Its been a bit of a strange day today … one of those days when a certain sadness arises and passes through earlier in the day, leaving a lingering feeling. It usually has nothing to do with events of the day or preceeding days, and very often nothing to do with events in my life at all, yet it comes. I watch it in silence and wonder, but let it run its course. Who knows what energies are running through “this” being! Some sorrow came up and passed through this afternoon. This evening, I went to eat some street food with my brother. As we ate, a mother came into the shop with her two children. I ate silently, watching the children eat happily. Their mother did not buy anything for herself. I could see that she was probably short on money and did not want to spend on herself. When she fed her children though, their smiles caused her face to light up with joy. I looked with amazement at this beautiful being, the love she had in her heart, and this wonderful expression of love. I wondered if I could do anything for her to thank her, but in a way that would not seem patronising. I realised there was absolutely nothing I could do, and nor did I have to do anything. This wonderful being had simply brought for me, a stranger, a sweet gift of love that was played out in this particular manner. Though I did not say a word, my beautiful brother noticed the scene too, and he put into words what I was thinking. I found myself hoping that the mother eats at least a bit, then as if on cue, she took a couple of spoonfuls. As a person, she probably had no clue what was going on in the mind of this person sitting across the aisle quietly, but looking from the eyes of Spirit, here she was, this radiant being, bringing me a gift of love. And here was my Divine Mother, responding to my smallest wish – to see the human mother taste the food. She then made me take a look at Mangesh: so many people came and went, but no one noticed this scene of love being played out. But for one gifted with the eyes of love, it was a sight of great beauty and wonder. “Ah, my Son,” She Said, “Now you see … how I made You.”
I thought of my own parents, who had come from a very simple background (most common people in India were very very poor by today’s standards by the time the British left the country). When they had married, their dreams were about being able to rent a small room in a crowded tenement in Bombay. They slept on newspaper sheets in the room they rented, because they could not afford a bed. My mother kept all her cooking spices in a single box wrapped in paper packets, as they did not have utensils. They worked two jobs, and saved as much as they could. By the time we, their children, came into the world, things were already better, and they continued to get better. We never felt we had missed anything because our parents could not afford it. Who knows what sacrifices these beautiful beings must have made for us! Today, I see them living in a beautiful house with all the things they could possibly need, without every needing help from their children, and it gladdens my heart.
One time I was in India on a trip from the UK, and I was a little upset after an argument with my mother … probably about that favourite topic of discussion in Indian families … getting married! I happened to see a photo of my mother as an infant, with her parents and siblings. Here she was, this little baby, just a few months old, laughing out without a care in the world. When I saw that photo, I thought: “I wonder what dreams and aspirations this little girl must have had as she grew up, and what she had to give up for me.” That simple thought immediately melted my anger, and I have never felt angry like that with my Mum again. We automatically tend to think of our parents as just “our parents”, but when we look at them as human beings outside of that role, we start to see so much more.
Love is the very breath of Life, and it is the fabric that holds together the Universe.
I am reminded of the time I sat on a little hill a few years ago with a couple of friends watching the sun set over a beautiful vista of rolling hills and water in the timeless countryside of India. I had said at the time that I often feel so connected to everything that when a child cries itself to sleep hungry somewhere in Africa, it feels like a part of me is in pain. One of my friends turned around to face me. She had tears in her eyes, and asked “How do you manage to live your life with this kind of sensitivity?” I thought about it, and replied “You learn to. I didn’t do anything to be this way, it is simply the way I am.”
Maria is very much the same … she might see a little bird dead on the road, and it would upset her to the point of tears. I’m just a little better at hiding it better than her. She’d say “It is not good to be so sensitive.” Yet, we know we’d make the same choice again … we’re blessed to be this sensitive. It is what makes us human. That said, sensitivity is very different from emotional drama. It takes strength to cry for someone’s pain, and it takes a special kind of heart to be moved to tears by an expression of love. When it comes to facing our own life with its ups and downs, we must be strong, rooted and reach out for the sky. We feel pain like anyone else, but its not particularly more painful because it is “our” pain.
Sometimes, it may feel like there is no love in the world. But MM say: when we open our eyes and really look, love is all around. It never leaves us. For love is the very breath of life, and it is the fabric that holds together the Universe.