ishwar pranidone like dinner.

once upon a time in a very small town an antique dealer sat bored and a bit down-in-the-mouth in his shop. it was winter. he hadn't seen a customer all day. eventually, finally, a lady with a very young girl entered and began looking around. after saying hello, the dealer just left them to walk around. 

as he bussied himself on the computer, from the far room he heard a loud crash and some sobbing. he knew immediately what had happened. the young girl had knocked over a porcelain pitcher, it smashed into many pieces and she was weeping. the lady, as well, was terribly upset, admonishing her daughter loudly. taking in the whole scene the shop-keeper raised his arms and hollered: "wait one minute! it's ok. it's ok." he walked up to the girl, patted her affectionately on the head, picked up the porcelain bowl the pitcher had been sitting in and held it up. he smiled and winked at the girl, who had stopped crying and was looking on wide-eyed as the man held the bowl up. he said: "watch this." he dropped the bowl on the ground, it smashed into many pieces and the little girl howled with laughter. 

"but wasn't it terribly valuable?," asked the mother. "nah," the shop-keeper answered. then looking down at the little girl he smiled: "fun is always worth more."

ishwar pranidhan is that last niyam or suggestion: to surrender all ones thoughts and actions to the lord. i don't know what exactly that means. even if the translation rather is 'a higher power,' i don't know what that means. my mother was a higher power, or certainly a force to be reckoned with, and at least i could see her, know her. but i don't know the lord, a higher power, or why i should surrender to him or her or it.

so maybe what that really means, or should mean, is that having fun is always more valuable than money, that the life is always more important than a thing. maybe this hardest niyam to understand really means getting over oneself, letting go of who we think we are. 

"once you let go, you realize there wasn't anything real to hold on to." anonymous. 

the unwashed truth.

karl marx once wrote: "before i speak, i have something important to say." it may have been groucho marx, but does it matter(?) the fact remains that the best communicators i've ever known could be fabulously relevant without even speaking. it's an odd concept, i know, yet worth considering. many who did speak, and wrote, burdened us with rules, guidelines, a whole whack of suggestions we never asked for, such as those i elubricated last time. here are a few more, called niyams:

shauch is the suggestion to keep oneself clean. my whole family believed strongly in that, except for my uncle morris. old uncle morris did not believe in soap and he still lived a long life. unfortunately, he died a rather lonely old man, but that's an entirely different matter. anyway, those wonderfully well washed ancient sages included in that the renouncing of unclean desires. seems to me, however, that the necessity to think over which desires are unclean would necessarily mean thinkin about those unclean desires, don't you think? just sayin...

santosh is the sanskrit for contentment, being satisfied with what you have. i was content until i got a flyer in my mail-box recently picturing a luxurious bath-tub for sale. the photos showed how big and deep it is, its possible colours, the wonderful whirlpool function. it seemed to even include a couple of lovely ladies and my shauch immediately drowned my santosh.

tapas is appetizers that go well with wine. however, it's also sanskrit for the facing of hardships, the ups and downs of life. i was excluded from a basketball game the other day at my gym in ottawa. that happens once in a while. i just felt like skulking away. i guess i felt old, drove back to wakefield, went to the community centre to shoot around. the skateboard peeps never mind giving me some space and i ended up playing in a great big basketball game with a whole herd of wild eight-ten-twleve-year olds. there was a dylan, a ky, a tom, a dick and it got harry. they wore me down. but when i sat against the boards in the shade they all came, sat around and we had fun. i'm not really describing tapas here. i was just happy to have come home is all. facing life's situations with strength and fortitude: that's tapas.

swadhyaya is the study of uplifting and enlightening literature, like maybe this blog (?)

then, lastly, finally, ishwar pranidhan, the dedicating of all ones thoughts and actions to the supreme lord. i personally haven't met him or her and don't know why i'd dedicate all that to him or her if i did. i'm not really into the whole aristocracy thing, and i have a perfectly good will in place that i call 'my last will and testosterone.' nathan out, but not all the way out.

living the dream.

there are a few things not so good for a yogic lifestyle. crack, meth, heroin: these are not recommended, not even for those bad days, like when you lose your job, your teeth, whatever. morphine can be useful, but i'd rather dwell at this time on five more traditional recommendations or virtues helpful for a yogi. in sanskrit these are called the yams, like the potato only not as starchy.

firstly, starchy sages suggested living a life of non-violence. i agree in principle with that. i once lived with a lethal scorpion for three months in a small stone and mud hut. i firmly believed my vibrations of non-violence, ahimsa, kept me safe, and here i am. we even slept together. i wouldn't do that now, of course, because i'm not nearly as sure of myself as i used to be. i would want my own hut, but i'd at least insist on separate rooms. 

next is the suggestion to always be truthful, satya. i always tell the truth. like, i went to a barber shop the other day on beechwood and as soon as i walked in some young guy asked if i had just walked in, and i said i had. there was no sense in denying it even though some other young guy entering behind me got to have a haircut first. anyway, he had an appointment. the point is that being truthful helps keep one unagitated, better able to meditate in peace, as i did that day while waiting patiently for my poodling.

as well, for very much the same reason and along the same lines, is the recommendation to not steal, asteya. i never steal, although i've been accused of stealing a line or two, a passage or two, even a story or two from better writers than myself. those accusations are ridiculous and i may add have never been proven. 

lastly, aparigraha is the name given to the useful quality of not being a greedy bathdurd. there is a sufficiency in the world for man's need but not for man's greed. some people think i stole that line from mahatma ghandi, but that's a lie. 

ok, there's one more suggestion or recommendation passed down from generation to generation of strictly selibate starchy sages to round off the so-called five virtues. i'm not sure how there were subsequent generations, but anyway celibacy, bramacharya, is a hot topic, highly controversial and disgustingly disruptive to many people. so i will not touch it, so to speak, or handle it, as it were. but, you will all be able to read my rather graphic thoughts on the subject in my upcoming book entitled 'unprotected sects.' 

"nothing we do, no matter how virtuous, can be accomplished alone. therefore we are saved by love." reinhold neibuhr.

the bliss of the absolutely not.

during long ago times and far off places yogis turned their backs on the family life in favour of solitude. the reasoning was that eventually a bliss would descend upon anyone willing to forego the pleasures of this world. the reasoning was that a peace would arise from within anyone willing to be still long enough. that bliss, that peace was said to be the bliss of the absolute, the peace before experiece, the pure self, one without a second.

in the meantime, i must add here that right now you can get sixteen bottles of water at walmart for under $2.00. sixteen! it has never been so easy or so cheap to cover the earth like old grandma covered her sofa. i personally had no need of the rather remarkable deal, but i was vaguely attracted to a red button-down shirt. i even tried it on over my tee-shirt. however, imagining illiterate little bangladeshi kids stitching it together put me off the purchase. i tried to ignore the images in my head, but the shirt's color seemed to fade as i hung it back up. anyway, i was just wandering around waiting for rush hour to stop rushing.

there is no reason for anyone to believe me. in fact you really can't. but, i will never-the-less state that i personally know those ancient yogis to be by and large quite correct. there is a profound bliss and a tremendous peace waiting for anyone willing to look for it in a totally different way than normal. the norm would be in a bottle, a joint, relationships, posessions, money. when asked why he lived alone in a hmalayan cave, swami raamji answered: "you and i are not different. we want the same thing out of life. we're just looking in different directions." 

be that as it may, i recently called a guy who was advertising a camper van for sale. he told me on the phone that he wasn't really ready to sell it because the van was running beautifully. of course i said: "well, let me know when it turns to crap and i'll run right over and buy it." i mean, wtf? then i ordered a small dock from a great little business in st. cecile de ashram who employ mentally challenged folk. the dock was done well, quickly and delivered right on time. the problem was that i'd forgotten my cheque book. but, the good fellow said: "well, we deal all the time with people who are mentally challenged so we understand. just go pay at the office tomorrow morning."

where i differ from the perogis who hid themselves away in those himalayan caves is in their belief in a lifetime of solitude. what's wrong with an hour? and what is the absolute?  and what did they do when they got sick? i guess they did nothing.