The Breath of Life

The window was shut to keep out the cold. Ben, however, felt chilled to his depths by the fierce flames of the previous night's forest fire. He remembered the frozen edge of defeat he'd felt as he watched his hopes and dreams being consumed. It had been a raging furnace of destruction that enveloped the ranger station, the garden project, the meeting house for rehabilitating recovering addicts-everything he had worked arduously to achieve, everything that meant the world to him and to the people he'd helped.

His life had been shattered.

Stunned by the tragedy, Ben experienced an odd disorientation, detached from the scenes around him as if each moment were a snapshot in which time had suddenly arrested. As if the last fifteen years he'd spent building this forest paradise of good will and beauty had transpired in an instant. As if it were a dream from which he'd been awakened abruptly.

And now it was all turned to ash.

Why did God allow the needless devastation of this forest and its wildlife? Why would he destroy the hopes and dreams of the loving community established there? Ben tried to contemplate these questions, but drew only a blank mind, accompanied by a peculiar sense of calm acceptance. Something deep within him felt it was all somehow for the best, but this idea perplexed him. He did not know where it came from. He was utterly powerless in the face of this disaster, but it did not disturb his equilibrium, and this awareness astonished him. He thought it must be some form of shock.

Stepping from the window toward the cozy fireplace, Ben sat on the worn, but still beautiful, Persian rug. His brother, Rick, had acquired the rug during travels in the Far East, and it added charm to his cabin, where he'd invited Ben to take refuge after the fire. His brother was an odd character, having lived in India for ten years in an ashram-whatever that was; Ben did not know exactly. Rick was involved in meditation and other mystical practices. They seemed mystifying to Ben's way of thinking. He was always a down to earth, nature-loving, people-loving, practical sort of fellow. He felt satisfied to live simply and honestly. He felt no inclination to explore faraway lands and cultures.

Ben possessed rugged good looks, complemented by a refined quality of amiability and a sun-laced smile that glimmered through his clear blue eyes unreservedly. Everyone felt charmed by him; put at ease by his innate gift for making people feel comfortable and light hearted in his presence. He was unaware of this on a conscious level. He did not realize how special he was. Selflessness came to him naturally. Ego could not find a solid perch in his innocent heart.

Ben's version of spirituality was to be kind to people, to take care of mother earth with integrity and conscientiousness, and to teach others how to cultivate both of these qualities by his own humble example. He also communed with nature whenever he could. Walking alone in nature was his version of 'church', where he always experienced an awareness of something larger than himself. In fact, he would feel a sense of oneness with everything around him, as if his very cells had expanded and he was one with the breath of life that pulsated through the trees, plants, animals and even the rocks.

Rick always told him that this was Ben's own form of meditation, that the divine lives in every atom of creation, and that Ben was far more spiritually advanced than he knew. Rick said that to serve any living being is to serve God Himself, or Herself, as the case may be. Ben did not even realize how he was of service to others just by being himself. But he was acutely aware that he did not feel happy unless he was engaged in some positive, constructive activity to better people's lives. The mayor of the town had awarded him a medal for his successful efforts to regenerate broken lives. He was a hero, yet still remained humble and unassuming.

*

Ben secretly liked to think of God as feminine, as a caretaker of 'Her' creation, not as a destroyer. So he could not wrap his head around the idea of this horrible incident being an extension of God's Will. As he gazed into the flames, into the shadows flickering on the stone sides of the hearth, Ben wondered about The Divine Plan. He contemplated the eternal conundrum that God, the great Creator, ultimately destroys all of his creation through death and decay, so in the end, what is the point?

"Hey," Rick said, as he came to sit beside Ben. "Surprised to find you sitting like an ancient Yogi lost in contemplation."

"Well, I guess I'm sort of stunned." Ben paused to gather his thoughts, and he realized in that moment he didn't have any, only this lingering question. "I'm wondering what it all means. It preoccupies my mind. Is that like meditation?"

"Exactly, if we concentrate on a single point, it drowns out all other thoughts, until even that one dissolves," Rick explained. "Call it what you like, there's no describing it, except to say in that state you feel mighty tranquil, no matter what's happening around you. It takes years of practice to get more than a glimpse of it."

Ben sat silently, looking at his brother with a searching intent.

"People sometimes get a flash of insight when traumatic events happen, like last night," Rick continued. "Though I caught my first view by the grace of holy presence."

"What d'ya mean by 'holy presence'?" Ben asked, with puzzled eyebrows.

"I mean like when you hang out with saints and yogis. In the ashram I'd lived in, there's a holy vibration in the atmosphere, in the very sand, even though the guru there'd passed away decades ago."

"Have you ever met a person with holy presence while they were still alive?" Ben's face was open, receptive, genuinely interested.

"Sure did," Rick said with a wistful smile, "I met a bunch of them."

"Tell me about 'em."

"Okay, I always did want to share this with you, but you didn't seem interested. But I'm not sure what to say. It's something that has to be experienced directly to be understood. Like, hey man, how can I explain the taste of honey? If I simply said it's sweet, it wouldn't mean a thing, even though it's true. You have to eat the nectar to know its full flavor."

"Then take me to meet them," Ben said, with sudden and overwhelming forcefulness.

Both brothers looked at each other in astonishment. This unusual outburst was out of character in two ways. First of all, Ben never made rash or sudden decisions, nor did he ever travel very far from the town where they were born. Secondly, he'd always shied away from listening to anything about his older brother's far Eastern travels and experiences. They sort of freaked him out, because they were so remote and different from his realm of experience. He felt more comfortable relating to Rick on familiar terms and in familiar environments.

In a family of many siblings, Rick and Ben had always been especially allied to each other. They were the two eldest boys, with five sisters and one baby brother. Even as adults, they still met fairly often, since neither of them had married or had children, each for their individual reasons. When Rick settled back in the West after his decade overseas, their relationship deepened. They would meet weekly to have dinner, play music together (Rick on guitar and Ben on violin or flute), and star gaze, sitting silently or philosophizing until they fell asleep or until the sun came up, whichever came first.

Rick nodded as if he had a sudden blaze of insight, "Ah! Yes, that's perfect," he said, with a tone of significance. "Whenever I asked you to come with me before, you always had your garden, your work and your excuse that your path was through these woods and mountains, that these were your holy land and you'd no wish to visit another."

"Yeah, and now they're gone." The last word seemed to echo with somber emptiness, as Ben stirred the fireplace with a poker, kicking some of the embers back to life. His usually cheerful countenance appeared pensive and serious, though oddly not sad, considering the circumstances.

"They're gone, yes," Rick countered, "but they'll return, the trees'll grow back, the rangers'll build a new cabin, and you can always plant a new garden. It's a bummer this happened, but nothing stays dead for long."

"Yeah, I guess so." Ben murmured, and as those positive words sunk in, his mood shifted and he felt a sudden surge of energy. "So, when d'we leave?"

"Right away. I mean, we have to book our flights, apply for visas, shop and pack and plan, but we can get on with all of it immediately. I'll ask for long leave, and my boss'll understand, because he's also drawn to the eastern lands and takes time off occasionally to travel there. He'll be thrilled to know my little brother's coming with me."

Both brothers sensed a rush of electricity, as if the universe itself was trying to energetically affirm that they were on the right track.

*

A week later, Ben and Rick boarded a plane to India. Ben took the window seat. He had never flown in a plane, and felt a profound elation while peering out into the clouds, beholding the miniature world beneath him. It gave him a sense of perspective. He realized that the drama of daily lives unfolding in all the little matchbox houses, and the slightly bigger office buildings, were comparatively insignificant in the grand scheme of things. His heart quietly gasped when he saw the huge mountains bordering the town appear like small crests in a undulating landscape, rather than imposing peaks, as they appeared from below. All the forest animals and plant life which had become familiar and important to him were relegated into the universal category of 'tiny creation sparks' that come and go upon the screen of existence; little lights as ephemeral as the flashing glow of fireflies.

"What're you thinking about, little brother?" Rick queried, curious at his brother's silence. "What's so enchanting outside that window?"

"I'm exploring the sky, Rick, and wondering why we take ourselves, our lives, so seriously?"

"I s'pose because living here is our assignment. Until we graduate, that is."

"What do you mean by "graduate?"

"Attain enlightenment."

"Whatever that is," Ben mused. "If you are given realization hanging out with holy people, then why d'you have to make efforts?"

"The master takes you to the top of the mountain to see what the view is like, then puts you back in your place and says, ironically, 'Now climb'."

"Why doesn't he just let us stay on top?"

"It doesn't work that way. I once asked my master the same thing. He said that gaining spirituality is a subtle and slow process, requiring tremendous patience and perseverance." Rick took a deep breath, then added, "I read once that spontaneous flashes of enlightenment are usually temporary, like a lightning flash that illuminates the sky for a sec, then disappears, which makes the night seem even darker than before."

"Did you experience this in India?"

"Yes, I had my moments, but to integrate those experiences in the context of regular life is not easy. My assignment now is to practice remembering. My master says to translate that remembrance into my thoughts, words and behavior. It's quite a challenge, and it's no joke!"

"So, why not just stay in India?"

"It doesn't work that way. We have to bring the view from the peak down to the valley, where our karma is. Master says grace, like rain, flows down to the lowest ground, so to speak."

"Why?"

"You ask a lot of questions! I don't know why. For humanity's sake, I guess. We're all interconnected."

Ben wondered if his travels to India would induce any major changes in his life when he returned. He envisioned the possibility of staying in India for long years, like his brother had, and striving to attain this thing called enlightenment, realizing nothing else held lasting importance. All the products of his good will had burned to ashes in a few short hours, or so he thought.

"Let's eat!" Rick said, again elbowing Ben out of his reverie. He'd been so absorbed in thought that he'd not even noticed when the stewardess brought the food trays.

*

"I'm not sure if he'll be in the usual place. It's been years since I came here, Ben," Rick mused, as they made the short trek from their hotel down to the banks of the Ganges.

Rick had decided not to visit ashrams at first, but to take Ben directly to meet Holy men who were independent of any formal organization. The Yogi they were going to see would sit every day for hours in the hot sun, meditating by the water's edge. He rarely spoke, but just sitting in his company would quell the mind's movements and one felt tremendous peace.

They found the Yogi and sat with him for some time in silence. Ben felt the peace and drifted in a blissful mood and no thought while sitting near the great Yogi. Before they left, they went to take his blessing and formally prostrated towards the Yogi, who gingerly placed his hand on the crown of Ben's head, just as the two brothers were about to stand. He chanted a mantra under his breath and then looked deeply into Ben's eyes.

Ben could hardly believe the incredible luminescence swimming in the illustrious eyes that now delved so deeply into his own. His hairs stood erect and ocean breezes rushed through his veins; all cells quivered with an overwhelming vibration. His breath felt fused with light and every atom of his being was intoxicated with bliss. Ben could not think or speak. This powerful dose of sakti, spiritual energy, had paralyzed him in every way. The air tingled with electricity and seemed to be full of little balls of moving light. Nothing was solid. Everything seemed to melt into an ineffable radiance. Ben closed his eyes, hardly able to contain the energy without shaking all over.

After some time, the experience wore off to some extent, and he found his mind functioning again in the normal way. He still felt a lingering sense of joy, but his perceptions had resumed their normal functioning.

The Yogi watched him intently.

Ben looked at Rick, who was gazing at the Yogi, enraptured, as if drinking in the light emanating from his face. They both behaved as if drunk, and Ben recalled reading poetry of famous Sufi mystics, Rumi and Hafiz. They had each mentioned wine or drunkenness in relation to spiritual ecstasy. Now he understood why, though he could not find words to explain it.

With exquisite simplicity, in a supremely serene tone, the Yogi asked, "Now, child, what do you want?"

Ben replied, "I don't want anything but to lose myself in this bliss forever. I'm willing to give up everything. In fact, everything I had's been taken away. And now I'm glad."

Rick smiled, recalling his own initial enthusiasm to embrace the path of renunciation with intensity. He fondly chuckled to himself, reminiscing over the decade he spent trying to 'tackle' this path.

"Your path will succeed, but not as you imagine." The Yogi declared this with authority and humility simultaneously. Then he went on, "Seek within. Do not chase after ideals. Just be with what is."

After a week of visiting the Yogi to sit with him daily, Rick and Ben took their leave. While parting, they offered fruits and a warm shawl to the Yogi, who accepted the gifts graciously and said, smiling significantly, "One wave comes. Then it returns. Another wave comes. Then it goes back. Look for the pause between breaths."

*

Ben and Rick continued on their journey. They met a number of teachers and Holy men and women, visited some ashrams and holy places, and then it came to be time to catch their return flight home.

During the flight, Ben turned to Rick and said, "Hey, do you remember that class on the Baghavad Gita we heard in Madras?"

"Yeah."

"It tells us to perform actions but not be attached to the fruits."

"Right. Meditation in action"

"So am I supposed to renounce actions, like that Yogi, or am I supposed to continue to work?"

"Both, Ben. You have to follow your karma, but do everything with detachment and surrender, imagining yourself to be an instrument of the divine, rather than the one who performs the action."

"Yeah, okay." Ben's eyebrows knitted slightly. "But should I begin all over again? Right now I am free to dive into this new path, like you did."

Rick thought about how to respond. Ben used to find his decade in India a scary mystery, but now it held allure. A part of him would be delighted if Ben went to live in India, but he intuited that Ben's path was not the same as his. It was not required for Ben to go through the kind of direct training he had, which had been necessary to reduce his ego. Ben was already selfless in his intentions and did not need the scrubbing off Rick had required. "You have to walk your own path. Do not follow my footsteps. No worry, little bro, you will know what to do. Let's just get home and see how things are going in the forest."

They had heard of vague plans to rebuild the ranger station at a different neck of the woods, and Rick invited Ben to stay at his house until the new station was constructed and inhabitable.

*

When they returned to the forest, both brothers were amazed to see a new ranger station already standing next to a new, and bigger, meeting house that was surrounded by a gardening project already under way.

"But, but, ...how?" Ben stammered.

"Surprise!" Hundreds of voices exclaimed in joyous tones. The entire community had gathered to welcome the two brothers home. The mayor was present, and addressed the crowd. He informed everyone of the generous donations that came from all around the county to rebuild the ranger's project for the benefit of all who had been devastated by the fire. He applauded the hard work of all the volunteers, dozens of the recovering drug addicts, who had labored furiously to help get the construction finished before the brothers came home.

As the applause echoed, reverberating around the forest, Ben suddenly recollected the mysterious last words of that Yogi, "One wave comes. Then it returns. Another wave comes. Then it goes back. Look for the pause between breaths."

Ben thought about the clause, 'pause between breaths'. He thought that what the Yogi must've meant is that the 'stillness of no thought' is the same as that pause. It is the view from the pinnacle that transforms our view of the valley. Remembering that state, we can translate the awareness of that potent pause into our every action.

And he realized that the divine wanted him to continue his work, but this time maintaining the realization that he was only an instrument, and that this too shall pass, as all waves do.

Written by :

Integrity