Ешь, молись, люби

Chapter 37

           Theybowinsilence,thenmoveoutasidedooracrossadarkcourtyardandintoasmallertemple,barelylitbyoneoillampandperfumedwithincense.Ifollowthem.Theroomisfilledwithdevotees-IndianandWestern-wrappedinwoolenshawlsagainstthepredawncold.Everyoneisseatedinmeditation,roostedthere,youmightsay,andIslipinbesidethem,thenewbirdintheflock,completelyunnoticed.Isitcross-legged,placemyhandsonmyknees,closemyeyes.

           Ihavenotmeditatedinfourmonths.Ihavenoteventhoughtaboutmeditatinginfourmonths.Isitthere.Mybreathquiets.Isaythemantratomyselfonceveryslowlyanddeliberately,syllablebysyllable.

           Om.

           Na.

           Mah.

           Shi.

           Va.

           Ya.

           OmNamahShivaya.

           Ihonorthedivinitythatresideswithinme.

           ThenIrepeatitagain.Again.Andagain.It’snotsomuchthatI’mmeditatingasunpackingthemantracarefully,thewayyouwouldunpackyourgrandmother’sbestchinaifithadbeenstoredinaboxforalongtime,unused.Idon’tknowifIfallasleeporifIdropintosomekindofspellorevenhowmuchtimepasses.ButwhenthesunfinallycomesupthatmorninginIndiaandeveryoneopenstheireyesandlooksaround,Italyfeelstenthousandmilesawayfrommenow,anditisasifIhavebeenhereinthisflockforever.

           

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