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| If you have been in a retreat kind of situation you will know that during a long period of solitude and silence what happens initially is that a lot of muck bubbles up to the surface. When the waters are muddy you don’t see what is in it. But when it is still and the dust starts to settle down you begin to watch with increasing alarm as all the worries, fears, frustrations and other base emotions begin to show up and rise to the surface. Over the years I have learnt to live with more and more balance but still, living and working in the city wears you down over time, gradually and unnoticed. The pressures of work, the details of everyday life, the frustrations from the search for that “special person” that seems to go on endlessly, and the minor annoyances (amid the deeper satisfaction) of life in the inner city all add up one straw at a time. Also as life goes on the friction between one’s desires and ambitions and the rough edge of reality also increases. While one can accept things philosophically, it takes much practice before the philosophy percolates to the veins and answers the questions that shake you to the core sometimes. There have been times when I wake up unusually early, and there is a general feeling of unease, with questions like “What is life all about? What am I doing here? What if I die tomorrow?” arising in the mind.
When the waters are still, even a little pebble causes ripples that spread far and wide. Thus it is that over the next two days while I deliberately spent hours doing absolutely nothing, just sitting and lounging on a chair imitating Margo, that I was able to see all the feelings and thoughts that had been running like an underground river. After a while I realized that I was not going to achieve tranquility this way. To paraphrase the Gita again, it is impossible for a person to do absolutely nothing. The mind is always active, and the best way to calm it down is to channel it in the right direction. So afterwards I developed a good routine that kept me occupied continuously. I learned to focus my attention on my activities, like cooking, cleaning dishes, doing laundry, watering the plants, feeding Margo, etc., Pretty soon you are able to connect to the part of the superego where strength and equanimity reside, and rise above the id and ego. I think clearing the mind is more like cleaning glass than sweeping the floor. You are not as much as pushing things away as much as you are restoring it to its original state of clarity and spotlessness. Unlike the movie title suggests, the eternal sunshine of the spotless mind is not a joke, I think. As long as you rise above the ego and hold the reins to the senses firmly and not worry about whether it is spotless or not the mind will be fine. The garbage really builds up when we are thinking too much of ourselves, at least the superficial, ego part of ourselves. But I must also admit that despite all the rubbish that comes up I do enjoy just sitting and doing nothing and letting the mind simply drift. While sitting and watching, sometimes I would be watching Margo who would be doing the same, either on the windowsill or on her favorite couch. I wondered if she had an inner life, too? What does she think about, sitting all day? Chris speculates that since cats sleep a majority of the time, the time when they are awake must be like a dream to them, and their real life probably takes place in the dream world. It seemed like there might be some truth to that. But then again Chris reads too much science fiction. Margo was also asking the same questions it seemed, about me. What is this dark-skinned man doing, just sitting on that chair? I must have been a very different, intriguing creature in her eyes compared to Chris and Rachel. Apparently cats can tell difference in color and sometimes, facial differences too. As I watched her more, I began also to see the intelligence in her eyes. Obviously she could read some personality traits too. She started to show more interest in me as she recovered from the lethargy induced by the flea poison. The first morning after Chris left (Sunday the 11th) I must have had my bedroom door closed, but I kept it open after that. She would be at my bedside, by 6 am in the morning, calling to me for food. This helped me to get into a good rhythm, waking up with the sun, though sometimes I would doze off for a little while after feeding her. It seemed to me cats are nocturnal creatures. She was generally more active at night, and spent most of the day sleeping. Which probably makes cats the perfect pets, since you can leave them home while you go to work and they might not even notice the difference. Actually I just found out that cats are crepuscular creatures, most active at dawn and dusk. This seems to be wired into their brain from their hunting days because that was when their prey was active as well. It was not hard to tell when she wanted food. She would call and then walk by the little plastic bowl in which I was to deposit her food everyday. Rachel had told me to put exactly half a cup of the cat food a day, and to resist at all cost her entreaties to give more. I must say I had a hard time doing that. Then I learned to divide up the daily ration and feed her several times a day. That seemed to work better. But I couldn’t decipher the meaning behind most of the other things she did. Over the week I started understanding her better but as with women I don’t think I would ever completely understand cats. I wonder if male cats are as mysterious as the females. Dogs get ecstatic if you rub their backs and bellies. It is usually pretty clear what they want you to do. But with Margo I would rub her belly and then she would start rolling around, moving my hand with her paws, as if she wanted me to rub some place else. But I couldn’t figure out exactly where she wanted to be rubbed. Added to this was my worry at getting scratched by her paws, as sometimes she would take a little swipe at my hand. She liked to sit on the countertop and watch as I washed my hands in the bathroom. Apparently she liked to watch the water come out of the faucet, and sometimes drink or play with the water. At first I didn’t understand it. She kept pointing at the faucet as if she wanted me to open it. I wasn’t sure if she wanted a bath, and if so, I didn’t know how to bathe a cat. So I called Lisa who laughed and said cats are playful creatures, that she just enjoyed watching the water. There were other times when I had even less of an idea what she wanted. She would not be satisfied with what I did. The little toys that Chris had left for her to play with did not elicit the slightest interest from her. Or else she was deliberately ignoring them in protest. It appeared to me that, like certain women, Margo wanted some things to be given to her without her asking. It was not enough that you tried to do something to make her happy. You had to understand what it is that made her happy and give it to her. She was upset not just by the fact that you didn’t give what she wanted, but also by the fact that you didn’t understand what she wanted. She showed her displeasure by sulking and looking the other way. Perhaps she wanted me to play with her in a certain way. Or perhaps she was not satisfied with the perfunctory pat on her back or the less than enthusiastic rub on the belly. Again, like women, she seemed to be able to tell when you are doing something just to please her and when you are doing it because you really, really want to. Maybe she was just missing Chris and Rachel. I wish I could console her by saying that they would be back soon. But she did seem to be slowly warming up to me. She started tentatively exploring the possibility of sitting on my lap. I don’t know if she didn’t feel quite comfortable, or she didn’t get the response from me that she expected. I was still tired, and generally enjoying the zombie existence. Over the week, I learned a lot from watching Margo just sit and watch. Where does she get her cool? Recently I had watched Wayne Dyer expound the Taoist teachings of Lao Tzu. I was just flipping through the channels when my remote hovered over him. In only a few moments I was hooked. I found him deeply impressive. I learned that there are profound similarities between the teachings of Hinduism, Buddhism and Taoism. Though their theology and eschatology might be different, the social, psychological and intellectual foundations seem to be very much the same. Anyway, he was talking about detachment and letting things be. There is so much freedom in detachment. It doesn’t mean one stops caring about other people, of course. It is simply detachment from fear and worries, detachment from wanting and expecting things from the world. Of course as I would learn very soon Margo has plenty of emotions and attachment but at that time she seemed to epitomize detachment. She had her times of activity but most of the time she looked very peaceful and satisfied, simply observing life. It became very apparent how the turbulence in my mind resulted from running after things. The key to life, it seems, is to learn to be active, even ceaselessly active, with complete detachment. To show passion for the action and for people, but not for the results or what you want from them. Easier said than done! Monday afternoon I started exploring Chris’ great collection of books and music. He had shown me some of the stuff before leaving, even picking out some books and cd’s for me to read and listen to. While most of the mornings and evenings I felt like the silence was too precious to be broken even with a good book or music, there were a couple of hours after lunch when it felt nice to just sit back and read or listen to music. I read a good portion of the “Fatal Harvest Reader” and Douglas Adams’ “Dirk Gently’s holistic detective agency.” “Fatal Harvest” is a collection of essays about the effects of industrial agriculture. I learned a good bit about the various arguments people make for and against organic and industrial agriculture. The essays in the book invariably sided with organic agriculture, of course. It was as much about health as it was about the culture of agrarian life. Today the picture is a bit more muddled with giant organic farms and multimillion-dollar corporations producing and distributing organic food. While purely from a health point of view it may not make a whole lot of difference, from the point of view of the environment I am more and more convinced that organic agriculture is far better. Also there is much we don’t know about nature, and the effects of tinkering with it. From that point of view also, organic food is preferable. Recently I saw the movie “King Corn” about how industrial agriculture has taken over the Midwest, converting whole regions into enormous corn farms. A delightful caper, the movie is also informative. It confirmed what I read in this book about the loss of crop diversity by due to the focusing on monoculture. There is so much that we lose in terms of taste, flavor and nutrients when we eat food that is produced using large-scale application of chemicals. Doug Adams is the author of “The hitch-hiker’s guide to the galaxy.” I read his “Dirk Gently…” merely as a diversion. It turned out to be a very pleasant book to read, a wandering tale set as a science fiction story but more of a vehicle for the author to make various witty observations about life, people, science, philosophy, spirituality and everything else. Chris later told me that the poem “Kublai Khan” by Coleridge is kind of a key to the whole story. Chris also had a big collection of organ music by Bach. While Bach is my favorite musician I like to listen to everything except his organ music. But I listened to Chris’ cd’s and enjoyed them. There is a certain otherworldly quality to organ music, especially Bach’s. It should be particularly appealing to someone who enjoys science fiction. Afterwards I took the bike to a shop to repair. There are bike shops within a mile of any place inn San Francisco, it seems. The biking community here is apparently very large and politically very influential. The bike mechanic looked at the bike and said that apart from the brake levers and the brake pads some spokes needed truing. The guys at the bike shop were all very impressed that I was from India. They all seemed to know India intimately well, either by traveling or studying about it. “God’s own country,” remarked one, his eyes widening. I knew that in the bay area India was popular but this took me by surprise. After getting the bike fixed I went to the beach, which was only a mile from there, down Judah Street. I had a steamer and a muffin at the Java beach café and then walked on the beach at sunset. This was one of my favorite activities during this trip. Evening is the best time for meditation, contemplation or just some quiet reflection. To be able to be at the beach during sunset….what more could a person want? Perhaps warmer weather, such as you could walk in a T-shirt instead of a sweater? That may make it too crowded and distracting. In fact only once during the week did it get warm enough that a few women wore bikinis. They too, put their sweaters on as soon as it got cooler in the evening with the breeze. As it was Ocean beach was not as crowded as the Atlantic beaches to which I make my annual summer pilgrimage. There was plenty of activity, what with people walking and running and flying kites and windsurfing. But it was very pleasant and calming, nevertheless. I spotted a few birds that one doesn’t see on the east coast. Also some sea birds, probably cormorants, that were dive fishing. It was amazing to watch them shoot like an arrow straight down into the water. From there I got some groceries at “Other Avenues” organic grocery store (another item of which there was no short supply in this city) and biked back home. When I got to Funston Ave I got off and pushed the bike up the hill. An old Indian man looked at me disapprovingly and said I ought to be riding up the hill. Now, people made that sort of comment several times during this trip but this man seemed to be serious. It is one of the things that I don’t like about India -- older folk are never shy to offer their wisdom. Anyone who has gray hair thinks he or she is qualified to offer his or her sage advice to anyone who doesn’t. It is part of Indian culture, indeed oriental culture, that older people are considered wiser and worthy of respect and obedience. But not everyone who is old is qualified nor is their advice always welcome or necessary even if they were. I hope when I am old I don’t become one such advice nuisance. Anyway, I am proud to say that I was able to restrain my impulse to say something sarcastic and tasteless like “why don’t you try” and just smile and push on. After all the huffing and puffing I was happy to reach the house. Margo was at the door. But instead of jumping all over me and licking like Robbie (the dog) used to do she walked quickly to the living room and stood facing the other way as if demanding an explanation. At least that is what it looked like. I never understood why she did that. And then I plopped down on the couch and she sat down on a box in front of me and kept staring at me. I thought maybe she wanted me to pet her. But she wasn’t satisfied with that. Perhaps she expected more enthusiastic, affectionate petting. I felt a little bad about this whole keeping a pet business. It seemed like we have made a whole species of animal dependent on us and now all they wanted to do was to get food and play. I went on with my business, putting the remainder of her daily ration in the bowl, cooking dinner, and then sat down for meditation. Chris had this fancy bell machine that you could set to ring after a desired time period. I tried to figure it out but decided that would take so much time that I wouldn’t be able to meditate. The wonderful silence made it possible to meditate with more concentration. Though I stopped after twenty minutes I felt like I wanted to go on. I realized that I needed the same kind of urgency about meditation as I had developed lately with my research. In the latter case the urgency has been reinforced by the need to publish. There was nothing urgent about meditation at the moment, though as mentioned before I had been more and more concerned with my own mortality and the fragility of life lately. But rather it was the contrast between the urgency with my work and the lack of it in my meditation that made me think of it. The increase in concentration due to the quiet surroundings and the resulting focus and depth only confirmed it. As I was brushing my teeth before going to bed Margo appeared at the bathroom door. I showed her the tap, hoping that will make her happy. I opened and closed it, letting the water flow. But she didn’t seem interested. Then I went up to her and started petting her. She gave a happy purr and started rolling around on her back. I petted her as long as I could but it looked like she would never be satisfied. I think cats would like you to pet them non-stop, for several years, in a multitude of different and complicated ways. But I was a mere mortal, and there was only so long that a man can pet a cat. At bedtime I got under the blanket (it got cold in the house at night! Like Mark Twain said, “the coldest winter I ever saw was the summer I spent in San Francisco”) and lay down, reading Julian Havill’s “Gamma.” This historical account of the development of Euler’s constant and the gamma function is full of interesting anecdotes and a perfect bedtime book. I had the door open as I was reading. After a while I caught Margo walking in out of the corner of my eye. I continued reading but had the feeling that she was watching me. Indeed she was, from behind the laundry basket, through the little gaps in the plastic! I was quite surprised. I had learnt that she was playful but this was a little more than just playful. I don’t know if she was checking me out or if she wanted something. Perhaps she was trying to figure out if I was safe enough to approach? I wished she could say something. But then again, considering my experience with women that might not have helped much. I disregarded her and continued reading. After a while she must have left. I switched the lights off and stretched myself, enjoying the quiet, closing my eyes and looking forward to a good night’s sleep. During dinner I had looked at the bike map and planned out a route to bike on, for the next morning. As mentioned earlier, San Francisco is very well organized for biking. The bike map was much more detailed than the ones in DC. They even had street grades, which would be helpful if you want to avoid too much exercise by avoiding the steepest hills. Basically I wanted to go around the peninsula along the coastal bike paths and return home through the mission district. Everything was set – the bike, the food and the route. I was even a bit nervously excited about biking down the hill from Chris’ home. (This morning I had just walked it while going to the bike shop). Thinking about something makes you even more nervous. It was then that I felt something moving on the bed. Margo must have jumped onto it. She started checking me out, nuzzling against my feet and then my face. Apparently she was satisfied that I was safe enough to approach. I also learned later that this was typical feline social behavior – all that nuzzling. She sat in a corner of the bed. Then she started the process of going around me again and getting no response, went back to a corner. Maybe she was looking for the best spot. Holy crapola! It was nice to know she was comfortable enough to get on to the bed but I wasn’t ready for this much love. She finally settled down on top of my blanket. This was a little better, though it brought back memories of the night the cat Sita had kept me awake the whole night. I lay awake, with Margo seemingly immobile on top of me, as long as I could. Then I slowly rolled over, shifting her to the side. It didn’t matter if that scared her away, I couldn’t continue like that. But she didn’t seem to mind, this time curling up against my knees. This was a lot better. It was little comfort to realize that after a long time I was sharing my bed with a female. Hopefully next time it will be of the human species. We all want love. Some of us will not ask for it, but want it to be given without asking. Some of us will ask for it rather loudly. Then there are others who will simply take it. I like it when someone sort of takes ownership of you. It shows a certain confidence and a trust in the common bond between people. In this case, Margo, after a brief period of scrutiny, had taken ownership of me and I felt a good deal of respect for her. All of a sudden I was aware of this bond between us. It was totally unexpected and she had shattered all my preconceptions about cats. Next morning as usual I sat down on the chair with the view of the bay first thing after waking up. Actually, that was the second thing. The first thing was to feed Margo. As usual she was the one who would wake me up with her pre-dawn cries. I had a blanket over me because the house had cooled down overnight. [After this I learned to keep the windows shut at night and warm up the house in the afternoon sunlight. It was still a little cool in the morning]. This time Margo climbed up onto my lap without much thinking and sat there on top of the blanket for a long time, at least half an hour, perhaps even an hour. I felt like I could sit watching the bay and letting the mind wake up, for a long time. I wonder what she was doing. She could not have been watching the bay because cats don’t see very far. She was not sleeping either. Being crepuscular, it was not yet nap time for her. Perhaps she was there for the warmth. I guess all she needed was a warm body! But then again, don’t we all? Life exists because atoms move and generate heat energy. Maybe all of life is simply a search for warmth. Happiness, love, peace – is it all just a function of warmth? Now, I said that I was sitting and enjoying the view of the bay. That is true, but I couldn’t really see much of the bay. On most days at dawn all one could see in front of the house was fog. As the sun moved up in the horizon it lifted the fog slowly, one block at a time. Around nine o’clock in the morning one could start seeing the water in the bay. After another hour or two perhaps the Golden Gate bridge would become completely visible, at least during the times when the clouds from the ocean are not rolling through. Chris told me that the wind from the ocean starts blowing hard, bringing a lot of clouds and cooler weather, when the temperature further inland in the central valleys of California gets high. All in all, the bay area has a very strange weather pattern. Summer here feels like late October in Washington. The weather report in San Francisco must be very funny. Some areas, being relatively flat, get more sunshine and less fog. Others, like Chris’ neighborhood, nestle in the hills and valleys and are foggy for most of the morning and cooler. I wonder if they do weather reports separately for each neighborhood. After finishing exercise and yoga I started preparing for the bike ride. My mind was full of anticipation, though it was not as turbulent as before. Thinking about it the previous night had made me nervous with excitement. Biking in San Francisco would rid anyone of whatever fear of heights they might have. It was nice in a strange way to be able to get an adrenalin rush just getting out of house and biking for a few blocks. I packed the bike map, the sweater, and the leftover pasta that Rachel had asked me to finish off in my backpack. I made sure the plants were watered, Margo had everything she needed and the doors were securely locked and then got the newly repaired bike out of the garage. As I perched on top of the hill and looked down Funston Ave it seemed even steeper than before. I was surprised that I gave as little thought before going down this road as I did on Saturday. Fools rush in into unfamiliar terrain. Now I was wiser and hence more careful. But as I started going down I didn’t feel the same fear as before. Perhaps because my mind was calmer and nerves more relaxed after two days of rest and doing nothing. I was even able to let go of the brakes and go faster for longer periods of time. Guess things weren’t so bad, after all. Directory: writings writings -> Ib world Lit How to narrow a topic and develop an argument for an essay writings -> English and Media Department gcse writing Skills Objective: Writing to argue Resources writings -> 18 Documents of the Neo-Sumerian Period Download 105 Kb. Share with your friends:
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