Peace of the Yogi

His associate spoke in high accolades, about the power of the Yogi. Then he took a freshly filled Chillum, and with the help of another devotee, he lit it, in rhythmic, deep, breathing. He seemed to time the breaths, to the rhythms; of the devotional music, playing in the background. The Associate Ashok, passed to the Yogi, his newly lit Chillum. Then he bowed, towards the setting sun. The yogi sat erect, and was framed by the setting sun, of red, and a horizon of orange clouds, with a golden lining.  He partook of the fire, and the smoke, and engulfed them all, into a different world. The chillum did its rounds, and the followers started to sway; to the heavenly music. It was a simple elemental beat, but seemed to have the variances, of the universe. Sometimes it sped up, and was the crashing of galaxies in our spatial universe. The music represented the change of the cosmic events around us. At other times it flowed slowly, like the river of time, then appeared to enter into a deep valley; rushing ever faster but reaching nowhere. It finally reached a crescendo leaving the audience afloat, on a vast ocean.

At last the Yogi pulled himself even more erect, in his posture. His magnificent chest had swelled in all its glory, when he had taken the Vayu breath, and stayed in his samadhi, still and composed. Having absorbed his fill, he did a deep discharge of breath, and the last of the smoke. He looked around him, as if focusing on the reality, of what was before him. He finally raised his head and eyes to the heavens, and the beautiful sight of the universe, passing into night. As all eyes seemed to turn to him, he raised his arms and spoke “Hear, me, here, here me now,”

The followers all turned, as the leaders hissed for silence, across the clearing. The Yogi and his companions, sat on a raised platform, with the group of musicians behind them, they followed the classical style, passed down for centuries on their drums, and musical instruments. They had learnt the accompanying music, from him, as the Yogi himself was trained, by the ancient Yogis, and their musicians, before him. They had played all day, with numerous breaks, to refresh, and meet others. Many far away devotes of the council, had gathered, for the Spring festival. Other leaders had brought their followers, and they now listened intently, as he spoke.

“The whole struggle is in our mind. My mind is not very different, from that of the Adi Yogi, whom we all want to emulate. He has passed beyond time, as we know it, and most of us will never rise to his wisdom… It is the way of the mind, that it stops all of us, from reaching the state of our Adi Yogi. This state is not a static state, and I will show you what is the way, to break this dependence, on a million years, of our mind’s conditioning. From the dawn of humanity, we have chased the question of eternity, and existence. Even our Vedas and Upanishads, have explored the relationship of our creator and us. We have come a long way, but still we have the critical question to ask of our Gods. How do we change our mind to experience, what the Adi Yogi, experiences?”

” So I will teach you all now, the path to this experience, but first you have to remove all the past, from your minds. Till we cleanse ourselves, through meditation and efforts, we cannot still our minds. Much less discipline our minds to become still, so we can move on, from this confusion of change, to our next level of awareness. Think on what I have said, and we will take up our minds, in the morning. We all must change, and remember with hard work, we can only do this together. This river of time and our memories are tied together, like an eternal rope, which makes up our mind. Freedom from this rope, demands a different passageway of our mind, to be first awakened, and then connected.”

He rose and then bent his arms and brought his hands together over his heart. He bowed in the direction that the sun had disappeared. He then walked down from the platform and headed off towards his cave in the mountain face. The tall evergreens were separated by a large path that led from this clearing towards the stream, that led to the cave. He walked erect and Ashok his devotee and companion followed closely behind as always. Ashok had also taken the role of scribe, and would spend a lot of time recording the discussions, and the debates, of the attendees. He and his companions would spend hours discussing various speakers, and their expressed views, were ascribed in the night. They lived in wooden log homes, with thatched roofs, and mud and stone walls of their small town.

They had ample water from the running stream, and had some enterprising young men had set up a water mill, and an irrigation system, long ago. They grew more than they needed and fed their visitors all year around, and gave the rest away, in charity to the needy. The neighboring gujjars raised their sheep, and their goats, in the valleys and fields, in the surrounding mountains. The local villagers fished in the autumn, for then the fish were plentiful. The Council always had the best variety of meals, for their varied visitors. Most of course were vegetarians, and largely satiated, by the whole grains and pulses, from the fields. The fruit orchards were ancient and well-kept, and so were the vegetable gardens. The famous nuts from the neighboring mountains, were traded in exchange for local largess, and served with compassion and love.  

Ashok remembered his grandfather telling him about a 20-year ancient drought, but in his lifetime he had seen only a few small droughts. The gods had been kind and livestock and fields had continued to flourish. Most of all Ashok was thankful for the current Yogi who had arrived 10 years ago, out of the forest with wild hair and fiery eyes. The head priest had seen something in the crazy creature and taken him directly into the high cave for discussions. He had not emerged for 3 months and wild rumors of his antics floated about, his working with the priest. Laments of pain so loud and on other days loud laughter, was heard, and then there would be long periods of silence.  

When he finally emerged, he was much changed. His wild hair was gone, and now was tamed into a tight bun above his head. He was now wearing the lion cloth of the yogi, and held a staff in one hand, and a wooden bowl in his other, measuring his total possessions. He had taken his vows of chastity and was ordained as a devote of the Head Priest. On that day our Head Priest spoke that he had visions of his arrival to our cave, many months ago. He whispered of his lineage from some ancient monastery, and his disappearance into the Home of Snow 10 years ago into the North. Fate and fortune led him on his travels to distance lands of Tibet, and the Far East, and Japan. He had sailed the seas and arrived back at the ports in Bengal. From there he made his way up the Gangetic Plain, strangely arriving back from his great journey, from our south.

Ashok finally bound up his work and decided to sleep. It was late in the night and as he lay down he saw a vision of the Yogi sitting in his samadhi as the man never seemed to sleep. He just sat there and meditated on this universe and it appeared to Ashok that the Universe existed in its order because of this Yogi. He seemed to exist beyond time and he looked forward to hearing him in the morning. As sleep took him he felt the Adi Yogi appear in his dream, suddenly his Yogi and the Adi Yogi seemed to merge into one. He was also swept into this flow of the great river, and gained the speed of flying stars, and worlds flashed by; yet in all of this change, he felt a strange peace, The peace of the yogi.

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