My Post-Sabbatical Year(s) in Asia (or wherever): 12/17: Pushkar

I woke up at 4AM, my mind attached to events I couldn't let go of. So I got up and sat on the patio in front of my room, overlooking the city. It was very cold at 4AM, and the wind blew right through me, bringing me right back to where I was - to that exact moment. It was hard to ignore that cold wind, but that's why I love the wind, for it can just blow right through me, as if cleansing me of all the superfluous stuff in my head. It helps me to remember that at this moment, I am right here in the wind. Sometimes the wind is gentle, but often it is fierce, as if it is yelling at me, "Wake up! Pay attention to me! Right here! Right now!"

How many moments in the day are lost in my mind as I wander away from my home - the present moment?

At each moment, anything is possible. When I am just present, the moment expands into the universe. Maybe the most direct way to expand outside of one's preconceived borders is the act of listening, for it connects you directly to the other. And if you listen without judgment, without your own "story," then there is also the possibility that you and the other become one.

As I was saying goodbye to Liat, who was leaving Pushkar for Udiapur, she said to me, "You are like the sunshine. You bring with you all the light." Besides enjoying the coincidence of these parting words with the meaning of my Hebrew name, Mayor, which means "the holder of light," I was thinking how interesting it was that I do not see myself that way at all, but am happy if someone else's reality perceives me in such a complimentary way. Liat continued, "You are so lucky." It wasn't until much later that the lesson of these last four words came to my awareness. Bringing "all the light" is not something I created, not something to be proud of, and not some kind of achievement. It is a gift. It is a blessing. It is not my attribute. At most it is just something that shines through me. Or more accurately, something which shines through Liat, for she was the one who perceived it.

I think there is a very important lesson here - something about the ego wanting to take ownership, and this sense of ownership, this vanity, is a source of separation. But all that we are and all that we have are gifts from God, or the universe, or whatever you want to call that which is the reminder of our connection to each other and to the oneness of all.

This is what the wind does for me - a reminder that that which I am experiencing inside my body (the cold, the breeze, the sounds of the early morning) and that which is happening outside of my body (the cold, the breeze, the sounds of the early morning) are no different. There is only an "inside" and an "outside" when I attempt to own it.

Sikh temple