Sunday, December 6, 2009

12/6: Badabagh and my story

Adyashanti asked me this morning, "Who are you without your story?" So I decided to try and find out. I went for a walk to Badabagh, the Royal Cenotaphs (memorials to the dead kings), about six kilometers from Jaisalmer. As I walked, my mind wandered to events in my past, and I would say to myself, "That's my story." Then I would think about expectations in the future. "That's my story." Over and over my mind jumped. But in between I would get glimpses. I was the road beneath my feet. I was the wind mill generators in the distance. I was the feel of my muscles. I was the sun at my back.

As I write these words down, I am sucked back into the "I" telling a story about who I am.

Ultimately, what we have most for each other is our presence.


The oldest cenotaph memorialized Maharawal Jait Singh, who ruled from 1470 to 1506. The tradition continued here until 1946, just before independence.



You can see the wind mills generating electricity in the back ground. I saw hundreds of them on my walk.

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