Sadhu and Shishya

“Fred?”

“Yes, Shishya?”

“Why, do you live here?”

“Ah, Shishya, the mountains are a transition between earth and sky. How else can the seeker find change but by traversing transition?”

“But Fred, the path up here is so strenuous.”

“Shishya, Shishya, the road to change is always hard. The rocky trail to these heights is but a symbol.”

“Have you always lived here?”

“No Shishya, I have taken up residence in other transition points. I lived for a while in an island cave on a cliff by the sea, but many people came arriving by motor boat rather than row or sail, I found it disturbed my aikyam. Besides, everything was damp all the time. I accept the oneness of the universe, but I don’t really like mold. I also lived for a while in a hut at the edge of a forest, but people just ‘dropped by’  on their way to somewhere else. I tired of wood gatherers and hunters. Hunters were the worst. Ahimsa to a hunter? It is beyond their understanding of their dharma.”

“I understand, Fred.”

“Do you, Shishya?”

“I think so. But, what of those pilgrims who are not able of body, Fred?”

“That is what Zoom is for, Shishya.”

“And the obtuse phone tree, and ever-crashing scheduling software are the difficulty of the path?”

“Exactly. There may be hope for you yet, Shishya.”

The young apprentice farmed a small root vegetable patch on the south face of the mountain and bartered pilgrims’ gifts with the market merchants down the mountain for whatever else they needed. The apprentice cooked and cleaned and greeted those who came to see Fred or checked-in on those held long in the Zoom “your host will join the meeting soon” space.

Shishya studied with the master seven years. Each year they had at least one conversation, where Shishya asked Fred questions. The conversation above happened in year two and Fred was particularly talkative. It isn’t that they didn’t talk at other times. There was certainly no vow of silence.

“The carrots are quite sweet this year.”

“I tried the guano the hermit-up-mountain suggested.”

“That guy is bat-shit crazy!”

“I wonder when the snow will stop.”

“Weather. Isn’t it nice we’re having it.”

But every so often Fred would say, “Tell me, Shishya. What are you learning?” That was Shishya’s cue to probe the wise one. Why did Fred do what he did when he did it?

“Fred, why do you tell people ‘not to be a thief?’”

“Why do you think, Shishya?’

“I think I understand why you said that to the war-lord. He steals the lives of the many. He steals their homes by destroying them. He steals women’s dignity and oneness with their bodies by assault in the name of his dominance.”

“True Shishya. Kaluk is driven by revenge for hurts beyond time, which rules his memory, and blocks new input to his heart or his head. He tries in vain to forget the stolen-hole in his center by stealing others’ capacity for forgiveness, just as his mercy was stolen in his life and in stories of endless humiliations suffered by his father and his father’s father. The stolen-hole deepens with each generation. The only thing that will begin to fill it is not to be a thief.”

“I see. But why did you tell the drunkard and the opium smoker not to be a thief. Is it because they were stealing to support their addiction. Weren’t they only hurting themselves?”

“Ah, Shishya. We never only hurt ourselves. The stolen-hole in the addict hurts those who love him or her. Addicts seek numbness to hide the hole, but the numbness only steals their own joy, digging the hole deeper, which hurts us all. When you are in a hole, the first action is ‘stop digging,’ so – do not be a thief. We are all connected. We can be connected by joy and love or we can be connected by fear and pain. The joy connection seems better to me. . . . Just sayin’.”

The years of apprenticeship passed slowly punctuated by small talk and stupid jokes.

“ Hey Shishya, Knock knock”

“Who’s there?”

“Apple.”

“Apple who?”

“A -pple-ase pass the chana chaat.”

(groan)

“Knock, knock”

“Who’s there?”

“Apple.”

“Apple who?”

“Apple -ication. Learn through doing, Shishya. Practice makes better; nobody’s perfect”

(groan)

“Knock, knock”

“Who’s there?”

“Orange.”

“Orange who?”

“Orange you glad I didn’t say ‘Apple?”

(groan) “Fred! Come-on, man! You’re killing me!”

“We are all dying, Shishya.”

One day the master called the apprentice. “Shishya, your apprenticeship is now complete. Today you become a sadhu-journeyman. It is the beginning of your wander-years, make sure they are also your wonder-years.”

“Fred, can I now tell you how corny you are?”

“Shishya, when have I ever stopped you? But tell me before you  “wonder as you wander,” what have you learned these seven years?”

A final exam. Shishya took a deep breath and began:

“To sin is to hurt anyone or any living thing, including yourself. The first sin is stealing; to be a thief, whether to steal a life or a rice bowl, safety or dignity, is to deepen a hole in one’s being.”

“Life is change. To change is always a steep path. I may stumble. I may fall back, but if I keep putting one foot in front of the other I shall progress.”

“That is good, Shishya. Now, any questions for me?”

“Well,  yes actually, Fred, two:

“First, you encourage all pilgrims to follow one meditation practice:

‘Breathe in joy, gratefully; breathe out Love for all the world.’

“What is behind that?”

“Shishya, we often forget that we are surrounded by joy, the laughter of a child, the star-like jewels of dew in the grass, or any blessing that makes the journey from the gift of our senses to our heart. We also too often breathe without being grateful for, or aware of, our breath. Prana is life, and our only duty to life is to be thankful for it. So our in-spiration is joy and gratitude.

And as we breathe out we can replenish the joy we absorb with Love. I am not a follower of the prophet Jesus, but he once said something I find profound. As recorded by his disciple John, Jesus said, ’God is Love.’ Think on that for a minute. He didn’t say “God is like Love’ or God expects Love,” he said ‘God IS Love.’” So if there is a Way as the Taoists say or an Eight-fold Path as the Buddhists pray or a universal duty, Dharma, Love should be upon our breath, the life-force we put out into the world. We die a little (expire) each day, so we should ex-pire, breathe out, with Love.

And the second question, Shishya?”

“Well. . . I always wondered. . . why are you called Fred? It’s a strange name for a sadhu.”

“Is it? I did not know that. Well . . . in the early 1960s, I visited America. There was character named Fred in a short animated television film. Fred lived in a house of stone and he seemed approachable and ever so joyful – so I took his name. Yabba-dabba-doo!”

 

 

I am grateful to my LinkedIn connection and fellow BizCatalyst 360 scribe, Dr. Ali Anani,  for inspiring this story.