Ешь, молись, люби

Chapter 65

           ThesepeoplehavelefttheirfamiliesandlivesbehindforafewweekstogointosilentretreatamidstacrowdofperfectstrangersinIndia.Noteverybodydoesthisintheirlifetime.

           Iloveallthesepeople,automaticallyandunconditionally.Ievenlovethepain-in-the-assones.Icanseethroughtheirneurosesandrecognizethatthey’rejusthorriblyafraidofwhatthey’regoingtofacewhentheygointosilenceandmeditationforsevendays.IlovetheIndianmanwhocomestomeinoutrage,reportingthatthere’safour-inchstatueoftheIndiangodGaneshinhisroomwhichhasonefootmissing.He’sfurious,thinksthisisaterribleomenandwantsthatstatueremoved-ideallybyaBrahmanpriest,duringa"traditionallyappropriate"cleansingceremony.Icomforthimandlistentohisanger,thensendmyteenagetomboyfriendTulsiovertotheguy’sroomtogetridofthestatuewhilehe’satlunch.ThenextdayIpassthemananote,tellinghimthatIhopehe’sfeelingbetternowthatthebrokenstatueisgone,andremindinghimthatI’mhereifheneedsanythingelsewhatsoever;herewardsmewithagiant,relievedsmile.He’sjustafraid.TheFrenchwomanwhohasanearpanicattackaboutherwheatallergies-she’safraid,too.TheArgentineanmanwhowantsaspecialmeetingwiththeentirestaffoftheHathaYogadepartmentinordertobecounseledonhowtositproperlyduringmeditationsohisankledoesn’thurt;he’sjustafraid.They’reallafraid.They’regoingintosilence,deepintotheirownmindsandsouls

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