Wednesday, October 29, 2014

file this away.

when i returned to canada, in 1998, i first stayed with my parents in their small toronto apartment. it was not optimum, but i really had no choice. i had nowhere else to go and little money. i hadn't spent more than a few hours or a day with my folks in more than thirty years and it was not a situation in which i was comfortable. still, they were nice enough to let me use their den as a bedroom for a while.

upon carting my one suitcase into the room my dad, who followed me, insisted i never look in his filing cabinet. he was very definite about that. he told me exactly where to put my clothes and showed me where a blanket was which i could use when sleeping on the sofa. in the kitchen, i absently reached into a jar to take a cookie and my mom slapped my hand so hard i jumped off the ground. she barked: "NOT BEFORE DINNER!" when i reminded her that i was a forty-eight year old gentleman, she simply said: "doesn't matter to me, buster!" the den smelled badly of stale cigarette smoke, so i opened the balcony screen door. unfortunately, even tragically, a fly flew flagrantly in.

i didn't really take much notice but, by the time the fly made its way to the kitchen, all hell broke loose. my old mom began yelling and running around the place waving a large spoon. she was completely freaked out. my dad began hollering for me to "shut the damned door! shut the damned door!" i'm sure you understand that, in india, one fly flying flagrantly into a room would not raise an eyebrow. in that apartment it was as if we had been descended upon by an apocalyptic plague of locusts. mom kept trying to swat the thing and hitting appliances loudly instead. dad kept repeating that it was a huge problem, a huge problem. that was when i made my second mistake. i stupidly remarked: "dad, leprosy is a huge problem. bride-burning is a huge problem. one fly is really more of a nuisance." needless to say, my remark was not appreciated. the situation was finally resolved, however, at the expense of the life of the fly and with a heart-felt promise by me to never ever open the screen door again.

after dinner, which for me consisted of some totally over-cooked broccoli and mashed potatoes, all smothered in thick cheese, my parents shuffled down the hall to their friends' place to play 'bridge.' so i lay down in my bedroom, the den. as i lay there, i kept looking at my dad's filing cabinet. i kept looking at it and wondering why it was so important that i not ever go into it. of course, eventually i couldn't resist. i opened the top drawer. there was just a bunch of folders there, all sorts of my dad's business documents. so then i opened the next drawer. i was surprised what was in there. hesitantly, i opened the last drawer. then i stepped back.

both of those drawers were packed full of every letter i had ever written to my folks, filed neatly in folders, each labelled 'nathan' with the month and year.  

Tuesday, October 21, 2014

a small leap of faith.


a lovely, somewhat intimidating lady recently asked if i knew what was the meaning of life. i told her i didn't know, so she said: "then why should i come to you to teach me meditation?" of course, i told her she absolutely shouldn't. i suggested that she should find someone who knew what the meaning of life is.

the problem, in that case, would be having to take the person's word for it, wouldn't it? that's a bit tricky. personally, i would have a hard time with that. i would go so far as to get on an airplane without knowing how the whole thing works. i would have that much faith. i would eat in a decent restaurant without being certain of how the food was prepared. i would be that trusting. but, i still would probably be a wee bit skeptical of someone who claimed to know the meaning of life. i would not jump on that plane. i would not bite into that sandwich.

i have an acquaintance who refuses to get on an airplane at all, and i can't really blame the guy. i was once on a flight from bhuntar in the himalayas down to delhi, with an unscheduled stop along the way, during which i concluded my faith may have been misguided. my lower extremities since then, frankly, tremble at the very thought of flying, although i still do it from time to time. i was once about to dig into a plate of vegetable curry when i spotted, just in time, a lifeless cockroach staring up at me with a shocked expression, as if to say: 'oh crap. i zigged when i shoulda zagged.' obviously, i still eat in restaurants, although not that particular one.

during a nasty monsoon season, many years ago, i was summonsed to canada immediately because of a family emergency. the road washed out around pundoh, a trecherous stretch of gravel at the best of times. the routine, when rock-slides made the road impassable, was to walk over the landslide and take a taxi stuck on the other side. in effect, you would switch cars with people heading the other way.

unfortunately, the driver of the vehicle i ended up with had been driving for days and over-tired. he actually kept nodding off. but, even after almost sending us over the cliff, he would not let me drive and insisted he was fine. he kept wagging his head and repeating his mantra: "if it's god's will." i basically had to sit close beside the guy all night and swat him every time he began to lose consciousness. we reached my hotel in delhi around 3:00 a.m. i grabbed the keys so he would sleep for a few hours saying: "it's god's will."

faith and skepticism are not mutually exclusive qualities. but, in regard to meditation, the fact is it doen't matter. the days of blind faith are done. the days of learning from each other and thinking for ourselves: those days are very much upon us. as well, meditation is not a religion. thankfully, you don't need to know the meaning of life. one needs only enough faith to give it a try, a small leap of faith. the landing is worth the flight.

'skepticism, like chastity, should not be given up too readily.' george santayana (1863-1952).


Saturday, October 11, 2014

these most recent himalayan photos are by my friend bramachari mayank, malcolm m reid. best wishes; nathan.

Saturday, October 4, 2014

Silence and the Bomb.

One of my more lucrative side-businesses in the early days of my business in India was changing U.S. dollars on the black market. It was, of course, just a little bit illegal.

Many customers paid me in the foreign currency and I would get a premium for that when on my buying trips to Delhi and Jaipur. On one memorable occasion, during a busy day in Delhi, I suddenly realized I had lost my shoulder-bag. Having also been in the gold and silver jewellery market that day in Chandni-Chowk, the bag not only held thousands of dollars and about one-hundred thousand rupees in it, without bank receipts, it was full of gems and jewellery. A lot of the money, by the way, wasn't mine. And, oh yeah, my passport too. Basically, I was screwed, spectacularly screwed.

In my mind, there was no doubt I'd left the bag in the last scooter-rickshaw I had been in. But, trying to find it was like looking for the proverbial needle in a haystack, and I knew it. I tried, of course. Eventually, however, close to tears, I retreated to my room at the Gandhi Guest House, sat down on the bed and put my head in my hands. Perhaps as a last resort or out of desperation, I just decided to be still, to be silent. It wasn't meditation exactly. I was just sitting, and I kept on sitting for quite a while, until a thought occured to me. I recalled briefly being at the 'Western Union' office in the 'Imperial Hotel.'

My very next thought was that I had had my bag after that. Nevertheless, I slid off my bed, with next to no hope, and shuffled listlessly down the street to the hotel. As I walked into the 'Western Union' office, there was a large crowd around a bag, my bag, all staring down at it. I knew they thought it might have been a bomb, although in that case you gotta wonder why they were all crowding around it. I also knew the police would be there any minute. I wove my way through the crowd, grabbed the bag and quickly left the building.

I was totally elated, completely relieved, thanked the creative intelligence, my lucky stars and any deity I could think of for that thought, which came from out of silence.