting shadows move across the world.
“Have you pondered the contradiction, shishya?”
When he spoke, I startled as if the ridge were collapsing.
I took a moment to compose myself before speaking.
“I have. It still seems a contradiction that I can’t resolve.”
“I hear of farmers devastated by caterpillar’s appetites.
I have seen robes and tapestries made of silk.
I have seen entire trees wrapped in gossamer threads.
It was not the work of a single caterpillar.
“Look again, below you, at the vivid colors.
That also was not the work of a single butterfly.
Do you see now, shishya?” I admit I did not.
“Meditate on this and we will speak again here tomorrow.”
“Baba,” I said, sitting beside him the next morning,
“I think I understand.”
“I did not ask,” he replied, eyes on the view before him.
“I don’t understand,” I said, after a few moments confusion.
“Exactly. For now we’ll tend the garden and milk the tahr.
I will show you what to do so that you do not starve.”
I could not dispute the logic of that so I followed,
my mind still pondering my questions and his question.
The next morning we again sat at the ridge, observing.
I had learned to tend the small vegetable garden
and milk the goat-like tahr. He had tamed them somewhat.
Mother tahrs would eat his plants and allow milking.
“Do you have your answer, shishya?” he asked, suddenly.
I said,“Love of self is the candle flame, the single caterpillar.
It illuminates a small space providing only one view,
one understanding. It is the first necessary flame.
“A flame that stands alone, however, will not grow.
It will always only illuminate that small space.
With no perspective there is no knowledge of self,
only the the isolated awareness wrapped in darkness.
“When the flames gather, their light becomes bright.
We now see ourselves in others, we learn mercy, kindness,
tolerance, and acceptance, through the love of others.
We illuminate our neighbors as they illuminate us.”
“That is an acceptable answer, shishya,” he said, nodding.
“I will teach you. I am to be addressed as Baba Manisha.
Will you learn, shishya?” he turned his face to me.
“I would be honored, Baba Manisha,” I said, smiling.
“This is good. Now help me stand. You are allowed.”
I assisted him to his feet. He barely weighed anything
and I wondered how he’s survived being blown away.
“We will continue this discussion in one year.”
“One year, Baba? I don’t understand,” I said, stunned.
“Exactly,” he said, walking away as I stood in confusion.
“We’re going to work on that,” he continued as I neared him.
“Also, you smell terrible. Leave me until you remedy that.”
